Mumford Page #26

MUMFORD:

My mentor was an amazing teacher

named Benton Mandlebaum. Died quite

tragically in the collapse of a

gazebo.

DELBANCO:

I think I've heard of him... a

disciple of Rothberg, wasn't he?

Mumford's response, and all that follow, is calm and pleasant.

MUMFORD:

It's possible. I don't know about

that.

SHEELER:

I suppose your extended training was

at an institution in that area?

MUMFORD:

Lots of institutions. My graduate

advisor believed we should experience

as many environments as possible --

prisons, clinics, half-way houses.

For a while I was chief therapist in

a shopping mall. Had a little spot

next to the yogurt place.

DELBANCO:

Interesting approach. What was his

name?

MUMFORD:

Dorothy Fowler. Fantastic woman. She

passed last year in a train wreck.

Damned Amtrak.

Delbanco and Sheeler exchange a look. Sheeler adopts a

"casual" tone --

SHEELER:

I trained in the east, myself --

Cornell -- and I don't care what

anyone says, there really are regional

differences. I found the state

certification exams out here quite

harrowing... Did you?

MUMFORD:

Oh, yeah, very tough. But I guess

that's good... to keep out the quacks.

SHEELER:

Which examiner did you have? I

probably know him.

MUMFORD:

Wallace Franklin... from Greensburg.

A dark look comes over Sheeler's face for a moment.

SHEELER:

That was a terrible thing.

MUMFORD:

(agrees)

I don't even know why hang-gliding

is considered a legitimate sport.

DELBANCO:

(back on track)

We're interested in any new therapies.

How would you characterize your

approach?

MUMFORD:

My approach?

SHEELER:

Yes... your particular approach.

MUMFORD:

I don't have one really. Most of the

time I'm faking it. See, I think

there's not much that can be done

about most problems... they're too

complicated, too deep-rooted by the

time I hear about them. The most I

can do, usually, is look and listen

real closely, try to catch some

glimpse of the secret life everybody's

got. If I can get a sense of that,

well then, maybe... just maybe, I

can help them out a little.

Mumford sits back, considering the couple across the table.

His gaze is so crystalline that, after a moment, they become

uncomfortable and steal a glance at each other. Finally --

DELBANCO:

I see.

INT. MUMFORD'S OFFICE - DAY

CLOSE ON Althea Brockett.

ALTHEA:

-- The argument had nothing to do

with it.

MUMFORD (O.S.)

I understand. I just want to know

what the argument was about.

ALTHEA:

(hates to say)

I had ordered some books. "The 100

Greatest Books Ever Written."

MUMFORD (O.S.)

Uh-huh. What are they?

ALTHEA:

Oh, all the great writers --

Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, Moby

Dick... those people. Each is bound

in genuine premium leather with 22

carat gold accents. It's a magnificent

set -- and only $33.50 per volume.

Right away you get Great Expectations

for just $6.99.

MUMFORD (O.S.)

One hundred books?

ALTHEA:

It's irrelevant. It had nothing to

do with what happened.

MUMFORD (O.S.)

What happened?

Althea is sitting on the couch facing Mumford. She has a

bulky knit cardigan sweater hugged tightly around her -- the

only sign that she's not completely calm.

ALTHEA:

We argued on Sunday. He went to work

on Monday and stayed in the city

during the week, like always. But on

Thursday, when he normally comes

home, he didn't. Didn't call either.

Not till Saturday afternoon.

MUMFORD:

You must have been concerned.

ALTHEA:

It's happened before.

(a beat)

I'm shocked by how little I'm feeling.

I can't understand it.

(a real question --)

I'll probably have a complete

depressoid collapse soon, won't I?

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