St. Vincent Page #10

PRINCIPAL O’BRIEN

Adjusting to a new school is tough

on children at this age. At any

age. So, I don’t want to minimize

that...but is there anything else

going on that we should be aware

of?

MAGGIE:

I don’t even know where to start.

PRINCIPAL O’BRIEN

How about his father?

MAGGIE:

Oh. Well. Please. That’ll take

up your whole day. We’re in the

middle of a divorce. Oliver’s

father...was sleeping with his

assistant. And our accountant.

And her assistant. And my

hairdresser. While she was still

cutting my hair. That was fun.

Now he’s filed for custody of

Oliver. Full custody. And he

won’t pay support till he gets his

way. You see. Plus he’s a lawyer,

so. So. I just took Oliver away

as fast as I could and took this

job at Mission Hills.

(MORE)

62.

MAGGIE (CONT'D)

I’m a CAT scan tech, so I see a lot

of rough situations. Tumors.

Cancer. Cysts. Clots. All that.

And of course, I know what I see

and I can’t say anything to people.

Which is miserable, as you can

imagine. And I work really late,

trying to get our act together.

Give Oliver a better education and

a semi-normal life. And fight

David and this custody sh*t.

Excuse me. That’s his name.

David. My ex. He never wanted

kids anyway. He just doesn’t want

me to be happy. Oliver’s adopted.

Do you know that? How would you.

I’m not able to have kids.

Something about my Fallopian tubes

being twisted. I think they were

just recoiling from David’s sperm.

Maggie reaches for a tissue.

MAGGIE (CONT’D)

Do you mind?

Principal O’Brien shakes his head “no.” He has no words.

MAGGIE (CONT’D)

I’m sure all of this has permeated

into Oliver’s little being. And

he’s acting out, as they say kids

do in these situations. Right?

Principal O’Brien smiles. Maggie blows her nose.

INT. ST. FRANCIS DE SALES - BATHROOM - LATER

Detention. Two adjacent bathroom stalls. Oliver’s in

one, Ozinski in the other. They’re scrubbing the

shitters, floors, walls, et al with scouring pads,

toothbrushes.

Quiet. Finally Ozinski breaks the silence.

OZINSKI:

My real name’s Robert. Ozinski is

my last name. People call me

Ozinski cause Crespi called me that

last year. Now everyone calls me

that.

Oliver stops scrubbing.

63.

OZINSKI (CONT’D)

I don’t really like it. Ozinski.

Just too many kids call me that

now, so it’s not like I can go

‘round all day and tell ‘em, “Dick

wad, don’t call me Ozinski, my

name’s Robert.” Cause I would

spend my whole life doin’ that.

Oliver stands, takes a piss.

OZINSKI (CONT’D)

You takin a wiz?

OLIVER:

Sorry, can’t hold it.

Then.

OZINSKI:

Robert was my dad’s name. So, I’m

a junior. He’s not around though.

I don’t really know him, cause he

left when I was a baby.

OLIVER:

My dad’s not around either. He did

some bad things to my mom and so we

left and I haven’t seen him in a

while.

OZINSKI:

No sh*t.

Oliver flushes. Ozinski shuffles around. Then, Oliver’s

house key and cell phone slide under the stall.

OZINSKI (CONT’D)

Your dad the one that taught ya how

ta fight?

Oliver takes his stuff.

OLIVER:

Nah. My baby sitter.

INT. SUNNYSIDE RESIDENCE FOR THE ELDERLY - DAY - LATER

Tacky office. Vin’s sitting across from the rehab

director, SHIRLEY JORSTIN, a tight-lipped, tough egg in

her 50s.

SHIRLEY:

There’s plenty of affordable health

care options, Mr. Canatella.

Sunnyside’s pricey. It’s not for

everyone.

64.

VINCENT:

My Sandy, she’s gotta have the

best. So, I’ll just figure this

thing out.

She hands him a folder: invoices, bills, statements.

SHIRLEY:

You’re months behind. We’re not in

the credit business, as you know.

VINCENT:

I get that.

Vin looks inside, just a glance is enough to know he’s

f***ed.

SHIRLEY:

So...

VINCENT:

So, what’s that mean?

SHIRLEY:

We need payment in full and three

months in advance.

VINCENT:

Got it.

SHIRLEY:

By tomorrow.

VINCENT:

Tomorrow.

SHIRLEY:

We’ll transfer her wherever you

decide to put her.

VINCENT:

Put her. That’s it. Or we get the

boot?

SHIRLEY:

That’s not the best way to phrase

what’s happening.

Vin stands, pissed.

VINCENT:

What is the best way to phrase it?

SHIRLEY:

It is what it is.

Imagine that.

65.

EXT. SUNNYSIDE GROUNDS - LATER

Vin’s pushing Sandy around the pond. He’s wearing his

doctor’s getup.

SANDY:

I can’t wait for autumn. They

plant the most beautiful mums all

around the water.

VINCENT:

Yep.

Vin parks in front of their bench.

SANDY:

Every color you can imagine. I

don’t know where they get them all.

VINCENT:

At the garden store.

Sandy laughs. Touches his hand.

SANDY:

You’ve always been so funny, Vin.

Vin...she said Vin.

VINCENT:

Sandy.

A beat. Sandy looks confused.

VINCENT (CONT’D)

It’s me, babe. Vin.

And just like that, she’s gone.

SANDY:

The ducks eat them though. We have

to shoo them away. It’s such a

shame.

Vin could die. It’s just too much.

INT. NURSE’S STATION - MOMENTS LATER

Vin gets the dirty laundry bag from Ana. The ritual.

VINCENT:

It’s a lot lighter.

ANA:

She didn’t change much this week.

VINCENT:

Easier on my back.

66.

Vin reaches into his pocket, pulls out some cash. A few

wrinkled bills. He hands them to Ana.

VINCENT (CONT’D)

You think we can get some plants or

something for the room.

ANA:

Sure. I can have the concierge

order something.

VINCENT:

Mums. Or the like. I’m not a

florist.

He gets a few more bucks.

VINCENT (CONT’D)

Here. For the trouble.

ANA:

No. No, sir, Mr. Vincent. This is

my job. I take care of people.

Please.

VINCENT:

You go way beyond doing your job,

Ana. You been an angel for my

Sandy.

He puts the money in her smock pocket.

VINCENT (CONT’D)

It’s the least I can do.

Ana’s practically blushing.

ANA:

Okay, Mr. Vincent. We don’t make

habit now. Okay?

VINCENT:

Deal. I’m sh*t broke anyway.

She laughs on her way out.

ANA:

I go tell the concierge.

VINCENT:

Thanks, doll.

Ana disappears behind the station.

Vin looks at the cabinet on the wall behind the

counter...full of meds. He looks around.

67.

EXT. SHITTY NEIGHBORHOOD - LATER

The neighborhood is lined with decrepid houses, iron

gates shielding every window and door. Vin sits in his

car outside one of the more indigent shacks. Sunglasses

and a hat conceal his mug.

After too long...Charisse comes waddling out of the house

with a paper bag. Leans into the window.

CHARISSE:

Hundred bucks.

VINCENT:

Hundred bucks? I pay more than

that for one prescription.

Charisse pulls bottles of meds out of the bag. Names

them.

CHARISSE:

For epilepsy. Prostate flaring.

Sh*t softener.

VINCENT:

That should have some value.

CHARISSE:

And for pissing harder.

VINCENT:

Five hundred bucks. That stuff is

high dollar.

CHARISSE:

He said a hundred, take it or leave

it. Can’t sell this sh*t to get

high. Have to find some freak or a

desperate old f***er.

Vin just stares at her.

VINCENT:

I’ll take the hundred.

Rate this script:4.0 / 6 votes