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7.

One of the kids begins skating backwards. He nudges his

friend and imitates Sam's spastic motions. Both of them laugh

and zoom away.

SAM (CONT'D)

Ha ha, you little bastards.

LILA:

We don't have to do this, you know.

It's supposed to be fun.

SAM:

I'm having fun.

He lets go of Lila's hand and tries to skate in the manner of

Eric Heiden, pumping his legs with one hand behind his back,

going faster and faster.

LILA:

Sam...

Sam, now out of control, begins speeding downhill.

SAM:

How do I stop? HOW DO I STOP?

Ahead of him, the path forks left and right. He won't be able

to make the turn at this speed.

At the last second, Sam grabs onto a lamppost. He spins

around the post and flops into a bush.

LILA:

(catching up)

Sam? Sam?

Sam lies on the ground, catching his breath. He's covered

with leaves and dirt.

LILA (CONT’D)

You okay?

Lila crouches beside him and begins checking him for injuries

with the practiced skill of a nurse.

SAM:

I'm fine, I'm fine.

LILA:

That was impressive.

She lies down next to him.

8.

SAM:

Maybe I'm not ready for this. I'm

not so coordinated.

LILA:

That's okay. You're a sexy klutz.

They kiss. Lila pulls herself closer, her hands on Sam's

wrists. Abruptly, Sam pulls his long sleeves down farther, as

if to hide something on his wrists. Lila releases him.

.

For a moment both of them are quiet.

LILA (CONT'D)

You don't have to do that. You

don't have to hide from me.

Sam doesn't look at her.

SAM:

I'm not hiding.

LILA:

Sam.

Sam raises his head.

LILA (CONT'D)

Don't hide.

She kisses him. In the middle of the kiss a loud CRACK

startles both of them.

LILA (CONT'D)

What was that?

For a few seconds nothing happens. And then another CRACK,

and then another, coming rapid fire now, grape-size chunks of

ice falling from the sky and shattering on the paved

walkways.

SAM:

Hail.

INT. CAR -- NIGHT

DRIVER'S POV

We see the road through the driver's eyes. We're somewhere in

Brooklyn, driving fast through a string of green lights.

Everything is very, very quiet.

9.

We turn to the right. A GREEN-EYED WOMAN (20) sits in the

passenger seat. She says something, but we can't hear a word.

She smiles.

INT. SUBWAY CAR -- AFTERNOON

Henry opens his eyes. He sits in a car that shudders and

rattles its way through the underground. On his lap is a book

on the artist Tristan R.veur.

He pulls a cigarette from a pack and lights it.

Next to Henry sleeps a long-haired TEENAGE BOY wearing a

Walkman:
from the headphones we hear "I Shall be Released."

Various subway riders glare at Henry and wave away the smoke,

obviously annoyed that he's polluting their airspace.

A YOUNG WOMAN who wears her blonde hair in dreadlocks sits

across the car, watching Henry.

YOUNG WOMAN:

You go to Columbia, right? We were

both in Psych 221. Professor

Matthewson?

(pointing at his book)

You did your oral presentation on

psychosis and Tristan R.veur,

right?

Henry stares at her as if she's speaking an alien language. A

BUSINESSMAN standing between them, holding onto the metal

pole, wearing a gray suit and carrying an attache case,

shakes his head at Henry.

BUSINESSMAN:

No smoking on the train.

HENRY:

What?

BUSINESSMAN:

(pointing)

Look at the sign, fella. No smoking

on the train.

Henry looks at the sign.

INSERT NO SMOKING SIGN

10.

BUSINESSMAN (CONT'D)

Capeesh? Put it out.

HENRY:

Capeesh? Are you in the Mafia?

The businessman leans closer, until his face is inches from

Henry's.

BUSINESSMAN:

Put out the f***ing cigarette.

Henry slowly rolls his shirtsleeve back from his forearm. The

skin is mottled with fresh burns.

He draws on his cigarette until its point is red-hot, then

stabs it out on the skin of his wrist. He does not flinch.

The businessman reels backward. The dreadlocked Columbia

student's mouth drops open. The people sitting next to Henry

stand and move away.

Henry offers the cigarette butt to the businessman, who waves

his hand at it and moves away, muttering:

BUSINESSMAN (CONT'D)

You ought to be locked up.

HENRY:

I am.

When the train pulls into the next station, the businessman

and the Columbia caucastafarian hastily depart.

INT. SAM'S BEDROOM -- NIGHT

Bookshelves overflowing with books dominate the space. The

one luxurious feature is a working fireplace where a well-

built little fire now burns.

Lila's curled up in bed, highlighting lines in Dante's

Purgatorio.

Sam, lying beside her, speaks on the PHONE.

SAM:

Hey, Beth, this is Sam. Hope you're

feeling better. I met with your

patient Henry Letham today, thought

maybe we could compare notes.

Anyway, give me a call.

11.

He hangs up and stares into the fire, his hands folded over

his chest.

SAM (CONT'D)

(to Lila)

You don't think it's a little odd,

predicting a hailstorm like that?

LILA:

(not really paying

attention)

So he watches the Weather Channel.

SAM:

I looked in the newspaper. There

was nothing about any hail today.

LILA:

Maybe he's a shaman and he did a

little hail dance.

SAM:

Okay, forget it.

LILA:

(finally looking up)

How's Beth Levy?

SAM:

I don't know. She hasn't returned

any of my calls.

LILA:

Hm.

SAM:

What does "hm" mean?

LILA:

She always kind of liked you,

didn't she?

Sam jabs Lila in the ribs with his finger.

SAM:

What are you, jealous? Beth's one

of my oldest friends.

LILA:

She's your oldest friend, that's

supposed to make me unjealous?

12.

SAM:

Unjealous?

LILA:

She's in love. It's obvious to

everyone but you. And every day you

wear that sweater she made you-

She points at the blue sweater, lying folded on top of the

dresser.

LILA (CONT'D)

--and all I can think is, Damn, I

can't even knit.

SAM:

She saved my life, sweetheart.

LILA:

I know.

SAM:

You're the only one for me, all

right? I knew I would find you. And

I did.

LILA:

(kissing him on the lips)

It took you long enough.

INT. BETH LEVY'S OFFICE -- MORNING

Wednesday

Sam sits behind Beth's desk and Henry sits facing him.

SAM:

Have you considered a career in

meteorology?

Henry says nothing, only stares at the chewed-down stubs of

his fingernails.

SAM (CONT' D)

The weatherman said something about

the hail?

HENRY:

I can't listen to the weatherman

anymore. I don't understand a word

he says.

.

13.

SAM:

You don't understand the

weatherman?

HENRY:

Do you?

SAM:

Sure. He says rain, I bring an

umbrella.

Henry stares at Sam for a moment, trying to gauge the

psychiatrist. He seems to come to a decision.

HENRY:

I don't know what's real anymore.

SAM:

Go on.

(off Henry's non-response)

Give me a chance, Henry. I'm good

at what I do.

HENRY:

The voices never stop.

SAM:

Voices?

HENRY:

In my head. They never stop.

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