The Taking of Deborah Logan Page #2

what we call MCI-

mild cognitive impairment.

Through a battery of tests,

we were able to diagnose

with 95% certainty

that she was in the early stages

of Alzheimer's.

MIA:
How did she take the news?

It's devastating,

obviously, for anyone,

but Deborah's not someone

to go down without a fight.

MIA:
After the premature death

of her husband, Dennis,

to a pulmonary embolism,

Deborah was forced to provide

for two-year-old Sarah

on her own.

She leveraged their house

as collateral and would go on

to start a highly successful

switchboard answering service

for the town of Exuma.

DEBORAH:
That was the way

that professionals

received their messages

and, I guess, transferred information

back in those days,

was through

a professional answering service.

SARAH:
Everyone told her

she was crazy at the time.

- Right?

- DEBORAH:
They certainly did.

I was all alone

with a small child.

SARAH:
You can't tell Mom

not to do something

'cause then she will absolutely

make sure she does it.

- I was the nexus of this town.

- Yeah!

Doctors, lawyers,

and Town Hall, everybody.

Three-martini lunches

and affairs

and philanderers

and alcoholics and...

I had to cover

for all of these people.

You didn't have to.

You chose to.

Well, I did or they wouldn't

have stayed with me.

- True.

- I wouldn't have had a business.

You know.

MIA:
As the days pass,

what becomes most apparent

is there are no small tasks

for an Alzheimer's patient.

- WOMAN:
$27.96.

- DEBORAH:
27?

Let me see. Alright...

OK, there's some of the change.

- OK.

- I just need the dollars.

Oh, right, OK.

MIA:
Maintenance of daily living

exacts a great toll

as organisational thinking

is compromised.

It didn't cook it

all the way through.

I'm just gonna put this here

like this.

- Why, thank you.

- Does it taste alright?

- Is it sweet enough?

- Yeah, that is good.

Can you taste the vanilla in it?

- That's my secret.

- MAN:
She's a fighter.

And she's brave.

She's generous and kind.

But how do you fight your way

through something you...

...you can't see or know?

I do all my little puzzles.

I do crosswords.

I'm lifting weights.

I am doing everything

that I have read will help

to stave off the progression

of this disease.

Stave it off!

There's no cure.

And so when I am

in the middle of something

and suddenly my mind

just leaves the premises,

there are no words to describe

how distressing it is.

(WIND CHIMES TINKLE)

LUIS:
Debbie in the garden.

Zoom in.

Slow push.

What is she...

Luis, you're supposed to be

working on the edit!

- Why are you screwing around?

- I was just shooting some...

I'm hungry-

- You hungry?

- LUIS:
Um...

Let's get some lunch.

LUIS:
Mia, lunch?

(STATIC HISSES)

(STATIC HISSES)

(DOOR SLAMS)

(DOOR CREAKS)

Am I supposed to not talk?

Should I hold my breath?

(PRETENDS TO CHOKE)

It doesn't matter, anyway,

because, wow,

your blood pressure...

- I mean...

- What?

You know stress is

the real killer, right?

Don't worry.

I plan on dying of cirrhosis

of the liver, anyway, OK?

- Right?

- Well...

- Uh-huh?

- However you wanna go.

GAVIN:
Whoa, put that down!

- Hey!

- LUIS:
Put down the knife!

Hey, hey!

What, I didn't take anything.

Look, whatever it is,

I'll help you find it.

I'll help you...

Whoa, put that down!

- Hey, hey!

- (YELLS INDISTINCTLY)

Get away from me!

Where is my spade?!

- I didn't take it.

- You took it!

- Whoa, whoa, whoa!

- LUIS:
Holy sh*t.

GAVIN:
Tell her

I didn't take her damn spade!

DEBORAH:
That's where it was!

You took it!

GAVIN:
OK, OK!

(POTS CLATTER LOUDLY)

DEBORAH:
I need that spade!

- I need it!

- LUIS:
Get down from there.

- They're all in here.

- I need that spade!

(SCREAMS)

Where here?!

Where is it?!

Goddammit!

GODDAMMIT!

My Spade!

MIA:
Just check your rooms.

SARAH:
Did you check

all locked rooms? You OK?

No, I'm not OK!

I'm f***ing far from OK.

- I'm sorry. I hurt my back.

- Here, take these keys.

Look, I don't know, OK?

Luis, I swear to God, if you

don't f***ing get off my ass...

You f***ing look.

I'm gonna go just see

how she is.

GAVIN:
Of course not.

(SOFT RUMBLING)

Wow, old school.

- MIA:
Luis?

- LUIS:
Yeah?

- Is that it?

- Yeah, it was in the freezer.

It's the only place

she didn't look.

Hey. Mom?

Mom, we found your spade.

Maybe you wanna sit down, Mom?

Ma, can you talk to me, please?

Please, Mom, please.

- Mom?

- (MUTTERS TO SELF)

- Mom, you're scaring me.

- (TO SELF) She knows.

(MUTTERS) Sarah.

(MUTTERS INDISTINCTLY)

(SCREAMS)

- LUIS:
Holy sh*t!

- Go get help.

- Oh, my God. Someone...

- (STATIC HISSES)

Would you grab this?

Should we put you

in front or back?

- In the front, I'll sit.

- In the front.

DEBORAH:
I'm...

I'm just mortified.

I would never dream

of speaking to anyone

the way I evidently spoke to you.

I'm terribly sorry.

It's... it's OK.

(CLEARS THROAT)

Oh, look at the leaves.

Aren't they beautiful.

Glorious time of year.

What do you mean 'home'?

She's got a home. What kind of home?

You mean someplace

she should go lay up in a bed?

You know,

under fluorescent light?

Lay there all day,

stinking like urine?

That's where you go to die,

my friend.

That ain't a place to live.

This is a place to live.

- She loves this.

- DEBORAH:
That shirt.

Oh, that shirt I hate.

- Can't you wear a nice blouse?

- I don't have a blouse.

Nice to see you too, Ma.

- I missed you, yeah.

- Nice to see you.

- Yes, dear.

- Complimentary valet.

Oh, Harris, thank you

for all your help.

- How's your neck?

- It's fine, it's fine.

DEBORAH:
Told you

to stay away from here.

(DOOR CREAKS)

I didn't know,

I didn't know, I didn't know.

(CLOCK TICKS REPEATEDLY)

(BREATHES HEAVILY)

(SOFTLY) Please... please...

Stop...

St-stop.

No.

(BREATHES HEAVILY) No.

MIA:
Deborah's brain is

much like the switchboard

she so adeptly worked on

for decades...

Go away, go away...

...her misfiring synapses

like the phone lines

being pulled from their jacks,

losing connections.

As memories are taken

one by one,

it soon becomes clear that

you can't run from Alzheimer's.

You can only face it head-on,

hopefully with dignity

and grace.

No, no.

It becomes clear

that Sarah has found

her own coping mechanisms.

SARAH:
I've got no choice, babe.

She... she's not making it easy.

She doesn't want my help, so...

Well, I got the U-Haul

from Monday, so...

My girlfriend, Shelly,

I could not tell her the truth.

I just told her I'm moving back home

for a couple of months.

I didn't have the balls

to tell her the truth.

You guys come have a drink, OK?

It's been a long time since

I hung out, which is nice.

- It's nice.

- Really?

MIA:
Yeah, it's good.

(CHUCKLES) That's funny.

LUIS:
Why?

What's funny about it?

(LAUGHS) It's just weird.

It's sweet, it's sweet.

- (LUIS SIGHS)

- You know, Ma, um...

She sent me away to Richmond

in '76, boarding school.

- LUIS:
Really?

- I was 10.

She caught me

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