What Lies Beneath Page #8

Claire leans against the window sill.

CLAIRE:

Oh great, "Can you look in on my

wife, she's hearing voices?" Wait'll

that gets around.

He walks over to her.

NORMAN:

I've got the conference next week. I

want you to feel safe.

CLAIRE:

I do, I do. I'm sure I'm just... how

was your day?

He goes to his dresser and fishes a little joint from a box

in his dresser.

NORMAN:

Think I may have cracked it.

CLAIRE:

Really?

She produces a match and lights it. They sit on the bed.

NORMAN:

I think so. Maybe.

CLAIRE:

You are so brilliant.

NORMAN:

Yep.

CLAIRE:

Madame Curie, Jonas Salk, Norman

Spencer...

NORMAN:

(smiling)

You know what that does to me.

She takes a little puff on the joint as he kisses her neck.

NORMAN:

(stopping)

Ohmigod. You'll never believe... I

saw Schumway...

CLAIRE:

You're kidding.

NORMAN:

He's here giving some arcane spiel

for the physics department, so Bob

Shine introduces us...

CLAIRE:

Wow.

He nods, Claire passes the joint back.

NORMAN:

And he says... you'll f***ing love

this, he says, "Doctor Spencer, I am

a great admirer of your work..."

CLAIRE:

Well, that's nice.

NORMAN:

"...especially Spencer's Theorem..."

CLAIRE:

(overlapping)

Oh, no...

NORMAN:

"...of Perpetual Distances."

(beat)

Everybody's checking their shoelaces.

Pins drop. "I'm afraid you've mistaken

me," I say...

CLAIRE:

(overlapping)

That's...

NORMAN:

"...for my father."

CLAIRE:

I'm so sorry.

NORMAN:

Didn't know he was dead, every

stinking paper on the globe.

CLAIRE:

That's just mean.

(indicating joint)

Oh. Jody wanted to know if I could

get her some.

NORMAN:

(quickly glancing

over)

Did you tell her?

CLAIRE:

What? No. No.

NORMAN:

You didn't?

CLAIRE:

(with a smile)

Norman, you are so funny about that.

No, I didn't.

He takes a little toke, then vanishes into the bathroom.

NORMAN (O.S.)

Cause that would be really --

She lays back on the bed. Sounds of flushing.

CLAIRE:

I didn't.

He reappears without the joint.

NORMAN:

Sorry. You understand.

CLAIRE:

Did you call about the Feurs?

NORMAN:

Oh, right. Yes. Harvey says the guy's

a sweetheart. Wouldn't hurt a fly.

CLAIRE:

Huh.

Claire ponders this. Norman turns off the light and joins

her on the bed. He kisses her knee.

NORMAN:

Do the brilliant Norman stuff some

more.

Then starts working his way up her thigh.

NORMAN:

And speak up.

Claire smiles.

INT. LIVING ROOM - AFTERNOON

Claire sits frozen, cello between her legs, bow hovering in

position. After an uncomfortable long pause, she touches bow

to string, drawing in a breath at the power of the sound.

Claire takes another deep breath, then launches into a

beautiful and melancholy piece of music. She's very, very

good. Eyes closed. Her body begins to sway slightly as her

left hand vibratos like butterfly wings on the neck.

She reaches a difficult transition and falters. She seems

almost surprised. She attacks the transition again, and again

falters. Claire bites her lower lip and tries yet again,

this time failing completely.

She sits back in the chair, despondent. Almost as an

afterthought, she sadly drags the bow across strings. At the

end of the tone, something catches her ear. She can just

make out the HINT OF A FAINT FEMININE VOICE echoing the tone.

She sits up and plays a different note, then another. Each

time the soft mournful voice becomes more distinct. Finally

she plays a sharp, higher pitched note. The voice echoes

with a distinct, unsettling shriek.

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