Youth Page #12

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Fred composes himself. He stops shouting, but still clings to

the glass, in a daze. Lena looks behind him, now she’s the

one who doesn’t know what to say.

28. EXT. COUNTRY LANE. DAY

Parachutists twirl gracefully, silently just below the craggy

mountain peaks.

Fred and Mick are taking a walk.

Out of nowhere, a little dramatically, as if choosing a topic

at random, Fred says.

FRED BALLINGER:

This morning I took a long,

powerful piss. And while I was

doing it, I was thinking, Jesus,

when is this going to stop? When? I

just kept pissing and pissing. And

I was so happy! I haven’t been that

happy in months.

Mick hides his displeasure.

MICK BOYLE:

Good, I’m happy for you.

But Fred realizes his friend is upset.

FRED BALLINGER:

I was joking, Mick. It didn’t

happen like that.

MICK BOYLE:

Don’t joke about these things,

Fred. Prostate is serious.

FRED BALLINGER:

You always fall for my jokes.

You’ve been believing every word I

say for the last sixty years.

52.

MICK BOYLE:

I invent stories, Fred. I have to

believe everything in order to make

things up. Do you remember the

other day? When you told me you

don’t remember your parents any

more?

FRED BALLINGER:

No, I don’t remember.

MICK BOYLE:

Of course you do. Well, you made me

realize that not only do I not

remember my parents, but my

childhood, for example, I don’t

remember a thing about it. There’s

only one thing I still remember.

FRED BALLINGER:

What’s that?

MICK BOYLE:

The precise moment when I learned

to ride a bicycle. I know it sounds

banal, but oh, what joy! It was

sheer joy. And this morning, as if

by magic, for the first time, I

also remembered the moment right

after I learned to ride a bike.

FRED BALLINGER:

The moment in which you fell.

MICK BOYLE:

How the f*** did you know?

FRED BALLINGER:

Because that’s how it was for

everyone, Mick. You learn to do

something, you’re really happy, and

then you forget to brake.

MICK BOYLE:

Isn’t that a terrific metaphor for

life?

FRED BALLINGER:

Let’s not go rushing to

conclusions, Mick.

And then something amazing happens. A boy, about eleven years

old, comes toward them on the country lane. He’s riding a

mountain bike, and, with astonishing self-confidence, is

doing a wheelie. Mick and Fred watch him, speechless. The boy

peddles past them, still up on one wheel. He races all the

way to the end of the lane, as silent as a ghost, balanced on

one wheel.

53.

Mick and Fred turn to watch him, ecstatic.

Fred thinks for a minute, then says:

FRED BALLINGER (CONT’D)

You know something, Mick?

MICK BOYLE:

What?

FRED BALLINGER:

You and me, we’re never going to

die.

Mick turns to his friend. He smiles and then adds:

MICK BOYLE:

Now let’s not go rushing to

conclusions, Fred!

But then something catches his attention: the silent German

couple, dressed in matching green, is about to enter the

dense woods. Mick gestures to Fred, who turns and sees them

too, right as they disappear among the trees. Fred doesn’t

need to think twice. He turns to Mick and in a serious voice

says:

FRED BALLINGER:

Let’s follow them.

29. EXT. WOODS. DAY

Fred and Mick crouch behind some bushes, perfectly still.

Watching. And what do they see?

They see the silent German couple leaning against a tree,

their clothes half off. He is penetrating her with a passion

worthy of an teenage boy dying to screw.

They are really enjoying it. He is in a frenzy, she’s about

to climax. They come, both of them, together. The myth of the

simultaneous orgasm, right there in the woods. They moan with

pleasure.

So in their own way, they have spoken.

Impassive, Fred merely takes out his wallet and hands Mick

fifty Swiss francs.

30. INT. HOTEL CORRIDOR. DAY

Fred walks down the hallway. Lena is waiting for him at the

door to their suite. She seems restless, short of breath,

anxious to talk with her father. In fact, she says to him

right away.

54.

LENA:

Where have you been, daddy? This

man’s been here for an hour, he

says he’s Queen Elizabeth’s

emissary.

Fred snorts, as if this was the last thing he wanted to hear.

LENA (CONT’D)

I told him to make himself

comfortable in the living room.

31. INT. FRED BALLINGER’S SUITE. DAY

Lena pours a coffee for the Queen’s emissary, whom we met

earlier. He and Fred sit facing each other, one on a love

seat, the other in an easy chair, a small table between them.

Lena goes and sits on a chair behind her father.

The emissary nervously taps his pants’ pocket, where we can

see clearly the bulge of a packet of cigarettes. Fred notices

his agitation.

FRED BALLINGER:

You can smoke here, if you want.

The emissary can’t believe his ears. He’s as astounded as if

there’d just been an earthquake.

QUEEN’S EMISSARY

Are you serious?

FRED BALLINGER:

The hotel manager is a music lover.

So he grants me some small

privileges.

The emissary’s smile is one of infinite gratitude.

QUEEN’S EMISSARY

You have no idea how much pleasure

this gives me.

FRED BALLINGER:

Are you feeling tense?

QUEEN’S EMISSARY

I’ll say.

He says, taking a deep, restorative drag on his cigarette.

FRED BALLINGER:

There’s no ashtray, though.

QUEEN’S EMISSARY

That’s fine, I’ll cope.

55.

FRED BALLINGER:

I don’t have much time, so let’s

skip the formalities. I have to do

a thorough cleansing of my

intestines soon.

The emissary’s expression instinctively looks pained and

says.

QUEEN’S EMISSARY

Will it hurt?

FRED BALLINGER:

No, it's just embarrassing.

The emissary sighs and starts in.

QUEEN’S EMISSARY

I wasn’t able to convince the

Queen. I relayed your reticence

about the songs to her. I proposed

an alternative repertoire. An

alternative musician. An

alternative sort of evening. She

doesn’t want alternatives. She

wants you and only you and only

your “Simple Songs.” She says it’s

all that Prince Philip listens to.

FRED BALLINGER:

I’m sorry. I don’t want to seem

rude. But I’m afraid it’s

impossible.

QUEEN’S EMISSARY

But why?

FRED BALLINGER:

I explained why, the last time we

met. Personal reasons.

QUEEN’S EMISSARY

And is there no way to resolve

these personal reasons?

FRED BALLINGER:

Unfortunately not.

QUEEN’S EMISSARY

I’m begging you, Maestro. I have a

difficult job. I simply must return

to London with a positive answer.

FRED BALLINGER:

But my answer is negative.

Lena follows every word.

56.

QUEEN’S EMISSARY

I simply don’t understand. What is

it that doesn’t work? The date? The

location? The orchestra? The

soprano? The Queen?

FRED BALLINGER:

Please, don’t insist. Personal

reasons.

The emissary drops his diplomatic demeanor and shows a flash

of anger.

QUEEN’S EMISSARY

And what exactly are these bloody

personal reasons?

Fred doesn’t respond.

Lena is beginning to understand. We’re not, but she is. She

starts to cry quietly, inwardly.

FRED BALLINGER:

Personal means that I’m not obliged

to explain them.

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