Note: This screenplay depicts, among other things, romantic and sexual attraction between males. Those readers uncomfortable with homosexuality should not read it. Those readers who want sex only should also seek entertainment elsewhere. All others are sincerely welcome.
Aside from Nifty, my stories are posted at It's Only Me from Across the Sea.
Previous Nifty - Gay Male stories:
~ beta Lyrae (short story in Science Fiction and Fantasy)
~ A Piece of Cake (short story in College)
If you enjoy this screenplay or have constructive comments, I'd be delighted to hear from you at wpc (at) wpcmath (dot) com.
© 2005-2006 by William P. Coleman. May be reproduced in its entirety, including this notice and without alteration, for individual or non-profit use. All other rights reserved. May not for profit be filmed, performed, distributed, printed, reproduced, reposted, or linked to.
William P. Coleman
EXT. JAKE'S HOUSE - EARLY MORNING
A fisherman's house on an island in Maine. There are nets and tackle on the dock and a boat in the slip. A light first snow of winter is on the ground. There is cold in the thick fog.
A car pulls to a stop by the road in front. PETER (in his forties; a tan, trim body from tennis and gym workouts) gets out, and knocks decisively on the door. He wears an elegant Italian suit that's out of place in this scenery.
JAKE (the same age; a lean, hard body from work) answers. He wears jeans with two wool plaid shirts in layers. Jake acts quietly surprised at seeing Peter.
Peter, it's been years since you've stopped to visit me.
I know, Jake. Look, this isn't a vis--
Nice clothes you wear now.
Jake, I need a favor.
We never failed each other in high school. Why start now?
Calm but curious, Jake continues to look Peter over.
Can you run me to the mainland?
What happened to your boat?
Maybe I could explain after we're underway.
Peter moves toward Jake's boat. Jake ducks into the house and returns with severe-looking black rubberized raingear that he pulls on as he follows Peter.
AT THE BOAT
Jake starts the engine.
Peter, could you cast off the lines?
Peter stares at Jake and then indicates his expensive suit. He replies deadpan, like he's chatting with a friend after a game of squash at the Athletic Club.
You like it? Armani. It's surprisingly practical in a variety of situations -- but not working around boats.
Imperturbable, Jake smiles, shrugs, and takes care of the lines himself.
My boat's engine died, Jake. It wasn't a good moment to fix it.
EXT. JAKE'S BOAT; MOVING - LATER
Dense fog. Jake is at the wheel. Peter stands behind him and speaks over Jake's shoulder.
I'll see David this trip.
There's a flicker of interest in Jake's calm eyes. He nods acknowledgment to Peter without turning to look at him.
How is he?
Good. He's good.
They stand in silence for a long minute.
I'm hoping he and I can get back together.
This time Jake does turn. He smiles warmly.
That would be great, Peter.
Peter, though appreciating Jake's sincerity, seems to need to justify himself.
It was me who left him -- not him me. So, maybe.
I didn't know that.
After I lost the election -- after four goddam good terms in Congress when they suddenly didn't want me any more -- I couldn't face him -- couldn't let him see me like that.
Jake gestures out ahead of the boat, through the fog.
David isn't judgmental. He wouldn't have turned on you.
I know that now.
They pull up to the dock. Jake ties on the lines. Peter lingers.
Jake, you were the one David wanted, back in high school. I'm not his type -- too fast, too self-absorbed.
You never put the moves on him. He waited. He tried.
Jake stands with calm dignity.
I was afraid to let him know.
Peter stares at Jake, who stares back but doesn't say more.
You can write me at wpc (at) wpcmath (dot) com.