The Lost Weekend Page #3

DON:

So what? We put in a call that we're

taking the late train, have supper

at nine o'clock, be in bed by ten.

WICK:

Nothing doing. We're going.

HELEN:

Wick's right. And don't worry about

that empty seat. I'll find myself a

very handsome South American

millionaire.

DON:

There. Did you hear her? And now

we'd have to break our necks to catch

the train anyway.

HELEN:

(Looking at her wrist

watch)

Two-twenty.

DON:

See?

WICK:

(Giving up)

All right. Go ahead.

DON:

Wait a minute. I'm not going.

WICK:

Then what are we talking about?

DON:

I want you to go. You and Helen.

WICK:

Me and Helen?

DON:

Yes. That was the idea. Who likes

Brahms, you or I?

WICK:

Since when don't you like Brahms?

DON:

I'll stay right here and finish

packing. Take a little nap maybe.

WICK:

Nonsense. If anybody goes... Helen's

your girl.

There is an exchange of suspicious looks between Wick and

Helen.

HELEN:

There's something in that, Don.

WICK:

What's more, I don't think you should

be left alone.

DON:

I shouldn't?

WICK:

No.

HELEN:

Really, Don.

DON:

Why? I can't be trusted. Is that it?

WICK:

What I meant to say --

HELEN:

Wick.

WICK:

After what Don's been through --

DON:

After what I've been through, I

couldn't go to a concert. I couldn't

face the crowd. I couldn't sit through

it with all those people around. I

want to be alone for a couple of

hours and kind of assemble myself.

Is that such an extraordinary thing

to want?

WICK:

Don't act so outraged, would you

mind?

DON:

All right. Anything else?

HELEN:

Please, boys.

Wick, who has been smoking a cigarette throughout the scene,

throws it out the window. None of the three see, but we do,

that it doesn't fall out the window but ricochets against

the opened casement to the window sill, where it lies

smouldering.

WICK:

Come on, Helen.

HELEN:

You'll stay right here, won't you?

DON:

Where would I go?

HELEN:

Then you'll be here when we come

back?

DON:

I told you I'm not leaving this

apartment.

WICK:

You've told us a good many things,

Don.

Furious, Don takes a bunch of keys from his pocket.

DON:

All right, if you don't believe me,

why don't you take my key and lock

me in like a dog.

HELEN:

(To Wick)

We've got to trust Don. That's the

only way.

WICK:

Sorry, Don.

(To Helen)

Here we go.

HELEN:

So long, Don.

DON:

So long.

HELEN:

(Pulling him by the

lapel)

Bend down.

His face is now close to hers. She kisses him. Wick turns

away. His eyes fall on the cigarette still smouldering on

the sill. He goes toward the window.

Don, held by Helen, watches him tensely. Wick flips the

cigarette into the garden and is about to turn back into the

room when his eyes fall on the cleat and the string. He leans

from the window.

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