The Lost Weekend Page #4

Don lets Helen go, staring at Wick, panic in his eyes. Helen,

sensing something amiss, looks from one brother to the other.

WICK:

(Hauling up the bottle)

What's this, Don?

Helen and Wick watch Don. Don's face relaxes into an innocent

grin.

DON:

That? That's whiskey, isn't it?

WICK:

How did it get there?

DON:

I don't know.

WICK:

I suppose it dropped from some cloud.

Or someone was bouncing it against

this wall and it got stuck.

DON:

I must have put it there.

WICK:

Yes, you must.

DON:

Only I don't remember when. Probably

during my last spell, or maybe the

one before.

His eyes meet Helen's. Hers are infinitely distressed.

DON:

Don't look at me like that, Helen.

Doesn't mean a thing. I didn't know

it was there. And if I had, I wouldn't

have touched it.

Wick has twisted the string off the bottle.

WICK:

Then you won't mind.

DON:

Won't mind what?

Wick, the bottle in his hand, goes through the living room

toward the kitchenette. Don looks after him, then follows

him, a stubborn smile on his lips. Helen trails after them,

acutely embarrassed.

A-3 KITCHENETTE

Wick has stepped to the sink. He opens the bottle, turns it

upside down and lets the whiskey run out. Don and Helen come

to the door from the living room and stand watching. Don has

something of the feeling of a man watching the execution of

a very good friend, but he senses Helen's eyes upon him and

preserves his nonchalant expression. The bottle emptied,

Wick puts it in the sink.

WICK:

Now you trot along with Helen.

DON:

Why? On account of that?

(Pointing at the bottle)

You think I wanted you out of the

apartment because of that? I resent

that like the devil, and if there's

one more word of discussion, I don't

leave on your blasted weekend.

HELEN:

Let's go.

Wick shrugs and goes to the hall for his hat.

HELEN:

(To Don)

Be good, won't you, Don, darling?

She turns to go, but Don holds her back.

DON:

Of course, Helen. Just stop watching

me all the time, you two. Let me

work it out my way. I'm trying, I'm

trying.

HELEN:

We're both trying, Don. You're trying

not to drink, and I'm trying not to

love you.

She kisses him on the mouth, a woman hopelessly in love.

Then, so that he won't see her moist eyes, she turns and

hurries into the entrance hall.

A-4 LITTLE ENTRANCE HALL - BIRNAM APARTMENT

Wick stands, hat in hand, holding the door open. Helen comes

out quickly and taking a handkerchief from her bag, hurries

past Wick into the hall. Wick turns toward Don, who has

followed Helen to the entrance hall.

WICK:

You call the farm, Don. Tell them

we're taking the six-thirty train.

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