Dollar Store, Yes

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FADE IN:

INT. DOLLAR STORE - NIGHT

A pregnant CASHIER (21, warm smile, understanding eyes) looks straight into us. Her neck is purpled with hickies. A soft, timid voice begins to narrate...

DESIRÉE (V.O.)

The checkout girl is fecund with child.

DESIRÉE (late 30s, wool scarf, pajamas, frazzled hair, subtle mascara tears) can’t take her eyes off the cashier’s jugular.

DESIRÉE (V.O.)

And her neck is so finely dappled with the unmistakable constellations of hickies that when she asks you--

CASHIER:

Do you want more?

Desirée looks up at the cashier, dumb. More what?

DESIRÉE (V.O.)

More chips, because you have one bag, and it’s two for one.

In Desirée’s left hand: a bag of chips. In her right: a bottle of concealer.

DESIRÉE (V.O.)

You automatically say “yes,” because clearly this girl is teaching you something in this moment about saying--

FLASHBACK:
INT. LECTURE HALL - DAY

DESIRÉE

Yes.

Desirée stands before a vast audience of college students counting down the minutes left in class. Her “yes” is directed toward a student who appears to be raising his hand.

STUDENT:

Sorry, I was just stretching.

Desirée smiles politely.

DESIRÉE

Can anyone talk about the poem we read over the weekend? What it means-- Well, not what it means, but what it means to you, personally.

They humor her, flipping through their paper handouts.

Desirée trudges over to her podium, a shiny flask hiding inside of it.

DESIRÉE

Guys, this class isn’t a lecture, it’s a discussion. Be curious, be vulnerable, you don’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing. Let’s talk, come on.

No one makes eye contact. You can start to hear the desperation in Desirée’s voice.

DESIRÉE

Can someone just say something? It doesn’t have to be about the poem. Just anything.

Another painful silence until...

CEDRICK (O.S.)

What do you like to write?

All heads turn to the corner. Sitting beside a military duffle bag is CEDRICK (26, messy hair, sincere smile).

DESIRÉE

What do I like to write?

CEDRICK:

Yes.

BACK TO SCENE:

INT. DOLLAR STORE - NIGHT

In SLOW-MOTION:

Desirée thoughtlessly grabs another bag of chips from the counter, still transfixed by the cashier’s hickies.

DESIRÉE (V.O.)

So you reach for another bag, because why not? And that’s what you want to say from now on, “why not?” Her body is the lesson in “yes,” in “yessing.”

The cashier holds her infectious smile as she scans each bag.

BEEP.

DESIRÉE (V.O.)

Yes.

BEEP.

DESIRÉE (V.O.)

Yes.

BEEP.

DESIRÉE (PRE-LAP)

(moaning)

YES!

FLASHBACK:
INT. DESIRÉE’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Desirée’s rosy face bounces over the acned shoulder of Cedrick. The bed SQUEAKS, they PANT, until-- BAM! The bed frame collapses. They avalanche onto the floor, LAUGHING, naked on their backs.

CEDRICK:

Could we do this again sometime?

DESIRÉE

If you want.

CEDRICK:

We should actually, like, do something.

DESIRÉE

Yeah?

PRE-LAP:
30s SWING MUSIC PLAYS.

FLASHBACK:
INT. LECTURE HALL - NIGHT

An impressive drawing of an amusement park on the whiteboard. Desirée colors a Ferris wheel while Cedrick details naked passengers on a rollercoaster. Our couple wears only T-shirts and underwear. Empty beer cans litter the floor.

Cedrick wanders to the podium and is surprised to find Desirée’s flask.

CEDRICK:

Pretty bold.

Desirée takes the flask from him, tucks it away, and turns up the music coming from the speaker.

CEDRICK:

So we’re just not gonna talk about that?

DESIRÉE

That’s correct.

She continues her drawing.

CEDRICK:

Do you like your job?

DESIRÉE

I think so.

CEDRICK:

You look miserable when you teach.

DESIRÉE

Thanks.

CEDRICK:

Are you?

He hugs her from behind and starts swaying to the music with his eyes closed. Into her ear, he whispers--

CEDRICK:

You’re so hard to crack.

Desirée forms a smile. A sad smile.

CEDRICK:

Dance with me.

She takes his hands. He pirouettes himself. His energy is contagious. They start drunkenly dancing across the floor. Stumbling, spinning, LAUGHING, kicking beer cans. A perfect moment they’ll never forget.

A SECURITY GUARD KEYS INTO THE ROOM. Cedrick and Desirée freeze in each other’s arms. They stare helplessly as the music persists.

FLASHBACK:
INT. TRUCK - NIGHT

Desirée presses her forehead against the passenger window, humiliated, ruined, watching the streetlights pass. Cedrick looks over at her from the driver’s seat, sympathetic.

CEDRICK:

I’m sorry.

Desirée stays quiet.

CEDRICK:

You know, if you’re ever going through something, you can talk to me. I’m right here.

She keeps her head against the window, eyeing the translucent reflection of his face on the dirty glass.

FLASHBACK:
EXT. FIELD - NIGHT

A flock of sandhill cranes mingle around a pond as the sun sinks behind a hill.

Adjacent to the cranes is a barren field of dry, straw-like grass. Quietly on a blanket, Cedrick sketches the scene while Desirée writes what must be a poem in a burgundy notebook.

CEDRICK:

What are you writing?

Desirée shrugs.

CEDRICK:

Can I see?

He scoots closer, causing her to shut the notebook.

CEDRICK:

You never show me anything.

DESIRÉE

Cedrick...

A deep sadness fills her eyes.

DESIRÉE

I can’t do this anymore.

It takes Cedrick a moment to realize what she’s saying. Then it impales him, but he tries not to show it. He gives a slight nod and continues his sketch.

CEDRICK:

I’d ask you why, but I know you won’t say.

He looks at her, wanting her to prove him wrong, but she doesn’t. A tear slips from his eye, falls to his cheek, drips off his chin, and splashes onto his knee.

Desirée grabs his hand.

DESIRÉE

I’m sorry.

Silhouettes of cranes fly in the distance.

FLASHBACK:
I/E. TRUCK - NIGHT

Cedrick parks in front of Desirée’s apartment. They sit without talk, in their uncomfortable polyester seats, listening to the engine RUMBLE, stubbornly waiting for the other to initiate a goodbye.

A few more excruciating seconds pass, and Desirée gets out.

CEDRICK:

Des!

He pokes his head out the window shining his desperate, irresistible gaze.

CEDRICK:

Can I come in? Just one more time?

She gives a deficient nod.

DESIRÉE

If you want.

FLASHBACK:
INT. DESIRÉE'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Cedrick buries his head into Desirée’s neck, sucking her skin. They lie in her bed fully clothed (which is now supported by four plastic buckets).

She bites her lip, blushing profusely, completely lost in his affection as he ever so gently drags his knuckles from her ear... to her neck... to her shoulder... to her bicep... and then to her waistband.

DESIRÉE

Just kiss me.

He does as he’s told and they share a slow, beautiful kiss.

Until suddenly-- She jolts away, startling him.

CEDRICK:

What?

She wipes the saliva from her neck, flips on a light switch, and scurries over to a mirror to find her neck covered in hickies.

DESIRÉE

Sh*t.

She frantically digs through drawers and makeup bags, pulling out all sorts of bottles and powders.

CEDRICK:

What’s the matter?

DESIRÉE

I have class in five hours.

She bumps into her desk causing a bottle of foundation to roll off and spill onto the rug. She tries wiping it up with a tissue, but it just gets worse. Her hands shake. She starts hyperventilating. This is a full-on panic attack.

Cedrick rushes over to comfort.

CEDRICK:

(touching her shoulder)

Hey--

DESIRÉE

Don’t touch me, just-- I need-- I think you should go.

CEDRICK:

What?

DESIRÉE

I just need to deal with this by myself right now.

CEDRICK:

Let me help. Where’s your cleaner?

DESIRÉE

Please go.

CEDRICK:

Des, let’s just slow down and--

DESIRÉE

No.

CEDRICK:

Des.

DESIRÉE

I didn’t want you to come in. I shouldn’t have-- Just leave! Please.

Cedrick shakes his head in bewilderment. He throws on his sweatshirt and starts tying his shoes.

CEDRICK:

Well, if this is it, then I want to know why. You owe me that.

Desirée just hangs her head.

CEDRICK:

(frustrated)

I am a person. We are in a relationship. You don’t get to walk away and not say why. That’s not how it works.

(...)

Is it because of your job? They’re gonna fire you at the end of the year anyway.

DESIRÉE

Get out.

CEDRICK:

Is it because you can’t love me? Is that it? (voice shakes) Tell me you can’t love me. Tell me that’s it. (eyes water) Is that it? Just say yes. I need to hear it, please, just say yes.

DESIRÉE

Yes.

It bursts out of her mouth like a gasp for air - as if she had been drowning.

DESIRÉE

I just can’t-- I don’t know how to be close.

Cedrick nods and makes his way to the door. He stands there for a long time, wiping his tears, swallowing his emotion, carefully planning his last words.

CEDRICK:

You know, it’s funny how you ask your students to be vulnerable when you’re the least vulnerable person in the room.

With that, he leaves forever.

Desirée remains on the floor, powerless, staring at the puddle of foundation as it bleeds into her rug.

BACK TO SCENE:

INT. DOLLAR STORE - NIGHT

Desirée hands the cashier yet another bag of chips.

DESIRÉE (V.O.)

And so you reach for a 3rd bag and a 4th bag, and she keeps encouraging you.

CASHIER:

You can mix and match, you know, really grab any kind you want.

DESIRÉE (V.O.)

And you keep thinking this girl is just so good at her job.

Desirée hands the cashier some bills and turns around to take in her surroundings. The store glows under the fluorescent ceiling lights with bright candy wrappers, cheap toys, and other miscellanea.

DESIRÉE (V.O.)

In this store with dollars, and trees, and flip-flops in December, and bizarre hotdog decals that no one needs for a cookout no one is having, and baseball cards from 1997, and vases, and stickers, and ribbons for gifts you don’t have.

A tear runs down her cheek.

INT. DESIRÉE'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

She faces her mirror, with a broken expression, applying concealer over the hickies. Her eyes wander to--

Cedrick’s military duffle bag.

Then to--

The plastic buckets underneath her bed... The dozen bags of chips scattered across her desk... The stain on her rug... The burgundy notebook on her nightstand.

INT. DESIRÉE'S APARTMENT - MOMENTS LATER

Hunched over her desk, chewing chips, she writes vigorously into the notebook.

[The words she writes coincide with the voiceover.]

DESIRÉE (V.O.)

And you’re trying to think about the last time you had a hickey...

INT. LECTURE HALL - THE NEXT DAY

At the podium, she reads from the notebook, sermonizing with emotional intensity, putting power into some sentences and gentleness into others. It’s a theatrical performance, but raw at the same time.

DESIRÉE

...That student who spent time in the military. The strange night he sat in your broken bed after you went crane watching in Socorro. You were taking a small break from sex, just coming up for air, and he went like a fountain, and you could see it in the moonlight on his cheek dripping down to his chin like a wound. So you instruct him more deeply to say “yes” to this moment by kissing him, trying to show him “yes, it’s okay,” and that’s really what we mean when we say “yes,” we mean permission.

Whispers fill the room. Students point fingers. Some snap pictures on their phones.

Desirée stares at Cedrick’s empty seat in the corner.

As she turns to face the rest of the class, we see what they’ve been snickering at--

The dark purple necklace of hickies. Fully exposed. Unapologetic. Desirée’s “yes.”

DESIRÉE

That was a poem I wrote last night. Does anyone have--

Hands start shooting up, one by one.

And her nervous lips turn into a smile. A real smile.

FADE TO BLACK.

THE END.

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