Vacationland

By Tess Nealon Raskin

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Tess Nealon Raskin’s short screenplay VACATIONLAND takes place over the course of a day and tells the love story of a troubled housewife and her husband as he frets over his decision to lobotomize her.

INT. DOCTOR’S OFFICE- DAY

DOCTOR
It’s a miracle.

The doctor, an older man who was handsome not so long ago, pulls down a diagram of a human head, side-profile, with an illustrated brain. 

DOCTOR
A Portuguese invented it. Can you believe it? He was quite barbaric, as one would expect. Drills, gaping holes. Not a pretty sight.

It’s a warm Maine summer. Sometime in the mid 1940s. 

DOCTOR
Mental hygiene wasn’t so clean back then. As we know it, it’s quite a new field.

Sitting across from him is the HUSBAND, a young and attractive man in a sharp suit trying to hide his impatience. He’s a bit uncomfortable but doesn’t want to show it.

DOCTOR
Your wife, her…

HUSBAND
Melancholia.

DOCTOR
Melancholia. Does it plague her? This is an important decision. It’ll change your life. You need to be sure.

HUSBAND
It plagues her. It plagues me. I hate seeing her like this. 

His eyes drift down to a tray of surgical tools, among them an ice pick. 

HUSBAND
I’m sure. 

DOCTOR
You’re making the right decision. 

The doctor gets up to shake the husband’s hand. 

DOCTOR
Of course, it’s a process-

HUSBAND
Right.

DOCTOR
We can’t perform the procedure right away. We can admit her as early as Tuesday, where she can stay with the girls until her assessment. But from what I’ve heard today, that shouldn’t be a problem.

HUSBAND
Thank you.

DOCTOR
Could you bring her in Tuesday?

HUSBAND
Yes.

DOCTOR
All right, I’ll make a note of it. You’re a good man. You treat her nice?

HUSBAND
Always.

DOCTOR
You’re a good man.

EXT. PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL- DAY

The husband walks away from the brick building, down a pathway lined with bushes. The hospital seems to careen away from him with his hasty steps. An unidentifiable mix of emotions on his face.

He gets into his car 

and the CLICK of the door brings us to-

EXT. A SEASIDE PATH- DAY

A hill near the dunes. Over the hill emerges the WIFE, a young woman with wide eyes and tousled hair. She holds a partially covered wicker basket of groceries- a can of coffee grounds, cans of soup, and bags of flour and sugar.

The wind whips in her face as she makes her way towards the seaside market. By the boardwalk, people gather. A man sells icees, and fishermen have set up stands selling their fresh caught goods.

People have just started to lay out blankets and umbrellas for their beach days, and women don their floral swim caps. 

A faint smile appears on her face as she watches people whoop and run into the water. Absentmindedly, she gets in line for a fisherman’s stand. The line moves quickly. 

FISHERMAN
Miss?

WIFE
Oh, sorry. A dozen oysters please.

He scoops them into a netted bag.

FISHERMAN
Special occasion?

WIFE
No, just a little treat. A surprise.

He grins warmly.

FISHERMAN
Dollar twenty.

She hands him the money and places the bag in her basket.

FISHERMAN
Better get those in the icebox quick. 

She nods firmly, like a salute.

EXT. MARKET- DAY

The wife, with a full basket, makes her way out of the crowd when her eyes light up with recognition. 

A woman, with her hair tied up smartly in a stiff dress and small jacket, catches her eye across the way. The woman grins at the sight of her. They run to each other and hug tightly. 

WIFE
(breathless)
Jane!

JANE
Hi.

The wife pulls away to admire her outfit. 

WIFE
You’re leaving?

JANE
Today. I called you about it, remember? 

BEAT.

JANE (CONT’D)
Do you want to go get a frosted lemonade?

EXT. BEACH- DAY

Jane and the wife sit together on a sand dune, eating lemonade icees with little wooden spoons. Jane’s cherry lipstick makes the wife’s bare face look young, almost messy.

WIFE
Are you nervous to fly?

JANE
A little. I’ve always wanted to, though. I could see myself as a flight attendant. 

WIFE
Take it one step at a time, I suppose. 

JANE
(laughing)
You’re right. 

Beat.

JANE (CONT’D)
There’s a job waiting for me when I get there. A bartender at a women’s bar, if you can believe it. Ben has a couple old flames back in San Francisco. We have a place to stay.

WIFE
You could always make a proper gin and tonic. 

JANE
We’ll be okay.

Beat.

JANE (CONT’D)
You’ll visit?

WIFE
Of course. If I can get away.

EXT. BOARDWALK- DAY

The wife and Jane embrace.

WIFE
Stay safe.

JANE
I will. 

The wife takes off her pearl earrings and presses them into Jane’s hands.

WIFE
Pawn these when you get there. 

JANE
No, I can’t.

WIFE
They’re real. They’ll get you by. 

JANE
I can’t take these. 

WIFE
You don’t have to pawn them.

CUT TO: THE HOUSE. This is the husband and wife’s residence. Modest but pretty, with a backyard. Lawn chairs and a clothesline. 

INT. HOUSE- DAY

CUT TO: The wife scrubs the countertops, wipes down the windows, and mops the floor with vigor. 

She neatens the house, picks out a dress, and turns the bath faucet on. Her movements are sharp and angry, rhythmic. 

The wife turns on the bathtub faucet with a creak. 

As the water runs, she sits, undressed, next to the tub. Her face is pale and expressionless. She doesn’t move as the water rises higher and higher, steam rising. An ant crawls across the tile and she looks at it blankly. It seems to turn and look at her before crawling into a hole in the wall. There’s an infestation.

The room is filling with steam now, and droplets of sweat form on her brow. She still doesn’t get into the bath. Instead, she strenuously tilts her tired body towards the floor, pressing her hot pink cheek against the coolness of the tile. 

INT. BATHROOM- DAY

The water burbles down the drain, bath time over. The wife pins her hair out of her face and lightly rouges her cheeks in the mirror. She watches herself. She raises her eyebrows, widens her eyes, smiles lightly. Her hands trace over her skin, her pores. Smiles again.

WIFE
Hot today, isn’t it?

She frowns.

WIFE (CONT’D)
I got you something. 

She can’t get it right. She bites her lip.

WIFE (CONT’D)
You’ll never guess who I ran into. 

Still wrong. 

WIFE (CONT’D)
I love you. 

Here, she is serious and true. Her eyes glisten as she smiles, overwhelmed. 

WIFE
I love you I love you I love you. 

Satisfied, she slips into a sundress.

INT. LIVING ROOM- DAY

The wife sits on the floor, spaced out. Her eyes drift over to a map of the world mounted on the wall. 

THEN-

The door opens.

She jumps up and runs to the door. The HUSBAND, almost sweating in his heavy suit, walks through the door. Their faces light up, but he wears the guilt in his eyes. 

They embrace and kiss. Her hands around his neck, his around her waist and the side of her head. 

HUSBAND
Hi. 

WIFE
Hi. 

They look into each other’s eyes. Maybe she sees something wrong, maybe not. But she pulls away.

WIFE
You must be sweating like a pig in that thing, let me hang your coat. 

HUSBAND
Thanks. 

She hangs his blazers and undoes his tie, unbuttoning the top buttons. 

HUSBAND
(sighing)
That’s so much better. 

WIFE
(laughing)
It’s hot!

HUSBAND
I hope I don’t reek. 

WIFE
  You’re fine. 

He unbuttons another button. 

WIFE
I got you something. 

He smiles. She stares back, expectant.

HUSBAND
What is it-

WIFE
Oysters. In the icebox. Fresh. I thought you could shuck em’ and we could eat them out on the lawn. 

HUSBAND
That sounds perfect. Is dinner set too?

WIFE
There’s meatloaf in the fridge and the Jell-O salad is setting. 

HUSBAND
Honestly, I could just eat oysters till the day I die. 

WIFE
Me too.

EXT. LAWN- EVENING

An oyster knife jimmies its way under a shell and snaps it open, exposing the soft underbelly.

The husband sits at a small lawn table, shucking oysters. Wedges of lemon sit on a small plate, next to a bowl of empty shells. The wife reclines on a lawn chair. Two lawn chairs sit side by side. 

HUSBAND
There’s a dance tonight, you know. 

WIFE
I know. 

He smiles and passes her an oyster, which she squeezes lemon juice into and sucks down. 

The wife closes her eyes and lies back. 

WIFE
Mm, the sun feels so nice. I could fall asleep right here. 

HUSBAND
You’re such an alley cat. Go ahead, I’ll wake you up when you start to burn.

Her face softens as she relaxes.

The husband stands up, gripping the oyster knife in his hand. He stands up and leisurely walks behind the lawn chairs, looking down at his sleeping wife. He positions the tip of the oyster knife at the nape of her neck. Considering. 

Her eyes open, and their gazes lock. The wife’s eyes are wide, but she hasn’t noticed the knife. He lowers it quickly to his side.

WIFE
How wrong would I have to be for you to stop loving me?

He smiles sadly.

HUSBAND
I’ll be back in a minute. There’s something I need to do. 

She watches, confused, as he disappears inside.

INT. LIVING ROOM- EVENING

The husband strides over to the phone. He reaches into his pocket for a business card, and quickly dials in the number. 

HUSBAND
(on phone)
Yes, it’s me. How are you?
Good. Listen. We won’t be coming in on Tuesday. 
Right, I know. Something came up.
I’m sorry for wasting your time.

He hangs up, letting out a breath of relief. He stands, tense, next to the phone.

EXT. YARD- EVENING

The wife is dozing off when the back door opens. She sits up to see the husband, grinning, with two Gin Rickey’s in his hands. She gasps, delighted.

HUSBAND
For you. 

She takes it from him, kissing his cheek. 

WIFE
This is perfect.

He grins, sitting down in the parallel lawn chair as we

PULL OUT, the town getting smaller and smaller, until we see the sea.

FADE TO BLACK.

CREDITS.

END.