Pieces

INT. HOSPITAL CAFETERIA, 2012 - DAY

A small town hospital in a one industry, blue collar town in northern British Columbia, Canada.

Men's HANDS begin to move pieces on a chess board. The SOUND of ceramic pieces on a wood board begins to morph into the NOISE of metal on metal. Black. White. Black. White. Black...

EXT. TO INT. BACK ALLEY TOOLSHED, 1971 - DAY

The NOISE of metal tools on metal drawers is heard from the alley facing the toolshed. A Chevy Pinto parked beside it.

Past the Pinto, through the alley door, reveals what has become a collection of tools grown too large for a simple toolshed. A lathe and drill press for metalwork on one side, a planer and bandsaw for woodwork on the other. Pegboard and spiderwebs covered in sawdust everywhere.

At the deepest end of the garage stands a small man, HENRI DOUCETTE, 42 yrs in 1971, and the source of the NOISE, peering into a tool drawer, HANDS trying to make sense of the mess, and tossing tools from drawer to drawer.

He tinkers in the shadows. He wipes at his nose and perhaps, a tear or two have dried on his face.

INT. HOSPITAL CAFETERIA, 1989 - DAY

The HAND moving the black pieces is revealed to belong to...

JOSEPH DOUCETTE, 54 yrs, sitting at a cafeteria table. Thick flannel shirt with greasy old jeans and work boots. Like he just got off graveyard shift at the mill. Only he hasn't.

Across from him at the same table sits FR. PETE. Older, but not by much. The collar and crucifix sticking out from the dumpy frayed sweater over corduroy pants are the only things giving away the whole Catholic priest thing.

Between them sits the chess board. They are in the middle of the game and Fr. Pete is beginning to struggle. With the game and everything else.

FR. PETE : He made you the executor for a reason, Joe.

JOSEPH : Can we just play the game?

Frustrated, Fr. Pete moves a white piece. Joseph moves the black quickly, takes the white off the board.

FR. PETE :Why won't you go up there and see him? It's not like he'll know you're there.

EXT. BACK ALLEY TOOLSHED, 1971 - DAY

The SOUND of a 13 year old Joseph, on his knees in the gravel alley and in front of the Pinto, weeping, face hanging down.

HANDS formed by some years of hard labour grip Joseph's arm and pull him up. Joseph's face into his father's chest.

Henri, embarrassed, hugs him back.

HENRI : Enough, alright? Just, enough. I got you.

The dried tears earlier start to swell in his eyes now.

INT. HOSPITAL CAFETERIA, 2012 - DAY

The two men continue to move pieces on the board. Fr. Pete seems to be catching up. Joseph is more distracted, distant.

FR. PETE : You've come all this way. Surely you're here to see him. Don't you want to settle this all before anything else happens? An induced coma like this could go either way, at any time. If he comes out of it, you've got to make arrangements for care. If he goes the other way, then you work with the lawyers and settle accounts. But you can talk to him now, before all of that gets in the way.

Joseph's silence is all the response he has.

FR. PETE : Don't you want to stop carrying this around? It must be so heavy for you.

Joseph tries to shrug like it is no big deal but his face wears his pain. He picks up a black piece, drops it.

EXT. BACK ALLEY TOOLSHED, 1971 - DAY

A minute prior to our last scene, Joseph, sobbing, comes running out, past the Pinto, dropping to his knees in the gravel. Blood pouring from a split lip. Tear stained face.

Henri eventually exits, stands just outside of his toolshed, leaning on the side of the Pinto. He has removed a John Deere ball cap to wipe the sweat off his forehead before putting it back on. He stares at the bawling kid, not wanting to go to him, but the kid won't stop crying. Henri curses under his breath in French.

HENRI : Maudit caw-liss!

He stomps over to Joseph, reaches down with those strong hands, and picks him up by the arms. Where we started in the previous scene.

INT. HOSPITAL CAFETERIA, 2012 - DAY

Another one of Joseph's black pieces falls to Fr. Pete.

FR. PETE : Ha. Take that.

Joseph half surveys the board.

JOSEPH : And what if he doesn't go either way? If he doesn't come out of the coma? You say it could turn quickly. But it also might not.

FR. PETE : Then you have to make that choice how to proceed. There is nobody else. You're all he has left.

Joseph moves a piece. It HITS the board.

EXT. BACK ALLEY TOOLSHED, 1971 - DAY

The cause of our last scene. A NOISE from inside the shed of metal hitting vulnerable flesh.

Joseph comes stumbling out the alley door, past the Pinto, falling to his knees in the gravel. Blood pouring from a split lip. Tear stained face.

INT. HOSPITAL CAFETERIA, 2012 - DAY

Fr. Pete makes another move on the board. Joseph has few pieces left. He slides an inconsequential one with a finger.

FR. PETE : Are we going to let this play out? (moving) Check. What do you think?

Joseph grabs the black king to move it. Grips it.

INT. BACK ALLEY TOOLSHED, 1971 - DAY

The young Joseph holds a long Philips like a dagger, tightly. Silent tears making his vision blurry. His father's back to him. He attacks and gets him in the shoulder blade.

Henri reacts, with a wrench already in his hand, swinging as a reflex and catching Joseph across the mouth. The NOISE of metal hitting vulnerable flesh.

INT. HOSPITAL CAFETERIA, 2012 - DAY

Joseph DROPS his king one space to the left. Fr. Pete makes the inevitable move with his white waiting piece.

FR. PETE : Mate, I believe.

Joe continues to look through the board, HAND now gripping the black king to move it somewhere. Anywhere.

EXT. BACK YARD, 1971 - DAY

Henri bursts out of the squeaky back screen door. Joseph's MOTHER, 10 yrs younger than the husband she screams and claws at, trying to pull him back into the house. Henri stops, turns, and pushes her hard, back through the door into a wall where she falls to the ground and curls up, weeping.

Joseph stands in the hall in the house. He catches Henri's eye and for a moment they connect. Henri breaks away and storms to the toolshed. SLAMS the toolshed door.

Joseph follows, mother still on the floor, reaching up to him.

MOTHER : No, Joseph! Reste ici!

He ignores her and enters the shed to see his father, back turned, rummaging through a drawer filled with tools, picking up a misplaced wrench.

HENRI : Never anything where it's supposed to be!

Joseph sees a long Philips hanging from the pegboard and reaches for it. Holds it like a dagger, tightly. Begins to cry silently.

INT. HOSPITAL CAFETERIA, 2012 - DAY

FR. PETE : I typically don't ask this question very often. "Don't ask the question if you're not prepared for the answer," you know. But what is your faith like these days.

Joseph keeps looking at the king in the grip of his hand.

FR. PETE : I only ask because... (beat) I really believe that He is the only one who can hold you up in times like this. Can you trust to put yourself in His hands?

Joseph thinks. Then decides. His HAND letting go of the piece and tipping the black king over. Finally, looking up at his opponent.

INT. HOSPITAL ROOM, 2012 - DAY

Henri, 73 and shrivelled beyond his years, lies unaware, only machines hint at any activity.

Joseph stands in the shadows against a wall. For a long time just staring. Finally, he looks to the ceiling.

JOSEPH : Goddammit.

He approaches the bed and sits on the edge, HANDS, reaching out, now strong hands of his own, gripping his father's now frail arms. Reluctant but loving. Embarrassed to speak.

JOSEPH : I got you.