Excerpt from "A Bedtime Story for Izzy"

A screenplay by Bobbi Shackelford

Setting: DADE’s apartment

DADE and DARIA are sitting on the couch after an attempt at a romantic interlude, which was interrupted by the ringing of the phone.

DARIA: (sitting up)

Face it. We’re both meant to remain sexually frustrated for the rest of our lives--or at least until our heads explode.

DADE: (grabs receiver) Hello, Dade’s apartment and this had better damn well be important. (Straightens up quickly) Oh, hey. How’s it going? (Pause) Not much here, just spending a quiet night at home with...my roommate. (DARIA gets up and starts blowing out candles, obviously upset) What? A film festival downtown? Hey, sounds awesome. Next Thursday night? Not a problem. See you then. Bye. (He hangs up)

DARIA: (sits at table, speaking quietly, but not necessarily calm)

So, who was on the phone?

DADE:

That was Daniella, a girl from church. She wanted to see if I’d go to the film fest--

DARIA: (interrupting)

Yeah, I caught that.

DADE:

Are you okay with that?

DARIA: (thinks, then laughs)

To be honest, I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore, Dade.

DADE:

But...that was part of our agreement. I see other people, you see other people...That was what you wanted.

DARIA:

No, that was what YOU wanted, I consented. But I’m tired of consenting. (Paces) Things are changing, Dade, lots of things. Up here (points to head) and in here (to heart). Things that I don’t understand and that make absolutely no sense, and yet they do. (Laughs) Pretty weird. Pretty crazy, huh? Tough.

For the past 4 months, my life has been this shrine to you. Everything I did, I said, even what I wore has been centered around you--what you would you, what you would like, what you would think. I thought that by devoting myself to such a "worthy cause", I could be happy. I just knew that sooner or later you’d realize that I’m still here, that I’m important, that I MATTER.

DADE: (rising)

But you DO matter.

DARIA:

Not enough. All the wine and horror films and tiny black dresses in the world will never make you LOVE ME. I realize this. It took me a week and a half in Florida, but I finally turned on the light bulb.

And it’s not even that you won’t love me--you can’t. You’re married to your movie. That movie-that director’s chair-that camera-they give you something I never can: complete freedom. You’re committed to your movie because as long as you have it, you’re free. You’re in control. Me--Daniella—Courtney--and all the other girls; we’re just props. We’re expendable. Well, I refuse to be expendable any longer.

(Unable to contain her pain any longer, she hits the table with her fist.)

What’s it going to be Dade? (Speaks to him, slowly, softly, and deliberately. Her voice and face demand an answer) Can you ever love me? Is this really ever going to be "our place"?

DADE: (slowly)

If...If I love you, I’ll end up hurting you.

DARIA:

You think you don’t hurt me now?

DADE: (continuing)

And if I hurt you, then I’ll hurt myself. You think I like this? I know exactly how much you go through.

DARIA:

I sincerely doubt that, Dade.

DADE:

Oh no? Did you know you cry almost every night in your sleep? You do. Sometimes it’s so bad I can’t sleep, so I just lay there and hold you and keep saying, "it’s okay" over and over. I’d give almost anything to make you happy. But what you want is the one thing I can’t give.

DARIA: (crossing to him, sits)

Then I guess there’s nothing we can do.

DADE: (pause)

I guess not. (Touches her hand) All I want is to see you happy.

DARIA: (looking at his hand on top of hers, then at him)

All I want is to be loved.

DADE:

I know.

DARIA: (stands) Unfortunately, I think we both know I can’t find either here.

DADE:

I know.

DARIA: (picks up her coat, walks to door)

DADE:

Where are you going?

DARIA:

For a walk--maybe see if Trent will let me have my old room back.

DADE:

I’m really sorry.

DARIA: Me too... I’m really going to miss this place. (She exits)