The Good Inn Read online

  The Innkeeper thrusts a small plate of fowl and greens in front of him. He eats the small helping with a few swift jabs of his fork.

  INNKEEPER (singing): Now meet my daughter, she is my joy.

  The Innkeeper steps aside and the silhouette reappears in the doorway.

  NICOLE, the Innkeeper’s daughter, steps out into the warm light of the room shyly, right next to her father. He takes her by the chin and lifts it up gently.

  INNKEEPER (singing): I know, my daughter is heaven-sent.

  He takes her hands in his and caresses them.

  INNKEEPER (singing): But, hands pay the rent . . .

  He places a washcloth into her hands and signals her to scrub the floor beneath their feet.

  INNKEEPER: Hands pay the rent. I know what you are wondering, so I will tell you . . . [singing] Her mother left when she was young, nary a soul speaks her name, nary a soul speaks her name. And if they did, I’d cut out their tongues. I don’t remember where she went, but hands pay the rent.

  Soldier Boy leans down toward her, feeling embarrassed, dazed, and strangely aroused.

  SOLDIER BOY: You don’t have to do that right now . . .

  The Innkeeper comes between them and bears down on

  Soldier Boy.

  INNKEEPER (singing): And although I will feel like death in the morn, I still drink far too much, I will drink far too much. I was cock of the walk, before she was born. I’ll be listening for her descent. And although I know she’s heaven-sent, hands pay the rent.

  The Innkeeper sticks his giant hand into Soldier Boy’s coat pocket and retrieves another piece of silver. He looks at his daughter and disappears.

  Nicole looks at Soldier Boy, who looks down at his cleared plate. He is still so very hungry.

  SOLDIER BOY: Is there any more food to eat? A second helping? Another course perhaps?

  NICOLE: There is no more food to eat, I am afraid. We have no more food tonight.

  SOLDIER BOY: Your father took most of my gold and all of my silver.

  NICOLE: Should I show you to your room?

  SOLDIER BOY: Who are you?

  NICOLE: I am the Innkeeper’s daughter, and you are a lost, wandering soldier. What more is there possibly to know?

  SOLDIER BOY: What do you have then, if nothing to eat? How will I sleep if I cannot eat? What is my gold and silver worth if I cannot even have a satisfying meal?

  NICOLE: We have no more food, but I have skin.

  INTERIOR/SOLDIER BOY’S ROOM/NIGHT

  In the moonlight, Nicole stands over Soldier Boy, who sits in a rickety chair. He watches her as she prepares his bed for him.

  Her curves and delicate motions distort the shadows as they dance around the candlelight, projecting her body’s true form through her dress on the walls surrounding him. This shadow theater lulls him to sleep and his eyes shut.

  Nicole turns to Soldier Boy, who has fallen asleep. She cautiously approaches and runs her hand gently through his hair. She touches his face tenderly and curiously, lingering on every scratch and scar with her fingertips.

  Walking toward the door, she blows out the candle, leaving the room in darkness as she closes the door behind her.

  CUT TO:

  EXTERIOR/IÉNA/NIGHT

  Soldier Boy is running toward the flaming ship. There is a giant hole in the side. Screams, shouts, sirens, and smoke, and bodies everywhere. From inside the hole, a dark figure is running toward Soldier Boy. A flash, and for a split second, he sees Roussou. Then Roussou’s body explodes. The hole implodes, and as Soldier Boy finally gets to it, it is no longer a giant hole but a very very small one the size of a bottle cap. Light is flickering in it. Soldier Boy steps up to it and looks in.

  BANG! He flies into the air, into the night sky, into the stars, and then into nothing.

  INTERIOR/SOLDIER BOY’S ROOM/LATER

  Soldier Boy’s eyes open. The bed covers are soaked and he is drenched in cold sweat. The room is quiet. Moonlight shines from the small window beside his bed. Nicole is standing over him, glowing. She holds fresh white sheets in her arms.

  NICOLE: I’m sorry to disturb you. I’ve come to make you more comfortable. You were dreaming something horrible.

  SOLDIER BOY: I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t scare anyone.

  NICOLE: Who could you scare while sleeping besides yourself? Do you remember what you saw that caused such sounds to wake the dead? It helps to speak about the things that only you can see. It is by telling our stories that we can, for a short time anyway, not be alone. Do you want to tell me a story, Soldier Boy?

  She gently pulls the soaked covers up from under him and then throws the new ones up into the air over him, covering him in the cool, soft sheets. It’s like he is falling through a white, soft sky, and when he lands, Nicole is above him. On top of him. She undresses as he lies awkwardly under her, almost embarrassed by his powerlessness. He turns her over roughly and then with tender care takes her in his arms and falls softly into her breasts.

  Soldier Boy begins to sing a cappella; he appears confused as to why he is doing so at first, but slowly, he gets used to it.

  SOLDIER BOY (singing): I was on Iéna working for poor Roussou. Roussy lost his head, lord I said, blown through the roof. They wrapped him up in cool sheets and I went wandering. Now I’m in cool sheets, lord I said, holding my thing.

  Soldier Boy jumps up, standing on the bed over Nicole.

  SOLDIER BOY (singing): Oh lord, I’m taking my time, losing my mind, everything blows! Oh lord, drink till I’m blind, out of the hole.

  He jumps down and pours a shot, shoots it, drops it. He runs to the window and slams the shutters closed, blotting out the moonlight. He jumps back into the bed, covering Nicole with his body, grabbing her by the hands. He raises her hands into the air.

  SOLDIER BOY (singing): Working for your father, makes your hands so rough, but your belly is so soft, lord I said, holding your love. I don’t have a diamond and I don’t have much gold . . .

  NICOLE (singing): Mostly, I have skin . . .

  SOLDIER BOY (singing): Lord I said, show me, Nicole.

  The sheet flies up into the air and then back down over their bodies. The candle blows out.

  BLACKNESS.

  The sounds of breathing, banging, huffing, BREATHING, BANGING, and heavier breathing and more banging fill the room.

  And then . . .

  A strange mechanical sound, like a clock’s ticking, but as if time were moving at an unimaginable speed. A flicker of light in the darkness reveals Soldier Boy’s and Nicole’s bodies, moving against each other. The light catches Soldier Boy’s attention as he moves up Nicole’s chest across her breasts and to her neck. As he holds her head in his hands, he is transfixed by a pinhole light coming through the wall. It is an impossibly thin pinpoint of light that does not spread or bleed. He crawls over her toward the flickering beam. She grabs at his body to bring him back on top of her, but he breaks free and puts his eye up to the hole, as he did in his dream.

  SOLDIER BOY’S POINT OF VIEW

  On the other side of the wall is the exact same room he is presently in. It has the same bed, window, door, and on the bed is a man who looks exactly like him, with a woman who looks exactly like Nicole. It is the exact same moment that, minutes ago, Soldier Boy experienced, but different. It is not dark. In fact, it is as if there is no roof over the otherwise identical room, but more disturbing, there are other people in the room as well and they are WATCHING the soldier and the Innkeeper’s daughter in the act.

  Soldier Boy pulls back from the hole and turns to Nicole with face pale and body tensed.

  NICOLE: What? What is wrong?

  Soldier Boy backs away from Nicole, who suddenly seems embarrassed by her nakedness. She pulls her gown up over her body and steps backward away from him toward the door.

  NICOLE: I’ll leave you alone.

  SOLDIER BOY: I, I’m sorry, I . . .

  Before Soldier Boy can say anything, she is gone.

&nb
sp; He turns back to the hole and slowly approaches it once again. The light is no longer flickering. It has dimmed. Shaking, he looks back in.

  There is no one there now. Just the empty day-lit and roofless room. It is identical to his room at the inn, except there is no one there. The only other difference is the machine that sits in the middle of the room. It looks like a picture camera and is pointed directly at the bed.

  Soldier Boy pulls his gaze out of the hole again and thinks.

  Jumping up, he puts on his clothes, throws his door open, and walks out dazed. He goes down the hall, up to the room next to his own, and opens the door.

  INTERIOR/NEIGHBORING ROOM/SAME

  Soldier Boy finds himself in an empty bedroom much like his own. There is no one in it and it is not the room he saw on the other side. When he looks down the adjoining wall he sees THE HOLE.

  It is in the same place as the one on his side would be. He bends down and looks into it. He can see his room but it is blurry and slightly out of focus. The most disconcerting part is that everything in his room appears to be upside down.

  He sits back against the wall, his mind racing to find an explanation. While scanning the room, his eyes stop on a large cabinet. Soldier Boy slides it in front of the hole, and then steps back to survey his work.

  INTERIOR/HALLWAY/SAME

  Soldier Boy walks down the dark, creaky hallway. As he passes Nicole’s room, he leans his head next to her door. He hears her crying on the other side. He keeps walking, down the old rotting staircase and into the sitting room.

  INTERIOR/SITTING ROOM/SAME

  Sitting in the same place is the balding man with a newspaper over his face. Soldier Boy sits down across from him and stares at the cover of the paper, now with a completely different headline.

  Two Men from America Can Fly Like Birds

  A picture shows two men with an airplane made of wood and cloth, presenting it proudly in front of the Eiffel Tower. Below it is a smaller headline for another story; this one is the same Iéna story as before, but now reads:

  117 Dead!

  SOLDIER BOY: One hundred and eighteen dead.

  The man with the balding head lowers his arms, resting the newspaper on his lap, revealing a portly face and swirly mustache that winds at each end. He looks familiar.

  PROFESSOR: Yes?

  SOLDIER BOY: Now it says one hundred and seventeen. Is that the same paper?

  PROFESSOR: The same paper as what?

  SOLDIER BOY: As before!

  PROFESSOR: Before what, my friend? Have we met?

  SOLDIER BOY: You look familiar.

  PROFESSOR: I don’t think so. I can’t see how our paths might have crossed before.

  SOLDIER BOY: In the hole, in my wall . . .

  PROFESSOR: Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.

  SOLDIER BOY: What does that look like?

  PROFESSOR: Pale, friend, you look pale and white. Maybe I’ve seen one.

  SOLDIER BOY: Seen one what?

  PROFESSOR: A ghost. A moment ago, I was perfectly alone and now, poof, here you are.

  SOLDIER BOY: I am here. I just came down from my room. I arrived earlier this evening from Toulon. You were behind your paper.

  PROFESSOR: Ah yes, the soldier boy.

  SOLDIER BOY: Are you a doctor?

  PROFESSOR: In a matter of speaking, I am. Although I don’t practice and one can’t be a doctor without practicing. At least it wouldn’t be wise to. One must keep up with the latest practices, as in this day and age, science and medicine change in the blink of an eye. Yesterday’s cutting edge is today’s barbaric black magic. I am more of a doctor of thought. I consider myself a solver of mysteries, a detective of sorts, an observer. I wake up each morning and think to myself, “What will I observe today?” And then I observe, take notes, and see . . . where the story takes me. It’s far less dangerous and risky. You said you were from Toulon? That was where that terrible thing happened. Did you see it?

  SOLDIER BOY: I did. I was there.

  PROFESSOR: My poor dear friend, that must have been a horrible thing to see. I hear there were many deaths.

  SOLDIER BOY: There were many.

  PROFESSOR: You must be quite shaken from such an experience.

  SOLDIER BOY: I am not sleeping well, and I’m afraid I’m seeing things that are not there.

  PROFESSOR: That could be serious. What kinds of things?

  SOLDIER BOY: There is a hole in a wall of my room, and through it, I see myself exactly as I am, but in a different place and time. Although he looks exactly as I do, he is not me.

  PROFESSOR: Seeing yourself through a hole. That is strange. [chuckling] I’m afraid my diagnostic jibber-jabber is not what it used to be. It could be many things, it could just pass or . . .

  SOLDIER BOY: Or what?!

  PROFESSOR: Maybe you have met the architect of your own reality? I would like to think, as we all often do, that I am the center of a universe I have created. I guess it is possible that I am not the creator of this particular world I am observing—unlikely, but not impossible. I often like to imagine multiple universes that I occupy; I guess one of them could be not actually of my own design. Perhaps you are the architect, but which of you, and if neither, then who? There are huge ramifications, whichever head of the same snake survives the battle with itself.

  SOLDIER BOY: I don’t know what I should do. What if it continues? What if it gets worse?

  A long silence falls as the Professor studies Soldier Boy intensely.

  PROFESSOR: It sounds to me like there has been an intersection, an event, as I like to call them. They seem to happen around me, so I am not surprised. I don’t normally do this, but I’m going to write something down for you. The next time you experience these symptoms, read the words that I have written. They might help. All I ask is that you report the results back to me.

  The Professor scribbles meticulously on a sheet of paper for a long while as Soldier Boy waits patiently. He then folds it and hands it to Soldier Boy.

  PROFESSOR: No peeking, now! Only use it when the symptoms show themselves. All I will tell you is that if you can confirm any of these steps, then you simply have shell shock. It’s common among soldiers in wartime, or after any event of extreme anxiety and terror.

  SOLDIER BOY: And if I can’t?

  There is a long and uncomfortable silence.

  PROFESSOR: We are all nothing, but we are also everything, aren’t we? We never know which we are or when. What you are seeing could be very significant. If you should find that you are everything, then, sadly for me, I might not exist at all. This would be a terrible thing to discover for any man. But then again, how could one turn down the opportunity to find out?

  From outside, belligerent singing is heard.

  PROFESSOR: Ah, here he comes again. Every night it’s the same thing.

  SOLDIER BOY: Who?

  PROFESSOR: The Innkeeper drinks one town over every night and then stumbles home, crying at his daughter’s bedside while she sleeps. Then he falls flat on his face, out cold, in the doorway of her room. It is best if you are not here when he returns. He’s a violent drunk.

  EXTERIOR/GOOD INN/NIGHT

  The Innkeeper stumbles down the moonlit dirt road toward his inn.

  INNKEEPER (SINGING A CAPPELLA):

  She left me no address, but I would make a bet, between the ninth and the eighteenth, she’s getting ahead. She said she met a guy, he’s gonna buy her bread, they saw a show at the Grand Guignol, she’s getting ahead.

  I have to get me clean, on account of how I feel, I never saw you in black and white, that is how I know you’re real.

  I have to get me clean, she’s getting ahead. Woo-hoo!

  She left it all behind, just to get ahead. A young lady from Avignon, getting ahead. A young lady from Avignon, stuck in my head, woo-hoo! . . . .

  INTERIOR/SITTING ROOM/NIGHT

  The Innkeeper pushes through the front door and falls flat on his face, uncon
scious, in front of the Professor, who once again has the newspaper held up in front of his face.

  Soldier Boy stands over the Innkeeper and looks back to the Professor, who, enthralled with his paper, pays no attention.

  Soldier Boy shrugs and uses all of his might to slowly drag the Innkeeper through the doorway. He drags him up the stairs and down the hall, passing Nicole’s bedroom. She is still weeping inside.

  Finally, he arrives at the end of the hall at what seems to be the Innkeeper’s room.

  Soldier Boy falls over, out of breath, just after pushing him through the doorway.

  INNKEEPER (waking for a moment, turning to Soldier Boy and grabbing his shirttail): I never saw you in black and white . . .

  And he is out like a light.

  Soldier Boy stands up and steps carefully over him as he walks back down the hall to his room shutting his door behind him.

  INTERIOR/SOLDIER BOY’S ROOM/LATER

  Soldier Boy sits on the end of his bed staring at the dim light coming through the hole in the wall. It’s as if he is waiting for something to happen . . . and then it does.

  The mechanical sound returns. There is a fast whizzing and whirling. The light projects through the hole even brighter than before and begins to flicker. Soldier Boy pulls the Professor’s piece of paper out of his pocket and holds it tightly in his hands. He is just about to stand and peer into the hole once again when there is a knock at the door and then a whisper. It’s Nicole.

  SOLDIER BOY (facing the door): Just a minute.

  Soldier Boy is advancing again toward his initial quest. He kneels down and looks into the flickering hole.

  And there HE is. Sitting on the edge of the bed, staring right at himself. This other him stares at the hole from across the other room.