Mon 8 Jun — Sides
5.21
INT. JULIA'S BEDROOM - MORNING #21#
Daylight through the curtains. Julia stirs in bed, alone. A glass of water and an aspirin on the nightstand. Her eyes land on a slip of paper by the glass. Hannah’s number, scrawled in pen.
5.07
INT. JULIA'S APARTMENT - EVENING #7#
Dark except for a single lamp. The room feels too big for her. A half-empty wine glass on the table. Unopened mail stacked by the door. The refrigerator hums.
Julia moves through the room, restless. Opens the fridge, stares in, closes it again. Refills her glass. She sinks onto the sofa. The quiet presses in. She scrolls her phone and dials.
Hey. I just... wanted to check in. How are you doing?
(beat)
Yeah. No, of course. That’s good. I’m glad. You sound good.
(beat, quieter)
…Yeah. I’m fine too. Do you need me to pick anything up for you tomorrow?
(beat, faux-optimistic)
Sounds like you've got it handled. Okay then. Yeah, sure. Bye.
She hangs up, lost.
5.20
INT. JULIA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT #20#
The door swings open. Hannah helps Julia inside, one arm around her. Julia drops her bag, kicks off a shoe, stumbles toward the couch. Hannah steers her down. Julia slumps into the cushions, head back, eyes half-closed. Hannah crouches beside her, steady until she’s sure Julia won’t slide off.
This is embarrassing.
Relax, I've seen worse.
You rescue a lot of strangers?
Just the interesting ones.
Are you sure I don't know you?
I don't think so.
Then stop looking at me like you do.
If you're going to be rude about it, I'll let you drop right off this couch.
A beat. Julia adjusts herself on the couch; Hannah catches her before she slips.
Were you celebrating?
No.
Yeah. Somehow I figured.
Julia exhales, eyes drifting shut. A beat. Hannah watches her, then shakes her head.
You’ll hate yourself in the morning if you sleep here.
She tries to rouse Julia, gently nudging her shoulder.
Come on. Bed.
Julia mumbles something inaudible but lets Hannah pull her up.
5.19
EXT. JULIA’S APARTMENT – NIGHT #19#
Hannah helps Julia up the steps to the front door. Julia fumbles with her keys, misses the lock twice. Hannah steadies her hand, guiding it in. Julia leans against the doorframe, half-smiling through exhaustion.
Keys. Terrible invention.
What's wrong with keys?
You drop ‘em, you lose ‘em, you can’t use ‘em when you need ‘em.
She jams the key in wrong, yanks it out, tries again. Hannah keeps her upright.
I think you're holding them upside down.
Ugh, fuck it. You do it.
Hannah jams in the key and opens the door, then steadies Julia at the steps. Julia stares blearily up at her building.
Through the front windows: the elevator doors with a taped sign slapped across them — OUT OF ORDER.
She sighs, sways against the doorframe, then looks at Hannah.
You’re coming up. No way I’m taking those stairs alone. You're allowed to help.
Good. I was worried you'd try to carry me.