CLEAN SHEETS

Written by

Sean Hood

Based on the Third Page Prompt: Linen, Whallop, Maraschino cherry

EXT. CAMPSITE - DAWN

ALBERTINE (32), a sturdy, big-boned woman with a weathered face, unclips linens from a clothesline and drops them in a basket. She wears a threadbare terry-cloth robe.

WYATT (45), a scrawny man wearing tattered jeans but no shirt, rinses suds off his head and neck with a garden hose. He’s got a dark-brown farmer’s tan and a soft, white belly.

He shakes the water out of his hair like a dog, then gazes at her as she takes down the pristine white SHEETS.

WYATTWhat...you run out of quarters at the laundromat?

ALBERTINEI just like the smell after they hang out to dry.

His eyes follow the line from one end, tied to a tree, and at the other end to a TRAILER, hitched to battered hatchback.

INT. TRAILER - DAWN

Wyatt looks through a tiny fridge, but there is nothing inside but a can of coffee, Girl Scout cookies (thin mints), and a jar of Maraschino cherries. He grabs the coffee.

Behind him, Albertine walks in carrying the basket. She notices him searching through the cabinets.

ALBERTINEFilters are in the drawer.

She strips the narrow bed of its rumpled, dirty sheets, and then snatches scattered items of clothing: a wife-beater, a flannel shirt, panties, a short-black cocktail dress.

ALBERTINE (CONT’D)Uuugh. It all smells like cigarettes. I can’t stand it.

She sniffs the dress. Grimaces.

ALBERTINE (CONT’D)Did I throw up last night?

WYATTNo, not you. That other girl did. Right in the booth.

ALBERTINEWho. Gilly?

WYATTNo. The other one. With the fancy name. Albertine.

Beat. Albertine stops. Stares at him.

ALBERTINENo, I’m Albertine. You’re thinking of my sister - Gilberte.

WYATTOh. Right. Sorry.

Albertine moves past him, dumping the dirty clothes in a pile by the door. Wyatt looks sheepish, until...

WYATT (CONT’D)Yeah, okay... what’s MY name?

Albertine turns, opens her mouth to speak, but then hesitates. She stammers...

ALBERTINEW-Wayne... No, wait. William. No. Wah..Whallop? Shit.

(off his look)Okay fine. What is it?

WYATTIt’s Wyatt, remember? Like Wyatt Erp?

Albertine nods. There is an awkward pause.

AT THE TABLE - LATER

Wyatt pours a healthy shot of whiskey from a hip-flask into his cup of coffee, and then offers some to Albertine.

ALBERTINEIs this supposed to wake us up or put us back to sleep?

WYATTDoes it matter?

He pours, and then she lifts her mug to sip. With dark circles under bloodshot eyes, she looks like she needs it.

WYATT (CONT’D)Gilberte and Albertine. You sound like a couple of French aristocrats.

2.

He spears a cherry out of the jar with a BBQ skewer. He pops it on a thin mint, creating a strange hors d'oeuvre.

ALBERTINEMy mom got the names out of a book.

She picks up the thin mint crowned with a cherry. He busily makes more, lining them up in a row. She sighs.

ALBERTINE (CONT’D)Sorry I can’t offer you more.

He picks one up and pops it in his mouth. Shrugs.

WYATTGotta make do with what we got.

NEAR THE BED - LATER

Albertine finishes dressing the bed in fresh linen, then she drops her robe and tosses it with the dirty laundry.

ALBERTINEPut your jeans on the pile, and I’ll wash ‘em for you later.

She watches Wyatt strip off his jeans and throw them aside.

For a moment the two of them just stand face each other. Their stark naked bodies look worn, droopy and tired.

She climbs on the bed, pulls up the sheet and sniffs the hem.

ALBERTINE (CONT’D)You see? Smell.

Wyatt sits down beside her, takes the hem and smells. Then he closes his eyes and smells it again, more deeply.

She flops down, face in the pillow.

ALBERTINE (CONT’D)And the sheets are cool.

He curls next to her, looking drowsy. She nuzzles up into his neck, exhausted but content.

WYATTYeah. It feels good.

We PUUL BACK as they slowly fall back asleep.

3.