Les Dr Andy Brown et Harold Abott voient leur clientèle diminuer considérablement lorsque leurs diagnostics sont remis en cause par le mécanicien de la ville. Il serait apparement doué de dons de voyance. 
[Open at Phil's Auto Sales, Everwood's own car shop. Camera pans by used cars. First is some kind of red Mustang: 18 grande. Next, a Jeep-something, 17 grande. Next, some kind of modern day Gremlin, 1,800 dollars. Last, a silver tank marked at 1,300 dollars. As the camera shifts, we hear the opening narration.]
NARRATOR: There are moments in life so archetypally perfect that there is only one right thing to say. But as humans, each with our own idiosyncrasies, we may not always respond the way the universe or say, our parents, want or expect us to. It is at moments such as these that we realize that the truth has a distinct cost that cannot be bargained down and at these moments we must choose whether to pay the price.
[Camera shifts so we can see Delia, Ephram, Phil Drebbles, and Dr. Brown who are all walking towards the cars we just panned over.]
DR. BROWN: There she blows!
DELIA: You can say that again.
EPHRAM: Emphasis on blows.
DR. BROWN: You know, it was my first choice? Didn't even have to go to Denver for it. Phil just happened to have one in stock. Talk about luck!
[Ephram interjects.]
EPHRAM: Uhhh yeah...
DR. BROWN: Voted safest...
[Ephram interjects again.]
EPHRAM: Boat in the Navy?
DR. BROWN: Car on the road, 1988 and 89 by the association of car consumers and retailers.
PHIL: Yeah, it's got heavy gauge steel doors, independent steel frames uh, it weighs 4,000lbs.
DR. BROWN: What do you think of your new wheels, Ephram?
[Ephram doesn't really care for it and Dr. Brown doesn't really seem to get it.]
EPHRAM: Oh, I ah, think it's really awesome you getting' me a car, Dad it's just...
DR. BROWN: Oh yeah, yeah, go on, hop in! Take it for a ride, Delia and I can go start on the paper work!
EPHRAM: Whuh, I was just thinkin' we could uh...
DR. BROWN: Oh you don't have to worry about that. Go on. Get acquainted!
[Dr. Brown gives Ephram the what-a-man-I-am beneficient shoulder pat as Ephram looks down, not knowing whether he's just been flimflammed or victimized by Dr. Brown. Delia realizes what her brother is going through as she looks up at him. She's caught between giggles and semi-sympathy.]
DR. BROWN: Thanks, Phil.
[Dr. Brown walks off to the lot sales office, dragging Delia with him. Ephram turns around to open the door and inspect things as Phil looks on.]
PHIL: Not what you imagined hunh?
EPHRAM: Naahh, it's like two of what I imagined.
[He takes a glance around the interior.]
EPHRAM: (CONT'D) ...painted a color called ugly.
[Phil nods his head.]
PHIL: She ain't much to look at. That's true. But your girl will like her.
EPHRAM: Oh, I don't have a girl. And I don't think I'm gonna get one with this thing. No offense but this is kind've a mojo killer and I don't have any to spare.
PHIL: No, the girl that's right for you, she'll like this car.
EPHRAM: What, some kind've weed out? Thanks, but my face has that covered.
[He closes his eyes and grins.]
[Phil is firm on this.]
PHIL: No. There is a girl, who you like, who likes you. She likes the car.
EPHRAM: A specific girl, who likes this car.
[Phil shakes his head and waves his hand, dismissing it.]
PHIL: Don't listen to me. What's a guy with grease under his nails know about romance? Here.
[Phil hands Ephram the keys.]
PHIL: Hop In. Your future awaits.
EPHRAM: If this is my future, even my past is startin' to look good.
[Phil wanders off, waving to a new customer, Ephram gets in, starts the car and begins backing up.]
{END OF TEASER / OPENING CREDITS / COMMERCIAL BREAK}
{ACT ONE}
[Open on mountains and we pan down to Peak County High School. Everybody is walking/driving/yellow-busing in for the new day. We pan down further and see Amy sitting in her car, watching as life moves on without her. Car horn honks as she goes through the dazed and bemused moment. More honking. Finally, Amy decides to do a U-turn in the circle drive, heading back out.]
[Fade to new scene as Dr. Brown overvoices.]
DR. BROWN'S VOICE: Well, it may keep you out of school for a day or two at the outside...
[Cut to Dr. Brown's office where he is examing a boy named Lester Thompson. His mom is in the background.]
DR. BROWN: (CONT'D) ...But what you have, Lester, is an official, card carrying case of influenza normalis. The common flu.
MRS. THOMPSON: Are you certain?
DR. BROWN: Well, it certainly looks that way.
[Dr. Brown walks past Mrs. Thompson as she goes to feel her son's forehead.]
DR. BROWN: (CONT'D) And I don't have record of you and Lester coming in for shots...
MRS. THOMPSON: Well, the flu clinic conflicted with his oboe recital.
[Mrs. Thompson wipes her son's nose with a tissue.]
DR. BROWN: Ahhhh, the sacrifices we make for our art. Tell 'ya what. Take him home. Wrap him up. Give him some Tylenol. Keep him full of fluid and electrolytes...
[Mrs. Thompson interrupts.]
MRS. THOMPSON: I'm afraid it could be Meningitis.
[Dr. Brown sets down the patient file he was holding.]
DR. BROWN: Meningitis? Why? Has he been exposed?
MRS. THOMPSON: No, it's just that's what Phil said he had.
[Dr. Brown crosses his arms.]
DR. BROWN: Well, who's Phil? Is he another doctor?
MRS. THOMPSON: A mechanic?
DR. BROWN: The guy who just sold my son a Lincoln?
MRS. THOMPSON: He's got the Sight. Well, hearing actually. He hears things.
DR. BROWN: Wuhhwhuh, kind of things, you mean like voices? Ya know, he might wanna come in and see me himself...
MRS. THOMPSON: Well, he seemed pretty certain about Lester having meningitis and you know, I would just feel a whole lot better if you could do a test.
[Dr. Brown sighs.]
DR. BROWN: Okeee, we aim to please.
[Dr. Brown and Mrs. Thompson trade places. Dr. Brown grabs Lester, by the neck in a typical 'for the good of world' exam pose. Dr. Brown looks in his eyes.]
DR. BROWN: Let's have a look here, Lester.
[Dr. Brown aligns Lester's skull.]
DR. BROWN: Hmm, any pain there?
LESTER: Hmm-nmmm.
[Dr. Brown moves hands down to shoulders and presses again.]
DR. BROWN: Nope. I gotta tell ya, Mrs. Thompson. Lester is exhibiting absolutely no signs of Meningitis.
[Dr. Brown grins.]
MRS. THOMPSON: Well, could you do a blood test?
DR. BROWN: Well, we'd need to do a spinal tap and you'd need to drive him out to Denver for that. I don't have a kit.
MRS. THOMPSON: Give me the address. I'll take him.
DR. BROWN: I really...
[Dr. Brown shakes head like why don't you believe me?]
DR. BROWN: (CONT'D) ...don't think he has Meningitis. I've seen hundreds of cases of the common Flu and that is what he's got.
MRS. THOMPSON: If you won't test him, I'm gonna have to find a doctor who will. Phil's never wrong.
[Dr. Brown looks down and is utterly confused. Finally, he turns away.]
DR. BROWN: O-kay, I'll call the hospital.
[Cut to the outer waiting room of Dr. Brown's office. Edna's explaining Phil to Dr. Brown while putting files away.]
EDNA: Phil Drebbles, Marcus Welby of the paranormal. Phil's just your average guy. Has a repair shop, sells a few cars here and there. Some years back, word gets out: he has predicted Sam and Jenny Hess will have a male child before the year is out. Only everyone knows Jenny can't get pregnant on account of her ovaries were malformed at birth. By St. Patrick's Day, Jenny knew she was pregnant. And around Halloween, Baxter was born. Well, you can imagine. The whole town beat for a path to Phil's repair shop. Finally about eight months or so, he makes the mother of all predictions: a flood is gonna hit Everwood.
[Dr. Brown chuckles as does Edna.]
EDNA: (CONT'D) And, well, by now, his word is golden. Everybody packs up, evacuates the town and...
[Dr. Brown finishes.]
DR. BROWN: No flood!
[Edna chuckles again.]
EDNA: Not a drop. Drought that year as I recall...
[Cut to a garage band practicing. Pan past the mandatory singer-closeup to see Delia who is sitting in a corner. She's the sole-audience. Madison is the singer, singing "The Weight of Water".]
MADISON: Ooooooh, Oh Ho, Ohhh. Oh you said you were afraid of drowning...
[Ephram walks in with a jacket in hand, looking at the scene from the doorway. More singing as Delia mutters to her brother.]
DELIA: What are you doing here?
EPHRAM: I brought you your jacket.
[Ephram throws the jacket at his sister.]
DELIA: I'm not cold! How'd you know where we were?!
EPHRAM: Oh uh, Madison left a note...
DELIA: Yeaaaah. For Dad.
[Delia looks across at him and continues watching Madison sing while doing the metronomic eyeblink talking-to-retards madgirl semaphore for You Are Not Wanted Here. Delia and Ephram glance back and forth between each other and the band, continuing to talk.]
DELIA: She finally let me watch and now she might change her mind!
[Madison looks back, smiling at her guitarist.]
MADISON: You were pulled uuuuund-errrr
[Madison capture-glances back towards camera. Everybody takes off their musical devices.]
MADISON: [to the band] OK, take five. [to Ephram] Hi, uh hey Ephram. You left the house. Was it on fire?
EPHRAM: Uhhh, Delia forgot her jacket...
[Delia looks disgusted at being made a lever in his romantic fulcruming. Madison nervously rolls her lips under.]
MADISON: Whaddya think?
EPHRAM: I, uhhb, I uhhhh, think, uuhhh, it's good.
MADISON: Really?!
EPHRAM: Yeah, yeah.
[Madison looks back at the rest of the band.]
MADISON: Maybe if I could get that hook not to sound like ass... Ah-hahaha.
[Jay, one of the other band members, comes up from behind.]
JAY: Be right back. I'm gonna grab a smoke.
MADISON: Well I uh, don't go too far. I wanna do that one right away again. I was thinking maybe if you were to slow it down as we headed out of the verse? It's starting to sound a little punk.
JAY: Yeah, but that's what makes it cool.
MADISON: Can we just try it that way, once?
JAY: I joined this band because you gave me the impression that it was going to be co-llab-orative.
[Madison's getting a little short.]
MADISON: It is collaborative.
JAY: No it isn't. You told me what you thought. I told you what I thought. And now we're doing it your way.
[Ephram watches, looks down, wishes he didn't have to share the embarrassment or at least could comment about it.]
MADISON: Only if it's better.
JAY: If it's better according to you.
MADISON: According to the band, that's how it works.
[We see more Ephram being made the little boy by watching the 'adults' argue like children while he can do nothing.]
JAY: That's how it works for you. For me, it doesn't work. I'm gone.
[Madison talking over him, ever more desperate-fast.]
MADISON: Come on. We only have Chuck for an hour.
JAY: No. YOU only have him for an hour. I quit.
[Madison turns around to where Delia sits on a ceiling beam. Madison finally realizes the audience factor in this little blowup.]
MADISON: Uhhh, sweetie, can you hang out here for a minute while I go talk to my friend?
EPHRAM: No, that's OK. I'll take her home.
MADISON: Thanks, Ephram. I owe ya one.
[Madison rushes off to talk to her friend which pleases Ephram no end as he turns to watch her leaving.]
DELIA: [whiny] So do we have to ride in your car?
[Ephram and Delia exit via the same opening Ephram arrived through.]
[Cut to Abbott & Abbott Family Practice, Dr. H. Abbott's office. Dr. L. Abbott is doodling an Alfalfa Gets Geronimo'd stick figure with an arrow through its head as Louise's voice drones ever onwards into somnolent bliss.]
LOUISE: The proliferation of 15 minute coffee breaks to include more than three per day or the extension of said breaks to encompass greater than 20 minutes of downtime in the span of a three hour period should be avoided.
[Dr. H. Abbott is reading along with his own highbrowed superfluidity of speech in a resounding No!' of silent-mouthed head shaking. Dr. L. Abbott is bored out of her wits.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: Thank you, Louise. Ahhhh, moving onto this month's management topics.
DR. L. ABBOTT: You mean there's something left uncovered in the October management summit of 2003? I'm stunned.
[Louise looks over, half stunned herself by Dr. L. Abbott's audacity. Dr. H. Abbott's cell phone rings. Before he answers, he gives a comment to his sister.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: A shame you inherited your sense of humor from our mother.
[Dr. L. Abbott tilts her head to the side with a 'trite and ineffective but typical' look of a ginger cat gauging the distance to the dull grey cockatiel. The grim rictus vanishes as soon as he looks away.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: Excuse me. [into phone] Hello? Amy? You at school?
[Dr. H. Abbott leans back in his desk chair. His face is perplexed going on worried. Other conversant speech delay and then he stands up suddenly.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: What?
[Dr. H. Abbott gives the universal male calm-down-slow-down-talk-sense-woman 'pat the air' symbol.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: Where are you now? [beat] Oh my god. Alright. Uhhhm, I'm, I'm coming right away. Just stay right where you're at, right near that phone, 'kay?
[Dr. H. Abbott tools around office, trying to pull together a plan.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: Uhh, give me that number. D-don't move. Anyone approaches you you call 9-1-1. I'll be there as soon as I can. [hangs up] Ahhhm, I've gotta go get Amy and [to his sister] I...
[Dr. H. Abbott gets a coat.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: (CONT'D) ...need you to take me so that I can drive her back.
DR. L. ABBOTT: Why? Where is she?
[Dr. H. Abbott turns away for the door. He's disgusted and confused.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: Wyoming.
[Louise and Dr. L. Abbott have twinned deer-in-headlights struck stupid expressions but Dr. L. Abbott quickly gets up to follow her brother anyway.]
[Cut to the Brown kitchen. Delia watches from the far end of the counter, doing something domestic. Dr. Brown is sitting at a small phone-desk next to the door, deepest into the vile sanctus-kitchenarium. Ephram stands over by the sink getting a glass of water. Madison is taking out some Jay-angst on a hapless head of Broccoli with a good sized cleaver. The remains of which she promptly continues to dismember with ruthless if not altogether efficient energy before dumping the whole mess into a salad type bowl.]
MADISON: This isn't the first time Jay's walked out. He loves drama.
EPHRAM: How long's he been with the band?
MADISON: Uhhh, he came in a couple months ago to replace this guy Kip who moved to Oregon to find himself.
[Ephram moves around the counter to read something.]
DR. BROWN: How 1978.
[Madison quietly laughs.]
MADISON: If I can't get him to come back...
EPHRAM: You guys might actually sound OK?
[Madison gets the hurt-but-not-angry, yet semi-scowl on her face.]
EPHRAM: He was soft on that song and then he was like, you guys needed to change the tempo?
[Madison's expression goes introspective.]
EPHRAM: It was all him. He plays like he's on speed. He's pulling you guys down...
MADISON: DOWN? I thought you said we sound good?
EPHRAM: Well, uh, you do sound good. I was jubstsuh, I just mean...
[Dr. Brown's ears prick up.]
MADISON: What did you mean, Ephram?
[Delia looks up to see if her brother can worm his way outta this one.]
EPHRAM: I-uh, he's just not as good as you guys, that's all...
MADISON: And how good is that, exactly?
[Dr. Brown quickly glances up and across to avoid Ephram and Madison getting into a huge fight by attempting to change the subject.]
DR. BROWN: What culinary delight are you preparing for us tonight, Madison?
MADISON: No, it's fine. Ephram, I want you to tell me the truth.
EPHRAM: Well, I think you guys need a better guitarist.
MADISON: And?
EPHRAM: And? And uhhh, better sounds and better songs and uh...
MADISON: Dr. Brown, the casserole is in the oven. It'll be ready in about ten minutes. The vegetables should be done by then too. Rice is on the stove. Somebody check it too. See you tomorrow.
[Madison does the "casual I'm not upset, no really!" slow-saunter from the kitchen. Delia quickly follows her to the door.]
DR. BROWN: You might wanna work on your bedside manner Ephram. You just cleared the room.
EPHRAM: Yeah, I noticed that, thank you.
DELIA: Set the table doofus, if you can even do that...
[Ephram flashes a look at her as the phone rings and Dr. Brown 'stands up, officially, hands in pockets' to take it as Ephram hoists a stack of plates.]
DR. BROWN: Andy Brown. Oh really. Bacterial or Viral? So you have him quarantined there? All right. Thank you. I'll uhh, check in again tomorrow.
[Dr. Brown leans over to put the phone down. He's clearly shocked and amazed that his simple diagnosis could be proven so readily wrong. Delia picks up on this.]
DELIA: What is it, Dad?
DR. BROWN: Ohhhh, nothin'. A patient I diagnosed with the flue has life-threatening meningitis. And Phil the mechanic is psychic.
[Cut to an approaching red car. In the passenger seat is Dr. H. Abbott. The driver is Dr. L. Abbott. Camera snaps to see Amy sitting on a table beside a building with a bunch of external vending machines. The wind is blowing and it's dark. Dr. L. Abbott looks over at her brother in a kind of "Don't kill her before you find out why" moment and you see what looks like the yellow nozzle of a large gas can behind them. Dr. H. Abbott gets out of the car and takes off his coat while quickly walking over. Abashed, Amy can't hold her father's disappointed glare.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: [offering his coat] Here.
AMY: I'm not cold.
DR. H. ABBOTT: I know. Put it on anyway. Got here as fast as we could. Which, hunh, wasn't very fast.
[Dr. H. Abbott glares back at his sister's environmentally friendly electromobile.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: You realize we are no longer in Colorado, we're in another state. What are we doing her, Amy?
AMY: I don't...
[A train sounds in the distance.]
AMY: (CONT'D) I dunno.
DR. H. ABBOTT: Well, I just left my practice for a day. So did your Aunt Linda to rescue you from this little excursion so you might wanna give it some thought.
[Camera flips perspective constantly: him:her to her:him. Looking expectantly down at her, submerge vanishing back into Another World of detached distancing.]
AMY: I was going to school. And I was watching all of the kids going inside it. The day starting. Then I was outside, like watching them and I couldn't imagine myself inside it so... I just kept driving.
[Dr. H. Abbott sighs.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: What is happening to you, Amy? Are you angry with us? Are you trying to hurt us?
AMY: No.
DR. H. ABBOTT: Do you need more attention?
AMY: No.
DR. H. ABBOTT: Then what's going on?
[Dr. H. Abbott is a little more gently urgent, coaxing her into verbal motion with a hand grabbing her arm or perhaps rubbing her back.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: (CONT'D) Come on. [a long beat] If you could tell me what's going on... Tell me what you're feeling.
[Close up on her face. She shakes her head slightly. Dr. H. Abbott sees her eyes close and feels her droop and is clearly, finally, scared.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: Come on. Let's go home. Come on.
[Dr. H. Abbott helps his daughter up, looks back as there is some kind of a chain-fence sounding noise and maybe her coat is caught on something for a moment and then he literally holds her up by both arms as she numb-stumbles back to Dr. L. Abbott's car.]
{END OF ACT ONE / COMMERCIAL BREAK}
{ACT TWO}
[Open as Dr. Brown walks into some kind of open air environment which rapidly becomes clear as Phil's Auto Sales. Dr. Brown leans against a truck with an open hood that Phil is working on.]
DR. BROWN: I see kids' flu symptoms aren't the only things you fix.
PHIL: Hiya Doc. How's your boy likin' that car?
DR. BROWN: Loves it. Just loves it. Couldn't be happier.
PHIL: Glad to hear it.
DR. BROWN: Listen, Phil. About the Thompson kid. Uhmmm, I don't know what I'm thanking you for exactly but uhhhm, you were right. He had meningitis.
PHIL: Un huh.
DR. BROWN: He was completely asymptomatic and five hours later he was at a hospital in Denver with his neck so stiff he couldn't turn it. They diagnosed it even before they did the tap. So I guess you could say you averted an epidemic.
PHIL: Glad to hear it.
[Phil turns and goes over to the workbench to his tools.]
DR. BROWN: So I just wanted to uhm, to thank you for uh whatever.
[Phil nods over his shoulder.]
DR. BROWN: The uhhh nurse at school was very grateful when I told her too.
PHIL: You told Hazel? Great, there'll be a mob here by lunch.
[Phil looks out his open doors as does Dr. Brown.]
DR. BROWN: Listen. How did you do it? I mean, is it some kind of perception thing or do you read body language?
PHIL: Clairaudient. Always have been, pretty much.
DR. BROWN: Clairaudient. Whu-what is that?
PHIL: Hear things. Just words. Phrases. Stuff that's gonna happen.
[Phil walks back past Dr. Brown towards the broke down vehicle.]
DR. BROWN: But all the time or, or, or, do you have to make an effort like, like, going online?
PHIL: Well, it's like, hearing a voice in your head, telling you things that you know are true.
DR. BROWN: Well, like, what kind of things? I mean, can you hear things about me, right now?
PHIL: You don't really want to get into this, do ya?
DR. BROWN: Well I ahh, I'm just curious from a scientific standpoint.
PHIL: I'm not a sideshow, Doc.
DR. BROWN: Come on, Phil. There's no pressure here. Just give your ol' college try.
[Phil looks at him kinda funny, contorts his blood hound features into a fatalistic grimace and nods, adjusting his stance against the truck, he just 'looks away' for a second.]
PHIL: You're gonna get a kiss you've been waitin' for.
DR. BROWN: From who? What are you talking about here? What kind of a kiss? You mean like uh, uhhhh, kiss-kiss?
[Phil looks up and nods.]
PHIL: And you'll break a promise.
DR. BROWN: I...eee... Thi-this is like fortune cookies. Are you sure about this stuff?
[Phil moves away again.]
PHIL: And watch out for that file folder. Somethin' like that could take your head off.
[Dr. Brown leans up. He looks at Phil's back with a decidedly "tourist gone to the local gypsy" perplexed but dissatisfied "Was I just bamboozled?" look.]
[Cut to a small hand and a big hand slamming down cards. Small hand wins and the camera snap perspective changes to show Madison playing Spit with a smiling Delia. Madison groans and the game goes on as each scan the rows of cards and Ephram walks into scene from the back. He leans against the back of the couch Delia is sitting on.]
EPHRAM: What're you guys playing?
DELIA: Spit.
MADISON: Go ahead. Tell her how much she sucks at it.
EPHRAM: Look, I, last night, what I said, I, uh, I didn't, I mean, I uh think that you're a really really great singer and I, I uh shouldn't have said anything. OK? I'm sorry.
MADISON: Was that an apology?
EPHRAM: It was supposed to be, uh yeah.
MADISON: Not great.
EPHRAM: Oh well. It was a rough draft I was gonna polish it up and give it to ya a little later.
MADISON: It's OK, Ephram. I'm just sensitive about my music because I really want it to be good, ya know? And guess I thought that, like every other garage band from Podunk USA that I could use it to get me outta here...
[Delia looks on as her brother responds.]
EPHRAM: Yeah, I-I understand.
MADISON: Yeah but, with piano, you can take that and use it a million different ways. I, I, need a band and with Jay gone...
[Madison looks down at the cards that she's shuffling. She glances up for more sympathy and Ephram gets the clue.]
EPHRAM: Well, maybe I can help out? You know, I-I can sit in on a session or somethin'.
MADISON: It's really cool of you to offer but...
EPHRAM: No, I-I-Ahhh could rearrange stuff, whatever.
DELIA: He's better than you think.
[Ephram looks down, grateful for his sister saying that.]
MADISON: You sure you're up for it?
EPHRAM: Well, I don't know if it's gonna help but...
MADISON: Ya know what? We can use all the help we can get. I'll call the guys. Thanks Ephram. Be right back, Delia. No cheating.
[Ephram watches her go. Delia notices and crosses her arms. Ephram doesn't get why his sister looking at him like that.]
EPHRAM: What?
DELIA: Boys are so obvious.
[Ephram shakes his head as he looks back towards the kitchen.]
[Cut to late afternoon in Dr. H. Abbott's office with the brother-sister pair again sitting together sans Louise. They are discussing Amy.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: Rose thinks maybe we should try antidepressants, they're working for Laynie Hart but [shakes his head] I think Amy's different. I believe that her depression is situational. We set the precedent of, medicating her out of every rough spot then how does she develop those coping skills that she needs to get by in life. [beat] Linda, I feel like we're losing her...
[A back-and-forth camera hopping across the table begins.]
DR. L. ABBOTT: I'd like to try to help her.
DR. H. ABBOTT: Well, with all due respect, because I'm, I'm sure that there are some people maybe that really do get something out of the tea and the energy.
DR. L. ABBOTT: Harry, I know that you don't believe in this but you believe in me, right? Would you at least let me try?
[Close up on Dr. H. Abbott's sad blue eyes, jittery nodding glance downards and then back up. Lips set in funny-crooked fashion.]
[Cut to the band practicing. Jay is back. Madison is singing the same song as before.]
MADISON: I was sure you meant the fear of the weight of water. / For you I cast myself.
[Jay goes into some kind of rockolicious riff that completely disrupts the song. Madison looks over like "What possible reason did you have for unleashing that putrosity, now?"]
MADISON: Jay. [sharper] JAY!
JAY: What? It's boring. I'm just trying to.. I dunno, do something.
[Ephram looks on, mildly amused and shaking his head.]
MADISON: It's not boring. It's just not...good.
JAY: We sound like every wannabe band from here to Boulder.
MADISON: Yeah, except some of them sound like they practice. Take ten, everybody.
[Madison walks over to Ephram who is standing behind the synth keyboard.]
EPHRAM: Thank God the mad genius is back. You know, you guys can really use a visionary like him?
[Madison looks over, smiling fondly with the hands on hips pose.]
MADISON: He just likes to make sure his presence is felt.
EPHRAM: Oh believe me. I'm feelin' it.
MADISON: Do you still think you can help us?
[Ephram looks down at the keyboard.]
EPHRAM: Well, right now you're going like this.
[Ephram runs a standard chord progression.]
EPHRAM: But, why not try repeating the four chord after the five chord before going back to the one. More like...
[Ephram plays again.]
EPHRAM: That.
[Madison is at first amazed that he can, 'by ear' pick the chords up and listens tighter as he begins to lay it out, rapid fire. Towards the end, she is a little frightened of Ephram's easy-arched eyebrows and "What do you think?" working attitude but she's also hugely impressed with a small smile.]
EPHRAM: And then of course repeat the same chord but try and make the baseline more interesting. Maybe uuuuuuhhh, a G-chord with a B-base? [mutters] something...like that.
[And now the music breaks but has a carrying rhythm bridge over the gap which is powerful enough to segue a harmony to and muted enough to carry a lead vocal over the end. It is also slower. Madison is clearly lost. She tries her best with a hint head shake and near-cry.]
MADISON: Why didn't you tell me you were some kind of prodigy?
EPHRAM: Well, prodigy would imply youth while I'm actually an [deepens voice] old soul. At least somebody once told me that. So, you like it?
[Madison bites her lip, touched because it clearly holds the tone of the lyrics and is 'just for her', nods.]
MADISON: Yeah.
[Cut to two of those universal white-styrofoam lunch trays are being opened and passed-across. Camera switch as you see both Dr. Brown and Edna ID'ing and trading their respective takeout. In walks Dr. L. Abbott. Both look up and Dr. Brown smiles while Edna's first glance is different.]
DR. L. ABBOTT: [to Dr. Brown] Hey. [to Edna] Hi Mom! Can I borrow the keys? I need to borrow the truck tonight.
[Edna moves across to the desk drawer while Dr. Brown tucks his right hand into his pants.]
EDNA: Again?
DR. L. ABBOTT: Moving may be the worst idea I've ever had. Was it ever a good idea?
[Dr. L. Abbott looks suggestively across to Dr. Brown.]
DR. L. ABBOTT: Anyone?
EDNA: Sure, you wouldn't rather take Irv's rifle?
DR. L. ABBOTT: Don't tempt me.
[Edna glances sideways at Dr. Brown and then "there you go, sweetie" back at Dr. L. Abbott.]
DR. BROWN: Ya know uhhh, I've actually never been to a major move. Julia moved us to the apartment in New York and then when we moved here I hired a moving company. And they packed up our stuff and drove it here and unpacked it and uhh we were moved.
[Edna's look goes to abject horror. She quickly glances over at her daughter. Dr. L. Abbott's brightly inquisitive, twisted-sideways-listening face kind of freezes and then straightens out to a flat mask. They trade a quick momentary look as Linda regains her smile for Edna.]
DR. L. ABBOTT: I-I-I gotta go.
[Dr. L. Abbott smiles back at Dr. Brown for some reason. She gives Edna one last flickered gaze and a good arched-back side profile shot to Dr. Brown before quickly retreating. Edna looks at her boss, disgusted, reaches down and tosses, you guessed it, a file folder at him. Dr. Brown's mouth is full.]
DR. BROWN: What wuzzat for?
EDNA: Your wakeup call, Bozo. What'er you waiting for her, to toss a glass slipper?
DR. BROWN: Why?
[Edna advances partway back around the desk and leans down, forcefully across it.]
EDNA: Look, you like Linda. She likes you. You both are nincompoops who do nothing about it.
DR. BROWN: Well, what do you want me to do Edna? I offered to help her yesterday and she didn't want it.
EDNA: You're a grown man with a post graduate degree! Figure it out!
DR. BROWN: The thing is, I promised Delia I wouldn't go out with her.
EDNA: You also promised Delia a horse. I don't see Mr. Ed galloping around here.
DR. BROWN: Besides, you know I-I-I think, you might be overestimating Linda's...
EDNA: I KNOW that girl. I know how she looks when she's excited about something. And for reasons unknown given your complete incompetence in the dating arena, she's excited about you.
DR. BROWN: You really think so?
EDNA: Oh for Pete's sake.
[Edna walks off. Dr. Brown picks up box from table and file folder from floor before heading off to his office. Halfway there, Dr. Brown realizes what that folder could mean.]
[Cut to Dr. L. Abbott's office. She's wearing a grungy sweat-jacket and blue halter top is sitting in a drooped-shoulder, sorta-lotus, position as she instructs Amy sitting opposite her in some kind of simple-elegant black body suit. Apparently Dr. H. Abbott agreed to let his sister do the voodoo stuff on his daughter.]
DR. L. ABBOTT: The idea behind meditation is that great reward can come from stillness, the act of doing nothing.
AMY: I keep thinking about stuff.
DR. L. ABBOTT: That's OK. Whenever a thought pops into your head, you just recognize it as a thought and then you just let it go.
[Amy starts rocking back and forth, blinks, dazedly. Dr. L. Abbott coughs and clears her throat.]
DR. L. ABBOTT: OK, [clears throat again] uhhhm, you wanna set an intention before we start?
AMY: Is it OK if what I want is nothing?
DR. L. ABBOTT: You mean that, you don't feel like you're going to get anything out of it?
AMY: No, I mean, my goal is to feel nothing.
[Amy stares down into the middle distance again. Amy's dark eyes are almost all pupil, focused on nothing.]
DR. L. ABBOTT: I tell you what, why don't we just uhhhm, start and explore so uhmmm, put your hands on your knees, palms up.
[Amy does this.]
DR. L. ABBOTT: (CONT'D) Close your eyes and... just gently focus on your breath.
[Dr. L. Abbott wets her lip and frowns while attempting to hold her breath rather than concentrate on the chi process of breathing. She's trying too hard. Amy looks unstruggled but only in the flash that the camera is actually on her. She's bored and her eyes snap open and she glances to the side.]
AMY: How long is it supposed to take?
DR. L. ABBOTT: I have an idea. I ahhhh, have some music that I found in India that might make this a little more fun. I'm gonna go see if I can dig it out. I'll be right back.
[Amy watches her disappear out the door. Leaving her. Arms wrapped around knees, rocking her head back and forth in a stretching-elegance of long-neck. Yet another person who is supposed to be reliable is gone rushing off. Amy looks around, crawls over to a small table. She sees a wooden box of Dr. L. Abbott's personal effects. She opens it, closes it. None of her business. Stands. She twists two bottles of incense oil. Amy brushes her hand gently over the prickles of a trimmed hedge of Bonsai type mini-evergreens. Amy spots her aunt's prescription pad and eyes it for a bit. She catches on and picks it up. Opens mouth to 'wonder glance' back over a shoulder at the door Linda vanished from. Camera focuses on hands gripping the pad, tearing off two-three pages and folding them tight before 'tucking them behind her belt' as she spins and presses her tongue against her teeth. Amy sighs, and relaxing, walks.]
{END OF ACT TWO / COMMERCIAL BREAK}
{ACT THREE}
[Open on Dr. L. Abbott carrying a box out of somebody's house as you hear the "rrr-rrr-rrr-RRR!" of a manual transmission yellow-orange truck reversing into her driveway. Dr. Brown puts it in park and gets out. Dr. L. Abbott isn't sure she's happy to see him but continues on past to set down a box by the garage.]
DR. BROWN: HEY! Is this where the moving party is?
[Dr. L. Abbott gives a tentative smile.]
DR. L. ABBOTT: You're not Irv.
DR. BROWN: Ya know, your powers of perception are amazing, Doctor.
[Dr. L. Abbott smiles and looks down. She does the hair shake and shoulder flip. She looks up and cocks head with that 'forced interest' mask on again. Dr. L. Abbott is clearly ready to try a new conversation as Dr. Brown expounds on the "innocence" of his visit.]
DR. BROWN: When uhhh, he told me he was tempting fate doing your heavy lifting, I said I would fill in. I hope ya don't mind.
DR. L. ABBOTT: Sure! You up for manual labor?
DR. BROWN: Yeaaah! I'm pretty handy. These the last of it? I'm getting off pretty easy!?
DR. L. ABBOTT: Uhhhh, not quite.
[Dr. L. Abbott sigh snorts, looking at him across at him, guiltily. She turns and lifts garage door to show STACKS of cardboard boxes and some furniture way in the back. Before turning back with a too-bright 'hope that's not more than you had in mind?' smile.]
DR. BROWN: So, when you said you traveled light you meant uhhh...
DR. L. ABBOTT: Well, that I keep it all in storage. You know I tried to embrace the Buddhist 'live simply thing'...? But then I uhhhhm, started collecting Buddhas.
DR. BROWN: Yeah, uhhh, Enlightenment requires a lot of props, hunh?
DR. L. ABBOTT: Ya still up for it?
DR. BROWN: Oh yeah, I'm up for it, I'm so up for it!
[Cut to Dr. H. Abbott who is marching out one door and to another, white coat streaming behind like a sail, patient-file folder caught in the far fingers of his right hand, contemptuously. Out the same door behind him comes Thurman Revere.]
THURMAN: Phil says take it off. I think he definitely meant cancer!
DR. H. ABBOTT: He meant the bunion, Thurman. Take off the bunion. Now come back Tuesday.
[Thurman waves his hands, comes up beside Dr. H. Abbott and sets them firmly on hips.]
THURMAN: What if it's a malignant growth?
DR. H. ABBOTT: IT'S A BUNION! NOW GET OUTTA HERE!
THURMAN: Whoa-whoa!
[Dr. H. Abbott walks out into a packed waiting room, glancing around at all the occupants.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: Make room for the next fraud loving crazy on the list. Who's next, Louise?
[Mr. Jensen struts up, urgently, to Dr. H. Abbott who waves his hand 'not now, in a minute!' as he tries to render order from the chaos.]
MR. JENSEN: Doctor! I have to see you before the pharmacy closes. I need Arithromyacin for a rash I am about to get which will be like hives and very painful and contagious, uuuh-uhh-uhh, according to Phil.
DR. H. ABBOTT: Ooohhh, FINE!! That's it. That's it!
[Dr. H. Abbott tosses next-chart papers high in the air.]
LOUISE: Oh dear.
[Dr. H. Abbott stamps back into the office part of his practice, strips his white lab coat off and replaces it with his tweed sport jacket from the coat closet.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: Louise, Louise! I'm having a premonition, I'm, I'm, seeing the rest of the days appointments BEING CANCELLED! You can all go home.
[There's a major uproar from the accumulated crowd.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: You're all fine, you'll all recover. Unfortunately.
[Cut to another crowd, outside 'Phil's Garage and Auto Sales' billboarded shop. Dr. H. Abbott tries to force his way to the head of the pack. Reluctantly the human sea parts before his bellicose banter.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: Excuse me, gullibility police. Stand aside. YES! Real doctor coming through. Uhhh, listen, uhhh, Phil.
[Dr. H. Abbott walks under car lift where Phil is changing oil or adding new shocks or something while 'holding audients' with the gathered enamoured. Dr. H. Abbott, glances semi-deferentially at a one legged amputee moving away on his hand crutches.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: Excuse me. I don't know who died and made you C. Everett Koop but the panic you're arousing in my patients and...
[Dr. H. Abbott disgustedly looks back and gestures, not quite obscenely.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: (CONT'D) other...hapless... members of this community.
[Dr. H. Abbott's arms are outstretched in crucified plea, you're killing me.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: It Has To Stop!
PHIL: Wasn't my intention to worry anyone.
[Phil goes back to wrench turning on the car above.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: Well, did you think that fraudulently diagnosing them with everything from gout to terminal illness would soothe them? You're whipping these people into a frenzy for no reason. Thereby wasting my time and their resources.
[Dr. H. Abbott looks back at the milling crowd.]
PHIL: But, the things that I tell them are...true.
DR. H. ABBOTT: YES! In your mind they are true. But you are NOT a doctor! YOU are a mechanic! You may have some special insight with regards to uh...
[Dr. H. Abbott looks wildly around.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: (CONT'D) ...exhaust and cooling systems but when it comes to human anatomy and uhhh physiolo.
[Phil sighs. He has had a long day. People who believe in him. People who don't. All hounding the wrinkle dog to prove it through his gift. He just looks elsewhere for a minute. And Dr. H. Abbott looks at him like "Where did YOU just go?". Then Phil looks down at Dr. H. Abbott's jacket for a second and he follows the glance with a "What, did I drip mayonnaise from my turkey on rye or something?!" Trying to recapture eye contact by scrunching down to look under Phil's troubled brows.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: Hello. Phil? I-ah-Are you listening? I AM conversing with you.
PHIL: Someone very close to you...is sick.
[Dr. H. Abbott straightens up and this time it's HIS eyes which go vanishing-point sudden to the person he thinks it must be. He tries to disgard that but he's still worried.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: What? Waaiiuhwhere?
[Dr. H. Abbott looks behind him.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: Well of, of, course they are! It's a statistical inevitability unless you're a hermit or an orphan. How dare yo...
[Dr. H. Abbott's cell phone rings. Phil turns back to his car. Dr. H. Abbott looks decidedly knit-brow unamused to have been interrupted in the middle of a really good, building tantrum. Dr. H. Abbott answers the phone but keeps casting dagger-looks at Phil's silent working form. He walks away, as if to hide the conversation.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: Yeah-uh-yes, Dr. Abbott here. Yeah uhhh, how can I help you? Whuh? No, I-I-I'm sorry, uhh, what prescription, for whom? Are, are you sure that it's Amy Abbott? Because I did not write any such prescription nor did Dr. Linda Abbott. Well, ye-yeess I am sure, noone else. Uhhh... Le-luh-let me get back to you.
[Cut to a neon illuminated 'sign wall' in a bar. Madison is crooning the same song yet again though it is less frenetic. It's pacing and Ephram's playing piano in the background.]
MADISON: [singing] You were pulled under. / When you said you were afraid of drowning, / I was sure you meant the fear of the weight of water / For you I cast myself, to sea. / I let the waves devour me. / But I have lost what I believed. / You were pulled under. / You were pulled under.
[Camera pans from her folded over the mike to a quiet guitarist as well as Ephram who is in the background as she grins at the crowd. There is applause and she stands back up to leer, scratch some dandruff, and wave at the audience while strutting her physique for a moment before she and Ephram do a stage-forward exit through the clapping, whistling, crowd.]
MADISON: That was great! SO GREAT!
EPHRAM: Yeah, that was pretty cool!
MADISON: Awwhh Ephram. Your song. Your song was THE BEST!
[Madison reaches over to grab him in a quick-impulsive hug as he chuckles and is generally happy to hear that from her.]
EPHRAM: Unhunh! Uh-hunh-hunh-hunh! It was your song, I just tweaked it a little bit...
MADISON: No. Your song was the best of all of them. You have to work on the others with me this weekend.
EPHRAM: Sure, so what're you doing now? Can I get you a Coke or something?
[Madison smiles. Jay walks up and wraps an arm over her back before leaning across to reclaim his property with a kiss. As any male-post-hug-with-another-guy would. More awkward momenting as Ephram looks down and around waiting for Jay to finish removing her tonsils.]
JAY: That was great, babe. Ya comin' over?!
[Madison glances across, seeing Ephram's expression.]
MADISON: Uhhhm, yeaaah, uh, after, after, I help the guys pack up...
[Madison smiles-no-teeth at Jay. It is an equals kind of a quiet reassurance. As he goes away, she closes her eyes.]
MADISON: [to Ephram] I guess I'd better get going. Uhhh, I'll see you tomorrow.
[Madison turns back to the stage. Ephram is angry and impulsively calls out after her.]
EPHRAM: Why didn't you tell me Jay was your boyfriend?
[Madison turns back.]
MADISON: He's not my boyfriend. We just hang out, sometimes.
EPHRAM: Like now? Like when you, when he's got his tongue so far down your throat I thought I was gonna have to give you oxygen?
MADISON: And why should I have told you?
EPHRAM: I dunno. Maybe so I wouldn't have talked about him in front of you?
MADISON: Jay can be a jerk. Ya know, I talk about him too.
EPHRAM: Naah, that's different. Besides. I mea...you should have told me, because...
MADISON: Because what?
EPHRAM: Because, at the DMV, I kissed you and that, that meant something.
MADISON: Ephram...
[Madison walks forward to keep the whole bar from hearing.]
MADISON: (CONT'D) Maybe it did to you. It can't mean anything. Anything real. Anything more than what it was.
EPHRAM: You should have told me. You lied to me.
MADISON: I didn't lie to you. I just didn't mention it. Ya' know, we're not...friends that way. I mean, you're older than your sister, but you're still young enough to be somebody that I look after. You have a crush. OK? That's what this is. That's what you have when you're sixteen. Do you understand?
EPHRAM: Perfectly.
[Ephram walks off towards bathroom to the side of the bar.]
[Cut to Dr. H. Abbott and Mayor Rose Abbott who are sitting in a darkened living room in their house. We hear key-in-lock noises as Amy tries to enter. Dr. H. Abbott stomp-marches to door and pulls it open for her. Amy slow-glides on by, looking at him and then Rose standing cross-armed rigid at the livingroom entrance. She stops and looks back at dad.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: I got a call today...from the Cloverton Pharmacy. They wanted to know if they could substitute a generic for Amy Abbot's antidepressant prescription which THEY SAID DR. LINDA ABBOTT HAD WRITTEN!
AMY: Dad...I
DR. H. ABBOTT: What on earth were you thinking? You realize that by forging a prescription in your aunt's name, you could have been responsible for her losing her medical license? Did you think about that?
AMY: Did she...
ROSE: We haven't told your Aunt Linda.
[Dr. H. Abbott paces back to his wife's side.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: Because it would have upset her. Because it would have disgusted her. Because she is one of the few bridges that you haven't BURNED recently!
AMY: I didn't think. Dad, I...
DR. H. ABBOTT: So what were you thinking? Do you think about any of us anymore? Do you think about anybody but yourself? I am, I am shocked at this behavior. Even for you recently, well, it's gone from irresponsible to criminal!
AMY: I'm sorry.
DR. H. ABBOTT: You're sorry?! You have got to be kidding me?
ROSE: Oh let her speak Harold!
AMY: I just wanted to feel better again like Laynie and that stuff Aunt Linda was doing wasn't working.
[Amy shrugs her shoulders.]
ROSE: You could have asked... You could have talked to us?!?
AMY: I did ask. You said no.
DR. H. ABBOTT: So it's our fault? Of course you don't take any responsibility for your own actions. You blame other people. You blame Colin. You blame Dr. Brown. You blame us.
AMY: No, I really just blame you.
[Dr. H. Abbott blinks. That hurt. His little girl hates his guts. She won't talk to him, won't seek solace in her family but only wants to seek release from the pain in a better chemistry sense. He sucks and rolls his lips for a second. He looks away. Maybe he wants to cry. Amy already is. Then he gives up.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: Fine. Fine. I-I-I'll write you a prescription.
[Dr. H. Abbott walks over to a black lacquered table next to the door whereon he begins to write upon a pad. Rose Abbott is looking at her daughter, chin up, judgmentally. But also head canted, sympathetically.]
ROSE: Harold!
DR. H. ABBOTT: What? What?! What else do you want me to do, Rose? You're tired of doing nothing. Amy's tired of doing nothing. And I am...completely out of ideas.
[Rose is looking towards her daughter, desperate for her to back off. Say...anything. That will give her father an out, a reason to stop this. Amy's eyes are downcast, if not closed. Gulping frantically for air and hoping that this will just be...over. Rose sees that there is no help from that front.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: (CONT'D) So if this is what everybody thinks will make this whole thing go away then fine! Fine! Let's make it go away. Yhar, here.
[Dr. H. Abbott stands back up and waves a small piece of paper high in triumph. He stalks towards Amy, mashes that paper into her hand.]
DR. H. ABBOTT: Prescription for Amy Abbott. Amy Abbott. NOT MY DAUGHTER. Wherever she is, she would never have done this.
[Dr. H. Abbott stalks out through narrow 'hallway' rear stage exit that Amy was headed for when this all began. Rose goes to follow her husband. Amy quickly turns to her, needing to know that it was the right thing. That maybe SHE is still a right person.]
AMY: Mom?
[Rose looks at her. Makes her choice. He's hurt worse. You've got what you wanted. And pursues her husband instead. Leaving Amy to look cockeyed into the far distance before 'coming to' and glancing around, looking for that way out. Or at least a way back. Now that everything familiar around her is now hostile and nothing offers comfort.]
[Cut to Dr. L. Abbott's new house. It's still a mess but at least all the boxes are on the right side of the front door. She pulls a wine bottle from a box, scans the label and pulls the cork before starting to pour. Dr. Brown in the background yammering on about 'his moving experience' again.]
DR. BROWN: When the people moved me, it was like little elves working while I slept. One minute I was living in New York and the next thing you know, I was here in Everwood. And not a single box did I see.
[Dr. L. Abbott walks back into the room where he is droning on, leaned up against a blanket covered 'something' on the floor. Changing the subject as she grunts tiredly, settling to her knees beside him as she hands across a mug full of grape juice, fermented or otherwise.]
DR. L. ABBOTT: Well, I probably won't move again for another year.
DR. BROWN: You mean I gotta do this again in another 12 months?
DR. L. ABBOTT: I don't have a tendency to stay in any one place for very long.
DR. BROWN: Is that why I'm drinking Merlot out of a mug?
[They both sound slap happy with fatigue, but his half-hammered-already act is more 'impressive'. Dr. L. Abbott chuckles.]
DR. L. ABBOTT: You're lucky it's not Styrofoam.
[Dr. L. Abbott clink glasses with the always smiling Dr. Brown.]
DR. L. ABBOTT: Mmmm, this?
[Dr. L. Abbott holds up a box that looks suspiciously like the one Amy played with.]
DR. L. ABBOTT: Is the only thing I've had with me the whole time I was away...
DR. BROWN: What is it?
DR. L. ABBOTT: Keepsakes things that mean something to me. As much as I could carry.
DR. BROWN: Well, don't keep me in suspense. What made the list?
DR. L. ABBOTT: Ohhh.
[Dr. L. Abbott groans as she twists around to lie back beside him.]
DR. L. ABBOTT: Just junk. It has no value to anybody but me.
[Dr. Brown sees an opportunity to 'bond'. He sits up, sets his drink down with exaggerated care and turns to her.]
DR. BROWN: Come-onnnn! Show me. Oh. If you want to.
[Dr. L. Abbott looks across, dubiously for a moment before picking up the box again. She rummages through it.]
DR. L. ABBOTT: Uhhhh, hmmm! My favorite book.
DR. BROWN: The Little Prince. It's a good one.
DR. L. ABBOTT: I had it in French too but I gave it to this kid in Guinea. Little con artist but I couldn't turn him down.
[A photo is next of the Abbott clan around 1968. Remember the flashbacks in "My Brother's Keeper"? It's around the same time.]
DR. L. ABBOTT: (CONT'D) Hmmm, and this is before I left. When Harry and I were young.
DR. BROWN: He looked like Alfalfa.
DR. L. ABBOTT: Hmmph!? Looks...
[Next photo. She's leaning on the shoulder of a young blonde fellow somewhere back-of-beyond that he would need a jacket.]
DR. L. ABBOTT: (CONT'D) And let's see, this is uhhhm. Was uhhh, a friend. A friend that I lost. Lost a lot of people. That's how it works in places like that. You move around so much that it's like pieces of your life just fall away... [sighs and looks up with doe eyes] This would be so much more daunting if you weren't here. Thank you.
DR. BROWN: I do what I can.
