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Please note: I had this script on
my HD. I don't remember where I got it from, so if you want to provide a link to
its original site, E-mail me. Thanks! |
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(Jen and Pacey in a supermarket – Pacey is pushing the trolley) Jen: Uh, don’t let me forget to get the creamed onions, either. Pacey: (disgusted) Oh, (shaking his head) No. Mm-mm. (They begin moving down an aisle) Jen: What’s the matter? You don’t like creamed onions? Pacey: No, man, they creep me out. I’m being dead serious here, too. Just, the thought of them makes me sick to my stomach. All creamy and— (They pause halfway down the aisle as Jen picks up some cans) Jen: OK Pacey, how about this—I promise to keep all offending vegetables out of your line of sight at all times. Good? Pacey: You know Jen, when I suggested we hook up today, this is not exactly what I had in mind. Jen: Believe me Pacey, I know, but unfortunately Grams’ Thanksgiving feast takes precedence over our burgeoning sex life. (Pacey starts pushing the trolley again) Pacey: (looking around and lowering his voice) Correct me if I’m wrong, but we don’t actually have a sex life yet, do we? Jen: What? And you think that that’s my fault? Pacey: Ah … yeah, I do actually think that that’s your fault. Jen: I’m sorry Pacey. I just-- I just find it difficult to … to watch you paw at me … what … (she bursts out laughing) Pacey: (indignantly) Foreplay is no laughing matter. How do you expect a guy to do his best work in the face of scorn and derision? Jen: (starting to calm down) It’s just that we’re friends, right? And-- and seeing as how we-- we are friends, but now we’re friends that … (swallowing hard) do *that* … um, it’s just gonna take a little time getting used to. (stepping closer to Pacey) Although maybe we could find a moment later? Pacey: I can’t. I think I have to go to my parents’ house for Thanksgiving. (Jen backs away) Jen: OK. Pacey: I-- I’m sorry, I have to. I figured it’s probably the right thing to do, seeing as they brought me into the world and all. Jen: Gee, you sound so excited. Pacey: (first sentence said sarcastically) Oh, well, it’s such a joyous occasion. Just imagine it—the Whitter women, slaving over a hot stove all afternoon jut to be told that the butterball is too dry. And this, coming from a guy who’s been sitting on his derriere all day getting drunk and watching football. Jen: Well, even despite the creamed onions, you gotta love Grams for offering an alternative. Pacey: You do. Speaking of … you know, you never told me who else is coming. Jen: Don’t worry Pacey. Andie politely declined the invite. Pacey: Hey, I wasn’t going there. Jen: (scoffing) Please. I think that she’s making dinner for, uh, Jack and her dad tonight. Pacey: (looking a little upset) Sound nice. It’s good for her to have … family on Thanksgiving. Jen: (stepping towards him) C’mere. (They embrace – Pacey begins to smell her hair) Pacey: Mmm. Good Lord, you smell good. (He backs away after hearing a sound) What was that? (Jen is laughing again) Pacey: (frustrated) Oh, Come ON. Jen: (still laughing) Sorry. I’m sorry. (Pacey walks off with Jen still laughing) * * * * * (The Leery household – Mitch is in the lounge room watching a football game and Gail is baking in the kitchen – Dawson walks into the kitchen) Mitch: (encouragingly) All right, come on, big play, big play. C’mon, go go go, give him a block. Somebody … Gail: Hey. (Dawson approaches the bench where several pumpkin pies are laid out) Gail: So, what do you think? Tell me the truth, I want my contributions to Mrs Ryan’s Thanksgiving dinner to be straight out of Gourmet Magazine. Dawson: (looking at the pies) It looks like the cover of their November issue to me. Gail: (pleased) Ah. (she takes off her oven mits) So while those cool, I can now get started with this oyster stuffing. (Gail starts chopping some ingredients) Dawson: So, how goes the apartment search? Gail: Oh, it’s-- it’s coming. But, you don’t mind do you? I mean me taking up temporary residence in the guest room? Mitch: (from the living room) Go, go, go … touch down! Alright! Whoa! Dawson: (chuckles) It’s starting to feel oddly familiar. Gail: What, your, ah, father watching football, and me in my apron? (Mitch enters the kitchen) Mitch: Hey, Dawson, you’re missing a great game in there. (he sees the pies) Oh whoa, check out these pies. (claps his hands together and rubs them in anticipation) Dawson, grab a knife. Let’s see if they taste as good as they look. Gail: (holding knife) Uh-uh. Don’t even think about it. Hands off. I cannot show up at Mrs Ryan’s with half-eaten baked goods. Mitch: I-- hardly seems fair, does it Dawson? She invades the kitchen, fills the house with the scent of pumpkin pie, and then tells us we can’t have any. (he crosses his arms and leans against the bench) Gail: Fair or unfair, no-one is going to spoil their Thanksgiving dinner on my watch. Dawson: Why do I suddenly feel like I’m stuck in an episode of ‘The Waltons’? (Mitch looks uneasily at Gail) Gail: Honey, why don’t you go and change? (Dawson looks at her dubiously) Dawson: (walking away) OK. * * * * * (Jen enters her house with two brown paper bags of shopping) Jen: Grams! Grams: Oh, there you are. Jen: (walking into the kitchen) Hey, Sam says ‘hi’. Grams: Who’s Sam? Jen: You know Sam. The deli guy. The one with the big bad dentures, the liverspots and all that nostril hair. I think he likes you. Grams: (trying to say something serious) Jennifer … there’s something I need to tell you. Jen: Grams, I know, I know. I won’t eat any of the food before the meal is served. I will clean out my closet to hang up the guests’ coats in. And will think of something to be thankful for, so I won’t embarrass you in front of your prayer group. (Jen starts unpacking the groceries and goes to the fridge) Grams: Uh, yes. Actually, no-- no, that-- that’s not … what I want to talk to you— Jen: Face it Grams, you gotta relax, it’s only a meal. Grams: It’s a meal with a long history. Jen: I’m sure it is. (she goes to leave) I-- I’ve got to go get ready. Grams: (following her) Jennifer, I just want you to bear in mind that-- that-- that-- Thanksgiving is-- is a holiday with a tradition. A tradition of people with differences—different ideas, different beliefs—coming together, sitting down together (they go up stairs), breaking bread together, in harmony— Jen: Well, despite the fact that I learned all that in kindergarten when we made those, uh, little Indian construction paper head dresses, I really do appreciate the refresher course. But don’t worry, I plan to stay as far out of your way on this thing (opens bedroom door) as humanely possible— (Jen stops suddenly with a shocked expression on her face – her mother is in the room) Jen: Mom. Helen: Hello, Jen. * * * * * (Joey’s house – in the kitchen) Bessie: I’m so stupid. Joey: What? Bessie: Oh My God, that reminds me. I totally forgot-- I forgot that … you know, I forgot that thing that goes inside the bird. (Bessie takes the turkey out of the microwave and puts it on the table) What’s it called? Joey: What, the gizzard bag? Bessie: Yeah. (she extracts the gizzard bag with tongs) Joey: Oh, yuck. (Bessie tosses the bag in the bin) I swear, I mean, if mom were still alive, she would probably have her own cooking show on the food network by now, and look at us. Bessie: The truth is, (putting turkey back in microwave) I’m glad we’re having Thanksgiving at the Ryans’. Joey: Me too. I don’t know, maybe it’s just the holidays, but … I just feel like any minute now she’s gonna come walking through that door, and … ‘out of the kitchen everybody’. (Bessie chuckles, nodding in agreement) * * * * * (Dawson’s bedroom – Gail knocks on the door) Gail: Dawson? Dawson: Come in. (Gail enters just as Dawson comes out of his closet) Gail: Hey. You’re wearing a new sweater. (She begins to adjust the sweater, pulling it here and there) Dawson: Mom? Gail: (pulling her hands away, palms up) Ah, sorry. Um, you know honey, I didn’t want to say anything earlier in front of your dad, but, ah, you’re never gonna guess who I ran into this morning—Helen Lindley. (They both sit on the edge of the bed – Dawson is putting on his shoes) Dawson: Jen’s mom? Gail: Hmm-mm. So what do you think that means? Dawson: Well, why would I think what it means? Gail: What? You think it’s not possible that this very moment the two of them could be discussing a certain half-sister? Dawson: Well, I think it’s highly unlikely considering Jen doesn’t know she has a half-sister. Gail: (shocked) You didn’t tell her? Dawson: No. Gail: Dawson, I’m impressed. I had no idea that you had such self-control. Dawson: Well, I’d like to brag and say it was self-control, but I think it was more gutlessness than anything. Gail: Well, then, it’s just a coincidence. (she gets up off the bed) Dawson: What’s just a coincidence? Gail: Well, that one week you discover a skeleton in the Lindley closet, and then the next the aforementioned family just happens to get together for the first time in over a year. (Gail leaves Dawson to ponder the issue) * * * * * (Jen sitting on a bench near the water – Grams approaches) Grams: You’ve been down here for nearly half-an-hour now, Jennifer. You have to come up sooner or later. Jen: How could you not tell me that she was coming? Grams: I didn’t know. She just … arrived. (sitting down next to Jen) It seems your father was detained unexpectedly in Europe on business. Jen: Now that I can believe. Probably tossing back a vodka martini about now, drowning his sorrows. (a bit angry) As if he actually felt any. Grams: Be generous, Jennifer. Jen: (still angry) Why? My mother isn’t here because she really wants to see me. She’s here ‘cause she’s got nowhere else to go. Grams: You don’t know that. Jen: You know what? You’re right, I don’t. And how would I? The only contact that I have had with her in the past year is a phone call. Grams: You know what I think? Jen: What? Grams: I think that underneath all this, you’re really pleased to see her. (Jen shakes her head) Grams: Well, maybe pleased isn’t exactly the right word. Maybe it’s more like ‘prepared’. You are prepared to deal with the past. You are prepared to … start facing the problems between you. Jen: (upset) I can’t even look at her, let alone talk to her. Grams: Well, maybe you can’t find the right words because there’s too much to say. Jennifer, for the past 14 months I’ve been watching you—I’ve watched you change. You-- you’re more serious now, you’re-- you're at peace with yourself. It’s-- it's like you’ve … you’ve crossed some kind of a threshold. Jen: ‘Threshold’. It’s more like a crossroads, like I-- like I could just go either way. Grams: Well, I know that you will choose the right way. (she puts her arm around Jen’s shoulder – Jen closes her eyes) Jen: But in the meantime? Grams: In the meantime … one foot in front of the other, starting in that (turns head towards the house) direction. (Jen looks back at the house dubiously) Grams: Come on Jennifer. (they stand up with Grams leading Jen by the hand) You can’t stay down here all afternoon, people are starting to arrive. Besides, I’m willing to bet that your mother is just as nervous as you are. (they begin walking back towards the house) Jen: You think? Grams: Absolutely. In some ways, the two of you are more alike than you know. * * * * * (Jack and Andie are walking through the gate at Grams’ house – Pacey comes along on his push bike) Jack: Hey Pacey, happy Thanksgiving. (Pacey stops at a large table in the front yard and gets off) Pacey: Yeah, you too, man. Happy Thanksgiving, Andie. Andie: You too, Pacey. (there’s a few seconds of awkward silence as they look at on another) Pacey: I, uh, I thought you guys were spending the afternoon with your dad? Jack: Well, that was, ah, plan A. But he got stuck in Chicago. You know, any other dad would find a plane, train, automobile … anything to see his kids. But not Joseph McPhee. Andie: (placing a pie on the table) You know what Jack, I’m sure he did everything he could to get here. (a few more seconds of awkward silence) Pacey: What’d you bring, Andie? Andie: Apple pie. Jack: Yeah, she made it herself. Pacey: Yeah, it Looks amazing. Jack: Um, what’d you bring? Pacey: Um, (taking it from a brown paper bag) some cranberry sauce, in a can. (he laughs) A little on the lame side, I know, but it’s about the extent of my culinary expertise. Jack: Don’t knock cranberry sauce, it’s the backbone of any good Thanksgiving dinner. Pacey: Yeah. So how you been, Andie? Andie: Me? (shrugs her shoulders) Fine. Why do you ask? Pacey: Well, it’s been a while since you and I touched base. I just wanted to check in, see how you’re doing. Andie: (scoffs) Could somebody please tell me why guys always do that? I mean, you want to be the nice, polite friend after the break-up. You know what Pacey? You made a decision, so at least have the strength to believe in your convictions. Pacey: You’re right. Yeah, you’re absolutely right. Um, listen, Jack, I think, ah, I’m just gonna mosey (starts to leave). You know, I-- I--, I think I’m just gonna get off to my second stop on my Capeside tour of Thanksgiving. (he starts to walk off holding his bike) Andie: No, no, no, you know what, we were the ones who came at the last minute, so I really should be the one to, ah— Pacey: Andie, I wouldn’t think of it, it’ll be fine— Andie: Be the one to leave. Jack: (stands up between them) Look, (pointing at Pacey) you’re not going anywhere, and (looking at Andie) neither are you. It’s Thanksgiving. Now I think it’s pretty cool of Grams to-- to play host to this group of misfits, all right? Now if the two of you can’t get over your history for just a couple of hours, and enjoy the company of your friends, you should be home eating a TV dinner under a bare bulb, OK? So get over yourselves, already. God! (Jack storms off) * * * * * (The guests begin arriving at Grams’ house – Mitch and Bessie pass through the archway, following by Gail holding the baby, and then Joey and Dawson, holding plates of food) Joey: It’s weird to see your parents together. (Dawson scoffs) Joey: They seem to be getting along. Dawson: So it would appear. (Grams and Jen appear at the door) Grams: Ah, hi everyone, happy Thanksgiving. Come on in. (They all reply to the same effect) Jen: Alright, everybody—coats, hand ‘em over. (The guests all go up the front stairs as they chatter) * * * * * (Jen enters her room carrying the coats to find her mother just finishing getting ready, applying lipstick) Jen: Sorry, I didn’t realise you were still here. (she dumps the coats and goes to leave) Helen: Oh– oh please, we can share. Ah, it is your room now, after all. Jen: Nah, I– I was just gonna drop these coats on the bed. I’m sorry. (Jen goes to leave, getting as far as the doorway) Helen: Jen? (Jen turns and faces her mom – Helen motions to the zip at the back of her dress) Um, would you mind? (Jen walks slowly across the room, stands behind her mom and fixes the zip—they can both see themselves in the mirror) Helen: Thanks. My God, you’re getting so beautiful. (Jen’s eyes are downcast) I’m sorry, did I say something wrong? Jen: No, no. I– I– I was … Helen: Tell me. Jen: I was just remembering … how I used to watch you in the mirror when I was little. Watching you put on your lipstick, brushing your hair. I studied your every move. Helen: Like I was the most important person in the world. Jen: Something like that. Helen: Here, I have something for you. (she goes over to her luggage and gets out a small felt case) Mom gave these to me when I was about your age, and I figured that it’s, um, about time to pass them on. (Helen hands the case to Jen, who unfolds the case to reveal a set of pearls) Jen: They’re beautiful, mom. You know I’ve always thought so. (pause) But I can’t. Helen: Why not? Jen: Because where would I wear them? Yeah, I mean at home, maybe. I mean in New York, maybe, but here? And this is where I live now. Helen: Save them for a special occasion. Jen: Mom, you’re the one who taught me – pearls lose their lustre is you don’t wear them. I guess they’re like people in that regard, you should keep them close to your skin. Helen: Jen, please. Jen: I need to go help Grams in the kitchen. (Jen walks out of the bedroom, leaving her mom staring after her) * * * * * (Grams’ kitchen – Grams is getting dinnerware out of the cupboards – Joey and Dawson enter) Joey: Is there anything we can help you with, Mrs Ryan? Grams: Pray. Dawson: About anything in particular? Grams: (leaving the kitchen carrying the dinnerware) General prayer will be fine. (Jen enters the kitchen) Dawson: Jen. Jen: Hey. Dawson: Hey, rumour has it your mom’s in town? Joey: Yeah, are we gonna get a chance to meet her? Jen: (going through the cupboards) Um, I would love for you guys to meet her. I– It’s just that we seem to be having a little failure to communicate right now. She’s currently primping in the mirror, I’m sure that she’ll be down shortly. (Jen moves across the room to some other cupboards) Dawson: Did you know that she was coming? Jen: (shaking her head) Mm-mm. Big surprise. Guerilla style. Seems my mom is a graduate of the Ho Chi Minh school of parenting. Dawson: Is she here for some reason other than Thanksgiving? You know, any news on the home-front? Jen: (shutting the cupboard) What, you mean is she begging me to return home to the familial fold? I don’t think so. Dawson: Well, did you talk to her? I mean it’s– it’s been a long time. She must have a lot to tell you. Jen: Like what? Dawson: (shrugging) Maybe she misses you. M-maybe she– she’s sorry she sent you away. You know, I mean, I know she hasn’t alway been there for you— Jen: Dawson, ever since I was 13 years old that woman has done nothing but stare at me with a look of mild disregard, like I was some stranger who spilled a cocktail on her carpet. (they are all standing around the table) Joey: Jen, um, we’re all strangers to our parents. I mean, they love us, but they don’t really know us. And sometimes, before we get the chance to know them, they’re gone. So we can’t ask them all the things we want to know about turnips or turkey gizzards, or … you know, what they were like when they were young. Jen: (looking sad) Joey, I’m sorry. Joey: Nah, it’s OK. Jen: No, I am. I– I– totally— Joey: No, look. What I’m trying to say is … would you give her a chance? She’s your mom, and um, the reality is is that she came here today to talk to you, and … to be with you. And I think you owe her that much.
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