Children

Lucy exits her bedroom and walks to the living room window. Kevin enters & walks up behind Lucy, putting his arms around her...

K: "Hey... You feel good in my arms. Why so sad, Lucy? Did I do something wrong?"

L: "No, it's not you."

K: "Well, then what?"

L: "Serena. She's two years old today. Two years old, Doc. Two whole years have gone by. It really blows my mind. You know, it's like, it's just like a snap of your fingers, it goes by. And I am missing her little life. You know, I know what the conventional wisdom says about the terrible twos. You know, they're supposed to be just awful. And that two-year olds are impossible and unmanageable. That they're exerting their independence, so they're all id. And they're willful. But I can really relate to that, you know. I understand that and I sympathize and I applaud their little individuality. You know to me, it seems like that all of that stuff is far outweighed by the fact that they'll never be more cute or more cuddly than right then. Never again in their whole lives. I just want to be with her right now."

K: "I know you do."

L: "I feel like I dreamed this whole thing. Maybe she's just a dream. Maybe that little tiny baby that I held in my arms and looked at her little face when she was new in this world, maybe it didn't happen. Because now she's her own person, someone I can only imagine."

(The doorbell rings.)

K: "I'll get it, you stay here."

(Kevin signs for an "international delivery," returns to the living room and hands the package to Lucy.)

L: "What is it?"

K: "I don't know. There's no return address."

L: "It's got to be from Scott. (Lucy rips open the envelope. It's a photo of Serena) My gosh, oh my gosh. It's Serena. It's her. Oh, Doc, look. I don't know if I should laugh or I should cry."

K: "You're doing both. May I? Oh, look at that, what a beauty."

L: "She sure is, isn't she?"

K: "She still has the same quality from that video that struck me. I think maybe even more so."

L: "What? What is that?"

K: "Utter joy in life. I don't think I've ever seen a bigger or more genuine smile. Look at that, it looks like her eyebrows are even smiling."

L: "Oh no, do you know what? The poor thing, I think those are Scott's eyebrows. You know, well maybe she'll grow into them. He must be doing a good job, right? Don't you think?"

K: "You couldn't ask for better proof than this."

L: "Right. It's her birthday today. I wonder what they're doing? You know, I hope Scott hired a nanny for her because I would like her to have that woman's presence in her life, you know. I hope he got somebody wonderful. Somebody funny and warm and energetic and, you know, silly and filled with lots of hugs for a little girl who lost both her mothers. She doesn't even remember me."

K: "Who's to say what children remember?"

L: "You know what? If I could just hold her for three minutes, I wouldn't care if she didn't remember me at all. Well, it doesn't really do any good to wish, does it? I mean, the situation is what it is. Oh, and boy oh boy, it sure would be complicated if Serena were to come back."

K: "Why?"

L: "Well, because Serena and Scott, you know, they sort of go together. They're definitely a package deal. And if you don't like Luke Spencer, there's no way you'd ever like Scott."

K: "I don't dislike Luke... Never mind, the point is, if Scott coming back means you being reunited with this little girl, I could endure anything."

L: "You really mean that, don't you?"

K: "What do you think?"

L: "I love you. Do you know that? I love you."

(A hug, then Kevin checks the envelope.)

K: "Right back at you. Lucy, there's a letter in here."

L: "I can't. Would you mind?"

K: "Sure. There's no salutation. All right, here goes... (Reading) She's up at dawn, in bed at sunset. She loves dogs, kittens, flowers, her small brown stuffed bear, shoes and hats, especially black patent leather ones, peanut butter and jelly, roast chicken and mashed potatoes, strawberries and oranges. She will search for seashells on the beach for hours. She likes to play in the rain. She is full of love."

(Lucy weeps as Kevin holds her in his arms.)

Later... Lucy reappears, dressed in red for the day. Kevin eats breakfast.

L: "You know, the first thing I want to do is, I want to go out and get a frame for Serena's picture, something, I don't know, silver maybe and simple, elegant..."

K: "Your spirits seem better."

L: "Much, much better, thanks to you."

K: "And Scott. That was very kind and sensitive of him to include you in Serena's birthday, even if it has to be from a distance."

L: "Wait a minute, now you have the blues. Did I rub off on you, somehow?"

K: "Not the blues, really. I've just been thinking about some serious topics."

L: "Good serious or bad serious?"

K: "Oh, good, I think. Well, I think. Well, I suppose it depends on your perspective. It could be inconvenient, maybe. Scary, certainly."

L: "I don't have a clue."

K: "Lucy do you want children?"

L: "Was that a trick question?"

K: "No, just a question."

L: "Do I want children?"

K: "That's right."

L: "Well, in a big view of things, the world view, you know, cosmically speaking, yes."

K: "But?"

L: "But, well, several things. First of all, is the fact that I don't seem to have very good luck when it comes to children. You know, they all seem to get taken away from me, one way or the other. And I'm not saying that just so you'll feel sorry for me. I'm saying it because it's a fact and maybe there's a reason for that. You know, the more established I get in my career, you know, the better I do, the less I think about having children. Because, see, right now, my life works very, very well for me. When I eat, everybody eats. When I go to bed, everybody goes to bed. I guess that sounds selfish."

K: "No."

L: "I am selfish. And you see, that's a quality that works very well for me. But I'm not so sure that's a quality that would work for being a mother. Because I don't think I'd get that poopie diaper thing, you know, and those three meals a day and I just picture this cuddly little wonderful baby growing up to be this pimply-faced adolescent that looks at me and blames me for screwing up his or her life and, well, I think that's very possible."

K: "You really believe that?"

L: "Why not?"

K: "Because you'd be a terrific mother, Lucy. I mean, there's no one I'd be more honored to have children with than..."

L: "See, see, it happens to you, too. It sorta gets stuck in your throat, doesn't it? And you choke on it. That's what happens to me, too. I mean, when I think about having children. I realize they'd be your children I'm having. Do you really think we're ready to contemplate this?"

K: "All right, we're adults, here. We can discuss this without breaking into hives or running screaming from the room. How does the idea make you feel?"

L: "Motherhood?"

K: "Parenthood?"

L: "As in, you and me, together?"

K: "Yes."

L: "How does it make you feel?"

K: "I asked you, first."

L: "No, no, technically, you didn't. Technically, I brought up the subject."

K: "Did not. I came out and asked if you wanted children."

L: "Why did you do that?"

K: "I don't remember."

L: "Oh boy, my stomach is really starting to churn, Doc. I don't think I'm really, really ready to contemplate or have this conversation."

K: "You know, now that you mention it, I don't think I am, either."

L: "I didn't mention it, you mentioned it."

K: "I'll stop, now."

L: "Good."

K: "Good."

L: "OK."

K: "OK."



As they both lose the forced smiles and exhale in unison...

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