PARA NOVEL NEW

  1400 EXT. CAFE NATE - NIGHT Rundown shit-hole is being kind. We’re so close to the airport we hear the planes flying only a hundred feet up.   Despite that noise we hear the roar of Susan’s beat up Oldsmobile giving it’s last to get her here in a timely, if not entirely legal, fashion. Susan’s going so fast the only way she can turn into Cafe-Nate’s parking lot is by doing a hand-brake turn and drifting into a car spot. A move she executes so flawlessly it would wet the pants of any professional stunt driver. Susan gets out of the car and races into the cafe.  INT. CAFE NATE - NIGHT Smells so bad that a dozen soiled nappies strategically dotted here and there would actually freshen it up.  A handful of GLOOMY LOOKING PATRONS (50s) scattered about.  Susan finds RENEE (20s), junkie-skinny, in a far corner booth staring at her cup of black searching for its soul. Even when Susan sits opposite her in the booth she doesn’t look up.  SUSAN Renee, it’...

I kiss the speed limit. Careful not to drive too fast. Yes time is of the essence right now, but I'll be no use to anyone if I crash. I think of Lucy. I need to think of her more often. I need to curtail my actions with her in mind. I think maybe that was why I failed her as mother to start with. I was selfish. I didn't consider her best interests. I considered only mine. I over take two more cars then take an off ramp. Fortunately, I splice into traffic at the bottom of the ramp and continue to make good time. Where I grew up, in rural Ohio, one thing we had was a lot of long dusty roads. Places where there were no police, no pedestrians. Places where you could test your car's engine. And many times I did. Thinking back, in retrospect I'm sure that was the first place I developed an addiction to addiction. The adrenaline release from driving at near death speeds woke something within me. Really, it's a miracle I survived my teenage years. Someone I knew from school...

 1500 I don't know if I can put an exact date on when I first started using. There's no critical catalyst, no major event in my life the precipitated my decline into substance abuse. Mine was a gradual decline, spurred mostly by hedonism. I've since come to learn that I'm a hyper-responder. Simply put, where the majority of people have a cut off point, I don't. I have no upper limit. I can't blame my parents. They were present and loving in every way. My father was a little absent at times, but he was never abusive, not even verbally. And I can't blame my tendency to over indulge to the point of blackout on a lack of parenting. I know many people turned to the powders and the liquids to fill a hole inside. I have no such hole. As of today I have been on the wagon for one year, three months and five days. I hope for a day to come where I no longer count by the day, or by the week, month, or year. I hope to arrive at a day where I simply state I don't drin...

1700 I've been working for Jimmy Russo for the last eighteen months as a chef. Food has always been a passion of mine, even since I was just a little girl. I loved helping my mother to prepare dinner.  On Sundays we would bake. The entire day dedicated to perfecting the art of culinary excellence. Baking is a lot harder that it seems. There really is an art to it. I guess that's one of there reasons we revere talented chefs. Ins one way, we all know that cooking, and cooking well, is hard to achieve. When I finally decided to try and get my life back on track after the period I refer to as my dark time, Jimmy was the only employer who actually got back to me. Getting a job when you have a criminal record isn't easy. Once you've been scarred by the judicial branding iron your options become severely limited. The nature of your crime doesn't actually matter, all criminals are treated with an equal level of disdain. There's a stigma that comes with it, a stink that...

 I'm surrounded by a psychedelic swathe of colors. Every which way I look there's a candy rainbow. I don't shop for toys very often. But today is a special occasion. Lucy arrives in less than twenty four hours. My beautiful wonderful daughter Lucy. It's been four months since I've seen her in the flesh. We video call pretty much every day. This is a more recent thing, the video calling. It's not always been like this. There was a long time there when I didn't talk to my daughter at all. But let's not dwell on that for now. For now, I'm shopping for toys for Lucy's arrival, and if I'm going toe perfectly honest, I have no idea what to buy her. As I mentioned, Lucy and I talk. Daily. But somehow, it doesn't really feel like I know her. A phone call, be it by video or voice is not your true self. It's not your quiet, everyday self. It's a projection of how you want to be perceived in that moment. This is the Lucy I have come to know ...