INT. SARA’S BEDROOM – NIGHT
MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. TOTAL SILENCE, SAVE FOR THE STEADY HUM OF A CHEAP BOX FAN CHUGGING AWAY IN THE WINDOW LIKE IT’S CLINGING TO LIFE. THE GLOW OF A DIGITAL CLOCK READS 2:43 AM.
SARA (36), WRAPPED IN BLANKETS LIKE A BURRITO OF EXHAUSTION, IS DEAD ASLEEP – SLEEPING CLOSEST TO THE DOOR.
A SUDDEN SHIFT IN THE AIR. A HEAVY, OMINOUS PRESENCE CREEPS INTO THE ROOM.
SARA STIRS SLIGHTLY – THE FAN STILL HUMS. BUT SOMETHING IS…OFF.
SHE SENSES IT. THE DISTURBANCE IN THE FORCE. SLOWLY, RELUCTANTLY, SHE CRACKS ONE EYE —
ANGLE ON:
A TINY FIGURE LOOMS OVER HER BEDSIDE LIKE A PINT-SIZED DEMON SUMMONED BY DARK MAGIC…OR A BAD DREAM.
IT’S MILES (4), BEDHEAD WILD, FACE INCHES FROM HERS, BREATHING LIKE A TINY SITH LORD.
MILES
Mommy?
SARA
What Miles?
MILES
I had a bad dream. Can I sleep in your bed?
STILL HALF-ASLEEP AND FULLY DEFEATED, SARA GROANS AND SHIFTS UNDER THE COVERS. WITH THE GRACE OF SOMEONE WHO HAS DONE THIS A HUNDRED TIMES BEFORE, SHE SITS UP JUST ENOUGH —
SARA
Come on in.
— AND SCOOTS OVER TO MAKE SPACE.
LIKE A GREASED-UP OTTER, MILES AND 17 OF HIS STUFFED ANIMALS WIGGLE HIS WAY INTO THE MIDDLE OF THE BED, LIMBS FLAILING, BLANKET CHAOS ENSUING. LANDING WITH ALL HIS BODY WEIGHT DEAD CENTER OF THE BED.
MILES
Thank you, mommy.
FADE OUT
END OF ACT ONE
ACT TWO
SCENE B
INT. SARA’S BEDROOM – NIGHT
SARA LIES MOTIONLESS, EYES HALF-OPEN, CLINGING TO THE FINAL SHREDS OF SLEEP. HER FACE IS EXPRESSIONLESS…DEAD INSIDE, BUT HOPEFUL.
THE SOFT GLOW OF THE DIGITAL CLOCK CUTS THROUGH THE DARKNESS.
CLOSE ON CLOCK: 3:01 AM.
SARA EXHALES SLOWLY, WILLING HER BRAIN TO SHUT UP, LIES ON HER SIDE, EYES OPEN, GLARING AT THE BEDROOM DOOR LIKE IT PERSONALLY BETRAYED HER. SHE’S MID-INTERNAL MONOLOGUE, THE FAN STILL HUMMING, THE CLOCK STILL TAUNTING.
SARA
(V.O., dry and exhausted)
It’s always the damn door. I sleep closest to it—so naturally, I’m the chosen one. The midnight parent. Why can’t Miles take three extra steps and wake up Mike for once?
MILES, HALF-ASLEEP BUT AGGRESSIVELY ACTIVE, KICKS AT SARA’S BACK WITH TODDLER-LEVEL FORCE. HE FLOPS AND TWISTS LIKE A RESTLESS DOLPHIN, SLOWLY SHOVING HER TOWARD THE EDGE OF THE MATTRESS.
SARA
(V.O., with growing bitterness)
I brought this on myself. Door-side is a curse. A trap. A parenting death sentence disguised as a “convenient spot.” Three more hours. If I fall asleep now… three.
A TINY FOOT JABS INTO HER KIDNEY.
SARA
(V.O., flatly)
Make that two and a half.
FADE OUT
END OF ACT 2
ACT 3
SCENE C
INT. SARA’S BEDROOM – DAWN
THE FIRST HINT OF SUNLIGHT SNEAKS THROUGH THE CURTAINS. THE FAN STILL HUMS. MILES IS SPRAWLED OUT DIAGONALLY ACROSS THE BED LIKE HE’S CLAIMED LAND.
SARA IS BALANCING ON 3 INCHES OF MATTRESS, HANGING ON FOR DEAR LIFE. MIKE, UNTOUCHED ON HIS SIDE, LYING IN PEACE LIKE A MAN WHO HAS NEVER BEEN WOKEN UP BY A FOUR-YEAR-OLD’S FOREHEAD TOUCHING HIS FACE.
SARA
(V.O., utterly defeated)
Maybe tomorrow, It’ll be different. No bad dreams. No bed accidents. Let Mike experience the 3 AM stare-down. Let the door choose him.
A BEAT.
SARA
(V.O., sighs)
Who am I kidding? And by midnight, I’ll be right here—prime door real estate. Front-line responder. The softest target in a house full of sleep.
MILES ROLLS OVER AND PLANTS A FOOT SQUARELY ON SARA’S FACE.
SARA
(V.O., muffled)
…It’s the damn door.
FADE TO BLACK
This blog is dedicated to every midnight parent stuck on the door side. May your coffee be strong and your toddler’s toenails trimmed.
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