INT. CONCERT HALL - INDETERMINATE TIME

 

JOEL  walks out onto a stage to THUNDEROUS APPLAUSE. 

 

He’s dressed in a white shirt, ironed clean, a  chain around his neck showing underneath his unbuttoned collar. There’s a piece of paper in his breast pocket. 

 

Center stage is a CONCERT GRAND PIANO. Joel hesitates, doesn't want to sit. The crowd quiets. 

 

Joel slowly moves to sits on the bench. There’s a spotlight on him. 

 

Then, his hands hover over the keys. He looks almost scared to touch the piano. 

 

The crowd goes silent, waiting. 

 

Joel looks straight ahead. There’s a flash of YELLOW backstage, darting off: a woman's (LUCY'S) hair clip. 

 

And then he PLAYS. Softly, at first, then once he gets started, it gets louder and louder, crescendoing in volume and emotion.

 

If Joel wasn’t as image-conscious, he’d say that this song comes from the heart. It’s probably about a lost lover, about wanting to go home. Something painfully on the nose. 

 

The crowd is watchful, engaged. Joel shimmers in the light. 

 

It’s a short song. Maybe about half-way through, Joel realizes he’s getting too emotional and decides to cut himself short, singing the refrain over and over. 

 

He doesn’t look like a man conquering his biggest fear, but with every press of his fingers, he is. 

 

The crowd realizes. Joel ends the song with a flourish, and they absolutely LOSE IT. 

 

Joel stops playing the piano like coming out of a trance. He stands, then, and bows. 

 

BLACK. Again. But the sound of the crowd fades, like we’re moving farther away, until we can hear quick footsteps hurrying across tile. 

 

INT. HALLWAY LEADING TO BASEMENT - SAME 

 

Joel is still in his show clothes, sweaty with exertion from the concert and his breath puffing from his jogging. He clutches the paper that was tucked into his pocket. 

 

ON THE NOTE: they’re directions, scrawled in half-cursive. Definitely not Joel’s handwriting. 

 

He’s in a long hallway, completely different from the bright hallways of the hotel above. It’s darker in here and the lights hang on the sides of walls as cylinders, the ceilings are arched but low. Everything is white concrete. 

 

Lucy’s waiting for him beside a door. Joel can’t help but grin when he sees her. 

 

JOEL: You’re here. 

 

LUCY: Had to see you off, didn’t I?

 

Joel laughs, pushes a hand through his hair. 

 

JOEL: Thank you. 

 

They stare at each other. Joel looks like he’s pushing something down, some words he shouldn’t say, maybe wanting to go in for a hug. 

 

Lucy watches him with a thoughtful look. She looks sad, too. 

 

LUCY: You should go. Before the crowd realizes there won’t be an encore. 

 

JOEL: You’re not coming? 

 

Lucy smiles, looks away. She knew he would ask. 

 

LUCY: No, Joel. I’m not. 

 

JOEL: No?

 

LUCY: I like it here. I’m happy. 

 

Joel puts the paper back in his pocket. His eyes are wet. 

 

JOEL: You’re happy. That’s… that’s good. I was worried… I wasn’t sure. I thought. 

 

LUCY: I’m happy. 

 

Joel tries to fight it, but his grief wins. He steps forward and hugs her tightly and she returns the embrace with the same emotion, one hand coming up to hold his head. 

 

He hides her face in her shoulder, exhales heavily. She understands what he can’t say. 

 

LUCY: Yeah. Me too. 

 

JOEL: Even though you’re not her? Anymore? 

 

LUCY: Even though. I’m sorry.

 

JOEL: Don’t be. 

 

He pulls away, wipes at his face. She steps away too, likewise affected. 

 

Then she opens the door. Behind is a LONG TUNNEL, shiny like a paneled subway. 

 

Joel doesn’t want to look away from her. 

 

LUCY: You were good, you know. On the piano. 

 

JOEL: Thank you. 

​

LUCY: Good luck, Joel. 

​

Joel nods, takes her in for the last time, walks through the door.