scene 40

Previous.

EXT. BRICK HOUSE AT END OF CUL-DE-SAC - SUNRISE

Ruth stands near the mailbox at the driveway to the garage of the single-level home where the quiet, leafy winding lane ends. 1724 stenciled on mailbox. She assesses the home and brown-grass front yard with a For Sale staked in the middle, fenced by split-rail. Texas plates on every vehicle in view, including the older Mercedes-Benz wagon parked behind Ruth.

A concrete football field replete with sideline hash-marks has been chalk-marked onto the street. A MAN, 30 - running shoes, shorts, tee - jogs out of a garage to the street, looking back at the 5-YEAR-OLD BOY on a three-wheeler pedal-propelled Big Wheel following him. The boy sports a football helmet with a bobcat on each side. The man and behind and to the side of him follow the bend in the road out of view.

She gets PHONE from pocket when it RINGTONES the acoustic guitar opening the Lucinda Williams song, Bus to Baton Rouge.

RUTH: I swear to goodness I'm standing here outside a brick house at the end of a cul-de-sac about to take a picture to send you and Tom.

Wanda?

(Ruth's face expresses the news she is hearing. A FAINT SIREN comes and goes.)

I'm here. Wanda, are you going to be alright?

Does Hunter have my number?

Okay. Wanda, here's what we're going to do. Okay? I'm going to get you a flight to San Antonio. Okay? Can Daisy drive you to the airport?

Okay. I'm going to get home, book your flight, and call you as soon as I send the ticket for you to print.

Alright, sweetheart. I'm going to call Daisy to have her come over, okay?

I love you too.

I'll be alright. We'll get through this, Wanda. 

Bye, baby.

She stares at the house. A breeze moves her hair across her face and RINGS FAINT CHIMES. She finally pockets phone, goes to Mercedez, gets in behind the wheel, stares ahead before finally dropping her face into her hands and sobbing, shaking her head.