INT. THE KITCHEN AT THE SHARP HOUSE — MORNING

The kitchen at Dirk and Shelly’s house has been prepared with an array of food and drink fit for a platoon of grand explorers. Their dad, OFFICER SHARP, wheels around in an athletically curved wheelchair, setting out the vittles. Currently, he places a jug of milk beside a plate of banana pancakes on the small dining table. Orange juice, two types of granola cereal, donuts from the day before, applesauce, cranapple juice, scrambled eggs, extra crispy bacon, and one-and-a-half cold pizzas are all arranged around the room.

The one partly clear place on the table is reserved for Officer Sharp’s laptop. Colorful text continuously scrolls down the open terminal as he arranges the breakfast feast. Every now and then, Officer Sharp glances over to check if things are scrolling fine.

And so it has been the habit of Officer Sharp, since Dirk was dishonorably discharged from engineering school and returned home, to array as fine a plate of food as he can manage for every meal. Officer Sharp knows his son is suffering, although not exactly how to name that suffering or treat it. The best thing to do, he feels, is to feed the boy, both literally and figuratively, with encouragement and food, like a gardener over-watering a dying plant. Or so it would appear. Maybe, God-willing, the boy will get up off his ass and thank Officer Sharp later.

After setting down the milk, which is the last of his breakfasting tasks this morning, Officer Sharp rolls back to his computer. The scrolling text stops as soon as he looks it square in the face, as if the computer is afraid of him. Just then, Dirk descends the stairs and lumbers into the kitchen.

OFFICER SHARP

(cordial as he can)

At the bottle again, eh…?

DIRK

That’s not a joke.

Officer Sharp quickly senses that he has done more harm than good and, recoiling from his own familiar and destructive self, becomes absorbed in his computer. He clicks a button on the keyboard, and the text begins to scroll again.

Dirk moves a hand to his pocket as if to check his phone, but the pocket is empty. Scowling, he sits down at the table and eyes the banana pancakes. Office Sharp looks up.

OFFICER SHARP

I made them just the way you like them.

Dirk picks up his fork and pokes the scrambled eggs experimentally.

OFFICER SHARP (CONT’D)

Extra

powdered sugar and all.

DIRK

Thanks.

Dirk, almost reluctantly, starts to eat.

DIRK

Did you

get more milk?

Officer Sharp passes Dirk the milk, and Dirk pours a glass.

OFFICER SHARP

I got the paper too, when I was out.

DIRK

(with a formal air, as if

this performance has been

repeated ad nauseam

for the last three months,

which it has been)

How’s it look?

OFFICER SHARP

Well there’s new jobs in Bedford

at the Ford plant. I think they’d pay for school,

too, if you were working there.

DIRK

Would they?

OFFICER SHARP

I heard that IU is about to open

an engineering school. I think it’s mostly

data-science stuff.

DIRK

And you could help

with that, for sure.

OFFICER SHARP

(smiling, trying to hide

the last of his pride, and

glancing at his computer)

I probably could.

Dirk eats a mouthful of banana pancake. His chewing seems emblematic of some greater gestation taking place behind the scenes.

At last, he swallows and takes a breath.

DIRK

I’d have

to go a couple extra years, if I switched

from electrical to something like

computer science. And that means that we’d

have to take on a lot of debt.

OFFICER SHARP

I said

that Ford will pay for it, if you’re working there.

DIRK

Don’t the old guys who’ve worked for them for years

cough black smoke?

OFFICER SHARP

You know that’s just a myth…

Dirk laughs, but not at the myth, or because he thinks that he has cornered is father. You might guess that he is laughing at the pageantry to come. Or maybe he is only laughing at the expectedness of it, his laugh is so dry and predictable.

OFFICER SHARP (CONT’D)

It’s just…

DIRK

I know.

OFFICER SHARP

You don’t know.

DIRK

Things aren’t the same…

OFFICER SHARP

The way I see it, there’s two types of happy:

there’s what you see on your phones and on TV,

the cities, travel, parties all the time,

the fun will never end — and there’s the type

of happiness I tried to build. There’s work,

which isn’t as bad as you think it is, and then

there’s family. And both can make you whole.

Dirk does not laugh now. But the irony, as he looks over his father’s wheelchair, isn’t lost on him. There are a lot of things you could presume about Dirk’s thoughts in this moment. For instance: the emotions passing across his face might suggest that Dirk wants to express how hopeless he feels, how bounded he has always been by his rural upbringing, how the poverty he has grown accustomed too, even if it is not directly his own, has stifled his ability to assume the possibility of happiness and freedom. In this moment, you can easily imagine how Dirk might want to reprimand his father for suggesting success so casually, how he might want to point out that his father isn’t some officer infused with authority, at least not anymore, but is instead a broken man with a meaningless title who makes money recovery data from equally broken hard drives. Dirk could even be tempted to suggest that Officer Sharp is fixated on recovering the broken — that his father’s whole life has consisted of a single effort to shore up the radicalized decay we call our humanity. But these are abstractions, and we should be careful of our own presumptions.

DIRK

It’s not as easy now as it was for you.

College costs as much as a house, and that’s

after inflation. Then you have to look

at how much a house would cost, even around

here — it isn’t as easy as you think.

OFFICER SHARP

I know, but…

DIRK

(like lifting a shield)

I’m trying.

The kitchen becomes awkwardly quiet. If Dirk’s mother were there, and not off teaching at the elementary school, she would have something to say. As it is, these morning scenes have played out the same for months, and both parties recognize that now is the time for silence. But something strange has happened this morning, which Officer Sharp has only just heard about, and it gives the old man a rare chance to break the silence that has invaded his life.

OFFICER SHARP

(half-shutting the laptop)

Hey, do you remember

the girl you used to play with, the shy one

who went to the same day-care that you and Shelly

were going to?

DIRK

You mean Hannah?

OFFICER SHARP

Yeah —

the Holland girl.

DIRK

Well what about her?

OFFICER SHARP

I heard

she got into a wreck this morning while

I was on my way to the grocery store.

It came in on the police radio.

DIRK

(doing his best to conceal

his guilty shock, and

failing so miserably

he nearly chokes on his milk)

Was she OK?

Dirk reaches unconsciously for his phone and is left fumbling in his empty pocket.

OFFICER SHARP

(failing in an equally

miserable way to pick up

on his son’s reaction)

They had to take her to

the hospital. That’s all I know. But then,

I’d say that she was fine, since they only called

one cop to the accident.

DIRK

That’s good…

Dirk stares at the plates of food around the table as if he is trying to decide what morsel he should sacrifice in thanks for Hannah’s safety. Meanwhile his father, who is just realizing the pain he has unintentionally inflicted on his delicately troubled son, starts to look like a man who spends his time watching the cracks form in flooded dam.

DIRK (CONT’D)
(pointing to a cold pizza)

Can I take this?

OFFICER SHARP

(at a loss for words, and

ashamed of his own

dangerous ignorance)

Yeah, sure.

Dirk gathers up the pizza, stands, and, balancing his glass of milk on the pizza box, pushes his seat back under the table.

DIRK

I’ll be upstairs.

Call up if anybody wants something.

Dirk retreats from the kitchen. Officer Sharp turns back to his computer, where the flashing text still scrolls on, and takes a bite of the banana pancakes that Dirk left behind.