In this scene, Thomas, who had been avoiding talking to his mother, finally returns her call. It is the first indication of the emotions that he’s been repressing about the loss of his sister.
INT. COMMUNAL HOUSE, THOMAS’ BEDROOM (IVY LEAGUE TOWN) / MRS. BABCOCK’S BEDROOM (SUBURBAN HOME) – LATER
Cut back and forth and/or split screen with Thomas and his mother on their respective phones.
THOMAS: Hi mom. Heard you called.
MRS. BABCOCK: Hi sweetie. Thanks for calling. I know it costs you money.
THOMAS: Mom, it’s flat rate – never mind. What’s up?
MRS. BABCOCK: Nothing. I just wanted to hear my baby’s voice.
THOMAS: Mom. Please. I’m 27.
MRS. BABCOCK: You’ll always be my baby.
THOMAS: (A beat) Mom… were you looking at dad’s things again?
MRS. BABCOCK: No. But before you go off, I was actually cleaning out the basement.
THOMAS: Good.
MRS. BABCOCK: And then I came across that badminton set.
THOMAS: Mom.
MRS. BABCOCK: You remember. You were twelve and Cathy was eleven.
She laughs.
THOMAS: (A beat) Of course, I remember.
She’s smiling. First she looks at a photo of 12 and 11 year Thomas and Cathy with their badminton rackets. Then one of the four of them when Thomas was 17 and Cathy, 16. Everyone indeed looks happy, and healthy.
Silence. Thomas grows uncomfortable. He looks at the painting of the Dreamtime. (The didgeridoo sound.)
THOMAS: Mom? Mom? Are you’re zoning again?
MRS. BABCOCK: I haven’t done that in a long time. I was just looking at a nice photo
of the four of us. It’s important to remember, Tommy.
THOMAS: It is mom, but not… so much. They’ve been gone for a long time now…. Ten years ago.
