Fantasy Thanksgiving, Part II

As part of a montage of scenes accompanied by Aaron Copeland’s arrangement of “Tis the Gift to be Simple,” we see ROGER, HOLLY, TANGIE, and ROSS seated at the table. HOLLY studies her book, but notices when ROGER hits ROSS with a bit of carrot from across the table. ROGER elaborately looks into the air over HOLLY’S head. HOLLY laughs and hides her face behind the book.

Next episode, November 25, 1994 ...

ROSS: Ah, Blake has been in the kitchen a long, long time.

HOLLY [Still looking at her book]: Yeah, she’s probably wrestling with the turkey. Shall we place our bets? I bet on the bird.

ROSS: I better go help her. I’ll be right back.

HOLLY: All right, I’ll go, too.

TANGIE: Is there something I can do?

HOLLY: Stay here, and keep him company.

TANGIE grins.

Next scene:

ROGER: Okay, tell me about this misunderstanding between you and the Spauldings.

TANGIE: It’s not really important.

ROGER: That was really convincing. C’mon, c’mon.

TANGIE: Okay, uh, something happened where I came between Alan and his son. He, he asked me not to say anything to Alan-Michael about us knowing each other before, and so I figured I’d do him a favor and I agreed. And then, as time when on, I just felt that it was wrong, so yesterday I told Alan-Michael, and I don’t think that he trusts me anymore.

ROGER (incredulous): Oh, Alan-Michael doesn’t trust you?

TANGIE: Yeah.

ROGER: Alan-Michael Spaulding is one of the least trustworthy people on this planet, second only to his father.

TANGIE: I ... I don’t think I should be talking to you about this.

ROGER: You’re like a daughter to me. Your happiness is important to me. Watch out for Alan. He’s the quintessential maneuver-er, manipulator. You let him, he will alienate you from every person who cares about you.

TANGIE: You know, you and Blake must have rehearsed this, because she said the same thing to me. I’m gonna go check on the bird. [She smiles at him and leaves.]

ROGER shakes his head and sits down at the dinner table. Bored and alone, he picks up the Journal, and sees in modest lettering on the lower right-hand corner of the page, “Dr. Ed Bauer Arraigned in Hit-And-Run.”

ROGER’S mind wanders off into a fantasy, accompanied by a 19^th-century-Romantic-sounding piano piece. . .

A knock at the door. . .

ROGER [Calling into the kitchen]: I’ll get it.

ROGER opens the door to behold DETECTIVE CUTTER and ED. DETECTIVE CUTTER has ED by the back of the collar of his blue-gray prison jumper. Chains on ED’S feet clank and rustle dramatically during the scene.

ROGER: What’s this all about?

CUTTER: The prisoner’s on a brief holiday furlough. He asked to come here.

ROGER: Oh, no, not to see Chrissy. Not like this.

ED: No, no! I came to see you, Roger! Please!

ED clanks in. ROSS and HOLLY come from the kitchen.

HOLLY: Who’s at the door? [Seeing him] Ed!

ROSS [Disgusted]: Detective, was this really necessary?

CUTTER: It was not my idea; it was his.

ROGER: Okay, Bauer, it’s Thanksgiving. What do you want?

ED: I just want—I want to apologize, Roger. I came to apologize.

ROGER: Why? Why me? I’m not the one you ran down and left for dead in the road.

ED: I know that. I’ve wronged you for so many years. I’m a hypocrite. I’m a fraud. I’ve only . . . pretended to be a good man, and all the while I was . . .[There’s a quick cut to HOLLY, looking at ROGER like she’s thinking, “You were right all along.”]. . . I was bad-mouthing you, and blaming you for my failings.

ROSS: Ed, don’t incriminate yourself. Not again.

ED: But I’m guilty. I am guilty of so many things, Roger. Only you know how guilty I am. [ED drops to his knees in front of ROGER.] I’m guilty of trying to steal your beautiful wife. [ROGER takes this in.] I’m guilty of trying to take your darling little girl, your little baby Christina, and pretending to be her father, and not allowing you to see her. I’m guilty of lies, and moral platitudes and setting myself up at the expense of a better man, a far better man . . . uh, uh, a taller man, a stronger man, a man with so much more hair. [ED’S voice cracks on “hair.”] Oh, please forgive me! Oh please forgive me, Roger! I’m sorry! [Apparently crying, although we can’t see because by now ED’S head is at ROGER’S feet.] I can’t live like this! Please!

HOLLY and ROSS murmur in the background. . .

ROGER: Hey . . .

HOLLY: Roger, forgive him.

ROSS: Forgive him.

ED: PLEASE!!

ROGER: Okay, okay listen—I’ll tell you what—

HOLLY nods sympathetically, approvingly ...

ED: PLEASE!!

ROGER: I’ll tell you what, Ed—

ED: Oh!

ROGER (looking at HOLLY): I’ll think about it, Ed—

ED (excited): Oh!

ROGER: I'll think about it . . .

The scene dissolves.

ROGER comes back to reality as HOLLY enters the room, saying appreciatively . . .

HOLLY: What’s that sly smile I see stealing across your face?

ROGER [Laughs]: Come here, woman.

ROGER pulls HOLLY into his lap; she puts her arms around his neck and looks pleased to be where she is.

ROGER: I was just giving a little thought to all that I have to be thankful for.

Later. as ROGER and ROSS sit at opposite sides of the dinner table . . .

ROSS: So, why did you hit me with a carrot?

ROGER: I didn't want to waste the olives.

HOLLY rushes through the living room and out the door, saying . . .

HOLLY: I'm going to go find an open deli.

The two men jump up in terror:

ROGER and ROSS: No, wait! Wait a minute!

ROSS: No! Don't leave me, Holly!

She’s gone. ROGER, who has followed ROSS to the door, now shuts it.

ROGER: Awww. . .Well! Who would've guessed?

ROSS: Guessed what—that you and I would be alone together on Thanksgiving?

ROGER [Laughing]: No. Actually, I was thinking . . . “that you would still be married to my daughter.”

ROSS: Oh. Thanks for the encouragement.

ROGER: Oh, you know. You're very aware that you're not exactly what I had in mind for a son-in-law.

ROSS [Looking for the remote control]: Nah! You're kidding! Well, you want to . . . you want to watch some football?

ROGER: Sure! . . . [Then, back to his train of thought] I mean, let's face it; any father is going to hope that his daughter marries someone born roughly in the same century. . . Anyway, Chrissie's always had a mind of her own. And family is very important to me. So, I am trying.

ROSS: Yes. Yes, Roger. I can see that.

ROGER: As a matter of fact, I've talked to Chrissie about you guys coming and . . . spending weekends with Holly and me at the Jessup farm, once we get it all fixed up. I know, I know. She said you'd hate the idea. I know you're not exactly the great outdoor type. . . Or a great indoor type, for that matter. But, uh . . . even you must get sick of being cooped up in this stuffy little bon-bon box of a house. I thought, you know—get you out there, in the rugged outdoors, splitting wood. Put a little color back in those old, hollowed cheeks.

As ROGER talks, ROSS stands behind him, carefully aiming the remote control at ROGER, pressing a button—is it “power” or merely “mute”?—and hoping that ROGER will cease and desist, or simply disappear!

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