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Drama Scripts
| print friendly version | |
| welcome to the world of AIDS | |
| By sufiyaan03 | ||||||||
| 11 May 2006 | ||||||||
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Hi, tell me what you think of this piece and any suggestions on how to develop it would be great! Thanks Welcome to the World of Aids – draft 1 Jason’s mouth felt sticky and dry, his nose still stinging from too much cocaine the night before. It was not an unfamiliar sensation, but one that he had got used to feeling ever since he met Patrick those years ago. Rachel had often told him to visit the doctors to get to the bottom of his unexplainable morning ‘red nose reindeer’ syndrome, but of course, Jason was fully aware of the correlation between four lines of Charlie and a sore conk. No harm done. Not much harm anyway. The crisp, snow white sheets felt tight against Jason’s thighs as he turned over to avoid the morning sunlight creeping through the haphazardly drawn curtains. He was too drowsy to notice the feint clattering and unfamiliar voices in the corridor only, metres from him, and the strange aroma in the room was too weak to penetrate his mostly dead smell receptors. Jason was where he loved to be, escaping the pressures of everyday life, the cacophony of office telephones and endless board meetings, the drilling of the New York City streets combined with an aesthetically displeasing skyline: he was in peace, he was asleep. The 24 year old executive, the youngest and so-far, most successful employee of Price and Pearce was of course, totally unaware of the day that would change his life, shatter his sense of security and, ultimately, alter his destiny. Two hours later and we can join Jason again. He is still sort of sleeping, but now wondering how long it was going to be before he would go insane listening to that bloody watch alarm going off. He was sure he hadn’t even set his alarm. Three sharp, hard knocks at the door settled it. Time to get up. Half opening his sleepy eyes, Jason immediately felt uncomfortable. Sitting up he realised why. He was not at home, Rachel was not lying beside him and an odd voice shouting “Room service” was getting louder and louder. What the fuck? Jason thought. Before he had time to think of anything else the door flung open to reveal an overweight Mexican-looking cleaner carrying three clean towels. Embarrassed by Jason’s half-nakedness, the woman’s gaze lowered to the floor. “Excuse me sir. Apologies. Your towels Mr Waltman”, she just about managed to say. “What? Erm…what hotel is this? Is it a hotel? Where am I?” The woman smiled sheepishly. “Ha ha. Yes of course. The Hilton course”. Spying the pair of red laced knickers lying a few inches from her feet, the woman’s eyebrows raised. She opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it and shut it again. “OK. Goodbye” she bellowed in a cheerful tone, quickly closing the door behind her before Jason had the dexterity to transform the thoughts in his head into words. What was going on? What happened last night? Jumping up, as if remembering something of utmost importance, Jason rushed to the pair of $500 Dolce & Gabbana jeans hanging from the chair on the other side of the room. Clumsily pulling out his cellphone, he held the number one, before being connected to a familiar female voice. “You have two new messages. (Beep)” “Hey man, where did you get to last night - you leave the club early and now you don’t come into work? You’re not getting’ soft on me, are you? I’ll tell you what buddy, you’re already getting too old for this! Seriously though, Rach called, asked me if I’d seen you since last night - I told her I hadn’t, think she’s worried about you - I don’t blame her you know! Give her a call - and then call me back. ASAP. That’s ASAP (Beep)” The beep was like a bullet firing at Jason’s throbbing head. Wasn’t I with Patrick all night last night? He pondered. Another beep followed. “Hey baby, you’re not answering you’re phone. Where are you? You didn’t come home. (Sigh) I called Joe and you didn’t stay with him…I’m kinda worried. Give me a call, okay? We miss you. (Beep)” Unsure and unsettled, Jason felt a lump in his throat. Last night had started like any other Wednesday night out with the boys. Drinks at Starsky’s, a few lines at Apple Bar followed by a few lines and tequilas in one of three clubs. Hadn’t it? Strangely, he couldn’t remember anything. Confused as the voices sounded on the answering service, Jason started to do a few press ups to try and wake himself up. Usually, without fail he did one hundred and fifty every morning and night. Today he couldn’t get past twelve before collapsing onto the thick, cream carpet. Looking up at a painting of a black horse on the adjacent wall, it suddenly hit him, harder than that first line of cocaine he had snorted two years ago at Patrick’s New Years Eve Party. This was the honeymoon suite, the suite where he and his wife Rachel had spent their first night together as a married couple. For some reason, he couldn’t explain why, his stomach churned. He felt sick, but it was nothing compared to what he would experience only minutes later. Struggling to get up, Jason realised he was still drunk as he smashed his knee against the glass table. Still too dazed to notice the lingerie scattered near the door, and too thirsty to try to work out the events of the previous night, Jason entered the ensuite. He remembered and his wife had made love in the shower there. The greatest sex they had ever had. Definitely. Hastily flicking up the tap in the sink, the ice cold water quickly began to fill the cup of Jason’s hands, before flinging it onto his perfect, unblemished face that he felt proud to look after. He must have had a hundred facials. It wasn’t unmanly to get one. Not in this day and age. So Patrick always said. Refreshed and a thousand times more awake, Jason found himself looking at himself in the large, circular hotel mirror before him. His eyes instantly widen as he realises there is something scrawled across the white tiles 180 degrees behind him. A message? Spinning around on his heal slowly and apprehensively, his eyes take a while to focus on the words, and even then the words take at least ten seconds to register. The longest ten seconds of his life. Written in deep red lipstick, in capital letters and underlined are the words nobody would expect to ever see written anywhere. They read: WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF AIDS Although he had only arisen at midday, this was to be the longest and most frightening day of Jason Waltman’s life. I have never been so confused in my life. No, make that scared. Petrified. Was this a joke? No chance, no one was this sick, not even Jake from work, and he was one sick bastard. God, once he even…no that’s not important now. What was important though? Rach, my darling daughter, lots of things were important obviously! Need a STI test. Never had one before. And where have these come from? French knickers? Where have they come from? What happened last night? There’s no way I would cheat on Rach. I know that, but that’s when I’m sober. I mean, not as if I haven’t done it before. Three times? Think so, but I’ve always been careful. Really careful. Going to hotels that can’t be traced back to Rach. I certainly wouldn’t use the hotel we had our honeymoon in. but I must have been out of it last night. I mean out of it. So maybe I just took her to the first place I could think of. Or she took me here? And it’s just a coincidence that it’s the Hilton. But what girl? I can’t remember any girl, or anything for that matter. Never, ever been like this. It’s a total blank. Oh and of course…I’ve always used protection. Oh God. What if I have HIV? How long do the test results take? Gotta get outta here now. NOW. Ok, ok, can’t leave anything here, I mean, if they found my watch or something they might call my house. I think they have the number, well the manager does anyway. Oh fuck, Tony – the manager. He speaks to Rach sometimes. What if he saw me? Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Ok, ok, my jeans, ye, wallet, right. That’s everything. I hope. One last look. Yeah, that’s everything. Ring Joey, he’ll know what to do. He’ll know what to do.
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