A Couple Cuddles
INT: A couple cuddles on a Cheyenne Chesterfield Leather Sofa while channel suffering in their apartment in San Francisco.
Boyfriend: I have seen that movie before.
Girlfriend: You're not into any movie I'm recommending; here.
The girlfriend hands the remote to her boyfriend; the girlfriend picks up her phone.
Moments go by; the boyfriend flips through channels; the girlfriend thumbs through Instagram.
Boyfriend: How about this? You like Beyoncé, right?
The girlfriend darts her head in the direction of the television.
Girlfriend: I. Love. Beyoncé. Don’t turn that channel.
Boyfriend: Idris Elba is in this movie, too; the guy from The Wire.
Ten minutes goes by with the girlfriend darting her eyes up at the television and down at her phone.
Girlfriend: The blonde is gonna seduce him.
Boyfriend: Wait. What? How do you know—
Girlfriend: She’s a homewrecker, a bitch; I can just tell—
A couple scenes go by with the girlfriend darting looks at her phone and the television.
Girlfriend: You see, even Beyoncé thinks she’s a bitch homewrecker.
Boyfriend: Sharon?
Girlfriend: Whaddaya mean, Sharon?
Boyfriend: Sharon, that’s the character Beyoncé is playing.
Girlfriend: Oh.
Boyfriend: Ali Carter is performing as the—
Girlfriend: The homewrecking bitch.
Boyfriend: Lisa! Her name is Lisa.
Girlfriend stares at her phone.
Girlfriend: Oh fuck.
Boyfriend: What?
Girlfriend: Jennifer’s boyfriend is cheating—
Boyfriend: Shit, no.
Girlfriend: They’re fuckin engaged—
Boyfriend: She’s gonna be crushed.
Girlfriend gazes at boyfriend.
Girlfriend: Like a rear end collision.
Boyfriend: Or like garlic.
Girlfriend: If she finds out.
Boyfriend: What do you mean if she finds out? You have to tell her that—
Girlfriend: Why? Why do I have to get involved—
Boyfriend: Umm, because you’re her friend.
Girlfriend sighs.
Girlfriend: Fuck; this situation makes me sick; I don’t wanna get—
Boyfriend: Involved? You’re already involved; you know, social media—
Girlfriend: Fuck Instagram; how could he not at least cover his fuckin tracks.
Boyfriend: Maybe he wants her to know; cold feet.
Girlfriend:Then he should fuckin tell her; she’s gonna be devastated, deflated.
Boyfriend: Like a basketball.
Girlfriend: Like the economy.
Boyfriend: Good one.
Boyfriend: How did you even learn this; he couldn’t have been so stupid as to allow himself to be in a picture?
Girlfriend: Through my cousin’s page.
A moment goes by.
Girlfriend: He looks drunk, but he’s definitely fuckin her; I just know it—
The boyfriend leans in to look at the picture.
Boyfriend: Damn! She’s attractive; you’re right, he’s inebriated, probably doesn’t remember that moment.
The girlfriend shakes her head as she thumbs a message into her phone.
Boyfriend: I can be there when you talk with Jennifer, if you’d—
Girlfriend slams her phone onto the sofa in frustration, gets up and walks away, leaving her phone on the sofa.
Girlfriend: I gotta pee.
Minutes pass.
The girlfriend’s phone rings; the boyfriend looks at the phone and doesn’t recognize the area code: 404; the call goes to voicemail. The boyfriend tucks her phone underneath the sofa’s cushion.
The girlfriend returns.
Girlfriend: This is so fucked up.
Boyfriend: Come, let me hold you.
Boyfriend and girlfriend cuddle on the couch.
Boyfriend: You’re right, Lisa is a home-wrecker.
Girlfriend: Told you. I know the type. Blonde bitch.
Girlfriend looks apprehensive.
Girlfriend: Where’s my phone?
Boyfriend reaches underneath the sofa’s cushion, pulls the phone out and hands it to his girlfriend.
Girlfriend: Whydidya put it there?
Boyfriend: I don’t know.
Girlfriend: What do you mean, I don’t know; you know why you put it there.
Boyfriend: I guess I thought you’d pay more attention to me and the movie if you forgot about your phone.
Girlfriend: Oh. Well, I wish I hadn't been looking at it at all; then I’d be—
Boyfriend: Ignorant to Jennifer's boyfriend drama?
Girlfriend: Better than knowing.
Boyfriend: You really think so? You’d rather be a bridesmaid in a wedding that’s doomed from the start?
Girlfriend: Ugh. I don’t know, this whole thing is so fucked up.
The girlfriend's phone buzzes; she receives a text.
The boyfriend sighs.
Girlfriend: Damn. My cousin confirmed it; says she thought they were a couple.
Boyfriend: Oh. Your cousin didn’t know he was cheating?
Girlfriend: Nope. She doesn’t know him like that; she’s friends with the homewrecker bitch.
Boyfriend: Wait? How do you know that the woman he’s cheating with knows that he’s engaged and cheating?
The girlfriend rolls her eyes.
Girlfriend:You’re right; perhaps she’s the lucky one who gets to be ignorant.
The boyfriend smiles, wanting to laugh but resists the urge to laugh.
Minutes go by.
Boyfriend: This movie is insane; Lisa is listening to his calls, almost stalking him.
Girlfriend: That’s what bitches do.
Boyfriend: It’s manipulative.
Girlfriend: Exactly; and Beyoncé sees the manipulation in the bitch, just like I do.
Boyfriend: Sharon.
Girlfriend: Who’s Sharon?
Boyfriend: Beyoncé’s character.
Girlfriend: Oh. Right.
Boyfriend: I hope Sharon doesn’t become the jealous type.
Girlfriend: She will; trust me. The attractive blonde bitch works with her husband; Beyoncé automatically sees that attractive blonde bitch as a threat.
Boyfriend: Sharon.
Girlfriend: Who’s Sharon?
Boyfriend: Beyoncé.
Girlfriend: Oh. Right. I keep forgetting.
Boyfriend: That’s really how it works; an attractive woman intimidates an attractive woman?
Girlfriend: When there’s a man involved, absolutely. Beyoncé will probably search his phone.
Boyfriend: Sharon.
Girlfriend: Oh. Right. Right. Sharon!
The boyfriend seems agitated.
Boyfriend: Couples should share openly.
Girlfriend: I agree.
Boyfriend: They should be comfortable opening up their wallets and purses for their partners to view, thumb through.
Girlfriend: I agree.
Boyfriend: And their phones.
There is complete silence.
Boyfriend: You disagree?
Girlfriend: Um no, quiet. I’m just watching.
Boyfriend pauses the movie, and hands his girlfriend his phone.
Girlfriend: What’re you doing?
Boyfriend: Sharing, being transparent. Here. My pin is 0424.
The girlfriend places both palms on her chest and smiles.
Girlfriend: My birthday. Your pin is my birthday?
Boyfriend: Because when I met you, you unlocked my heart.
Girlfriend: Aww.
The boyfriend extends his empty hand.
Girlfriend: What? Whaddya want?
Boyfriend: Well, it only seems right for you to reciprocate.
The girlfriend fidgets and looks away, appearing uncomfortable.
Girlfriend: Huh.
Boyfriend: C’mom. It’ll be fun, allow us to explore one another from different lenses; life is like a screen; I see you from this screen as we cuddle on the sofa but I wanna know you from another screen—literally.
Girlfriend: Hmm.
Boyfriend: You’ll learn something about me and I’ll—
Girlfriend: I don’t know.
Boyfriend: What do you mean?
Girlfriend: My phone is like my diary; would you want me to share my diary with you? It’s my personal haven, my personal oasis, my refuge, my own private park.
Boyfriend: I suppose.
Girlfriend: See. You agree with me.
Boyfriend: Well, actually, I suppose I would want you to share. I mean, if I’m gonna open up my wallet and if you open up your purse, then what’s the difference?
Girlfriend: I just—
The girlfriend grabs the remote and resumes the movie.
A few scenes go by as the couple watches the movie, but they are not cuddling rather they have moved about an arms length apart.
Boyfriend: Don’t wanna share your screen.
Girlfriend: Ugh.
Boyfriend: You know, I have empathy for Sharon—
Girlfriend: Me, too.
Boyfriend: She has no idea of what’s about to happen; Lisa’s going to probably seduce him or at least try to and that’s going to disrupt their marriage.
Girlfriend: It’s fucked up, a pissy sad situation that no one should have to endure.
Boyfriend: I know; Sharon’s playing the role of the fool, Jennifer too.
Girlfriend: They should be friends, meet for a walk and talk about their cheating partners.
Boyfriend: [Under his breath] I might ask to attend and talk about my—
With phone in hand, girlfriend looks at her boyfriend with ire in her eyes.
Girlfriend: What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Implying?
Seconds of silence pass.
Boyfriend: Oh. I was talking to myself, thinking out loud. You know, my thoughts are like my diary, my personal oasis, my refuge, my haven, my personal park; you wouldn’t want me to share my diary with you, would you?
Furious, the girlfriend stands up, still holding her phone.
Girlfriend: Are you fuckin accusing me of cheating?
Boyfriend: You don’t wanna share your phone; you received a call while in the bathroom, a 404 area code. Who’s calling you from a 404 area code?
The girlfriend shrieks.
Girlfriend: Ugh, You have to be kidding me.
The boyfriend shakes his head, avoiding his girlfriend by watching the movie.
Girlfriend: That’s my cousin’s area code; she called to confirm that she identified Jennifer’s boyfriend cheating. But since I was in the bathroom, and left my phone here, she just texted me.
Boyfriend: Oh.
The girlfriend punches the boyfriend’s chest with her phone.
Girlfriend: Here. Take it.
Boyfriend: Ouch.
Girlfriend: It’s like you don’t know me; you fuckin know Sharon and Beyoncé, but you don’t know your own girlfriend.
Boyfriend: Oh. I fucked up. I’m—
Girlfriend: Oh, and my period is late—10 days. I might be pregnant, but I wanted to wait to tell you, take the pregnancy test together. I texted the news to my sisters, but you will read the text messages.
Boyfriend: What—
Girlfriend: My code is 143, that means I love you; but you might question who I love, and if you are the father.