I Want You To Be Happy

Fade in on you.

We start with a slow tracking shot. You’re walking down the street in August and the camera follows you. Wait, maybe it’s March. I like the idea of snow on the ground. The last remnants of snow. We’re watching winter drift into spring. We’re watching you.

You’re wearing a wool winter jacket but its buttons are undone. It’s a brilliantly bright day and you can’t stop humming. Cut to a close-up of your face. You’re all done-up in satin pink lipstick and that green hairband that matches your eyes. Your hum is off-key, like you always were. The song is a nameless arrangement of down-notes and illogical crescendoes, like we always were. Your high-heel shoes make deep sounds on the pavement. The camera pans down slowly. We watch as you avoid stepping on the sidewalk cracks.

A car horn honks. We cut to a perspective shot; the camera emulates your eyes. You watch as a car spins its tires in the slush. It’s going too fast. We cut to a top view of the car. It’s your favourite colour, the car. A light blue that matches the sky. The car is out of control; it begins to weave. We show it all in slow motion without audio. Seen slowly, the car seems less threatening. It veers left, then right, knocking the rear-view mirror off a car parked at the side of the road opposite you. It veers away. The unseen driver is panicking.

Cue audio. We speed up the tape again. Frantic honking. Squeeling tires. We cut to a shot of you, frozen on the sidewalk, watching as the car attacks. You don’t scream; you gasp. You were never one to scream. We cut to an inside shot of the car. It’s veering towards you. We watch as anonymous hands grip the steering wheel this way and that way, but he can’t find tractions. Cut to a quick shot of his tire drifting across the ice. Back to the driver. He’s waving his hands.

We cut back to you. The camera starts in front of you. You aren’t moving. It’s coming too fast. We bring the camera around you in a quick circular motion. From behind, we can see the car skidding closer and closer. The driver has his hand jammed on the horn. The sound overwhelms everything. We cut to a close-up of your face. Your eyes are panicked.

We drop the audio again. Go to slow motion. It’s cliched, I know, but it works. Cut to the in-car camera. We watch as the front of the car gets within inches of you, and then a blur comes from your right. It knocks you down. Resume audio. Back to regular speed. Cut to a side-view of the sidewalk. The car slams into the brick wall. We can’t see you, yet; you’re on the other side of the car.

Hold this shot for a while. There’s a pile of rubble across the car’s hood. The sky blue finish is scratched in too many places. The air bag’s gone off inside, but the driver’s moving. There’s a crack in his windshield; it’s almost symmetrical. It goes right through the middle of the glass.

We move the camera slowly. It goes around the back of the car. The sound guys cue up some faint piano music. We finally see you leaning against the part of the wall that’s still in tact. There’s a purple bruise on your forehead from where you hit the pavement. Your knees are scraped. Your eyes stare straight ahead, watching nothing. The audience is so glad you made it through that one.

The man who pushed you out of the way has his arms around your shoulders. We cut to a two-shot of the both of you, sitting against the wall. He’s a couple of years older than you are. He’s about six inches taller than you, because I know you like that. He has arms that look strong. He’s rubbing your shoulder softly.

We cut to a close-up of his face. He’s got the kind of brown eyes you go for. He’s giving you that sensitive and caring look that you never saw enough. Cut to a close-up of his hand on your shoulder. We hear you sigh. We cut to your face. You say “thank you.” We cut to his face and he’s talking. The music rises, a piano score. He’s talking but the music rises. The camera pans back so the two of you are in shot again. You’re looking at him now, noticing his eyes. Don’t stop the music. Keep panning back. He pushes himself up, standing to his full height.

He lowers his hand to you and you take it. We cut to a close-up of your hand in his. We cut back to the last shot of the both of you. He pulls you up and you’re standing together beside the car. The piano music ends as we watch him let go of your hand. We bring in some background noise. Mixed conversation, police sirens and the sound of traffic resuming on the street.

Cue the song. The song makes sense. It has to be a happy song. We pan back slowly and follow as the two of you move towards the police officer with the notebook. We can’t hear the dialogue as the chorus kicks in. We cut to your hands, now separate, but close, and then watch as they slowly come together. The happy song takes us out. It’s such a joyful, enthusiastic tune. So upbeat and full of hope. With your hand in his, we zoom out until we get see the whole scene. Don’t stop the happy song. It goes so well with this. Just don’t stop. Don’t stop until we fade out completely.

Roll credits. And the audience is so happy for you.