SKIP AND SCOOTER
“Going Underground”
Skip and Scooterhad ended after 108 episodes, but the label marked this as episode 109. Clutching the DVD to her chest, she kicked off her remaining sneaker and rushed barefoot into the house. She didn’t have the patience to fumble with the complicated equipment in the screening room, so she carried his cinematic love letter upstairs and slid it into the DVD player in his bedroom. She sat in the middle of the bed, wrapped an arm around her knees, and with pulse racing, hit the play button.
Fade in on two sets of small feet walking across an expanse of vivid green lawn. One set sported black patent leather Mary Janes with ruffled white socks. The other, shiny black boy’s oxfords that brushed the cuffs of black dress slacks. Both sets of feet stopped walking and turned toward someone behind them. The little girl whimpered, “Daddy?”
Georgie hugged herself.
The boy’s response was fierce. “You said you weren’t going to cry.”
Another whimper from the little girl. “I’m not crying. I want Daddy.”
A third set of shoes came into view. Black men’s wing tips. “I’m here, sweetheart. I had to helpgrand-mère.”
Georgie shivered as the camera panned up along sharply creased black slacks to a man’s long-fingered, manicured hand bearing a platinum wedding band. The little girl’s hand slipped through his.
A close-up of the child’s face came into view. She was seven or eight years old, blond and angelic, wearing a black velvet dress and a delicate strand of pearls.
The camera pulled back. A solemn-faced boy of about the same age took the man’s other hand.
Cut to a wider angle showing the tall, lean man and two small children from the rear as they walked across the manicured lawn. A shade tree appeared, a broader stretch of lawn, more trees. Some kind of stones. The angle expanded.
Not stones at all.
Georgie pressed her fingertips to her lips.
A cemetery?
Suddenly the man’s face filled the screen. Skip Scofield. He was older, more distinguished, and perfectly groomed, as all the Scofields tended to be. Crisp, short hair, tailored black suit, a respectable dark burgundy tie knotted at the neck of a white dress shirt. And deep lines of grief etching his handsome face.
Georgie shook her head in disbelief. He couldn’t possibly—
“I don’t want to, Daddy,” the girl said.
“I know, sweetheart.” Skip picked her up. At the same time, he wrapped his free arm around the boy’s thin shoulders.
Georgie wanted to scream.It’s a sitcom! It’s supposed to be funny!
Now the three stood at the side of an open grave with black-clad mourners in the background. The boy buried his face in his father’s side, muffling his words. “I miss Mommy so much already.”
“So do I, son. She never understood how much I loved her.”
“You should have told her.”
“I tried to, but she didn’t believe me.”
The minister began to speak off camera, his resonant voice familiar. Georgie narrowed her eyes.
Cut to the end of the service. Close-up of the coffin in the ground. A handful of dirt landed on the polished lid followed by three puffy blue hydrangeas.
Cut to Skip and the minister—the minister who had no place being a minister. “My condolences, son,” the minister said, patting Skip on the back.
Dissolve to Skip and his two weeping children standing alone by the grave. Skip went down on his knees and drew them close, his eyes squeezed shut with pain. “Thank God…,” he murmured. “Thank God, I have you.”
The boy pulled away, looking smug, almost vindictive. “Except you don’t.”
The girl splayed her hands on her hips. “We’re imaginary, remember?”
