conversations.from: human
conversations.value: a plot for a book about Fonny, Tish, Beale entitled If Beale Street Could Talk
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: If Beale Street Could Talk: Fonny and Tish are in love and their love protects them from their respective dysfunctional families and the outside world until Fonny is falsely accused of rape.\nAfter his imprisonment, Tish finds out she is pregnant and she, her family, and her lawyer race against the clock to find evidence that frees Fonny before the baby is born.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the first scene for the screenplay
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: If Beale Street Could Talk
  
  FADE IN:...on a young man and young woman, both black, both twenties, both smiling. It would be twilight, the sound of the city winding down around this couple, nothing but their footsteps and the muted hum of this quiet street. 
  YOUNG MAN You ready for this? YOUNG WOMAN Yes. (and) Ain’t nothin’ else in the world I’m more ready for. And as they draw closer, locked in a kiss......the sound of metal clanging, of feet shuffling and mens’ voices filling a tinny room...
  INT. NEW YORK CITY CORRECTIONAL FACILITY - DAY The same young couple eyeing each other across glass, the young man on the one side in the jail smocks with tired eyes, on the other, a thin pretty girl, a gentle wonder about her. This is TISH (19, black, warm), the voice heard ”before anything else” and Alonzo “FONNY” Hunt (22, also black, breakable). 
  TISH Alonzo... Fonny’s eyes starting at the sound of his proper name, something sharp, a warning in its use: she never calls him Alonzo. 
  TISH Alonzo... we’re going to have a baby. Fonny going blank, completely blank as that news washes over him, just across that glass and yet, instantly so far away from here. 
  TISH I’m glad Fonny, I’m glad. Don’t you worry. 
  FREEZE FRAME:...on Fonny’s face, still frozen in contemplation, the look of a life changing. 
  “I should have said already: we’re not married. That means more to him than it does to me, but I understand how he feels. Fonny is twenty-two. I’m nineteen.” RESUMING: Fonny closing his eyes, just a moment to himself, then: FONNY You sure? TISH No. I ain’t sure, I’m just trying to mess with your mind. Fonny smiling now, coming back to her: FONNY What we goin’ to do? TISH Well... we ain’t goin’ to drown it. So I guess we’ll have to raise it. Fonny throwing his head back, a big, shocking laughter, a joy in his face initially unfathomable: FONNY Did you tell Frank? TISH Not yet. 
  FONNY You tell your folks? TISH Not yet. But don’t worry about them, I just wanted to tell you first. 
  FONNY Well, I guess that makes sense. My daddy and ‘nem can’t keep nothin’ to theyselves, better this way. 2.(and now) A baby. Something in this repetition carrying Fonny away from here, away to that place beyond Tish. His eyes cast down: FONNY What you gonna do? TISH I’m going to do just like I been doing. I’ll work up to just about the last month. And then, Mama and Sis will take care for me, you ain’t got to worry. And anyway, we have you out of here before then. 
  FONNY You sure about that? TISH Of course I’m sure. I’m always sure about that. A man coming up behind Fonny, doesn’t even bother to touch him, from his dress, clearly a guard. Fonny’s eyes going down at the man’s presence, looks through that glass again at his lover. His eyes coming back, that overwhelming smile again. Tish matching it, the two of them standing in unison on either side of the glass. Fonny raises his fist to the glass. Tish does the same. Off Tish watching Fonny move away, disappear through a door on the other side...
  INT. TISH’S HOME - DAY A simple Harlem apartment, modest but expansive as far as these things go, a proper living room, kitchen big enough to fit a small dining table. Along a hall running perpendicular to the living room, three bedrooms. Tish sitting before a steaming cup of tea, staring at the wispy steam rising off it. A beat, then......the sound of the front door opening, of footsteps on wood flooring and...3. 
  FONNY (CONT'D)VOICE (O.S.) (calling out) How you doin’ Little One? A moment later, SHARON (early 40s but could pass for younger) enters, a shopping bag at her side. Just in the way she looks at her, Tish’s mother. 
  SHARON How is he? TISH He’s just the same. He’s fine. He sends his love.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: another long scene
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: DANIEL Man, I know what you're saying. And I appreciate it. But you don't know, the worst thing, man, the worst thing, is that they can make you so fucking scared. Just... scared, man. Tish in that kitchen, clearly listening to the whole thing, right in here with them. 
  TISH (calling out) You cats hungry? FONNY (O.S.) (joking) Yeah, we starvin’. Move it!
  INT. BANK STREET FLAT - NIGHT - LATER The three of them caught mid-laugh, gathered around the lone wood table in this space. A few open bottles of beer about. And little Tish has made a feast: ribs and cornbread and rice, gravy and green peas. 
  DANIEL It's nice to see you, Tish. You sure ain't gained no weight, have you? TISH You hush. I'm skinny because I'm poor. 
  DANIEL Well, I sure don't know why you didn't pick yourself a rich husband. You ain't never going to gain no weight now.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the last short scene
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: SHARON Don’t panic, baby. Remember, love brought you here. Sharon smiles, and... 
  CUT TO BLACK.102.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the first five paragraphs for this book
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: If Beale Street Could Talk
  I LOOK at myself in the mirror. I know that I was christened Clementine, and so it would make sense if people called me Clem, or, even, come to think of it, Clementine, since that's my name: but they don't. People call me Tish. I guess that makes sense, too. I'm tired, and I'm beginning to think that maybe everything that happens makes sense. Like, if it didn't make sense, how could it happen? But that's really a terrible thought. It can only come out of trouble – trouble that doesn't make sense.
  He's in jail. So where we were, I was sitting on a bench in front of a board, and he was sitting on a bench in front of a board. And we were facing each other through a wall of glass between us. You can't hear anything through this glass, and so you both have a little telephone. You have to talk through that. I don't know why people always look down when they talk through a telephone, but they always do. You have to remember to look up at the person you're talking to.
  I always remember now, because he's in jail and I love his eyes and every time I see him I'm afraid I'll never see him again. So I pick up the phone as soon as I get there and I keep looking up at him.
  So, when I said, ' – Alonzo – ?' he looked down and then he looked up and he smiled and he held the phone and he waited.
  And I didn't say it the way I meant to say it. I meant to say it in a very offhand way, so he wouldn't be too upset, so he'd understand that I was saying it without any kind of accusation in my heart.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: five more paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: But I couldn't stop. It just seemed that we would never find Mrs Rogers; that Bell would never change his testimony; that Daniel would be beaten until he changed his. And Fonny would rot in prison, Fonny would die there – and I – I could not live without Fonny.
  Mama folded the piece of paper, and put it in her purse. 'How soon do you think you'll be able to see Daniel?'
  I smiled, and he smiled, and something really human happened between us, for the first time. He released my shoulder, and walked over to Mama. 'Could you have Ernestine call me around ten? or even earlier, if possible. Otherwise, she may not be able to get me before six.'
  Fonny had been walking down Seventh Avenue, on a Saturday afternoon, when he ran into Daniel again. They had not seen each other since their days in school.
  Time had not improved Daniel. He was still big, black, and loud; at the age of twenty-three – he is a little older than Fonny – he was already running out of familiar faces. So, they grabbed each other on the avenue – after a moment of genuine shock and delight – howling with laughter, beating each other around the head and shoulders, children again, and, though Fonny doesn't like bars, sat themselves down at the nearest one, and ordered two beers.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the last five paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: But I was so tired, I remember that I could hardly speak. Something was about to happen to me. That was what I felt, sitting in that chair, watching the sky – and I couldn't move. All I could do was wait.
  Before I could say anything, the door-bell rang, and Sharon went to the door. Something in her voice, at the door, made me stand straight up and I dropped the brandy glass on the floor. I still remember Sharon's face, she was standing behind my father, and I remember my father's face.
  Frank had been found, he told us, way, way, way up the river, in the woods, sitting in his car, with the doors locked, and the motor running.
  I opened my mouth to say – I don't know what. When I opened my mouth, I couldn't catch my breath. Everything disappeared, except my mother's eyes. An incredible intelligence charged the air between us. Then, all I could see was Fonny. And then I screamed, and my time had come.
  Fonny is working on the wood, on the stone, whistling, smiling. And, from far away, but coming nearer, the baby cries and cries and cries and cries and cries and cries and cries and cries, cries like it means to wake the dead.