29: The Hunger to Know the Truth

Still morning. Paula sits in her car alone on the street. She has a notebook in her lap. She writes.

Paula: (thinking/writing) I remember when I was a little girl and I read Hugo’s Les Miserables. It was a beautiful book about a man who is destroyed by society and takes his duty to raise an orphaned young girl in revolutionary France. The book highlights the man’s life and sagas his run from the law for breaking parole for stealing a loaf of bread for his starving sister. Jean Valjean is the sympathetic protagonist and Javert is the corrupt, obsessed, yet pitiful cop who has made it his life’s work to capture Valjean. I feel so torn. I feel that once I met Janet, it has been my duty to protect her, but now I feel like I am also playing the Javert role. I want so badly to catch Michael in the act of something. But maybe he is good. No. No. My heart says no. Why don’t I trust him? Is it a mother’s intuition? Stop it, Paula. No. Janet is not your real daughter. We know what happened to her. You couldn’t have done anything to prevent it. You couldn’t. Stop wasting your time. Stop it.

Paula looks out the car window. She looks at her phone.

Paula: Two missed calls. Hmmm. I wonder if they were from the office. (she checks her cell phone) Camden wouldn’t have called me back already. Ha. Carol. Carol called? What does that money grubbing bitch want? Hmmm. Voicemail. (She presses some buttons and listens.)

Voicemail: Two new voicemails. First message.

Carol: Hi, Paula. It’s Carol. From the fruit stand. It’s about 7:25 and Janet still isn’t here yet. She’s never past quarter after seven and I was just wondering. . .well today is the busiest day. I didn’t know how else to get a hold of her and since you have called me so many times recently, I thought you would know where she is. Thanks.

Paula: Oh no. Janet’s missing. Shit.

Voicemail: Second unheard message.

Carol: Nevermind. She’s here. She just pulled up on her bike.

Voicemail: End of messages.

Paula: (hanging up the phone) Oh Thank God. Listen to how you reacted. You are such a baby, Paula. Of course she was late to work. After this morning’s ordeal. . .And that was not normal. No. No. It wasn’t. His behavior is strange. Shifty. You need to figure it out. What is wrong with Michael? Hmmm. There has to be a way to get to the bottom of it. But what about Frederick? He’s your son. Not them. He’s your flesh and blood and, and, well. . .I don’t care as much as I should. I feel horrible. Oh my poor baby. Today. Today and that’s it. I will get to the bottom of it. I have to.

It starts to rain.

Paula: (thinking) Oh shit. How am I going to see now? I can’t even see out of my car. But better to be concealed here then. Not as easy to be detected. Yes. Yes. I’ll wait here. I’m kind of hungry. I should have packed a sandwich, but how would I have known. . .oh, wait. I have that orange-

Telephone rings.

Paula: Hello? Oh hi. Yeah. I’m out doing some house work today. No, not my house work. I meant house calls. I stopped by Janet Windhover’s. . .I’ll be in- Oh. I didn’t realize. Sorry about that. Schedule them in at 4:30. That’ll be my last appointment of the day. Oh no, Sue. You can go home early. Just schedule them, leave the keys in your desk drawer and I will lock up the offices. Then you just have to go around and make sure the house is locked up and that everyone is inside. Oh no. They can go out into the yard if they like through the back. They aren’t prisoners there. Okay. Talk to you later, Sue. Bye. Bye. (She hangs up. Thinking) Oh, Paula. Get over yourself. Calm down. You shouldn’t have had all this coffee. You are so jittery. Just breathe. Just breathe. Breathe. There. There. Wait. The letter. The letter from Yale.

She takes the letter out of her purse.

Paula: Hmmm. . . congratulations on your acceptance. . .nothing odd here. Let’s see. Let’s see. There must be something. Sandera. Sandera. Never heard of it –not in this town. . . but this town isn’t that small. . .but it’s not that big either. Who is his father? Hmmmm. I could call information. They might have something. (She dials and listens.) Hi, yes. . .could you possibly help me? I’m looking for anybody in this town with the last name Sandera. Yes, that’s right. No matches? It’s spelled S-A-N-D-E—yes that’s correct.
Nothing. . .huh? Okay. . .thank you very much. (she hangs up) But his last name could be different from his parents. There are a lot of factors. . .and he did say that he changed his phone number to Janet’s house. But wouldn’t that come up? Maybe it’s unlisted. Huh. A dead end again. Nothing. Paula. Michael went to bed. He’s not going to leave the house again this early in the morning. He will be asleep until the afternoon. You should just drive off. But wait. What if he comes out again in the next five minutes and you will have missed him? You’re crazy, Paula. You’re insane. Janet isn’t your daughter. Your daughter is dead. Dead. DEAD!

She starts crying at the thoughts. She puts her head in her hands and weeps. Then stops. She sits up abruptly. She takes the letter and holds it up!

Paula: The postmark! The postmark! It’s postmarked yesterday! How did he know that he was going to be accepted a few days ago when he got the letter yesterday? This is a discrepancy that needs explanation. But everything needs an explanation with you Paula, you are an uptight explanation whore! . . .stop it. Stop. You are doing this in the name of Janet. And if it protects her. It protects your sanity. Wait. There he is.

Michael has exited Janet’s apartment building and walks in the rain down the street.

Paula: I’ll have to follow him. I have to. But I’ll wait until he gets down the street so he doesn’t know I’m there. I can’t lose him. Not this time. I just can’t. Eating and other healthy things will have to wait.

She jams the letter, phone, and notebook into her overfull purse and then starts her car.