30: With a Twist of Orange.

Toby’s apartment building –some of the windows are boarded up. The rain is still pouring now. Michael is soaked and goes up to the building. A block behind, Paula parks the car. She stares at Michael. She watches Michael push a button for the buzzer. Michael waits impatiently and she ducks down below her steering wheel when Michael looks around to see if anybody is watching.

Paula: He’s guilty of something.

She looks above the steering wheel only to see Michael go inside the building. She jumps out of her car with her purse on her shoulder and goes up to the buzzer. Meanwhile in Toby’s apartment, Toby lays on the couch, hung over and half asleep. There is a knock.

Toby: Who is it?

Michael: Me.

Toby: What the fuck?

Michael: Let me in.

Toby: Don’t you have a key?

Michael: I thought you’d let me in.

Toby: Didn’t I just see you a few hours ago?

Michael: Yeah, but this is serious. Why didn’t you answer my buzz?

Toby: Look at me. Do I look in any shape to be doing anything?

Michael: Well. We have to do something now. Thanks to last night.

Toby: What do you mean?

Michael: That bitch- Janet’s caseworker- she’s getting all nosy. I’m not joking.

Toby: Chill out.

Michael: I’m having to keep up with so much. . .who I am, what I am doing, etc. etc. I’m living a lie with Janet.

Toby: Yeah, so what?

Michael: This caseworker. She doesn’t trust me. She’s always around, asking questions, fucking everything up. . .

The buzzer.

Toby: What the fuck?

Michael: Who buzzes you at nine in the morning?

Toby: I don’t know. Ask who it is?

Michael: (pressing a button on the buzzer) Who is it?

No answer.

Toby: What the fuck. (He gets up and goes to the buzzer) Look Asshole. Who the fuck is this?

No answer.

Michael: Calm down. Just ignore it.

Toby: I wish we could see down to the street side of this damn apartment. I could just look and see who it is.

Michael: Yeah. What do you think we should do? She already stole a piece of mail of mine. I was looking for it this morning and Janet said that Paula had taken it.

Toby: So?

Michael: So? It has my fake last name. . .everything that’s not right about me.

Toby: So? What does it prove?

Michael: I don’t know. She’s nosy. What?

Toby: I buzzed them up. We should stop talking about it.

Michael: Why did you do that? You don’t even know who it was that buzzed.

Toby: (opening the door and looking into the dimly lit hallway.) I don’t see anybody.

Paula is hidden around the corner from their open door. She listens to their voices.

Michael: Maybe somebody just needed to get in the building.

Toby: Maybe. Hey I need to drink some water. Do you want to go to the vending machines with me?

Michael: Fine. But what are we gonna do?

Toby: We’ve got to think of a way to throw them from your trail.

Michael: Yeah, but how? You don’t drink tap water?

Toby: Not from this neighborhood.

Michael: I always did when I lived here.

Toby: Yeah, and look at your paranoia.

Michael: I’m not paranoid. I’m concerned.

Toby: About what, bro?

Michael: You know.

Toby: I know nothing. Remember? You gotta learn some manners, boy.

They come into the hallway after Toby has slipped some sneakers on. They pass Paula, but don’t see her. She waits for them to be out of sight and then she goes back to their apartment door and enters it. She is frantic. She observes the filth and sees a mirror with razor blade on the counter. She gasps and backs into a bookcase with incense burners on it. She is startled and drops her purse. The orange rolls out to the base of the bookcase. She snatches her purse and goes into the bathroom –not seeing the orange. In the bathroom, the sink basin is littered with needles and blood. Paula gasps and hears the door close back in the living room. She jumps in the shower and closes the curtain.

Toby: What do you want me to do, Michael? Kill her to?

Michael: Fuck no. No. We just have to make sure she’s quiet. Get her to trust me.

Toby: We have to think. Let me think. I’m good at these sorts of things. God damn this headache.

Michael: I think no more of this though. We’ll have to participate in this from our minds.

Toby: Not even a letter?

Michael: Fuck no. Wait.

Toby: What?

Michael: You can’t write something down. Do you know how incriminating that is?

Michael puts a finger to his lips. Paula strains to hear what they are saying. Michael points to the orange that Paula dropped.

Toby: So?

Michael: How did that get there?

Toby: I don’t know.

Michael: Did you buy them?

Toby: No. I told you who they’re for.

Michael: I took that to Janet’s this morning. Now it’s back. Strange. Don’t you think?

Toby: Whatever.

Michael: I don’t like this.

Toby: Like what?

Michael: The fruit.

Toby: Who cares. Get over it.

Michael: Shut up. Anyway. . .what’re we gonna do?

Toby: I don’t know. I told you.

Michael: Well, until you figure out a plan when we can appear together in public, this is good-bye.

Toby: Shut the fuck up.

Michael: I’m serious.

Toby: You asshole.

Michael: You want this to work?

Toby: It will work. It will.

Michael: What do you have to fear from me being gone? We’ll be together again. You know that.

Silence. Paula strains.

Michael: Let me go.

Toby: I’ll think about this Paula thing.

Paula gasps at her name.

Toby: What was that?

Michael: I didn’t hear anything.

Toby: Look now you’ve got me all fucking paranoid.

Michael: I gotta go. I think this day is weird though. I feel like everything is crashing down.

Toby: Oh you’re so fucking melodramatic. Get over yourself.

Michael: Whatever. I’m gonna get back.

Toby: I’ll walk you out, ass.

Michael: Only call me if you have a viable reason that we should see each other. . .

Toby: I’ll call you if I want to call you.

Michael: You call me and I’ll drop the plan, buddy.

Toby: You wouldn’t.

Michael: There’s no reason to get involved. It’ll happen. We just have to make it like clockwork. Smooth, baby, smooth.

Toby: Don’t say smooth, baby to me. I don’t wanna fucking hear it. I wanna sleep. Get the hell out of here.

Michael: Can I ask you for one thing?

Toby: What’s that?

Paula peeks between the crack in the shower curtain. She sees both of them.

Michael: A good-bye kiss?

Toby: How about an orange?

Paula looks in her purse and sees the orange is gone.

Michael: I have one at home. Remember?

Toby: I don’t like fruits remember.

Michael: That’s not what you proved last night.

Toby: Fuck-

Michael: Come here.

Paula looks up. She sees Michael and Toby kissing passionately.

Toby: Enough. Before I chew your lip off. I’m kind of hungry. Go home and get into dry clothes, asshole.

Michael: Yeah. Yeah.

Toby: Come on.

Toby and Michael exit. Paula panics and slips in the tub. She pulls the shower curtain down as she falls. She gets up and doesn’t try to fix it. She rushes into the living room, sees the orange, and grabs it off the floor and jams it into her purse. She runs towards the door perspiring and shaking. She closes the door and looks down the hallway to see any sign of Toby. She sees him coming back and walks the opposite way –out the back of the building.

Toby: (sings) God, fucking make my headache go away. Please, don’t make it stay. Yeah yeah yeah.

He enters the apartment.

Toby: (flashing back) Michael: Have a fruit, you fruit.

Toby: (sings) Juicy Fruit. Yeah. Juicy Fruit. Yeah. Gonna make some juicy with my fruity. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Since my baby left me. I’ve found a new place to dwell- what the fuck?

He looks for the orange. It’s gone. He looks into the open bathroom door and sees the shower curtain.

Toby: Uh oh.

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.