6. Sitting, Waiting, Wishing

I was sitting, waiting, wishing
You believed in superstitions
Then maybe you would see the signs
But lord knows that this world is cruel
And I ain't the lord, no, I'm just a fool
Learning loving somebody don't make them love you
Must I always be waiting, waiting on you?
Must I always be playing, playing your fool?

I sang your songs, I danced your dance
I gave your friends all a chance
But putting up with them wasn't worth never having you
Maybe you've been through this before
But it's my first time so please ignore
The next few lines because they're directed at you
I can't always be waiting, waiting on you...

Well if I was in your position
I'd put down all my ammunition
I'd wonder why it had taken me so long
But lord knows that I'm not you
And if I was I wouldn't be so cruel
Because waiting on love ain't so easy to do

Jack Johnson


Prologue

Robert enters, paper in hand.

ROBERT: Okay...let's see....ah, here we go. Last time, Angela finally started to wake up and realize something was up with Jason. Patrick got the CDs his band recorded, and tried to get Rebecca to become his new bass player. Rebecca was sick. Mike had a bad day at work. Louis told Angela his evil theories about Jason's conspiracy to get him evicted, and Jason returned from Florida with a bandage over his eye and refused to explain why. [Starts to leave, stops] Oh, right, it's the next day. Friday. Around noon. There.

He exits.

Scene 1 -- the house, noon

Patrick and Rebecca -- who still looks ill, though not nearly as bad as before -- sit on the couch. Michael is parked in the chair nearest the door, while Angela sits in the other. All eyes focus on Angela.

ANGELA: Just...give me a minute, okay?

MICHAEL: Gotta be quick. Jason'll be home soon.

ANGELA: I know.

Angela furrows her brow and considers things for a few seconds.

PATRICK: Seriously, any minute now.

ANGELA: I'm thinking.

MICHAEL: Think faster.

REBECCA: Hey, shut up. This isn't easy.

ANGELA: Thank you.

MICHAEL: I'm just saying, any moment--

REBECCA: She knows.

PATRICK: Just consider what you know about him. You've known him for a while.

ANGELA: Yeah.

PATRICK: So...decide.

Angela thinks for another moment. Michael makes a show of checking his watch.

ANGELA: All right.

REBECCA: You sure?

ANGELA: Yeah.

MICHAEL: Then let's hear it.

Angela stands and crosses over to Michael. She hands him a ten dollar bill.

ANGELA: Football to the face.

The rest of the group gives "ooh"s and "aah"s. Michael pulls a small notebook and a pen from his pocket and starts to write this down.

MICHAEL: Sure about that?

ANGELA: Definitely.

PATRICK: That's a pretty ballsy guess.

ANGELA: As I understand it, Jason's dad is a big football guy.

REBECCA: Yeah, but Jason never plays sports.

ANGELA: Which is why he took it off the orbital socket.

REBECCA: Ahh. I see your wisdom.

MICHAEL: Okay, so here we go: Rebecca says Household Appliance Mishap...

REBECCA: He almost broke his nose with a microwave once, I was there.

MICHAEL: ...Patrick thinks Jason walked into a tree or other inanimate object...

PATRICK: Which I've also seen him do.

MICHAEL: ...Mrs. Magruder from next door puts ten on Jason tripping and falling onto something...

Nods and "uh-huh"s all around.

MICHAEL: And I'm going double-or-nothing on Bar Fight.

REBECCA: Living dangerously.

MICHAEL: As always.

Mike puts the money and the notebook in his pocket. Patrick glances out the window.

PATRICK: And there he is.

ANGELA: Where'd he go?

PATRICK: No idea. He's not going back to work until Monday.

Jason enters. The bandage is gone -- there's a large purple bruise around his left eye.

JASON: Hey.

ALL: Hey.

REBECCA: Where'd you go?

JASON: Out.

REBECCA: ...'kay.

JASON [to Angela]: What are you doing here?

ANGELA: I, uh...I live here.

JASON: No -- sorry, I meant, where's your car? It's not here.

ANGELA: No, I had to take it the shop. It was doing some horrible shaking thing whenever I drove too fast.

JASON: How fast?

ANGELA: Over ten miles an hour.

JASON: That's a serious problem, then.

ANGELA: Yep. And to make it worse, it's time for me to go back to work.

JASON: Oh -- uh, did you, did you need a ride? I'm not busy, I could give you a ride.

Angela flicks her eyes over to Rebecca.

ANGELA: No, Jason. Rebecca's got it. It's on her way, anyhow.

JASON: Ah. Right. Sure.

PATRICK: You could give me a ride.

JASON: You could fuck off.

PATRICK: ...I was kidding.

JASON: Yeah. Me too. I was kidding.

An awkward moment.

REBECCA: Well. Should probably go.

ANGELA: Yeah.

They get up and head for the door. Everyone exchanges goodbyes, except Jason: he stays silent. Angela and Rebecca exit.

Patrick stands up.

PATRICK: I should probably go, too.

MICHAEL: A'ight.

PATRICK: You okay, Jason?

JASON: I was kidding. Really. I'm sorry if--

PATRICK: All right. Talk to you guys later.

He exits.

JASON: Fuck.

Jason takes a seat on the couch. Michael gets up and heads for the hallway.

JASON: Where're you going?

MICHAEL: I got a...a thing. I'm doing something.

JASON: Oh, don't leave. Come on. We'll play a game. We'll play Crimson Skies. C'mon, Crimson Skies, you and me, head-to-head, right now.

Jason jumps up and heads to the TV to start the game.

MICHAEL: You want to play me at Crimson Skies.

JASON: 'less you scared, bitch.

MICHAEL: Jason...um, I'll crush you.

JASON: Yeah, I know. Who cares? In mine ignorance your skill shall, like a star i' th' darkest night, stick fiery off indeed.

He tosses a controller to Michael

MICHAEL: Is that Hamlet?

JASON: Yeah.

MICHAEL: You did have a bad trip, didn't you?

JASON: Shut up.

They both sit and begin playing.

JASON: Here we go.

MICHAEL: You're gonna get crushed.

JASON: Almost certainly.

They continue to play in silence for a while.

Then:

MICHAEL: So you gonna talk about it?

JASON: Talk about what?

MICHAEL: Whatever it is that has you so pissy.

JASON: I'm pissy?

MICHAEL: Yes. Why?

JASON: Well--

MICHAEL: And don't say the Angela thing. You were pissed when you got off the plane.

JASON: I was?

MICHAEL: Yes. Very much so.

JASON: Well. I flew to Florida. I hate flying, but I did it. While I was there, I slept on an air mattress the whole time. I hate those.

MICHAEL: Your dad doesn't have a couch?

JASON: He does. The ceiling fan fell on it. It was severely damaged.

MICHAEL: The hurricane knocked out his ceiling fan?

JASON: No. It just fell down.

MICHAEL: ...Really?

JASON: He installed it himself.

MICHAEL: I see.

JASON: I spent a few days sweeping up the yard, putting a fence back up, patching the roof, and cleaning up glass.

MICHAEL: He didn't board the windows?

JASON: No, he did. One of his neighbors did not. I was deputized onto their cleanup crew as well.

MICHAEL: Uh-huh.

JASON: All this time, of course, was spent under the watchful eye of my father, who has not been in the best of moods for the last...well, for a while.

MICHAEL: You guys argue?

JASON: I think we said all of nine words to each other the entire time.

MICHAEL: Oh.

JASON: I did, however, get into an argument with this lovely lady at an Arby's over...I don't remember, something stupid. That was fun. And then, of course, my eye.

MICHAEL: How did that happen, anyway?

JASON [with a smirk]: What's the pool up to?

MICHAEL [smirking right back]: ...I have no idea what you're talking about.

JASON: Of course not.

MICHAEL: So that's it.

JASON: Yeah. That's it. You picked me up. I came home. And then the Angela thing.

MICHAEL: Which is awful and terrible.

JASON: Yes.

MICHAEL: Why, exactly?

Jason responds with a resigned sigh.

MICHAEL: I'm serious. Why this is so damn bad? So she knows--

JASON: Suspects.

MICHAEL: So she suspects your ultimate secret. Big deal. Now you can stop being so secretive about it.

JASON: You don't understand.

MICHAEL: Apparently not.

JASON: I wouldn't think so.

MICHAEL: Look, I know we've been saying this for months now, but why don't you just talk to her already?

JASON: Why? You have another pool going?

MICHAEL: No, because you're my friend and you're killing yourself with this. And she's my friend and she deserves to know the truth. And especially now, if she knows -- or suspects -- already, there's no need to hide it anymore.

JASON: Yes, and it's just that simple.

MICHAEL: Yes, actually, it is. Just get your head out of your rectum and do it.

JASON: Look, it's not that I don't want to. In fact, it's becoming more and more difficult to not say anything. I can feel it in the back of my head every time she's in the room. I think I'm just going to end up spitting it out at random in front of everyone.

MICHAEL: ...'kay.

JASON: And it will, inevitably, be at the very worst possible time. And the result will be disastrous.

MICHAEL: Not necessarily.

JASON: No, you don't see. I know me. I know my luck. When I do come right out and tell her, it will be at the exact moment in time when she will be least receptive. The one moment when she doesn't want anything to do with me or anyone else, that is when I will somehow find the courage. I promise you.

MICHAEL: I didn't realize you were psychic.

JASON: I'm a man of many talents.

MICHAEL: Well...you know, if you want me to--

JASON: No.

MICHAEL: Because I could--

JASON: No nono. Absolutely not. That would be even worse. What kind of a tool would that make me look like, I gotta have one of my friends confess this to her, like I'm passing a note in class or something? No. I'll handle it myself.

MICHAEL: And you'll screw it up.

JASON: Yes. And she'll hate me.

MICHAEL: Well, maybe. But even if she does, at least--

JASON: Do not say "at least you tried."

MICHAEL: I wasn't going to.

JASON: What were you going to say, then?

MICHAEL: ...I forgot.

JASON: Sure.

MICHAEL: But you do it your way, then. Go right ahead and screw it up.

JASON: And then I'll have something else to be pissy about.

MICHAEL: Yes. I see it so clearly now.

JASON: Good.

No talking for a couple of seconds. Then Jason tosses his controller aside in disgust.

MICHAEL: Yeah.

JASON: I lost.

MICHAEL: You got crushed.

JASON: As was predicted.

MICHAEL: But at least you tried.

Jason looks at Michael with heavy disdain.

JASON: See, that's just low.

MICHAEL: Wasn't it?

There's a knock at the door.

MICHAEL: Get that.

JASON: Why me?

MICHAEL: It's your house.

JASON: It's our house.

MICHAEL: Oh yeah, right.

JASON: And you're closer.

MICHAEL: But I won.

JASON: Maybe I let you win.

MICHAEL: Uh-huh.

Knocking again, this time more urgent. We hear a female voice from the other side of the door:

VOICE: I know you guys are in there. Open the damn door!

Jason smiles. Michael does not.

JASON: The Lady California?

MICHAEL: Yeah. Shit.

Michael gets up and slowly trudges toward the door.

JASON: Not excited to see her?

MICHAEL: Well...no, not really. She dropped in on me at work yesterday. This probably won't be pleasant.

JASON: Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war.

MICHAEL: Stop with the Hamlet.

JASON: That's Julius Caesar, actually.

MICHAEL: Whatever.

More banging.

VOICE: Come on!

Jason picks up his controller and begins playing by himself.

Michael opens the front door to reveal CALI, a painfully thin 18-year-old girl wearing a Houston Astros t-shirt. She barges in past Michael.

CALI: Took you long enough.

MICHAEL: Come in.

CALI: Hello, Jason.

JASON: Hello, Cali.

CALI: Oh, god, what happened to your eye?

JASON: Can you keep a secret?

CALI: Yeah.

JASON: So can I.

CALI: Ha ha. Aren't you supposed to put a steak on it or something?

JASON: We don't have any.

CALI: That sucks.

MICHAEL: Did you need something?

CALI: Yes.

A moment.

MICHAEL: Well?

CALI: Your brother is driving me crazy.

MICHAEL: Last I checked, he was your brother, too. Unless you have some other shocking news for me.

CALI: He's driving me crazy.

MICHAEL: You said that. You also said it yesterday. Do you not remember having this very conversation yesterday?

CALI: You have to do something.

MICHAEL: And what do you want me to do?

CALI: I don't know. Something.

MICHAEL: Gonna need to be more specific.

She seems to think about this for a second, but can't come up with anything. So she sits on the couch next to Jason. Michael moves over to the closest chair.

CALI: He's annoying.

MICHAEL: He's always been annoying.

CALI: Yeah, but now it's out of control. He listens to his music too loud, he changes the channel when I'm in the middle of watching something, he's obnoxious, I swear he and Anthony are going to get into a fight. And last night, I'm at the park, I'm playing softball with some friends of mine. He shows up, demand we let him play, and when he strikes Trina out, he struts around for five minutes going, "I'm the man! I'm the man!" like he's fucking Christy Mathewson.

MICHAEL: Huh. Okay. Well, first of all, I don't know who Christy Mathewson is. I guess she's a softball player?

JASON: He was a baseball player.

CALI: Thank you. He was a pitcher for the New York Giants.

JASON: Yes.

MICHAEL: I thought the New York Giants played football.

CALI: They do. But the San Francisco Giants used to play in New York, and I know what you're trying to do.

MICHAEL: What am I trying to do?

CALI: Change the subject

MICHAEL: ...Is it working?

CALI: No.

MICHAEL: I still don't see what you want me to do, Cali. If you're ramping up to asking if he can stay here, let me go ahead and stop you right now.

JASON: Yes. Stop.

MICHAEL: 'Cause that's not happening.

CALI: I wasn't going to.

MICHAEL: Good.

JASON: Thank you.

CALI: Yeah. Oh, Jason, Carter told me you and Angela were together now?

JASON: Oh...yeah...uh...that's...not entirely accurate.

CALI: Ah, okay. Yeah, I thought that sounded weird.

JASON: What is that supposed to mean?

CALI: Nothing. [pause] Nothing.

MICHAEL: Anyway, Cali. You told Mom and Dad and that he could stay with you guys for a little while. You said it wouldn't be a problem.

CALI: Yeah. I guess I didn't really consider everything before I made that decision.

MICHAEL: Right.

CALI: Can I use the phone? I want to call Anthony at work.

MICHAEL: Sure.

JASON: It's in the kitchen.

Michael goes to get it. Cali watches Jason play the game.

CALI: So. Why did Carter tell me you and Angela were seeing each other?

JASON: Because he thought we were.

CALI: Did you tell him you were?

JASON: No.

CALI: Angela did?

JASON: Yes

CALI: Why?

JASON: Long story.

CALI: Uh-huh.

Michael comes back with the cordless phone. He hands it to Cali.

CALI: Thanks.

Cali dials the phone and steps away from the guys to talk. We don't hear her conversation.

MICHAEL: You're not bad at this game when you're by yourself.

JASON: It's only when I bring someone else into it that I collapse. Funny, huh?

MICHAEL: Yeah.

Cali disconnects her call and drops the phone onto the couch.

MICHAEL: That was quick.

CALI: Yeah. So about Carter.

MICHAEL: Right.

CALI: Could you just talk to him? Try to get him to stop being so...himself? 'Cause Anthony's gonna kill him.

MICHAEL: Cali.

CALI: 'Cause Anthony's gonna try to kill him.

MICHAEL: I suppose I could talk to him.

CALI: Good.

MICHAEL: Anything else?

CALI: I need you to take care of Biggio.

MICHAEL: Take care of Biggio?

CALI: Yeah, Anthony and I are going out of town next Friday.

MICHAEL: How long?

CALI: About a week and a half. I'd just need someone to go over and feed him, make sure he has water, change the litter box.

MICHAEL: What about Carter?

CALI: I'm sure he can get food and water on his own.

MICHAEL: I mean, why can't Carter take care of Biggio?

CALI: Because even though he's my brother and I love him, I can't trust him to take care of my cat.

MICHAEL: Okay. Sure.

CALI: Hey, if you wanted, you could just bring him over here. It'd be easier.

JASON: Can't. Angela's allergic to cats.

MICHAEL: How do you -- nevermind.

CALI: Oh. Well. There goes that. Now take me me to lunch. I haven't eaten all day.

MICHAEL: All right. You want to go, Jason?

JASON: No, I'm fine.

CALI: See ya later, Jason.

JASON: Later.

Michael and Cali leave.

Jason tosses the controller aside. He stands, stretches.

He sees the phone on the couch. He picks it up, and as he does, the lights dim slighty: it's the return of Flashback Lighting, which we last saw in episode three.

The front door opens and Rebecca and Patrick walk in.

REBECCA: Call her yet?

JASON: No.

PATRICK: Aw, come on. You've been staring at the phone for hours now. Just get it over with.

JASON: Yeah.

REBECCA: She's probably sitting there waiting for you.

JASON: I doubt Cassie Robertson is waiting for me to call her.

REBECCA: She might be. She likes you.

JASON: Yeah.

REBECCA: She does. Now, stop moping and call her. Here, give me the phone, I'll do it.

JASON: No.

She lunges for it, he pulls back.

REBECCA: I was just going to dial.

JASON: I'll handle it, thanks.

REBECCA: You're overthinking things, which you always do. Just stop thinking and call her.

The front door opens again. Michael and Carter walk through.

PATRICK: Hey. Where's Louis?

MICHAEL: He'll be here in a few minutes.

CARTER: Aw, man, have you still not called this girl?

JASON: I'm working on it.

Carter makes chicken noises.

PATRICK: Hey, leave him alone.

CARTER: "Leave him alone!" Yeah yeah. Just stop being a coward, fucking call her already. I want to get to this movie on time.

The door opens yet again, and Louis enters.

LOUIS: Wassup?

CARTER: We're standing around waiting for Romeo here to stop being such a chickenshit and call this girl of his.

LOUIS: Cassie?

PATRICK: Yeah.

LOUIS: She's going with Corey.

JASON: McCartney?

LOUIS: Yeah. He told me in class today.

JASON: ...Oh.

CARTER: What did I tell you?

MICHAEL: Back off, Carter.

REBECCA: Sorry, Jason.

JASON: It's all right. Didn't really want to go anyway.

CARTER: Yeah. Right. Of course.

PATRICK: Come on, let's go.

CARTER: "Come on, let's go." Yeah. Please.

Everyone but Jason heads to the door. Patrick gives Rebecca a "what the hell" gesture and points at Carter; she just shakes her head and pats his shoulder. She turns back to Jason.

REBECCA: You coming?

JASON: Yeah. I'm just gonna tell my dad we're leaving.

REBECCA: Okay.

Carter makes more chicken noises. Louis laughs. They all exit.

As the door closes, the lights come back up.

Jason is still for a moment.

JASON: And thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought.

He tosses the phone back onto the couch and exits to the hallway.


Scene 2 -- the video store, around 4:30

We remember the video store from episode two.

Rebecca is looking through the shelves. Angela's on her cell phone.

ANGELA: No, not yet, Rebecca's taking me over there when we get done here....I don't know, they were supposed to call me, but they didn't....I hope it's ready. But I don't know....Okay, now you're sure you don't want anything?...Okay, suit yourself....Huh?....Yeah....Yeah, sure. I can do that....All right. Later.

She hangs up.

ANGELA: Patrick doesn't want anything.

REBECCA: I don't see it.

ANGELA: I'm sorry, what are we looking for again?

REBECCA: The third season of The X-Files.

ANGELA: Doesn't Jason have that one?

REBECCA: No, he was one, two, four, five, and six.

ANGELA: Oh.

REBECCA: And I was watching two yesterday, and the last episode ends with a cliffhanger.

ANGELA: Oh, I hate cliffhangers.

REBECCA: Yeah, me too. Which is why we're here. To find the third season, so I can see the resolution.

ANGELA: And it's not here.

REBECCA: Doesn't look like it.

They look some more.

ANGELA: So Patrick's CD is really good.

REBECCA: Yeah.

ANGELA: He needs a better bass player, though.

REBECCA: Yes, he does. Chad's a moron.

ANGELA: Why don't you play bass for him?

Rebecca stops looking at the movies and glares at Angela.

REBECCA: I don't play anymore.

ANGELA: Maybe you could pick it up again

REBECCA: I don't think so.

ANGELA: You should. You guys sounded really good together.

REBECCA: ...Did we even know you when we played together?

ANGELA: No.

REBECCA: He asked you say all that?

ANGELA: Yeah.

REBECCA: Uh-huh.

ANGELA: He said you sounded good together.

REBECCA: I'm sure he did.

ANGELA: Well. I tried. As I was asked.

REBECCA: Gave it your best shot.

They both turn their attention back to the movies.

ANGELA: You think Jason's okay?

REBECCA: Jason?

ANGELA: He seemed kind of out of it.

REBECCA: Had a bad trip, I guess.

ANGELA: I guess.

REBECCA: As long as he's not moping around the house quoting Hamlet, he's probably fine.

ANGELA: Yeah.

They look some more.

REBECCA: Dammit, I don't see it.

ANGELA: You didn't tell him what we talked about, did you?

REBECCA: What? No. Of course not.

ANGELA: Okay. I didn't think so, I just...

REBECCA: You just...?

ANGELA: Well, he was behaving oddly. And I thought...I don't know.

REBECCA: He just had a bad trip. That's all. He'll be over it in a few days, once he gets it all out of his system.

ANGELA: Right.

They look some more.

ANGELA: And you're sure he hasn't said anything to you?

REBECCA: Okay. First of all, we talked about this last night.

ANGELA: Yeah.

REBECCA: Second of all, if he had told me, he would've told me not to tell anyone, wouldn't he?

ANGELA: Yeah.

REBECCA: So what makes you think I'd betray a confidence and tell you about it? I mean, whether he's said anything to me or not, my answer has to be "no," doesn't it?

ANGELA: Yes.

REBECCA: Okay then.

ANGELA [playfully; not hostile]: You answered that very carefully.

REBECCA: ...I spoke only the truth.

ANGELA: Oh, I know you did.

REBECCA: Are you saying I'm hiding something?

ANGELA: No. And I guess if you were, I'd understand it.

REBECCA: Uh-huh.

ANGELA: I don't know, I've been thinking about it. And the more I do, the more ridiculous it seems.

REBECCA: Ridiculous?

ANGELA: Yeah. Jason and I see each other constantly -- hell, I've been living in his house for months. I can't see him keeping this a secret for this long.

REBECCA: Really?

ANGELA: Yeah. It doesn't seem like he'd able to. To me.

REBECCA: I see.

They look some more.

REBECCA: Has Jason ever told you about his eyes?

ANGELA: Huh?

REBECCA: He has this thing wrong with his eyes, has he ever told you about it?

ANGELA: No.

REBECCA: It's called muscae vola...vila... oh, hell, I can't remember what it's called. But it's these little shadows and shapes and stuff that float around in his field of vision.

ANGELA: Really?

REBECCA: Yeah. It's caused by debris or something floating around on the inside of his eyeball, between the lens and the retina. So he always sees these black shapes and squiggly things.

ANGELA: Jesus.

REBECCA: He says it's not debilitating or anything, it's just extremely annoying. It makes it hard for him to focus sometimes. Says he gets distracted by them easily, 'cause apparently they move when he moves his eyes. You can imagine how that would be a distraction.

ANGELA: How long has he had it?

REBECCA: As long as he can remember.

ANGELA: He's never said anything about it.

REBECCA: When we were in second grade, he decided to bring it up at recess. He didn't know any better, I guess, he thought everyone saw these little floaty shapes. So he starts talking about the black specks in the sky or something, and everyone just started laughing. They thought he was seeing things; someone accused him of having imaginary insect friends. I mean, I suppose I can understand at some level -- even I didn't know what the hell he was talking about.

ANGELA: Yeah.

REBECCA: They made fun of him for years. Even after he learned what it was he was seeing and explained it everyone. They still remembered and still mocked it for it once in awhile.

ANGELA: Wow.

REBECCA: My point is...he's learned how to keep secrets. He's learned what happens when they're revealed. Learned the hard way.

ANGELA: ...Right.

REBECCA: So. Let's get out of here. They obviously don't have it.

ANGELA: Yeah.

They make for the door.

ANGELA: Why did you tell me that story?

Rebecca shrugs

REBECCA: Don't know. Just saying...maybe he's better at keeping secrets than you think.

ANGELA: He has said something to you, hasn't he?

Rebecca looks at her for a long moment.

REBECCA: No.

ANGELA: ...Okay.

REBECCA: Come on, let's go get your car.

ANGELA: Yeah.

They leave.


Scene 3 -- the house, a short time later

Michael's on the couch, reading a magazine. Cali is sitting next to him, listening to Patrick (in the chair nearest the door) play guitar. He's playing -- and singing, in a quiet, subdued voice -- the Guns N' Roses song "Patience." This is the first time we've heard him really play, and he's pretty good.

Cali provides backing vocals and some comically exaggerated swaying arms while Michael watches in amusement. Cali has Patrick's CD in her hand.

The song ends. Cali applauds.

PATRICK: Thank you.

CALI: Is that on your CD?

PATRICK: No.

CALI: It should be.

PATRICK: It's not my song. The CD is just my songs.

CALI: Oh. I see. When are you going to do another show?

PATRICK: That's a good question.

CALI: Gonna get Rebecca to play bass for you again?

PATRICK: Not if she has anything to say about it.

The front door opens. Rebecca and Angela enter. Rebecca looks somewhat upbeat. Angela looks devastated.

REBECCA: California girl!

CALI: Rebecca. What's up?

REBECCA: Nothing. You come over to make Patrick play "Patience" for you again?

CALI: And bitch about my brother.

REBECCA: Yeah, Michael's a pretty big pain in the ass.

MICHAEL: The razor-sharp wit of Rebecca Morgan.

REBECCA: Appearing nightly. How's Anthony?

CALI: He's all right. Hates his job. Hates Carter.

REBECCA: I can sympathize.

CALI: With hating his job, or hating Carter?

REBECCA: I plead the fifth.

CALI: Right. Hey, Angela.

ANGELA: Hey. My mom told me to tell you that you're far too young to be married.

CALI: Oh, really? Gee, no one's ever said that to me before. And you know, now that you mention it, gosh, she's right. Know any good divorce lawyers?

The gang laughs, except for Angela.

PATRICK: What's wrong?

ANGELA: With me?

PATRICK: Yeah.

ANGELA: Everyone in the world needs to die.

REBECCA: Hey, that's my line.

MICHAEL: Did you get your car?

ANGELA: No. It's not going to be ready for another week.

PATRICK: What's wrong with it?

ANGELA: Some...thing is broken. Something else is out of alignment, which is causing something else to rattle and screw up...something else. I don't know, I swear the guy was speaking Klingon when he's describing this stuff to me.

PATRICK: How much is it going to cost?

ANGELA: Two thousand dollars.

Everyone but Rebecca -- who's heard this already -- reacts with shock and horror.

ANGELA: Plus, I had a pretty crap day at work. I kept spacing out, I guess, and Maggie was riding my ass all day about it, because I wasn't demonstrating enough "dedication" to the company, or whatever.

PATRICK: Didn't you come in on your day off yesterday to go to a meeting so you could make her look more important?

ANGELA: I thought about mentioning that.

MICHAEL: I would have.

ANGELA: Not to mention the fact that I think I'm getting Rebecca's cold. And I have the worst headache ever.

MICHAEL: We've got some stuff for headaches. In the kitchen. Bottles and bottles and bottles.

ANGELA: Yeah? Good. I think I'm going to take some and go to sleep for about six years.

She walks, zombie-like, to the kitchen.

REBECCA: Where's Jason?

MICHAEL: His room. I think he's working on that game of his.

REBECCA: Ah.

ANGELA [offstage]: Michael!

MICHAEL: Top cabinet, over the sink.

ANGELA [offstage]: Thanks!

REBECCA: So, Patrick. Remember the Weaver twins, from high school?

PATRICK: Marci and Dawn. I think every male in the zip code remembers them.

MICHAEL: Indeed.

REBECCA: Well. They're throwing a huge party for their birthday next month.

PATRICK: Yeah?

REBECCA: Yep. Ran into Dawn this morning, she told me about it.

PATRICK: Uh-huh.

REBECCA: Said there's going to be something like three hundred people there.

PATRICK: Uh-huh.

REBECCA: She said they were looking for a band to play the party.

PATRICK: Uh-huh.

REBECCA: I said I knew of a pretty good one that would jump at the chance.

PATRICK: Did you?

REBECCA: Yep. Do you remember anyone from Blue Sun's phone number?

PATRICK: Ha. Ha. Ha.

She hands him a card.

REBECCA: There's her phone number. Call her.

PATRICK: I will. Thank you.

Angela comes back in, glass of water in hand. She leans on the wall near the kitchen door and closes her eyes.

ANGELA: Ah, Excedrin, how I love thee.

Jason becomes visible in the hallway. He looks around, sees everyone. Sees Angela. Takes a deep breath. Walks in.

REBECCA: Hey, Jason.

He doesn't answer.

He walks over to Angela, who still has her eyes closed.

JASON: Hey, Angela.

ANGELA: Hey, Jason.

JASON: Can I talk to you for a second?

ANGELA: Sure.

JASON: Um...

Michael jumps to his feet.

MICHAEL: Uh, Jason, she's had a rough day, why don't you wait 'til later. In fact, let's all go out for a while, let Angela lie down, take a nap.

Cali and Patrick look at him like he's crazy. Rebecca less so. Angela opens her eyes, but looks a little out of it.

JASON: Thank you, Michael, but if I don't say this now, I never will.

MICHAEL: Jason...

JASON: Angela...

ANGELA: Yeah?

Patrick puts his guitar down and walks over next to Michael.

JASON: I'm in love with you.

Michael flinches.

Cali gasps, her eyes wide.

Rebecca bites her lower lip.

Angela blinks back at Jason.

Jason looks back with a face of steel.

ANGELA: ...Well...

She looks around the room. No one else is breathing. She looks back to Jason.

ANGELA: ...shit.

Discreetly, Patrick reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ten-dollar bill. He gives it to Michael, who, with equal discretion, puts it in his pocket.

Lights out.


(Note: the medical condition Rebecca can't quite remember is muscae volitantes. The condition is real. More info can be found here.)