FRONT-VIEW MIRROR
BY
BOB WRIGHT
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is simply a one-shot story that came to mind as I was thinking where to go next into the Monkiverse. The ending of this brief tale will set up the next full-length story you'll read from me concerning Monk, start time currently uncertain.
Again, it may help to skim through my previous stories to get an idea of why the things seen in this one are happening.
Adrian Monk and all related characters and indicia are registered trademarks of USA Network, Mandeville Films, and Touchstone Television. And now, as always (and probably forever too), sit back and enjoy the story.
Breaker ten nine, what are our road reports looking like at this hour?" Jack Monk radioed his dispatcher from the cab of his tractor trailer now roaring east on Interstate 78 near Summit, New Jersey.
"Uh,..." there was a bit of a pause as the dispatcher shuffled through several sets of maps that Jack knew she always left carelessly around the office, "Be alerted, ten five four, there's a big smash-up just passed the Summit Exit; advise to either get off at Summit and wait until jam clears or pull over and wait on the highway."
"Negatory," Jack told her, "I'll be pulling into the world-famous Summit Diner; yours truly hasn't eaten in eighteen hours at last check."
"Roger that, ten five four," the dispatcher approved the decision, "Just let us know when your enternal tanks are all full."
"Indeed, indeed. This is ten five four signing off," Jack took a deep long sigh as he flicked on the turn signal to get off at the Summit exit. It had been a very long day for him, especially around two when the police had called to inform him that his son was going to have to be charged for felony possession of marijuana--his third such offense in the last year. Jack was now wondering how much more with Jack Jr. he'd be willing to take before making the decision that had changed one early part of his life--just drive off and leave the kid to fend for himself. The difference now was that he probably would not be able to go ahead with it, now that he'd gotten that chance to have met Adrian for the first time in 38 years at Christmas.
Oh yes, he thought to himself, those had been the greatest days of his life lately, seeing that despite the distance and pain between them, his son could still love him with all his heart given time. If only his other (meaningful) son had been able to attend, he lamented; Ambrose would have made the reconnection complete. No matter, Jack thought, he had a plan fermenting in his mind right now that would get all his sons (provided that Jack Jr. cleaned himself up for good and got a lighter sentence, both of which Jack doubted) together with him. He'd have to set it up the next chance he had.
Sliding to a stop in front of the Summit Diner, he hopped down from the cab into the warm glow of the setting April sun. The diner seemed fairly crowded, and as Jack came inside, he could see why: there seemed to be a party of some sorts getting ready in one of the sections, which had been cordoned off. A widescreen TV was set up in the middle of the room. There was something about it that sounded intriguing to Jack, so when the waitress offered him smoking or non-smoking, he gestured for the closest booth to the area. From that position, he could glance around the dining section and took note of the signs taped to the wall saying HERE'S TO AT LEAST SIX YEARS ON THE AIR!! and the big ice cream birthday-style cake on the central table in the room labeled CONGRATULATIONS BENJY, TV WRITER EXTRAORDINAIRE!!! About two dozen people of all ages were milling around conversing. Something about the whole thing seemed strangely familiar...
"All right everyone, show time will be starting about one minute," announced a blond-haired woman that was walking through the cordon. With a huge smile on her face, she walked to a brown-haired boy that looked about fifteen to Jack and told him warmly, "Well, you're night's here. How does it feel?"
"Like I'M KING OF THE WORLD!!" the boy thrust his arms up in delight, "It's just too bad Mr. Monk couldn't be here too, Mom. I'd have like to have..."
"Well Benjy, you know Mr. Monk, you'd never be able to enjoy this party if he were here," she told him, "Putting his hands all over everything, rearranging every dial on the TV, bothering the waitresses for..."
"I get the point, Mom, OK?" Benjy held up his hands, "Can we get started?"
Jack spun around as far as he could in his booth; he knew what this was going to be about now. He couldn't have picked a better place to come for dinner. "Can I have your attention please?" the woman called to everyone else in the section. It took about a minute for them to calm down and take their seats at the tables and booths. "So, welcome here to the Summit Diner, where they have agreed to broadcast for us the first episode of the new television series that my son, my angel Benjy wrote all on his own."
"Mom!" Benjy gave her a playful shove.
"And from what I've been told from Mr. Kight in California, this show will get a full first season no questions asked," she continued, "If it does even quarter well, we're looking at an almost automatic season two. But enough from me, it's almost eight, so TEN, NINE, EIGHT...!!"
"SEVEN, SIX, FIVE..." Jack was on the edge of his seat himself. Confetti flew when the countdown reached zero, and the screen faded in on a white room. Jack leaned over the side of the booth to catch every word that might be said. The camera pulled back to reveal two people in the white room. One was the woman leading the evening's festivties before him just now (well, he knew it was an actress, but he knew whom that actress was playing). The other was none other than his again-beloved Adrian. And whoever was playing his son was spot-on in his portrayal.
He found himself getting up from his seat and wandering through the cordon. "Hey," he whispered to the brown-haired boy as he approached where he was now seated, "Who's that playing Adrian there?"
"Some guy from Wisconsin," Benjy informed him, "He was the one who understood him the best. Say, how do you know it's him?"
His mother had turned at the conversation and was now giving Jack a quizzical look as well. "My name's Jack Monk," the trucker informed him softly, "Adrian's my son."
"Oh my God," the mother couldn't suppress a gasp, "You're...you're really...?"
"Yes, I am," Jack told her, "Mind if I have a seat?"
She nodded, still looking shocked. Jack plopped down. "So, you must be, uh, it's Cherilyn, right?" he inquired, "Adrian mentioned something about..."
"Sharona," she corrected him, staring intently at him, "What brings you here? They didn't promote anything about this?"
"Just happened to be passing through," Jack glanced at the screen as the actor playing Adrian was busy getting ready for the day, "Looks like I really lucked out."
"My friend e-mailed me to say you'd met him again last Christmas," Benjy informed the man, "I hope you two are good together now."
"Oh yeah, we've made a good deal of progress," Jack admitted, "Really, meeting him again, a learned a few things about myself...how I wish I'd made a few different choices along the way now..."
"So why did you leave, then?" the boy had to know.
Jack looked down at the table. "I just had to get away," he admitted, "Everything was just too much at the time, between him and his mother. I felt too embarrassed to be around them then. So I decided one day to just go."
"Yep, typical man you are," Sharona mumbled, "Always taking the easy way out. Can't trust any of them."
"Hey!" Benjy protested.
"Well, most of them," she rubbed his hair.
"You ask about me leaving, how about...?" Jack started to say, but found himself transfixed by what was happening on the screen. For the next two hours, he watched with newfound delight at the depictions of his son's--HIS son's--exploits. It was almost as if it wasn't an actor playing the part, that it really was Adrian on the screen. He found himself laughing at the humor of various situations, almost sniffing when scenes of Trudy were shown, and ultimately clapping when Adrian solved the case of who'd (apparently) shot at the mayoral candidate and overcame his fears to chase down the bad guy in the sewers. And when the show finally ended, there were tears of pride rolling down his face. It was good to know his son had ended up doing well, and was now going to be a TV star as well.
"Wonderful, wonderful job, kid," he commended Benjy, shaking his hand, "You nailed him completely."
Sharona's cell phone rang at that moment. "Oh," she exclaimed upon seeing the number calling in. She held the phone toward Jack. "I think you should be the one to take this call," she told him, pressing the talk button and holding the phone toward her guest. Jack listened intently to a loud squeaking sound on the other end. "Mr. Monk, it's clean enough!" a familiar female voice was protesting on the other end.
"There's still a smudge there, it's for your own good," came an even more familiar voice, "You'll thank me later."
"Have I EVER thanked you later, Mr. Monk?"
"No, but I know sometime, somewhere, you will thank me later. Sharona, are you there?" the voice turned back to the phone.
"Adrian, it's me, your father," Jack informed him. There was a brief silence on the other end. "How'd...?" Adrian mumbled softly, "I...Ambrose, come quick."
There was a longer pause before another voice Jack hadn't heard in almost four decades whispered softly, "Dad?"
"Ambrose, my boy," the trucker greeted him, "You don't know how much it means to hear both my boys tonight--my real boys. I take it the two of you were watching the show too?"
"Dad?" Ambrose was still in shock, "I...I...I have all your mail here; I hope you're not mad or anything about...I'll have everything set for when you get in."
"I'm not coming in tonight, Ambrose," Jack admitted to him, "But it's good to know you're taking good care of yourself. Put Adrian back on."
Another pause came before Adrian's voice softly asked, "So, if you're there, you were watching...?"
"Yes, and I want you to know, Adrian, just how proud I am of all you've done," his father told him, "I want you to know I'll be watching this every week that it's on."
"You, you do know that it's just a show, Dad?" the detective informed him, "It's not really me."
"It's just as good as the real thing," Jack said, "Speaking of the real thing, actually, I've been thinking lately, Adrian, how would you like to go for another vacation--you and Ambrose this time?"
"What do you mean?" Adrian inquired.
"I've got a vacation coming up around the Fourth of July," the trucker told him, "I'm dropping my last shipment off in Philadelphia, then I was planning to spend about a week there. I wouldn't mind some company, if you two are available."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously, Adrian," his father said, "Since clearly I've got a long way to go to make up all the years away, I figure that's a good start as any."
"No catches?"
"None. Come on, Adrian, what do you say?"
Adrian paused on the other end of the line for a while before finally answering, "I'd, I'd really like that, Dad."
"Then I'll be in Philly on June 27th or so," Jack told him, "I'll give you more info as it gets closer. And be sure you share that bike with your brother, Adrian."
"Well, Dad, he's not going to need it in the house," Adrian pointed out, "Anyway, I've got to get going--there's been a bunch of throat-slashings in Golden Gate Park lately--but I want you to know how glad I am you saw the show tonight. take care of yourself out there on the road."
"I will," the trucker said, "Go get 'em, Adrian."
He hung up and handed the phone back to Sharona. "I can't tell you how good that felt," he informed her.
"Well, when you're in Philadelphia with him, do me a favor," she told him, "He STILL owes me about five grand in severence pay, and whether he's willing to believe it or not, I have a load of taxes to pay even with show income, and I'm not waiting another year and a half for it."
"Actually, if you want, you can tell him firsthand," Jack told her, "Consider yourselves formally invited to Philly as well; I want to know more about how things have been going with him from other people he's met too."
He glanced at his watch. "And I can't do that now," he continued, "Because I have to go back on schedule; they need a load of computer parts in Bridgeport within twelve hours. But I want you to know that it has been enjoyable to meet you."
"At least you're more appreciative of what I can do that Adrian was," the nurse groused, "But it was nice meeting you as well; you've answered at least a dozen questions about him he never told me--and raised about several dozen more."
Jack decided not to say anything to this. "Keep up the good work, kid," he gave Benjy's hand one final shake as he rose to his feet, "Like I told him over the phone, I'll be watching every week." He was still smiling as he walked out the diner's door to his truck. It had been a very worthwhile evening that had easily made up for his misery earlier in day. Now perhaps the road ahead would be clear for once in more ways than one...
THE END