CHAPTER TEN
Benjy groaned and rolled out of bed. His mother's alarm clock had gone off five minutes ago, and the loud rock music was still blaring from the tiny speakers. How could anyone sleep through that? he wondered as he made his way into her room.
It was apparent from the disheveled state of the sheets that Sharona had had a very restless night. I'll let her sleep, he resolved, hitting the off button.
Five hours and many unanswered phone calls later, a groggy Sharona opened her eyes. At that very instant, a shrill riiiiiing pierced her eardrums.
Pushing her hair off of her face, she hurried to the living room.
"H-Hello?"
"Sharona, are you all right?" demanded the very frantic man on the other end of the line.
"Yeah, I'm fine, Adrian," she replied through a yawn. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"I called fifteen times, Sharona, and you never answered! I tried your apartment, your cell phone. Where were you!"
"In bed. Sleeping . . . Listen, I have to get Benjy ready for school, so I'll-"
"Sharona," her boss interrupted, "Do you know what times it is? The school day's almost over."
Her face scrunched up in confusion. "What are you talking about, Adrian?" she questioned, straining her neck to read the clock in the kitchen. "It's one thirty."
Then, it hit her. "One thirty!" she shrieked, now wide-awake. "Oh, my God! I have a date to plan! R-Reservations to make! I'm going out with Adrian tonight! Damnit! Adrian, I-I can't talk right now, okay? I'll call you later! I . . ."
There was a long pause, followed by hysterical laughter.
"I'm sorry, Adrian," she apologized, sinking onto the couch. "I am so out of it. I was tossing and turning for hours, worrying about tonight. I'm really nervous," she admitted demurely. "I want everything to be perfect."
The detective was radiant. "It will be."
"You know, I've never been so enthusiastic about anything before, let alone a date. I was calling sitters last night. And after two people turned me down, I was getting a little frustrated. So, I told myself: Sharona, grovel if you have to, 'cause we are going out tomorrow. That being said . . . I'm gonna go start getting ready. I'll see you at six thirty. Oh, and Adrian?"
"Yes?"
"Be sure to put on something sexy," she purred.
Monk quivered at the tone of her voice. "I-I-I will. R-Right after I take a-a cold shower," he stammered, and hung up.
Sharona smiled to herself, quite pleased with his reaction. Now I know I can turn him on even when I'm not naked, she thought, returning the receiver to its holder.
There was much to do in the coming hours. At Adrian's request, she would take care of all the arrangements for the evening.
So far, she had accomplished three tasks: deciding on a time, finding a babysitter for Benjy, and choosing a restaurant. Next on the agenda was making the dinner reservation. However, this proved to be a rather difficult undertaking.
"Look, I don't see what the big deal is!"
Sharona was exasperated. She had been arguing with the host for a solid five minutes.
"Ma'am, I've already gone over this with you. We do not accept reservations," the disgruntled man said through clenched teeth.
"Well, can't you make an exception? Please? This is a very important night for me!"
A deep sigh was heard. "Ma'am, I cannot change our policy for you. And, even if I could, it's a Monday night. Reservations would not even be necessary!"
"Well, there must be something you can do. Look, why don't you, uh . . . take a little Post-It note and write down: Fleming, party of two, seven o'clock. Can you do that?"
The host felt as though he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The woman would simply not take no for an answer. "Fine! Done!" he growled, unwilling to lose his job over this ridiculously obstinate customer.
"Thank you very much," Sharona replied in a condescending tone. "Now, just one more thing. Karaoke is tonight, right?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"And it won't get canceled at the last minute?"
The host sucked in a huge gulp of air. "No, it will not get cancelled."
Sharona decided to stop pestering him. She was going overboard, and she knew it. "All right. That's all," she replied, ending the conversation.
With that taken care of, Sharona could finally nourish her rumbling stomach.
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What else should we do? she pondered, taking a sip of grapefruit juice. Play miniature golf? That might be fun. But then, she reconsidered. He might be lousy at it. What if he can't keep the ball on the course and it goes into those dirty, little pools of water? Guess who'll have to retrieve 'em? Me. Not only that, but I'd probably go through an entire package of wipes in an hour. She shook her head. Scrap that idea . . . What about a movie? There's a relatively cheap theater two blocks from the restaurant. I could get him to go for that. Hey, the man crawled into a sewer. I think it's safe to say he can handle a sticky floor.
Setting down her sandwich, she went to retrieve the newspaper from outside the door. "Oh, I've been dying to see this movie!" she remarked as she came upon an advertisement for a romantic film. And it's rated PG, so Adrian should be okay with it. No nudity or anything like that. She scanned the page for the times. Great. We can catch the eight thirty show. This works out fine.
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By the time she finished with her shower, Benjy was home. Her last order of business was telling the boy about her upcoming date. She wondered how her son would react. She hoped he wouldn't laugh. Not that she expected him to, but she seriously doubted that Benjy pictured his mother and her boss as a couple.
"Hi, Mom," he greeted her, dropping his bookbag onto the living room floor. "I see you finally got up."
She smiled at him. "I only slept tiLl one thirty," she said dryly, knotting the ties of her bathrobe.
"Oh, guess what? I don't have any homework tonight."
Two eyebrows arched in surprise. "Really?"
"Yeah. I finished it all in study period. That's the first time."
"You're doing so well in school lately! What's gotten into you?"
"I don't know. Maybe I've been hanging around Mr. Monk so long, I'm becoming a genius," he ribbed.
"Uh, speaking of Mr. Monk, there's something I have to tell you," Sharona began, leading the boy over to the couch.
"You didn't quit again, did you?" a displeased Benjy inquired.
"No, nothing like that. In fact, um, I promised him I'd never quit again."
"Really? That's great, Mom. I like Mr. Monk a lot."
He may actually like the idea of me and Adrian dating, she realized. Well, I'll find out soon enough. Clearing her throat, she straightened her posture and made direct eye contact with the boy. "I'm glad you like Mr. Monk, Benjy. I like him, too . . . In fact, I like him as . . . more than a friend. I like him as a-as a boyfriend. And, uh, I'm going out with him tonight. On a date."
At this news, the boy's eyes lit up and a huge grin spread across his face. "It's about time!" he cried.
The eyebrows rose again. "You're happy about this?"
"Of course! Why wouldn't I be? I think Mr. Monk's a pretty good catch. I mean, so what if he's a little . . . out there? He's got a lot of good points. He's nice, he cares about you, he'd never hurt you. Well, he won't break your heart or anything," he clarified, remembering his mother's injured wrist. "Plus, he can't live without you, which means he won't try to kill you . . . unlike some other guys you've gone out with," he added with an air of disapproval.
It was Sharona's turn to look dumbfounded. "Wow. I . . . Is this my twelve-year-old kid talking? Looks like you were right, kiddo. You are becoming a genius."
"Nah, I'm no genius, Mom. I'm just telling it like it is. So, what time does this, um, enchanted evening start?"
"Six thirty. But I gotta leave at six."
Benjy glanced at his watch. "Well, what are you sitting around talking for? Go get ready! Go on! Go! Go!" he urged, seizing his mother's arm and pulling her off the couch.
"Benjy, I've got two hours!"
"No, you don't. By the time you pick out something to wear, you'll only have two minutes! Go!"
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"Mom? Are you almost ready?"
No response.
Benjy had been right. Sharona was nowhere near ready and was even farther from almost ready. She still had to put on her make-up. She still had to fix her hair. But she couldn't do either of those things until she decided on an outfit. "He's seen me in all of my clothes," she muttered, tossing another dress onto the bed. "Then again, he's also seen me in none of my clothes."
Meanwhile, in another apartment twenty minutes away, a slightly agitated man sat on his bed, gazing at the photograph of his late wife on the nightstand.
"Hi, Trudy," he addressed his departed spouse, gently lifting the frame. A tender smile tugged at his lips. "I-I have a date tonight . . . with Sharona. I finally told her how I feel. And . . . And she feels the same way." A tear slid down his cheek. "I'm happy, Trudy. I'm very happy. And, uh . . . I don't feel guilty about that."
The detective heaved a sigh, wondering what else to say.
"She told me to, um, to wear something sexy. I don't own anything sexy, so I'm wearing this," he continued, referring to his navy blue suit. "You always liked me in this color. I thought she might, too."
He paused again.
"I'll always love you, Trudy. Nothing will ever change that. I promise," Adrian concluded, kissing the image of his beloved first wife before replacing it on the bedside table.
Back in Sharona's room, Adrian's date was putting the finishing touches on her make-up.
Her son pounded on the door. "Mom, come on! You're gonna be late!"
"I can't leave till the sitter gets here!"
"She is here! I let her in ten minutes ago! Hurry up!"
"Okay, okay. One minute," the jittery blond grumbled, grabbing her lipstick.
"I'm timing you!"
Fifty seconds passed. "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five-"
Before he could go on, the door opened and his mother appeared.
The boy stepped back to admire her. After twenty-three changes of clothes, she had finally settled on a knee-length, cream-colored sundress decorated with tiny violets. She had pulled her hair back on the right side, and a butterfly clip held several blonde ringlets in place.
"You look beautiful, Mom."
"Thanks," she replied as she started down the hall.
As she came into the living room, the nurse encountered a young redhead sitting on her sofa. "Hi, Sharona," the teenager greeted her.
"Hey, Megan. Listen, I'm really sorry this is such short notice."
"Oh, you don't have to apologize. I don't mind at all. I like Benjy."
"Well, I really appreciate this. I'll be home by eleven, eleven thirty at the latest."
Megan nodded. "That's fine."
Sharona then turned to her son. "Be good, huh?" she said, bending down so he could kiss her good-bye.
"I will. Just remember what I said. Mr. Monk's a good catch. Don't let him get away."
His mother laughed and rumpled his hair. "I don't plan to."
