p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"Chapter Seven - Confession/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"It had been ten days since Benjy woke up, and Adrian had, by and large, avoided visiting him while he was awake or unoccupied. He'd spoken with Sharona and with Benjy's doctors in the halls. Checked on the guards he was still paying, but couldn't face his young friend. He'd stood over him while he slept, studying his face, trying to control the sheer relief and joy he felt at Benjy's rapid and remarkable progress. Adrian was too ashamed over his failure in solving the case thus far, and guilt still rode him over the fact it had been his fault Benjy was hurt, to see him while he was awake or alone./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"Benjy had been moved to a semi-private room away from the ICU, and he was doing well. Currently without a roommate, the second bed in his room was occupied by a sleeping Sharona; Adrian could see the spill of blonde curls peeking out from under a pink blanket and over the white linens. The soft wisteria scent she always wore wafted towards him, and for a long moment, he watched the blanket rise and fall with her even breathing. Although it was barely ten am on a Saturday, several of Benjy's school friends were visiting again. Adrian tried to allow the boy his privacy, but his curiosity got the better of him. Stephen, Matt, and Charlie were their names, Adrian recalled. The four boys were as thick as thieves; there were two others that were only peripherally part of this close-knit group, those two Adrian only recognized by sight on most occasions and they were absent today./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"The middle school gossip bored him, but a snatch of conversation about some kid who got Benjy's place on the basketball team and was gloating about it around school saying Benjy wouldn't have made it in any case caught his attention. The tone of the boys' voices and their expressions were telling more of a story than their words. They were happy to see their friend getting better, eager to tell their stories of the past few weeks and to "tattle" on another friend. Even barely understanding the rudiments of the sport of basketball, it was clear to Adrian that Benjy was quite good. Adrian had seen that for himself in games of years past and again at the tryouts the previous month. Benjy had talked him into coming along to keep Sharona company and to cheer him on. Adrian had paid less attention to Benjy's athleticism that day than to the father of one of his competitors who kept eyeing Sharona and talking to her. He'd been wearing a wedding band but was still making obvious and suggestive remarks to her. After a while, Adrian made Sharona switch seats with him to put some space between the offensive oaf and her, and then finally, he made them move two sections away from the creep, with some transparent excuse about the lighting and not being able to see Benjy. Sharona hadn't had to be asked twice, obvious excuse or not, she had been glad to get away from the guy./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"Now, Adrian walked further into the sterile room quietly, listening; wondering… still unsure of the sports talk, while the underlying theme was piquing his curiosity. He also heard about that other kid being grounded…apparently for something he'd taken without permission. Adrian disliked rule breakers – and if Adrian was recalling correctly, the boy in question was like his father, sloppy, messy, and loud – not one of his favorites amongst Benjy's friends. He also recalled the father of the punished boy being the one who made inappropriate overtures to Sharona at the tryouts, which at first she rebuffed politely, but later rebuffed with distaste and anger. The creep was uncouth enough to openly come on to a woman not his wife in front of his child. The boy had been visibly upset and angry, although whether he was upset or angry with his father, Sharona, at whom he glowered, or Benjy who Adrian noticed he'd deliberately tripped on the basketball court, Adrian didn't know. Something in his mind clicked, and he felt the pieces of his puzzle slide more comfortably into place. He was getting to an idea...making a connection…but it was still going too slowly for his taste. He shook off the memory and refocused on Benjy./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"When Benjy noticed him, his face lit up, Adrian smiled tightly and walked to the far side of the bed… furthest from the offensive looks and scents of those pre-teenage boys. When they saw Monk, there were mumbled greetings./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Hi, Mr. Monk."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Gotta get going…"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Mom said 'be home for lunch,'" and the three shuffled out of their chairs in their over-large jeans and sloppy baseball caps. Adrian was grateful that Benjy didn't dress like that too often. In fact, he was proud to be seen with a boy like Benjy, tall for his age, he ate his share of junk, but playing basketball and baseball kept him thin. He dressed neatly and appropriately, often he didn't even wear jeans. He was a good boy, and Sharona had done an amazing job raising him on her own. He had clean, neat clothes, the "in" sneakers and he loved music and old movies, good food, and sports./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"She provided for him – even when I forgot or pretended to forget to pay her - and she did it without bemoaning her single-parent status. She'd done it almost entirely on her own his whole life. No matter how she suffered, or debased herself, or had to deny herself, Benjy had never experienced a moment that Adrian was aware of where he lacked food, clothes, love, or security. Benjy was her world and I almost ruined that, he thought with his blanket of self-loathing firmly in place. I nearly cost her this love, this life, this person she made and perfected. Why did I ask her to leave him behind? My fault. My fault. My fault. Adrian tried to erase that from his mind, he had other things to discuss with his young friend Benjy. Little did he know what Benjy had in store for him./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"As the boys made plans for another visit and bade Benjy farewell, Adrian turned to look at Sharona, peaceful, sleeping well for probably the first time in weeks. She was lovely in repose, her breathing regular, and her expression serene. His heart flipped over in his chest and simultaneously he felt the unfamiliar impulse to reach out and touch someone…no, to touch her specifically, to caress her cheek or run his hand through her springy, blonde curls… and before his common sense or his uncommon phobias could stop him… he did. He was so amazed by the softness of her cheek, the strength of bone under flesh which swept up her face and gave her the appearance of delicate porcelain that he forgot to worry about touching someone else's skin. She'd lost too much weight in the past few weeks, the hollows of her cheeks and the shadows under her eyes belied the strength that he knew lived under her flesh – that ran in her veins like liquid titanium. He hadn't voluntarily touched a woman's face for so long he almost forgot how pleasant it could be. He ran his fingers over the planes of her cheek and into her amazingly thick, curly hair, and warmth flooded through him. The intimacy of observing her sleeping was novel for him and the minutiae didn't escape his notice… he was seeing the toll taken by the grave events of the past few weeks alongside how exquisite her small features were, even when her beautiful eyes were closed./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"At the same time, he was seeing the details of this complex woman whittled down to one word: devotion. As if it were written on the cheek he caressed so tenderly. Sharona was wholly devoted to Benjy. She hadn't left the hospital except briefly for the past few weeks. At first instinctively, and now from years of experience, he knew that she cared for him in an equally active and devoted way. She never left him for long – even her quitting lasted no longer than a day; it humbled him and thrilled him all at once to be cared for like that. Would it continue like this forever? Could it? Or would someone take her away from him, both emotionally and physically? He'd come close to losing her when Trevor had popped up out of nowhere, and although Sharona and Benjy had been hurt by getting their hopes up, Adrian was glad he'd been there to help them through that…although all he did was take them for a walk by the water and listen./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"Contrition was certainly not in his usual repertoire of stilted emotions, and yet his heart ached with the thought of what pain he'd caused her. They hadn't discussed it – they hadn't discussed much except Benjy's condition and prognosis and the case in the past several weeks. When there was nothing left to say, they'd just sat in silence. He'd felt the full burden of accountability in those quiet moments in the darkest parts of the days and nights in the hospital. He felt her eyes on him sometimes and heard the unspoken words of blame. He yearned to turn back the clock – definitely not the natural order of things but to go back and do that day again, to prevent the grief and sorrow./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Hi, Mr. Monk," said the plaster wrapped creature in the other bed cheerfully. Adrian retracted his hand from Sharona's cheek as if burned and turned to look at Benjy. He had new casts on his left arm and left leg that were chartreuse and tangerine, respectively. The lopsided signatures and drawings caused Adrian to itch, but he turned his attention to the smiling face that miraculously hadn't suffered more than a few scrapes and bruises. "I was wondering when you would come see me again, Mr. Monk. I've missed you. Where have you been?"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"Adrian sighed at the boy's candor and innate kindness, he was so much of Sharona; in that moment he understood it would have hurt him nearly as badly as it would have Sharona to have lost him. The truth of it was …. Adrian loved him. Adrian Monk loved this boy as though he had raised him and loved him his whole thirteen years, eight months, and five days. In fact, he'd now known him more than a third of his young life, actually, closer to half of his whole life, Adrian realized, and it startled him. That was far longer than Benjy'd lived with his creep of a father, Trevor. Adrian had spent more time worrying, cheering, and, yes, loving this child than the man who had created him. But now it's my fault he's here at all, my fault./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"Adrian sat then and began to rearrange the items on the bedside table before he answered. Books, cups, basketball cards, electronic games, and get-well cards ended up aligned like rows of corn in a Kansas field. "I- I've missed you too, Benjy. So much. More than I could have imagined." He smiled at the boy – one of his rare, real smiles. "I have something to confess to you Benjy, and I'm…well, I'm afraid it's going to make you stop liking me and maybe stop being my friend."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""I doubt it, Mr. Monk," he looked sympathetically at his hero. He gazed thoughtfully at the detective with his mother's aquamarine eyes for a moment, the woman's empathy mixed with the boy's hero-worship. Adrian felt confused, yet oddly comforted that there was another person in the world that could look at him with that same insight and acceptance. "Mom told me that you'd probably feel guilty and ashamed that it was your fault that I stayed behind that day. But she also said it wasn't your fault and it was silly to feel guilty, you didn't want me to get hurt."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""She… she did?"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Yes." With just that one word, his guilt should have been absolved, but he was going to carry it until he could solve this case. His hopes rose to think Sharona didn't speak badly of him to Benjy, no matter what she truly thought. His hopes sank when he realized that could be just a mother's way…she'd never spoken badly about Trevor to Benjy until two years ago when he'd broken both their hearts once again./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Benjy, I also… I also want to confess that I'm not sure I will be able to solve this case. It's been difficult, my feelings for you … about you …and your mother, too…nothing makes sense… it's… it's made this the second most difficult case I've ever investigated." Adrian's shoulders slumped in defeat and resignation./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""You mean second after Mrs. Monk's murder?" the child asked guilelessly./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"Adrian's head snapped up. "Yes, but how… how… did you…" he trailed off, unable to complete his thought./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Face it, Mr. Monk, I've been in the backseat a lot for over five years… watching you and mom do your work. I may love my Gameboy, but I also listen really well. I know people say you're different since your wife died./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""And I'm not dumb; I know you're not like other people – even though I didn't know you before – well, before. I think you're much better though than most other people. You're really smart; Mom says that all the time. You listen to me, you believe me when I tell you that I'm telling the truth. I also know that you're getting better all the time. Mom said you've been here every day, even though I didn't see you, no matter how you had to get here, no matter how much you hate blood and germs and hospitals." He smiled brightly at his idol./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""That's true, Benjy. But I owe any progress to Dr. Kroger and to your mother."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"In his infinite thirteen-year-old wisdom he said, "I don't think they were the only things that helped you, Mr. Monk. You helped you to be better."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"Adrian shifted in the uncomfortable chair, trying to find a place he could get comfortable, both in the damn chair and in his head. "And you Benjy. You – you've taught me that kids can be okay. More than okay, they can be – good, and kind… and clean…and special. Benjy, I will hate myself if I can't find out who did this to you. I want to for you and for your mother."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""I believe in you, Mr. Monk. I really do. We both do," the last part was spoken thoughtfully as he glanced at his sleeping mother across the room. "We talked about it this morning. We know you'll do your best, and if you can't find out, then probably no one could." Adrian didn't really have a reply to that so he simply nodded. To be believed in, to be someone's hero, was the greatest feeling. A new feeling. Adrian swallowed the lump in his throat that threatened to choke him. To know that Sharona still believed in him after the accident... He wished she would look at him again with the same mixture of admiration, humor, exasperation, and incredulity at what passed for Adrian Monk behavior that she wore on most days. It made him feel… understood./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Mr. Monk," Benjy lowered his voice, almost to a whisper. "I want to talk to you about mom." He inclined his head as far as he could toward the direction of Sharona's sleeping form./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""What? What is it?" He stage-whispered back and as alarm made his blood race, he sat up straighter./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""She isn't eating or sleeping too great, Mr. Monk. I'm worried about her." Adrian thought he couldn't love the kid more, but to see him be concerned about his mother the way she was concerned about him, it broke something free inside of him. It made him want someone to worry about him, someone he didn't pay to do it, and someone he could worry about in return. And in the deepest part of his heart and in the part of his brain he tried but failed, to master, he knew he wanted it to be Sharona and Benjy he worried about and who, in turn, worried about him. Benjy continued, "Can you help her Mr. Monk? Can you get her out of here? Take her somewhere to eat or to see a movie? She likes those sappy girly ones… or maybe rent The Wizard of Oz – it's her favorite… just make her go home… I'll be okay. Really. I swear./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""I know 'bout your 'things' with eating out or going out to public stuff, Mr. Monk. But she needs you. I need you. Can you help me help her?"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Sure…ah sure, Benjy, I'll do anything I can for her," he said with his stomach clenching and unclenching at the thought of a movie theater full of weeping women…but coming to the realization, the knowing, that he would do anything for her… just as she always had for him. Wanting, no, really needing, to do something for someone else …for someone he cared about… Kroger will be thrilled with the breakthrough. Adrian was terrified. His mind took off in several directions at once. Then, an idea struck him. It came to him as clearly as if he'd had the Chronicle in front of him./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"This morning he'd stopped pacing and counting ceiling tiles long enough to glance through the newspaper – one Sharona had said she'd scanned just to know what day of the week it was – Friday – he did it in order to get a grip on the insubstantial framework his days had suddenly taken on without Sharona's efforts. During his quick look earlier in the day he'd seen an ad for a play – a touring company of a show from New York City. Sharona would like that; he'd see if he could get tickets to the show about the witches of Oz…what was it called? emWicked/em. It was being performed at the Curran Theater on Geary Street. He pictured the ad in his mind's eye, it was designed as an optical illusion and he'd thought it clever when he glanced at the theater section with no plans to attend, just perusing everything to keep his observation skills and knowledge of current events sharp./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Yes, Benjy, I think I know just the thing to do for your mother."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Mr. Monk, can I ask you one more thing?"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Su-sure Benjy. Of course…of course."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Do you love my mother?"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"Startled by the question, Adrian paused before he said, "Of course I love her, Benjy, she's the best friend I've ever had…"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""No, I mean do you love-love her?"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Uh… uh...love-love..." Monk glanced uncomfortably over at Sharona. She was still sleeping serenely and involved, he hoped, in dreaming pleasant dreams. He wanted to do something that she would always remember…a gesture… something that wasn't for him, but for her… confessing his feelings; his real feelings would certainly be something that she would never forget. But that might be construed as about him, not about her…what if she was repulsed? What if she laughed? What if she cried? He decided to confess to her son, the next best thing… and perhaps a good practice run in saying it aloud…test it out to see how it felt to not only think it but claim it aloud./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Is it that transparent?"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""No," the boy replied, "but I've watched enough of those sappy girl-movies with mom to notice how the man looks at the woman he loves. You look at mom like that when you think no one is watching. But, like I said, I've been in the backseat for a lotta years." He grinned evilly at Adrian, "Maybe they should call that the front row."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""So…." Adrian drifted away from the conversation for a moment and thought of the possibilities of loving Sharona. Of claiming that love. Do I? Yes, I do. Definitely. Am I in love? If I am, it feels different this time, he thought. Is that right? Can there be more than one person we're able to love and each of those loves feels differently to us? The very thing he'd been trying to contain and hide now faced him – head-on. He had a choice… let his life continue on as it was – an existence that could barely be called a life, or explore the frightening unknown possibilities with love in his life again. It wouldn't be as quiet or neat or as simple as it had been with Trudy, certainly. It could be just as wonderful, though./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Mr. Monk? Mr. Monk?" Benjy drew him from his reverie. "I asked you if you love-love my mother."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"Adrian, eyes shining and crinkling at the edges, smiled his small, secretive smile, the real smile, the one he used so infrequently, but had now allowed to slip out twice in ten minutes. He whispered, "Yes Benjy, I do. I do love her, very much. I don't know when it happened, or how, but I do and I have got to go… I've got plans to make." He virtually dashed from the room… or whatever passed for dashing to Adrian Monk … first to the left and then he waved awkwardly through the glass window as he retraced his steps towards the right this time… waved again, and zipped towards the elevators as Benjy looked after him with a satisfied smile fixed on his face./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"At the elevators, he ran into Randy, bit-back his ever-present resentment of the young lieutenant, and asked for a favor./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Disher!" Randy looked up from his cell-phone conversation at Monk with surprise. He'd never seen the man this agitated and smiling at the same time./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"Randy hung up and said, "Hey, Monk, what's up…solve the case?"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"Adrian frowned, "No. Not yet I have some ideas, but nothing that we can actually use yet." That was true there were snatches of thoughts and ideas running around his mind, but nothing had coalesced quite yet. "Randy, do you know anyone who can get me a pair of tickets…good ones… to the Curran Theater for tonight?"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Yeah, probably. What's the occasion?"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Uh…well, I'm taking a friend out to make up for a colossal mistake."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Really?" Disher looked at him with the distinct impression that there was a lot more to the story./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Yes, really… I make mistakes." Usually, I don't correct them, or I ignore them…or Sharona fixes them… "This is one that needs to be corrected, by me – as soon as possible. So, can you help me?"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Yeah, yeah. Gimme a minute." Randy dialed the phone and spoke rapidly into the mouthpiece. He turned to Monk and said, "It's gonna cost ya a bundle."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""It's worth it," he said with more confidence than he actually felt, as Disher looked at him as though he'd gone around the bend. Alright, Randy amended in his head, further around the bend. Monk must really be in some hot water …for him to spend this kind of cash…unheard of – at least by Randall Disher./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"They agreed on Randy dropping the tickets by his place at three o'clock that afternoon and Adrian took his leave – he had more plans to make./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"It had been ten days since Benjy woke up, and Adrian had, by and large, avoided visiting him while he was awake or unoccupied. He'd spoken with Sharona and with Benjy's doctors in the halls. Checked on the guards he was still paying, but couldn't face his young friend. He'd stood over him while he slept, studying his face, trying to control the sheer relief and joy he felt at Benjy's rapid and remarkable progress. Adrian was too ashamed over his failure in solving the case thus far, and guilt still rode him over the fact it had been his fault Benjy was hurt, to see him while he was awake or alone./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"Benjy had been moved to a semi-private room away from the ICU, and he was doing well. Currently without a roommate, the second bed in his room was occupied by a sleeping Sharona; Adrian could see the spill of blonde curls peeking out from under a pink blanket and over the white linens. The soft wisteria scent she always wore wafted towards him, and for a long moment, he watched the blanket rise and fall with her even breathing. Although it was barely ten am on a Saturday, several of Benjy's school friends were visiting again. Adrian tried to allow the boy his privacy, but his curiosity got the better of him. Stephen, Matt, and Charlie were their names, Adrian recalled. The four boys were as thick as thieves; there were two others that were only peripherally part of this close-knit group, those two Adrian only recognized by sight on most occasions and they were absent today./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"The middle school gossip bored him, but a snatch of conversation about some kid who got Benjy's place on the basketball team and was gloating about it around school saying Benjy wouldn't have made it in any case caught his attention. The tone of the boys' voices and their expressions were telling more of a story than their words. They were happy to see their friend getting better, eager to tell their stories of the past few weeks and to "tattle" on another friend. Even barely understanding the rudiments of the sport of basketball, it was clear to Adrian that Benjy was quite good. Adrian had seen that for himself in games of years past and again at the tryouts the previous month. Benjy had talked him into coming along to keep Sharona company and to cheer him on. Adrian had paid less attention to Benjy's athleticism that day than to the father of one of his competitors who kept eyeing Sharona and talking to her. He'd been wearing a wedding band but was still making obvious and suggestive remarks to her. After a while, Adrian made Sharona switch seats with him to put some space between the offensive oaf and her, and then finally, he made them move two sections away from the creep, with some transparent excuse about the lighting and not being able to see Benjy. Sharona hadn't had to be asked twice, obvious excuse or not, she had been glad to get away from the guy./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"Now, Adrian walked further into the sterile room quietly, listening; wondering… still unsure of the sports talk, while the underlying theme was piquing his curiosity. He also heard about that other kid being grounded…apparently for something he'd taken without permission. Adrian disliked rule breakers – and if Adrian was recalling correctly, the boy in question was like his father, sloppy, messy, and loud – not one of his favorites amongst Benjy's friends. He also recalled the father of the punished boy being the one who made inappropriate overtures to Sharona at the tryouts, which at first she rebuffed politely, but later rebuffed with distaste and anger. The creep was uncouth enough to openly come on to a woman not his wife in front of his child. The boy had been visibly upset and angry, although whether he was upset or angry with his father, Sharona, at whom he glowered, or Benjy who Adrian noticed he'd deliberately tripped on the basketball court, Adrian didn't know. Something in his mind clicked, and he felt the pieces of his puzzle slide more comfortably into place. He was getting to an idea...making a connection…but it was still going too slowly for his taste. He shook off the memory and refocused on Benjy./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"When Benjy noticed him, his face lit up, Adrian smiled tightly and walked to the far side of the bed… furthest from the offensive looks and scents of those pre-teenage boys. When they saw Monk, there were mumbled greetings./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Hi, Mr. Monk."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Gotta get going…"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Mom said 'be home for lunch,'" and the three shuffled out of their chairs in their over-large jeans and sloppy baseball caps. Adrian was grateful that Benjy didn't dress like that too often. In fact, he was proud to be seen with a boy like Benjy, tall for his age, he ate his share of junk, but playing basketball and baseball kept him thin. He dressed neatly and appropriately, often he didn't even wear jeans. He was a good boy, and Sharona had done an amazing job raising him on her own. He had clean, neat clothes, the "in" sneakers and he loved music and old movies, good food, and sports./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"She provided for him – even when I forgot or pretended to forget to pay her - and she did it without bemoaning her single-parent status. She'd done it almost entirely on her own his whole life. No matter how she suffered, or debased herself, or had to deny herself, Benjy had never experienced a moment that Adrian was aware of where he lacked food, clothes, love, or security. Benjy was her world and I almost ruined that, he thought with his blanket of self-loathing firmly in place. I nearly cost her this love, this life, this person she made and perfected. Why did I ask her to leave him behind? My fault. My fault. My fault. Adrian tried to erase that from his mind, he had other things to discuss with his young friend Benjy. Little did he know what Benjy had in store for him./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"As the boys made plans for another visit and bade Benjy farewell, Adrian turned to look at Sharona, peaceful, sleeping well for probably the first time in weeks. She was lovely in repose, her breathing regular, and her expression serene. His heart flipped over in his chest and simultaneously he felt the unfamiliar impulse to reach out and touch someone…no, to touch her specifically, to caress her cheek or run his hand through her springy, blonde curls… and before his common sense or his uncommon phobias could stop him… he did. He was so amazed by the softness of her cheek, the strength of bone under flesh which swept up her face and gave her the appearance of delicate porcelain that he forgot to worry about touching someone else's skin. She'd lost too much weight in the past few weeks, the hollows of her cheeks and the shadows under her eyes belied the strength that he knew lived under her flesh – that ran in her veins like liquid titanium. He hadn't voluntarily touched a woman's face for so long he almost forgot how pleasant it could be. He ran his fingers over the planes of her cheek and into her amazingly thick, curly hair, and warmth flooded through him. The intimacy of observing her sleeping was novel for him and the minutiae didn't escape his notice… he was seeing the toll taken by the grave events of the past few weeks alongside how exquisite her small features were, even when her beautiful eyes were closed./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"At the same time, he was seeing the details of this complex woman whittled down to one word: devotion. As if it were written on the cheek he caressed so tenderly. Sharona was wholly devoted to Benjy. She hadn't left the hospital except briefly for the past few weeks. At first instinctively, and now from years of experience, he knew that she cared for him in an equally active and devoted way. She never left him for long – even her quitting lasted no longer than a day; it humbled him and thrilled him all at once to be cared for like that. Would it continue like this forever? Could it? Or would someone take her away from him, both emotionally and physically? He'd come close to losing her when Trevor had popped up out of nowhere, and although Sharona and Benjy had been hurt by getting their hopes up, Adrian was glad he'd been there to help them through that…although all he did was take them for a walk by the water and listen./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"Contrition was certainly not in his usual repertoire of stilted emotions, and yet his heart ached with the thought of what pain he'd caused her. They hadn't discussed it – they hadn't discussed much except Benjy's condition and prognosis and the case in the past several weeks. When there was nothing left to say, they'd just sat in silence. He'd felt the full burden of accountability in those quiet moments in the darkest parts of the days and nights in the hospital. He felt her eyes on him sometimes and heard the unspoken words of blame. He yearned to turn back the clock – definitely not the natural order of things but to go back and do that day again, to prevent the grief and sorrow./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Hi, Mr. Monk," said the plaster wrapped creature in the other bed cheerfully. Adrian retracted his hand from Sharona's cheek as if burned and turned to look at Benjy. He had new casts on his left arm and left leg that were chartreuse and tangerine, respectively. The lopsided signatures and drawings caused Adrian to itch, but he turned his attention to the smiling face that miraculously hadn't suffered more than a few scrapes and bruises. "I was wondering when you would come see me again, Mr. Monk. I've missed you. Where have you been?"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"Adrian sighed at the boy's candor and innate kindness, he was so much of Sharona; in that moment he understood it would have hurt him nearly as badly as it would have Sharona to have lost him. The truth of it was …. Adrian loved him. Adrian Monk loved this boy as though he had raised him and loved him his whole thirteen years, eight months, and five days. In fact, he'd now known him more than a third of his young life, actually, closer to half of his whole life, Adrian realized, and it startled him. That was far longer than Benjy'd lived with his creep of a father, Trevor. Adrian had spent more time worrying, cheering, and, yes, loving this child than the man who had created him. But now it's my fault he's here at all, my fault./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"Adrian sat then and began to rearrange the items on the bedside table before he answered. Books, cups, basketball cards, electronic games, and get-well cards ended up aligned like rows of corn in a Kansas field. "I- I've missed you too, Benjy. So much. More than I could have imagined." He smiled at the boy – one of his rare, real smiles. "I have something to confess to you Benjy, and I'm…well, I'm afraid it's going to make you stop liking me and maybe stop being my friend."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""I doubt it, Mr. Monk," he looked sympathetically at his hero. He gazed thoughtfully at the detective with his mother's aquamarine eyes for a moment, the woman's empathy mixed with the boy's hero-worship. Adrian felt confused, yet oddly comforted that there was another person in the world that could look at him with that same insight and acceptance. "Mom told me that you'd probably feel guilty and ashamed that it was your fault that I stayed behind that day. But she also said it wasn't your fault and it was silly to feel guilty, you didn't want me to get hurt."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""She… she did?"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Yes." With just that one word, his guilt should have been absolved, but he was going to carry it until he could solve this case. His hopes rose to think Sharona didn't speak badly of him to Benjy, no matter what she truly thought. His hopes sank when he realized that could be just a mother's way…she'd never spoken badly about Trevor to Benjy until two years ago when he'd broken both their hearts once again./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Benjy, I also… I also want to confess that I'm not sure I will be able to solve this case. It's been difficult, my feelings for you … about you …and your mother, too…nothing makes sense… it's… it's made this the second most difficult case I've ever investigated." Adrian's shoulders slumped in defeat and resignation./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""You mean second after Mrs. Monk's murder?" the child asked guilelessly./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"Adrian's head snapped up. "Yes, but how… how… did you…" he trailed off, unable to complete his thought./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Face it, Mr. Monk, I've been in the backseat a lot for over five years… watching you and mom do your work. I may love my Gameboy, but I also listen really well. I know people say you're different since your wife died./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""And I'm not dumb; I know you're not like other people – even though I didn't know you before – well, before. I think you're much better though than most other people. You're really smart; Mom says that all the time. You listen to me, you believe me when I tell you that I'm telling the truth. I also know that you're getting better all the time. Mom said you've been here every day, even though I didn't see you, no matter how you had to get here, no matter how much you hate blood and germs and hospitals." He smiled brightly at his idol./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""That's true, Benjy. But I owe any progress to Dr. Kroger and to your mother."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"In his infinite thirteen-year-old wisdom he said, "I don't think they were the only things that helped you, Mr. Monk. You helped you to be better."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"Adrian shifted in the uncomfortable chair, trying to find a place he could get comfortable, both in the damn chair and in his head. "And you Benjy. You – you've taught me that kids can be okay. More than okay, they can be – good, and kind… and clean…and special. Benjy, I will hate myself if I can't find out who did this to you. I want to for you and for your mother."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""I believe in you, Mr. Monk. I really do. We both do," the last part was spoken thoughtfully as he glanced at his sleeping mother across the room. "We talked about it this morning. We know you'll do your best, and if you can't find out, then probably no one could." Adrian didn't really have a reply to that so he simply nodded. To be believed in, to be someone's hero, was the greatest feeling. A new feeling. Adrian swallowed the lump in his throat that threatened to choke him. To know that Sharona still believed in him after the accident... He wished she would look at him again with the same mixture of admiration, humor, exasperation, and incredulity at what passed for Adrian Monk behavior that she wore on most days. It made him feel… understood./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Mr. Monk," Benjy lowered his voice, almost to a whisper. "I want to talk to you about mom." He inclined his head as far as he could toward the direction of Sharona's sleeping form./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""What? What is it?" He stage-whispered back and as alarm made his blood race, he sat up straighter./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""She isn't eating or sleeping too great, Mr. Monk. I'm worried about her." Adrian thought he couldn't love the kid more, but to see him be concerned about his mother the way she was concerned about him, it broke something free inside of him. It made him want someone to worry about him, someone he didn't pay to do it, and someone he could worry about in return. And in the deepest part of his heart and in the part of his brain he tried but failed, to master, he knew he wanted it to be Sharona and Benjy he worried about and who, in turn, worried about him. Benjy continued, "Can you help her Mr. Monk? Can you get her out of here? Take her somewhere to eat or to see a movie? She likes those sappy girly ones… or maybe rent The Wizard of Oz – it's her favorite… just make her go home… I'll be okay. Really. I swear./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""I know 'bout your 'things' with eating out or going out to public stuff, Mr. Monk. But she needs you. I need you. Can you help me help her?"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Sure…ah sure, Benjy, I'll do anything I can for her," he said with his stomach clenching and unclenching at the thought of a movie theater full of weeping women…but coming to the realization, the knowing, that he would do anything for her… just as she always had for him. Wanting, no, really needing, to do something for someone else …for someone he cared about… Kroger will be thrilled with the breakthrough. Adrian was terrified. His mind took off in several directions at once. Then, an idea struck him. It came to him as clearly as if he'd had the Chronicle in front of him./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"This morning he'd stopped pacing and counting ceiling tiles long enough to glance through the newspaper – one Sharona had said she'd scanned just to know what day of the week it was – Friday – he did it in order to get a grip on the insubstantial framework his days had suddenly taken on without Sharona's efforts. During his quick look earlier in the day he'd seen an ad for a play – a touring company of a show from New York City. Sharona would like that; he'd see if he could get tickets to the show about the witches of Oz…what was it called? emWicked/em. It was being performed at the Curran Theater on Geary Street. He pictured the ad in his mind's eye, it was designed as an optical illusion and he'd thought it clever when he glanced at the theater section with no plans to attend, just perusing everything to keep his observation skills and knowledge of current events sharp./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Yes, Benjy, I think I know just the thing to do for your mother."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Mr. Monk, can I ask you one more thing?"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Su-sure Benjy. Of course…of course."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Do you love my mother?"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"Startled by the question, Adrian paused before he said, "Of course I love her, Benjy, she's the best friend I've ever had…"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""No, I mean do you love-love her?"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Uh… uh...love-love..." Monk glanced uncomfortably over at Sharona. She was still sleeping serenely and involved, he hoped, in dreaming pleasant dreams. He wanted to do something that she would always remember…a gesture… something that wasn't for him, but for her… confessing his feelings; his real feelings would certainly be something that she would never forget. But that might be construed as about him, not about her…what if she was repulsed? What if she laughed? What if she cried? He decided to confess to her son, the next best thing… and perhaps a good practice run in saying it aloud…test it out to see how it felt to not only think it but claim it aloud./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Is it that transparent?"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""No," the boy replied, "but I've watched enough of those sappy girl-movies with mom to notice how the man looks at the woman he loves. You look at mom like that when you think no one is watching. But, like I said, I've been in the backseat for a lotta years." He grinned evilly at Adrian, "Maybe they should call that the front row."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""So…." Adrian drifted away from the conversation for a moment and thought of the possibilities of loving Sharona. Of claiming that love. Do I? Yes, I do. Definitely. Am I in love? If I am, it feels different this time, he thought. Is that right? Can there be more than one person we're able to love and each of those loves feels differently to us? The very thing he'd been trying to contain and hide now faced him – head-on. He had a choice… let his life continue on as it was – an existence that could barely be called a life, or explore the frightening unknown possibilities with love in his life again. It wouldn't be as quiet or neat or as simple as it had been with Trudy, certainly. It could be just as wonderful, though./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Mr. Monk? Mr. Monk?" Benjy drew him from his reverie. "I asked you if you love-love my mother."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"Adrian, eyes shining and crinkling at the edges, smiled his small, secretive smile, the real smile, the one he used so infrequently, but had now allowed to slip out twice in ten minutes. He whispered, "Yes Benjy, I do. I do love her, very much. I don't know when it happened, or how, but I do and I have got to go… I've got plans to make." He virtually dashed from the room… or whatever passed for dashing to Adrian Monk … first to the left and then he waved awkwardly through the glass window as he retraced his steps towards the right this time… waved again, and zipped towards the elevators as Benjy looked after him with a satisfied smile fixed on his face./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"At the elevators, he ran into Randy, bit-back his ever-present resentment of the young lieutenant, and asked for a favor./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Disher!" Randy looked up from his cell-phone conversation at Monk with surprise. He'd never seen the man this agitated and smiling at the same time./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"Randy hung up and said, "Hey, Monk, what's up…solve the case?"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"Adrian frowned, "No. Not yet I have some ideas, but nothing that we can actually use yet." That was true there were snatches of thoughts and ideas running around his mind, but nothing had coalesced quite yet. "Randy, do you know anyone who can get me a pair of tickets…good ones… to the Curran Theater for tonight?"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Yeah, probably. What's the occasion?"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Uh…well, I'm taking a friend out to make up for a colossal mistake."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Really?" Disher looked at him with the distinct impression that there was a lot more to the story./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Yes, really… I make mistakes." Usually, I don't correct them, or I ignore them…or Sharona fixes them… "This is one that needs to be corrected, by me – as soon as possible. So, can you help me?"/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""Yeah, yeah. Gimme a minute." Randy dialed the phone and spoke rapidly into the mouthpiece. He turned to Monk and said, "It's gonna cost ya a bundle."/p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;""It's worth it," he said with more confidence than he actually felt, as Disher looked at him as though he'd gone around the bend. Alright, Randy amended in his head, further around the bend. Monk must really be in some hot water …for him to spend this kind of cash…unheard of – at least by Randall Disher./p
p style="margin-top: .14in; margin-bottom: .14in; line-height: 150%;"They agreed on Randy dropping the tickets by his place at three o'clock that afternoon and Adrian took his leave – he had more plans to make./p