Chapter Nine - Wicked
Adrian had decided, after much deliberation, checking of menus, calling the better business bureau, a serious internal debate over décor, and finally spot inspections of the final two choices, that they'd eat at a quiet French bistro that had been baptized "Christophe." It was on the second floor of an architecturally beautiful and admired old building in the theater district. It was decorated in warm peach hues; art covered the walls and flowers spilled from vases both on the reception desk and each table. It was appealing without being overwhelmingly fussy. It was located on Mason Street near enough to walk to the theater. He wanted everything to be easy tonight. At Christophe, his tomato allergy would be a non-existent problem; Italian food was always too difficult, French seemed more agreeable. The menu was filled with seasonal French dishes that to Adrian's mind appeared to have more modern, California-style influences than normally found in the snobby world of haute cuisine. He disliked unrecognizable food, so at Christophe, Adrian had approved of the menu, he'd found simple foods he recognized, but allowed for Sharona's daring spirit. Tonight, the menu included lobster ravioli with a chardonnay sauce, salmon Wellington, roasted duck, fresh fish, filet mignon, and marinated lamb tenderloin.
The weather was balmy and lovely for the fourth or fifth day in a row. The windows were thrown open to allow the restaurant to take advantage of the gorgeous climate of San Francisco. Conversation was desultory; they talked about Benjy and the case, the tutor that was coming to the hospital to help Benjy keep up with his schoolwork, the weather, and the possibility of a strike of the BART workers that would foul up commuting for normal nine-to-fivers in the city.
"That's why I'm glad I don't have a normal, boring job." Sharona grinned over her glass of Pinot Grigio at him. "I'd hate commuting… I like being in control of the places I go, and how I get there."
He nodded, "I'm glad you're in charge of how we go places too," he said with an ironic grin.
"Yeah, right."
"Okay, maybe I'm not ecstatic, but the work's still more…. fun… and interesting because you're there...because we're there together."
Sharona recalled a time when he'd said, "You weren't there when I turned around. I like it when you're there when I turn around." She smiled at the memory, happy that Adrian still wanted to be with her years later, that he still needed her…and wanted her there, even if it wasn't quite the way she wanted to be wanted.
Still, gratification coursed through her. "Cheers to that," she smiled again and raised her glass in a mock toast. He tilted his head in acknowledgment.
They discussed stopping by Aquarius Records before Benjy was released from the hospital. Sharona wanted to pick up a copy of the CD that Benjy had bought on that disastrous day to replace the one that was destroyed.
"Maybe we could replace it with the Velvet Underground or the Rolling Stones?" he asked hopefully. That led to a shared laugh over the current sad state of music. Then a spirited debate over classic rock music from the seventies arose. When a muzak version of a Pink Floyd song was piped in because the live pianist had gone on a break, Adrian winced. Sharona laughed at the expression on Adrian's face.
"God, will you listen to how someone with a computer can kill a fantastic piece of music?" Adrian complained. "It's just soulless."
"Yeah, it's really a shame. I remember the first time I heard this song… well, the real version…" she drifted off. Sharona's eyes had taken on a dreamy quality… clearly the memory wasn't one she was willing to share at the moment so he filled in the blanks on his own. Adrian could almost see the younger, girlish Sharona possibly lying on her bedroom floor, pink shag rug beneath her as she stared up at the day-glo stars she'd arranged in fanciful constellations on her ceiling. He could imagine Cheryl yelling for her to turn down the stereo as Comfortably Numb drifted through their house in southern New Jersey. He was able to create the images from the memory of pictures he'd seen in Sharona's photo albums. Maybe Trevor was with her, maybe she'd lost her innocence to him listening to this song… his overactive imagination got the better of him and he forgot actual chronology while his imagined scenarios made him annoyed.
Apparently, Sharona had decided to share the memory after all and said, "I was twelve. Same age as Benjy is now…" she smiled at the paradox. "Gail, tattletale that she was, was sleeping over at a friend's house…thank goodness," she sighed at the memory. "I did exactly what Benjy did the day of the accident. I snuck out of the house and went on my bike alone to the mall. There was a store called Record World… Hey, remember records?"
"Certainly," he smiled, this was one of few times Sharona had shared something of her childhood with him that was happy, and he didn't want it to end. The painful memories often gave him insight, but this just gave him pleasure.
"Well, I took my allowance…mostly from babysitting that bratty, tattletale Gail and bought 'The Wall.'"
"It's a great album."
She nodded in agreement. "After my mother went to bed, I took out the headphones and lay on the floor in our family room until I fell asleep listening to the albums over and over again."
So he'd been partly correct in his imagination, but this exchange made Adrian realize exactly how much older he was than Sharona; eleven years… but somehow it didn't seem to matter to her, so he was going to let it lie for the time being…why draw attention to another, more concealed flaw in an otherwise obviously flawed human being? Besides, even if he'd never quite gotten the hang of sixth grade or any other grade for that matter, music was one area where he had something in common with her. He also had it in common with the kids his age...even if he never was able to share it with any of them. He'd once told Sharona when they visited his brother in their childhood home, that he'd tried to fit in by hanging those posters and buying those albums from The Who and The Rolling Stones and Pink Floyd. But what he said that day hadn't been strictly true. He had genuinely liked the music, hadn't ever invited anyone home to his room to try and "fit in," and no one at school had ever known how he felt about anything, no less music. So, no, he hadn't tried to fit in, but in a weird way, he would have fit in with his peers anyway and, it was now apparent he also fit in with "kids" not his age. Too bad he'd only learned that now. His life might have been quite different. Apparently, and most importantly, Pink Floyd traversed the gap between Adrian and Sharona's teenage years. He also knew it spanned the time between then and now without sacrificing the luminous, haunting quality of their music.
"I wish I had known you then…" he said without really contemplating the words.
"Yeah? Why?"
"I – I'm not sure… I just wondered if we still… if we could have… if you'd…" he couldn't exactly say what he meant.
"If we…" Sharona tried to nudge him to say what he was thinking.
"Nothing. It's just interesting that we like the same music and things." They withdrew to their plates and water glasses. Throughout the meal, they spoke almost non-stop, even with Adrian's frequent retreats into his own mind. However, they spoke about everything except the things that really needed to be said.
"Adrian…Adrian." Sharona mildly scolded him for checking out of the conversation once again. He'd been doing that off and on throughout the meal. They'd talked a lot, but she'd had to prompt him to regain his attention several times. He was fidgeting and had that "uncomfortable in his own skin" thing going on… she knew the signs. He had something on his mind but had no earthly idea how to broach it. Since she had an idea of what he wanted to talk about, she decided to lead the way rather than wait and watch Adrian's antics. She placed her knife and fork on her plate to indicate she was through and pushed them an inch or so away from her so she could rest her elbows on the table and rest her chin in her hands.
"It wasn't your fault," she blurted without any preamble.
Adrian gave her a blank stare and then squinted his eyes. "Oh, no I know it isn't…who knew the duck wouldn't be to your liking?"
Sharona looked down with bafflement at her empty plate, "What? No. The duck was fine – better than fine, it was great. Adrian… I meant Benjy's accident. It wasn't your fault… I know you've been carrying this burden around, and I was so wrapped up and focused on Benjy and myself that I couldn't see what you were going through…"
This woman was a marvel, he thought…she felt bad because, during the middle of the most trying crisis in her own life, she hadn't been able to take a burden from him… "Sharona I…"
"Adrian. It. Was. Not. Your. Fault. I don't blame you, I wasn't angry with you….well except that day in the car, right after the argument, I was gonna quit again to try to get my way…but not since… I don't even think blame crossed my mind, I was just so wrapped up in Benjy's progress -"
It was he who interrupted her this time, "Sharona, it was my fault. I asked you to leave him behind. He'd never have been on the street if he hadn't been left at home with the sitter."
"If anyone is to blame at this point, Adrian, it's the idiot that did this to him…and maybe Benjy for being out on his scooter without finishing his math homework. But I can't blame him either. I just blame fate. Things happen. He's getting better, he will be better, he'll make up the school he missed – I'll help him, and he'll play basketball next year. His skull fracture will be completely healed by then, he'll buy other horrible rap CDs, he'll sneak out again. He's a boy. That's it." Next year. Next year…where would they be next year at this time? Benjy, possibly a half-foot taller, playing basketball, Adrian still the same… existing, living for the past, tied in knots with unexpressed emotions, Sharona helping him…working for him… with him…dating more "Mr. Wrongs"…is that what I want? Or do I want more? Am I capable of more? He tilted his head from side to side as his anxiety intensified. He wanted to tell her how he felt, and couldn't find an opening to say what was really on his mind.
Sharona continued, "Adrian, I wasn't even really that angry at you for asking me to leave Benjy with the sitter…I was angrier for him… like, you know how sometimes I get angry when someone hurts your feelings or puts you down or teases you?" At his nod, she continued, "Well, Benjy worships you – don't tell him I told you – and I didn't want him to think you didn't care about him…" she trailed off. "Am I making any sense?"
Perfect sense. She was the mother lioness, protecting her cub. At that moment she tossed her glorious golden mane over her shoulders and looked at him anxiously for his response. "You are making perfect sense. I wish it were completely true. You may not believe it's my fault, which I appreciate, but it certainly is my responsibility to figure out who did this and why." He rushed on before he could over-think what he wanted to say, "I don't care how long it takes me, Sharona. You and Benjy … you are the most important people in my life… I am not going to let you down…"
A flush of pleasurable warmth rushed up her spine and into her bloodstream, Adrian was doing something for someone other than Adrian. Something that had no connection to Trudy's death, or returning to the SFPD. He called us the most important people in his life; this dinner was becoming more interesting as the minutes ticked by. Desert was a lovely treat; there were fresh raspberries, blueberries, blackberries and strawberries with crème Fraiche for Sharona but just berries – in four separate bowls - for Adrian. Apparently, they still had a ways to go on the milk, and food touching.
When the berries had been happily, almost greedily, consumed, Adrian handed Sharona the envelope. It was warm from being inside his jacket for the last few hours.
"Surprise."
Mystified, she smiled and took the envelope from him. Curious and naturally impatient, she examined the beautiful silvery designs on the edges and her name in
Adrian's neat handwriting on the front while trying to contain her anticipation. She was so engrossed in inspecting it and pondering the most careful way of opening it without ruining it, that she went without noticing the discreet exchange Adrian and the waitress were having over the check. He practically threw the money at the waitress to get rid of her; he didn't want the "money thing" to come up tonight. He'd spent the better part of his life literally laundering and pressing his money… one of the reasons he hated to spend it… why get dirty, germy change in place of his clean crisp bills? It was easier allowing the world to excoriate him for his supposed tightfistedness than to allow the world to know one more embarrassing facet of his OCD. He liked carrying the clean money in his wallet, he hated giving it to anyone, they always commented….always. So, which was more embarrassing notoriety for cheapness or notoriety for weird compulsions? A conundrum, to be certain. Sharona had endlessly pointed out that credit cards would solve this particular problem, but the fact that someone else touched them and they aren't machine washable…he had them, of course. He couldn't bring himself to deal with using them except for shopping online or making reservations where no one else had to touch them … or in utter emergencies.
Sharona's gasp of pure joy drew him from his musings. "Adrian!" she whispered excitedly. "Why? How did you…? Oh, I don't care why or how! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Before he had time to comprehend the words, she'd thrown herself across the table and into his arms. She was hugging him and kissing his cheek while he sat perfectly still… afraid to spoil the moment.
When they left the restaurant, Sharona raised her brows in surprise as Adrian held the door for her…sans handkerchief…that's progress… and out on the sidewalk she tucked her arm into the crook of his and left his left arm free to reach out to tap the parking meters they passed in the theater district. He smiled instinctively when he looked down into her eyes, tonight almost on the level of his because of the heels she was wearing… heels that he was trying not to look at both from the anxiety of imagined vertigo and the fact that her bare calves looked as sexy as anything he'd ever seen. Not to mention the deep pink toenails, the deep pink fingernails, the deep pink lips, which were stained even deeper pink from the berries. In fact, her lovely dress, one he'd never seen before, was demure, but the kind of demure that was clearly hiding a secret. If there was one thing Adrian Monk knew about – it was covered up secrets… but, he smirked inwardly, he also knew how to uncover them. Where had that come from? Uncovered bodies were high on his list of things to dread. Yet, there was something so undeniably sexy in the way she walked and carried herself – confidence… he daydreamed his way down the street thinking about the secrets hidden beneath a pretty, silky, lavender dress.
They successfully negotiated the crowds and found their seats with a minimum of Adrian's neurosis-induced chaos. Adrian was happy that the seats were on the aisle at the rear of the orchestra, a wall stood behind them so that no one was breathing or coughing or sneezing on them from behind, he only had to sit in close proximity to one person. The only person he ever wanted to be in close proximity to was on his left and they had an excellent view of the entire stage. The overture started in the velvet darkness and as she shifted, Sharona's silken dress shifted and exposed her knees. When she tried to move to rearrange her dress, she felt Adrian's light-weight wool-covered knee next to hers so she left hers there, with the silly, playful idea that the physical contact would disturb him, make him crazy, but also for the comfort the contact gave her. How is it just being next to him makes me feel calm and safer than I ever have? Sharona wondered. The contact of the scratchy material against her knee was somehow comforting at the same time as it was … arousing? And Adrian, as he had a habit of doing, surprised her. Adrian felt her naked…naked …naked knee bump his and then stay. It was oddly intimate without having any expectations of further intimacy. He shifted as well and now their legs were touching along their whole lengths from knee to foot.
As the show started, Adrian found he was swept into the complicated Land of Oz. He tried to recall what he knew of the original film but discovered he only knew the basic gist of the tale. The munchkins had terrified Ambrose when they were boys and the flying monkeys and their unclean habits terrified him. They had only watched it the one time in 1965. He had been about 6 years old and his idol, actor Danny Kaye, hosted the CBS presentation of MGM's The Wizard of Oz. He was disappointed and scared and never liked Danny Kaye quite as much again. He hoped the flying monkeys weren't as dirty looking this time. The musical's set design was beautiful, a giant clock with gears that clicked in synchronized movements and parts that were symmetrical so he was able to relax right away… the music was melodious and lively, to a regular tempo and key changes within songs were minimal – but even he could tell – necessary when they occurred. Usually, musicals irritated him. When, in reality, did people burst into song? Sharona did when she was exceptionally happy, he realized and smiled at the thought. But he also knew that her irregular intervals of singing and humming and happiness didn't exactly "further the plot" of their lives.
He let go of his concern about "musical as alternate reality" for the night and simply accepted. By the fourth song he was able to glance surreptitiously at Sharona and enjoy her delight in the action. Her face shone with the excitement of the show and possibly from the wine she'd had with dinner. Her smile was the first genuine, unrehearsed smile he'd seen from her since, well, since before Benjy's accident. Candid, full of the joy that was the very essence of Sharona. No matter what happened to this woman in her past, in her present she managed to retain that sense of adventure and excitement that he longed to possess.
A particular line from the third song of the show…the "I want" song, the one that told the audience the secret desires of the lead character, caught his attention. The lovely woman painted an alarming shade of green in order to assume the role of Elphaba, the so-called "wicked witch," had a clear and beautiful voice. She sang, "And this gift - or this curse - I have inside… Maybe at last, I'll know why! When we are hand and hand - The Wizard and I!" He smiled at that – it was a phrase oft-repeated by him… someone clearly understood that being different or "special" could be both an asset and a hindrance to living in the world. He often wondered if he would ever really understand why he could do what he did? Probably not, he chuckled to himself and crossed his arms over his chest.
Sharona noticed his reaction and smiled too. She recognized his catchphrase as well, and could almost read his relaxation…he was getting comfortable here… he seemed to identify with the lead character. Elphaba was as much a brilliant oddity and outcast as he was. He was enjoying himself for a change. The lines of worry that resided around his mouth had been replaced by the lines created by smiles. The audience laughed at the lyrics to that fourth song, which would have been, in Sharona's mind, the "love at first sight" song in another show, but instead, it turned out to be a "hate at first sight" song, and she and Adrian exchanged a glance, both smiling over the lyrics – remembering their own first meeting.
"What is this feeling?
"So sudden and new?
"I felt it the moment
"I laid eyes on you:
Their first such shared smile in all the long weeks since Benjy's accident; the smile that spoke of mutual understanding and history. Each looked back to the stage with a lighter heart and mind and sank further into their seats to enjoy the show.
"My pulse is rushing:
"My head is reeling:
"My face is flushing:
"What is this feeling?
"Fervid as a flame,
"Does it have a name?
"Yes…Loathing!
Sharona laughed aloud and even amongst the mingled sounds of laughter and music around them in the orchestra section of the theater, he heard hers clearly – deep and throaty, truly an expression of her amusement.
I don't think I ever actually loathed him, but he may have loathed me…Sharona thought about her attire, her New Jersey accent, and her attitude that first day so long ago.
"Unadulterated loathing
"For your face
"Your voice
"Your clothing
He may have, in fact, even uttered the word loathing to me, she thought and laughed privately to herself at the memory of the horror on his face when Stottlemeyer had introduced her to Adrian and explained what she was going to do for him.
"Let's just say - I loathe it all
"Ev'ry little trait, however small
"Makes my very flesh begin to crawl
"With simple utter loathing
"There's a strange exhilaration
"In such total detestation
"It's so pure and strong!
"Though I do admit it came on fast
"Still, I do believe that it can last
"And I will be loathing
"Loathing you
"My whole life long!"
Well apparently that loathing on his part didn't last long, she'd stayed. He'd acquiesced. He'd accepted. He'd once said he felt less alone, and truthfully, so had she. I like when I turn around and you're there. His words resonated across the years. They'd become so close, so intertwined, in the past few years. After a while, she'd realized that she looked at him as more than a boss – she looked at him as a friend. Her best friend aside from Benjy. The person she counted on for part of her happiness. When the hell had that happened? She thought now with surprise. No matter what type of emotions and feelings had been stirred over the years, she hadn't acknowledged them as much more than instinctive. Natural in that way that the longer and better you knew someone, the more intimacies you shared, the more you went through…the more tightly you were bound together. At the same time, she hadn't really realized he'd become integral in her day-to-day existence. Maybe she hadn't realized his overall importance in her life because she'd suppressed or marginalized her yearning, romantic feelings and remained afraid to try to cross the line that ran between them in an invisible, yet tangible way. Her subconscious was now blocking the realities of their relationship as well as the fantasies, she supposed. Amazing how the brain had the capacity to completely ignore and compartmentalize the obvious, she thought.
She had no doubt that he cared about her in his own manner. The man had saved her life, or tried to save it, on more than one occasion, he'd overcome his own demons and stood by her literally, and surprisingly, financially, and even more surprisingly, emotionally through Benjy's accident and continued to do so during his recovery. Am I imagining it or does he seem stronger, better in some way recently? she mused. She considered all they'd been through together since that first day as her mind wandered away from the show to her own life and the other feelings she sometimes felt – the less definable, the less attainable, the less realistic feelings. The desire she squelched, the need she didn't dare to name. The cases, the arguments, the making-up – her forgiving him for so much… so many times…him apologizing – in his own bewildered, unwilling-to-be-wrong way - over and again. He couldn't be blamed for the innocent hurts he'd caused at first – careless in a naive way. He was so wrapped up in his anguish at the beginning, and forgiveness and understanding came so easily to her. Lately, there'd been far less to forgive, and far more to appreciate. It was simple: she and Adrian and Benjy were a family. Weird and unconventional, but really, what family today was "normal?"
Sharona was drawn back to the play when the obvious "hero" arrived onstage. Blonde and handsome, blue-eyed and fair, tall and talented. He wasn't really her idea of a hero… well, yes he was…when I was young… today all he reminded her of was Benjy's no-account father, Trevor… her adult idea of a hero was substantially different: medium-tall…curly, dark hair, deep complexion, lines around his generous mouth that showed experience, pain, but also that he had once laughed - a lot, oh, and deliciously deep chocolate eyes that often made her fantasize about things that were way off-limits... and the hint of an incredible "police-issue" body under well-tailored, but loose-fitting jackets and trousers that made her mouth go dry when her mind wandered where it shouldn't go. Like now. emSharona!/em She chastised herself, What the hell are you thinking?…Snap. Out. Of. It! She sighed and for just a moment wanted to be a better person, a smarter person like Trudy had been, one that her ideal hero, her Superman, would look at with love, but she was who she was and she'd always accepted her weaknesses along with the gifts she did possess in a simple, matter of fact way. She also accepted that Adrian wasn't able to completely change who he was, and truthfully she wouldn't want him to. She shrugged inwardly and retrained her attention on the show.
Sharona drifted back just as the audience laughed at a line in the "hero's" song about "dancing through life" and learning to live the "unexamined life" and when Sharona caught his eye, Adrian's expression had been confused, as if to say, "How? How does one live the unexamined life?" His expression was almost mischievous and conspiratorial. It was so endearing that Sharona forgot herself, took his hand in hers, and smiled brightly at him.
Feeling as though he'd been sucker-punched, he gulped air mechanically, she was so close and so very beautiful as she smiled at him, he felt like the sun had come out after weeks of rain. He drew in another deep breath and before he could consider it and talk himself out of it, he leaned closer to her and kissed her on the mouth in the middle of a crowded theater in the middle of the sixth song in what was almost the middle of an award-winning musical. It didn't get much more public... or more perfectly proportioned than that. The kiss was gentle, soft. A hint of the feelings that had been under the surface of their relationship for a long time, but that had been suppressed, subjugated for propriety, for phobia, for no reason at all. She tasted like strawberries and yearning; they weren't touching in any other place except for their joined hands and their joined lips, but Adrian could feel her inside his heart and his mind as if they were one. Even if I can't say the words, at least I can show her how I feel.
Sharona looked at him, seconds later – an eternity, when he finally leaned away, surprise rounded her eyes until they resembled teal-colored jewels, but of course, she couldn't say a word to him at the moment given their location. He kept her small, fair hand tucked into his much larger and darker one and placed them in his lap with what she thought of as his satisfied "I just solved the case" smile. He turned back to watch the performance. The audience erupted in laughter all around her during the next song, which she only half-heard as she stared sightlessly at the stage. Her mind was whirling in an entirely other direction. Adrian kissed me. Kissed. Me. He leaned in and smilingly, willingly, wonderfully kissed me. On the mouth. In a public place. Oh, he smelled incredible. Like sandalwood and vanilla, so fresh and warm. Not cologne, but him. He's touching me, holding my hand. What could it mean? Was he asking something? Was he telling something? Sharona batted the ideas in her head like a kitten with a ball of yarn, but she realized she'd have to wait at least four more songs to find out. In the meantime, she wasn't pulling her hand from his, nor was she going to miss the rest of the show pondering it. The heat of Adrian's hand over hers sent shots of electricity up her arm, but she focused on the wonderful singer, the woman playing the "wicked" witch as she sang about falling in love.
"Hands touch, eyes meet
"Sudden silence, sudden heat
"Hearts leap in a giddy whirl
"He could be that boy
She smiled to herself as she listened…then the next lines made her sit up a little straighter…and frown.
"But I'm not that girl
"Don't dream too far
"Don't lose sight of who you are
"Don't remember that rush of joy
"He could be that boy
"I'm not that girl
She breathed with difficulty, grasping that that moment of normal just now was only that – a moment. One short span of time in the six or so years she'd known him. Oh, there had been other flashes of the person he'd been before… before Trudy died. But the fantasy had been so wistful and her heart was so full, it ached. There were the moments in the past few years, not to mention the past few hours, where she wondered "What if?" or "Could we?" but they were as fleeting and as insubstantial as a cloud.
"Ev'ry so often we long to steal
"To the land of what-might-have-been
"But that doesn't soften the ache we feel
"When reality sets back in
The reality was that Adrian would never get over Trudy, or cast her aside in favor of another woman. A living woman. The fantasy of the past was safer, easier for him to deal with. Aside from which, he had two focuses: preserving his dead wife's memory and earning his shield back. The latter was something she could help him with, the former was something she couldn't hope to compete with – she wasn't nearly in the same league as the canonized Trudy.
"Blithe smile, lithe limb
"She who's winsome, she wins him
"Gold hair with a gentle curl
Not the former nude pinup with the flyaway curls. Not the single-mother or exotic dancer. The perfect and estimable Trudy Anne Monk was the girl. The virtuous, innocent, and perfect girl who wrote sweet poetry and insightful, important newspaper articles. Sharona chastised herself for being angry at or jealous of a dead woman. It was ridiculous to blame Trudy for Monk's craziness. It was her death that caused that. Well, no, Sharona acknowledged to herself, not even that. Trudy's living, simply existing, had enabled him to control his phobias, his OCD, and his underlying tendency toward insanity. Silently she asked for forgiveness from the pretty, petite woman she'd never met, but knew very well.
"That's the girl he chose
"And Heaven knows
"I'm not that girl:
"br /br
"Don't wish, don't start
"Wishing only wounds the heart
"I wasn't born for the rose and the pearl
"There's a girl I know
"He loves her so
"I'm not that girl:
The words echoed in her head, I'm not that girl. I'm not that girl. And I never will be. I can't compete with a ghost for love. I can barely compete with mortals for a man. Who was I kidding just now to even entertain the hope? It had been nice while it lasted, the few songs length of fantasy. She closed her eyes against the sudden anguish. The next two scenes and songs flowed around her, but Sharona didn't notice. Her heart, which just moments before, was filled with excitement, deflated, and ached too much to concentrate on anything else except the pain. Unbidden, tears slid silently from beneath her lids. Decisively, she pulled her hand from Adrian's, and before he could process the tears on her face or protest her actions, she just about leaped over him and into the aisle headed for the ladies' room. The music followed her down the deeply carpeted stairs, as did Adrian, after a brief and shocked hesitation. She made it as far as the bank of telephones when he caught up to her.
"Sh-Sharona."
She stopped but didn't turn. He approached cautiously like one would approach a wounded lioness. "Sharona. P-please. Look at me." His voice broke over the words, nerves, and fear pulling him, love, and desire pushing him.
That was a switch … it was usually Sharona begging him to look at her. She turned, fresh unshed tears glistening in the chandelier light right on the tips of her long eyelashes. He didn't want her to hurt or be angry and least of all did he want her to cry. There had been far too much crying lately, and not enough smiles and laughter. The brilliant detective stepped closer and steeled his spine. He reached with both hands and took her face lovingly. He looked into her eyes and was lost in the depths of watery blue-green; lost in them like they were impressionist paintings. Monet-at-Giverny-blue-green. Manet-in-the-park-on-Sunday-blue-green. Adrian forgot everything he was afraid of in that moment, and he forgot everything else too … except wanting this woman. Wanting, desiring, yearning, needing, wishing all rolled into one feeling – love. He had denied himself the most simple pleasures for so many years, of taking a stroll without counting his steps in the back of his head, like making simple decisions about breakfast rather than the need to keep the cereal bar boxes evenly emptied in the cabinet… it all came crashing in – down to this one moment, if he didn't kiss her and tell her how he felt, he would lose it all and give into the phobias and allow them to rule him forever.
She looked up half-fearfully, half-hopefully into his eyes, her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and then she bit the lower one in anxiety. He smiled tenderly and kissed her with the gentle fire that she had built inside of him day-by-day for six long years. Suddenly that fire leaped to life inside of him and the kiss built to a crescendo just as the final notes of the last song of the first act, "Defying Gravity" were being sung – the notes and lyrics rang loud and true in his head as the kiss intensified... "As someone told me lately, everyone deserves the chance to fly." That's how it felt, the words seeped into his head and into the kiss, and they were defying gravity… flying… just Sharona and him. He turned his head and slanted his open mouth over hers, a gentle plunder and a desperate desire at once.
Quickly, the landing by the restrooms and the bar filled with life and activity. The throngs of theatergoers didn't even notice them, nor did they notice the crowds. Tentatively, he, the less experienced in these matters, broke the kiss, and Sharona stepped back a bit. She stared up at him – disbelief and desire played over her face, and he moved to kiss her again. They were only inches apart, his hands still threaded loosely in her hair. She placed a hand boldly on his chest at the parting of his jacket, part-caress… part-stop sign. She wavered and felt her knees weaken when she touched him like that for the first time… soft shirt, hard muscle, heat, and a hint of his wildly beating heart… it was a touch that had nothing to do with nursing, and everything to do with healing, but she was determined.
"Whoa. Before this goes any further…" Sharona stepped back further and removed her hand from his chest. She swiped at the unshed tears and grabbed Adrian's hand. She dragged him up the stairs and out onto the street. When they were outside, far enough away from the cigarette addicts to satisfy Adrian, she said, "What is this? What are we doing? What's wrong with you?"
"Wrong?" Was this a test? "Wrong with me?" Adrian said and tilted his head side to side nervously. A great many things, but she knew that. What was she asking him?
"Yes, for the past six years I could barely get you to take something I'd touched, you once had to gargle for an hour because we were forced into a quick peck on the lips and now suddenly you're kissing me…with your mouth open!"
"Yes, I must have taken leave of my phobias momentarily, Sharona," he said with just enough venom and sarcasm to startle her into silence. He was hardly ever deliberately mean or nasty. "I'm trying to tell you something, which apparently you are too confused or deliberately stubborn to understand."
He sighed, consulted the sky and his internal chronometer, as opposed to the non-functioning, fine Swiss watch on his wrist, and continued, "I only have about another eight and a half minutes of intermission, so I-I'll spell it out for you. I …I love you, Sharona. I love how you look, I love how you think, I love how I can know what you're thinking just by the look in your eyes, I love how you adore your son, I love you when you're angry, with me or…or standing up for me, I love how you quit but always come back to me, I love how brave and clever and sexy you are, I love you for your wit and the happy sound of your laugh…the twinkle of your eyes. I want you to be mine so badly I am willing to do anything to prove my feelings and my sincerity." He took a deep breath. "I will shout it from the top of the Mark, I will announce it from the middle of the Embarcadero at lunch hour, I will yell it from the observation platform on the Golden Gate Bridge – and you know how I feel about heights, crowds, and bridges…and yelling…" He breathed in deeply – that was quite possibly the longest single group of words he'd spoken at once since…well, since forever. He adjusted his neck, squared his shoulders, and grabbed his left hand in his right, massaging the center of his left hand with his right thumb so that he didn't panic. She knew this was his focus activity for when he felt really anxious, as he must have felt now. He waited. Sharona considered him, head tilted, for a moment, unsure of what to say, unsure of him, unsure of herself. He waited.
Finally, she said, "I never identified with Dorothy," in a non sequitur that made Adrian cock his head to one side, squint, and ponder her suspiciously. It wasn't exactly the response he'd been hoping for.
"No," Sharona continued, with a shake of her head, as if she was making perfect sense… "I was never the good girl; I was the outsider, the one never good enough. I wasn't the one the hero picked; I always ended up alone with the flying monkeys." She nodded as the memories of a line of bums that stretched from New Jersey to Miami to San Francisco wended their way through her mind. "Adrian, I can't compete with another woman for you, even if she is dead. She was perfect and perfect for you. I am not that girl." She turned her face, ashamed of the tears as much as ashamed of what she'd just said.
Suddenly the tears and the pre-end of act one departure made sense to the bewildered man in front of her. I'm not that girl… I'm not that girl… I'm not that girl.
"Sharona look at me… please." The second time in less than fifteen minutes that he'd issued this order.
Realizing that standing under the brightly lit awning outside of the theater, in a crowd of unusually quiet … and clearly curious people wasn't the place for this conversation he took her hand and led her to a phone booth on the corner.
"Get in."
"What?"
"Get in." She complied, and when he followed and closed the folding door, then pressed himself against her she gasped.
"Adrian! You're claustrophobic!"
"Yes. I - I am…" he stammered, glancing around with panic creeping up his neck. "Th-thanks for the reminder." But he didn't back down – he looked back at her and said, "Sharona, because of you I can do anything, I can be anything. When I see myself standing beside you, I'm normal. Or as normal as I can ever be… my claustrophobia fades when you're stuck in this small space with me. You make me better, you make me stronger, you make me want to be better and stronger. To try – to try harder … so in this disgusting, germ-ridden, smelly, and claustrophobic phone booth, I am… I am telling you that there is no one on this Earth for me beside you. There is no one on the Earth or in any other world that you have to compete with.
"True, I miss Trudy, I always will. I still want…no, no I still need to solve her murder and become a detective with a badge again… but, frankly, I can't do those things without you… you know… you are everything to me… you are not competing – you've won – for better or not, if you want me, I am offering myself to you… it's not much, a mad man with phobias and foibles enough for ten men, but I can offer you my adoration and my whole heart and… and my love."
In the confined space, Sharona's heart expanded until she thought the phone booth couldn't contain it and the two of them. In her next thought, she became conscious of the proximity of their bodies and how they just … they just fit. Adrian looked down into her eyes, smiled one of his shy smiles, and read her mind, "We fit."
"Yes, I can – I can feel that – I mean, see that," she stammered. It wasn't often that Sharona Fleming was knocked for a loop…but at this moment, she was stunned.
"Adrian, I am so…" moved beyond words…knowing what that speech and confession cost him she continued, "I have so many things I want to say to you…it's all flying around my head, but the most important thing I want to tell you is…" she swallowed hard and took his face in her hands, "is that I love you. I love your brilliant mind, I love your quirks, and I love your wonderful smile – as if you do it just for me… and I love your incredible, beautiful eyes… I could get lost for a month just looking into them, but most importantly, you need to know, I want you to be mine, too, for today and for keeps. I don't want to share you or lose you or walk away from you. I just want you." She ran her fingertips lightly over his arched brows and the backs of her knuckles over his cheeks.
Adrian felt his heart lift once again, and remain light. A distinctly new sensation, one he'd have to take out and examine later, but for the moment he looked into Sharona's eyes and kissed her again. For the first time in a long time, he was off balance but it felt right; Sharona's return kiss was full of acceptance, desire, and love. Something niggled in the back of his mind, and then he broke the kiss and gasped…"Sharona! We only have 30 seconds to get back to our seats!"
Rather than being disappointed, Sharona simply smiled her response and allowed Adrian to haul her back up Geary Street, into the theater, and into their seats as the lights dimmed for the second act. The second act of the musical passed in a blur… luminous, memorable stage moments were far outweighed by the dazzling reflective flashes of intermission. Snatches of dialogue and lyrics wended their way into Sharona's infatuation shrouded thoughts… The unlikely lovers in the play were singing a love song, "Kiss me too fiercely, hold me too tight, I need help believing, you're with me tonight…" Truthfully, she couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that Adrian had made the first move… and one so huge. It was so far out of his character that she felt like she was dreaming. But if she was, she didn't want to wake up.
His kisses had been smooth and seductive, fervent, and passionate at the same time. The song went on, "My wildest dreams, could not foresee, lying beside you, with you wanting me…" where would this night lead them? She wanted… what do I want? She wondered. But as the characters in the play were singing, "Just for this moment… as long as you're mine…" Suddenly, she knew with certainty. I want what everyone wants. Love. Acceptance. Understanding. Passion. She believed that she'd found all of that and more… at long last. She wanted to make love with the man sitting beside her, to show him without speaking how the years between them and behind them were just a hint of what they could have together... for as long as destiny allowed. To show him what words couldn't ever fully express... the joy, the love, the desire, and the need she felt. She wanted to give him a life worth living…something worth living for… something to hold on to when things got too overwhelming. She didn't know that she'd already done that for him, and so much more.
For his part, Adrian sat with Sharona's hand in his and felt the warmth of her arc through his body. He wanted to hold her hand, hold her in his arms forever. His insides trembled, but not in fear, with a strange mixture of certainty, excitement, anticipation, and…an unnatural calm. He wanted to touch her and kiss her and make love with her to show her what he'd never to be able to fully articulate. The changes she'd wrought in his life, the happiness and the delight she brought him, the love and the understanding she gave him, the things that he could only hope to repay in kind. He intended to spend the rest of his life trying to show her, although he knew he'd have to take it one day at a time… particularly this first night, he wasn't getting over his debilitating problems with one declaration of love and a few kisses. But now he had a reason to try… a desire to be what she needed what she wanted to make her see how he needed and wanted her. He didn't know that he was already what she needed what she wanted, his faith in her, his trust had shown that to her, and so much more.