Chapter Ten - Consummation
The drive home may have taken fifteen minutes, but it felt like five hours to the two people in the Volvo…wanting, needing to be alone and together without distraction, emergency, or a case to solve. The need was keeping pace with the nerves and the wanting with the abject terror. Sharona concentrated on the road, which took every ounce of her effort. Her mind was racing alongside the car, ricocheting from thought to thought, unable to light. The one thought she was able to hang onto for any length of time at all was, Adrian loves me. He loves me. He loves me. He's in love…with me.
"Your place or mine?" she asked jokingly, trying to ease the pressure.
"Mine. No, no… yours…. No …Mine."
"Adrian."
"Alright…yours."
"It's closer anyway," she grinned playfully at him.
He was nervously fidgeting with all of the car's dials and buttons he could reach without leaning forward. Sharona watched him in her peripheral vision. They didn't say much, they were both too consumed with what had already been said…and what might be about to happen… if one or both of them didn't withdraw. She decided to try for nonchalant normalcy.
"The show was terrific. Thank you." For as much of the second act as I actually saw, she thought. The love scene certainly stood out and the fact that the "wicked witch" got the guy.
"You're welcome. It was. I think…no, I know I had fun." He smiled boyishly. His charm, so long buried, lit his face and Sharona's heart.
Sharona parked on the street outside of her rented house, as always. They'd done this a thousand times. Sharona parking, Adrian "coming in." It's no big deal, she thought. But yet she knew this time it was the biggest deal of all…this time could change everything. He followed her up the walk and surprised her by taking her keys from her hand and unlocking the door. Of course, he had his hand half-way up his sleeve, but that felt "normal" and right. When they entered, she walked in first and flipped on the lights. The living room was ghost-like in the dim illumination of the table lamps. Up until this afternoon, she hadn't spent much more than an hour at a time in this place since Benjy's accident…changing, showering, occasionally catching a nap. But the truth was she had been living at the hospital, not here at home.
"Sit, Adrian," she said as she removed her wrap and hung it in the closet. "Do you want something to drink?" He watched her toss her keys, purse, playbill, and a business card from Christophe onto the entry hall table.
"No…no, I'm, you know, I'm fine. Really." He nodded vigorously to back up his statement. He didn't seem fine, Sharona thought, but it would be impolite to say that. He actually seemed more nervous than usual…if that was even possible. She watched him readjust his jacket for the twentieth time in the few minutes they were in the house. He'd had a turn. It would be up to her to make the second huge move of the night.
Her dress swishes as she walks, he thought. Can she tell how nervous I am? Ridiculous, I feel like an incredibly callow schoolboy. He watched as she casually turned the stereo on as she passed it, the music spilling from the speakers was loud and inappropriate for the situation, the last person to listen to it obviously had a penchant for loud rap music radio stations…he continued to observe her as she backed up and smiled indulgently to herself at what he knew she considered Benjy's weird obsessions.
Slyly, she looked back at him and plucked a CD off the shelf over the stereo. She leaned over and switched to the CD player, popped in the disc, and out came the driving, erotic sounds of Pink Floyd's Learning to Fly. He nearly smiled as he thought, leave it to Sharona to eschew the obvious sentimental soundtrack for seduction, and in another snatch of realization the lyrics to this song are perfect for this moment, but he was too edgy to smile at anything. She certainly embraced the sensual over the predictable. She pushed two more buttons and the music rained from the speakers all over the house. Adrian remembered the day he thought he would have a coronary as he watched her teeter on a high ladder, tools and speakers and yards of wire dangling. He feared she would fall off the ladder as she wired the speakers neatly from room to room. "I like music," she'd said with a shrug by way of explanation to his question of "Why?" Tonight he saw the wisdom in her plan as the music spilled lushly from every direction at once. She set the player to repeat the whole CD automatically.
Sharona had an idea to make things go more easily for Adrian...more slowly… more orderly. She walked over to the couch and held out a hand. "Come," she whispered with a hint of a smile. He looked back at her with uncertainty shining in his eyes, but also a hint of the love and desire she'd seen earlier. He took her hand and stood.
She pulled him gently along the hallway towards her bedroom. When they arrived at the door she turned and looked into his eyes. "You don't have to come in…you don't have to be here." She would give him outs when she thought he needed them until there was no way "out" left.
Silently, he smiled, reached around her, and opened the door. She walked in ahead of him and went to sit on the edge of the bed. The powerful music followed them closely, urging them on. She patted the spot next to her. He hesitated.
Nervously she revealed, "The sheets are clean, just changed them this afternoon."
He looked at her apprehensively.
"Don't get any ideas… they needed to be changed… I certainly had no idea dinner would lead us to…to… wherever this is we're going."
He sat by her side and looked around the room, noting the random placement of the pictures on the walls and the fact that one set of wood blinds was closed "up" and the other was closed "down." He choked back the need to straighten and turned to look uneasily into Sharona's expectant face. Wanting, but not being sure what he was expected to do. Of course, he knew the biology, the physicality, and the process of the actual act…but to tread on new ground, with someone new… although Kroger often asked, he always avoided speaking of his intimacy with Trudy.
He still deeply felt the reverent love for her that he always had and thought that discussing their most private of intimacies with a stranger, even if he was a doctor, even if she was so long gone, wasn't appropriate. It wasn't even prudishness; it was simple respect for his late wife. Why didn't Kroger get that? Often, after a session with Kroger where the doctor brought up the subject, he'd inspect his feelings on the matter when he was back in the solitude of his apartment. Intellectually, he knew that his and Trudy's love life hadn't been dynamic, exotic, or creative… but it had been satisfying in the quiet intensity of it, in the fact that they were able to have tangible proof, a physical expression of their love.
But, if he was honest with himself, which in most instances, he tried to avoid at all costs, he'd never felt the overwhelming emotions that threatened to swallow him when he looked into Sharona's eyes. Where Trudy had been quiet, almost chaste, Sharona was vibrant and sexual. More alive and present in the world than anyone he'd ever met…and, he realized belatedly, still looking at him expectantly.
When he didn't move, and after only the slightest indecision, Sharona pulled him down onto the mattress in a swift motion; they were facing each other, fully clothed and lying on their sides. She gazed at him with a mixture of good humor and overwhelming love. He smiled back, tentatively, as if testing the ability of his lips to curve. Then she scooted closer to him and slowly, gently, placed feathery kisses on the corners of his mouth, of his eyes… soft, wonderfully ethereal touches that conveyed her feelings. She didn't touch him anywhere else. He was nervous, no, scared, she realized, and I don't want to ruin this or upset him. He'll get used to me, of us, of this. He has to…because I'm never letting him go.
Adrian, for his part, had expected a much more aggressive Sharona, and the thought had both frightened him and excited him at the same time. This quiet, gentle consideration was exactly why he'd fallen in love with her. How he'd been able to fall in love with her. Yes, she could be contrary, ornery, and difficult, a mirror to his own behaviors; but she could also have the deepest compassion and empathy. Without words, she understood his anxiety about the new and fear of the unknown…and this…this intimacy even after a six-year relationship full of other kinds of familiarity, was new and unknown.
"Adrian," she whispered against his cheek, more a sigh than an actual word. He propped himself on one elbow and placed his other hand under her chin.
"I want to make you happy," he said quietly.
"You're already making me happy." Deliriously so, she thought. She went on, "You are making me happy. Just by trying. Just by being here with me…" She fell softly backward onto her back and continued, "I want you to set the pace, I want you to tell me what you want…"
She was thinking about showers, additional sets of clean sheets…and other types of protection… but didn't say those things or draw attention to them, instead, she said, "because the only thing that I really want is you here with me tonight, and I already have that. Whether or not anything else hap…"
He stilled her with a tender kiss. He moved back, took one of her hands, turned it palm-up, and pulled it towards his mouth. He calmly kissed her fingertips while looking unwaveringly into her eyes, although his heart was beating wildly. Then he drew her delicate fingers to the buttons on his jacket. He nodded and said, "One step at a time."
Suddenly, it was her turn to be nervous, she slowly undid the buttons… there was no rush. For once, she was being careful, and taking small, Adrian-steps in the solution of a problem; Sharona suddenly saw the wisdom in taking things one step at a time. Her anticipation and her desire were building and they'd barely begun to learn how to love each other.
She undid the three buttons on his jacket and pushed it off of his arm - reveling in the wiry strength of the shoulder she caressed. As she touched him for the millionth time, but really, for the very first time, she was amazed that the man possessed of so many demons also possessed an incredibly strong and muscular body. His jacket pooled around his bent right arm and he quickly shed it, folded it, and placed it on the bed behind him.
When he turned back to her, he considered her seriously for a moment and pondered the next move he should make. For only the second time in his whole life, he actually wanted to see another human being nude. Even though, technically, he'd already seen Sharona naked, in those degrading photos a few years ago. He hadn't wanted to see them, but they had pertained to a case. At the time he hadn't focused on her body as much as he'd studied her expression. Those were photos of a scared girl, unhappy with her life and frightened of what she was doing. He wanted … he digressed from his own internal monologue for a moment as he studied her here and now, God, I want her… to be inside of her, he thought with wonder rather than aversion… he mentally shook himself and regained his original thought… he also wanted to see Sharona truly happy again, loving him; a woman who was sure of herself – the way he always saw her – dressed or not.
He took his time and removed the clip that bound her hair in a complicated and slightly messy style that he had learned through years of discussion took a lot of effort to achieve. He pushed the freed and riotous curls away from her face, and then he ran his hand up and down her arms and over her bare shoulders as he looked unblinkingly into her eyes.
He was used to quite a lot of Sharona's uncovered skin…he'd spent six years, no matter the weather, treated to bare arms and legs and glimpses of creamy breasts until some days he'd thought he'd go even madder than he already was. So many times he wanted to shout – "get dressed" but was afraid to, for fear that she really would stop wearing her "normal" clothes and the days of his observation and appreciation would be over.
When he competently worked the rhinestone clasps and slid the thin straps of her lavender dress off her shoulders to kiss the places they had been, he marveled that someone could be so soft and cool to the touch and yet strong and searing to the mind. He moved over her and placed kisses with careful deliberation down her neck, across her shoulders, and over the tops of her breasts. She sighed softly with pleasure. As his hands followed his lips, she sighed deeply again and arched into him involuntarily, allowing him to take total advantage of the access and slide her clingy dress from her slender form. He heard her sharp intake of breath when he slid the silky lavender material down to reveal the lacey confection she wore beneath the pretty dress. He raised an eyebrow and smiled inwardly. Secrets, he thought, yes, demure could hide lots of secrets.
While he cherished her with his eyes, caressed her with his hands, and loved her with his mouth, she began to slowly unbutton his shirt. Wherever she could reach, she touched as she worked the buttons through their holes. Frustrated with her slow progress, she sat up so they were chest to chest; he was nestled against her lap, evocatively between her thighs, sinuous arms supporting him above her, hands gripping the headboard for leverage. He kissed her relentlessly as she blindly tussled with the buttons; she murmured apologies to his ironing skills against his lips and drew his shirt off then tossed it aside. Adrian barely noticed – now was not the time for folding. He was too busy gazing into her eyes and seeing his own hunger reflected there.
He rose to his knees and pulled each of her legs up around his waist in a suggestive and blatant manner, forcing her to fall back on her elbows and watch him with slumberous eyes. With a roguish grin she'd never seen before, he teased her by simply helping her slip off those sexy, dangerous heels. He slowly slid the strips of satin from her ankles and they dropped onto the area rug with two soft thuds. His shoes followed, along with socks, t-shirt, and belt. She was completely captivated by this new side of the man she thought she knew by heart. He bent over her and pressed kisses through the lacey material on the softly, slightly rounded center of her belly and on the gentle slopes of her breasts, shoulders, and collarbones.
Sharona traced her fingers lightly up his chest, running her hands over the warm skin, through soft hair, and up to his neck where she laced her fingers together. She impatiently pulled him towards her for a searing, tantalizing kiss. He felt the lace of her slip press against his bare chest and abdomen, enflaming him further in a primal, only half-understood way. He forgot nudity, he forgot self-consciousness, he forgot everything except his Sharona. The feel, the taste, the look of her in the pale moonlight that wended through the improperly closed blinds. He'd seen her in moonlight before, of course, they worked together days and also many, many nights, but tonight she was glowing, face flushed with desire, hair spread like gilt angel's wings over the pink pillowcase.
He held her tightly with one arm and ran his free hand up her leg, over thigh, beneath the lace of her slip towards the secrets he wanted to learn about this woman in his arms. Panic tried to edge in - he valiantly fought it and allowed desire to overtake him.
She placed her hand on his, looked at him with passion-glazed eyes, and said, "Are you sure?"
He nodded, "Never been surer. About anything. Nothing could be more right." He pulled her slip from her in a move that would have seemed practiced coming from anyone else, but with Adrian, it was purely practical need that drove him in the right direction. Sharona gave him one of her familiar… "What are you waiting for?" looks.
And he, Adrian Monk, phobic to the extreme, hater of nudity, feasted his eyes on the creature that inspired him to be a more complete human being. Encouraged him to experiment and learn. Gave him a reason to get up each morning and gave him memories to dream of when he lay down at night. When he finally dragged his eyes back to hers, they were full of the kind of desire that could set a soul on fire.
"I love you, Sharona," he said clearly, no mistaking his intent, no hesitation, no fear.
As her spirit began to blaze, she reached for him again, and her eyes unclouded for a moment, "I love you, Adrian, with all of my heart." She traced her fingers down his chest, over his taut stomach, to the buttons and zipper on his trousers – a question in her eyes. His hand confidently displaced hers and with two swift movements, he was as unclothed as she. She filled his senses, his hands, and his heart and Adrian's last coherent thought was that he was never going to let her go.
Dawn broke quietly, and in Sharona's pretty, pale pink bedroom, disorganized though it was, the light filtered into the room in that way that cast shadows and made the entire world seem a collection of grays and blacks and whites…so simple and lovely. Adrian woke, as was his custom, just as the first rays of light were beginning to seep in, however, he woke in a place and in a way that was totally alien to him. He calmly contemplated the way everything looked and, more importantly, felt. Sharona was beside him, touching him in a myriad of places at once…each spot on his body that hers touched was alive with electricity, each spot individually aware of her, heightening his seemingly unquenchable desire for her, honing his knowledge of her, all while she breathed softly and slept. They were both nude, sheets disheveled and barely covering them, just how they'd fallen asleep somewhere in the middle of the night. Adrian's aversion to nudity – even his own, usually guided his attire – morning, noon, and night, waking or sleeping, but in one night – one long night, he thought with a satisfied, masculine smile, he just didn't care about being undressed or the fact that Sharona was undressed or that they were undressed together. The tousled sheets barely registered for him as he reflected on how they got that way.
He thought they resembled a photograph in the still hush of the dawn, and he tried to memorize the details of this first morning – he ignored the insistent urge of his compulsions to straighten, to clean – to shower again although he'd done so once in the middle of last night - and dress immediately, it was an effort, but he wanted this time with Sharona sleeping in his arms on this first morning more than he wanted to give in to his other basic needs.
He'd been right – they fit. He'd known they would, and as he looked down the length of their entwined bodies, only partially visible in the soft light that was more like the gloaming than the dawn, he was amazed at how two such dissimilar creatures could fit so flawlessly to make a whole. He was hollow where she was rounded, she was smooth where he was rough, he was dark where she was fair, and she was soft where he was hard. They'd ached for each other in the way that only people who have denied themselves or been denied the pleasure of love for so long, that when it was found and returned it was miraculous and painful all at once. Firsts were so important. This first time together, this first morning after, the first moments of their awakened feelings for one another. At last, the ache inside each of them had been replaced by a feeling of completion, of rightness, of contentment.
Finally, still heroically controlled, but unable to resist the quiet beckoning of coffee from the kitchen, he quietly and carefully disengaged himself from his lover …Lover…Adrian Monk has a lover, he thought and smiled to himself. He softly kissed the top of her head after he rose; she murmured his name in her sleep and burrowed into the warm spot he'd left behind. It made him beam like a child who slept on a lost tooth and woke up to a prize under his pillow to realize that she was dreaming of him, and thinking of him even while sleeping. He watched her sleep for a moment more, then grabbed his shirt from where, last night, in the heat of the moment, Sharona had impetuously - and to his horror, completely unnoticed, and later, ignored, by him – thrown it … over the lampshade. He scanned the room in the dim light and found his boxers under the chair in the corner… how on Earth… never mind. His shirt was wrinkled beyond repair for the moment, but it didn't seem as big a crisis as it usually would. He rolled up the sleeves to what he thought was a jaunty, careless angle – and yet it took him several tries to get them even. He wandered down the hall, unprecedentedly barefooted, almost enjoying the sensation of the cool, smooth, dust-free wood floors, and noticed, not for the first time, that Sharona had pictures of him in her home… pictures of their trips and adventures and pictures of she and Benjy from his babyhood to current ones and all the stages between…photos of Benjy and him together… Adrian thought about the boy and frowned. Just because he, Adrian Monk, had a lover…he just liked rolling that around in his mind, he admitted to himself with a reproachful smile, didn't mean that business wasn't business as usual. His business was investigation, discovery, summation. It was all so simple. So orderly. And his business had suffered lately, he had to get back on that track… one night with Sharona was not going to change that. No matter how great the night … and the morning, he silently congratulated himself… had been. This was his family, unknowingly echoing Sharona's unspoken thoughts from the previous night. He had to protect them, release them, resolve this for them. He poured his coffee, cleaned swiftly, and left the kitchen as he'd found it, minus eight ounces of strong, black coffee and a chunky white mug.
Aimless, an unusual condition for Adrian, he wandered back towards Sharona's bedroom thinking of the shower, there was a bar of Lever 2000 with his name on it…literally, along with Tilex, Scrubbing Bubbles and an assortment of Lysol products…but on the way he noticed something dangling from a shelf in Benjy's room – and compulsion suppression only carried him so far in one morning. He stopped and leaned against the door jamb. The boy was far more organized than his mother – genetics, Adrian supposed, something to be said for nature over nurture in this case… The offending item was actually a medal of some sort that had obviously been placed by deliberation and forethought, not accident or haphazard. God, I love that kid. Adrian sipped his coffee as he looked more closely and discovered it was a medal from Benjy's last year of pee-wee basketball from the year Benjy was eleven. There were others – one from the year Adrian and Sharona had met and Benjy was seven. Even then it was apparent he had a flair for basketball. The baseball skill took a little longer to develop and took some encouragement from Adrian and some coaching from Scott Gregorio to blossom. There were a myriad of other trophies – most with mini basketballs on them. Apparently Benjy had obsessions too. Maybe that's what made him so thrilled to be around Adrian…and vice versa. Adrian smiled with what could only be called paternal pride when he saw photos on Benjy's shelf of the two of them, one of them after a game last year …Adrian trying not to get covered in pre-teen perspiration, Benjy grinning widely for Sharona's camera.
There were other photos. Benjy and a pack of boys – the three who had been at the hospital the other day and the two that had not. He took that picture off the shelf and studied it. He replaced it exactly where he'd found it and picked up the next, same gang of youngsters, five standing against a car, one hanging out a rear window, squinting in the sunlight. Then there were many pictures of Benjy with different medals around his neck, always standing on the center of a podium with three levels, more often than not, two of his friends with medals were flanking him on lower steps of the podium. The pictures reminded him of something, but then he felt a pair of hands wend their way up his back and onto his shoulders then down his chest to snake around his waist. A year ago he'd have jumped twelve feet and spilled his coffee, hell, last week he'd have jumped at least six feet and at least dripped. This morning he felt… just …perfect. He nearly laughed out loud at the thought of a perfect Adrian Monk.
He placed the mug on a pad on Benjy's desk and turned into Sharona's embrace. She was wearing something short, satin, and tawny, which made the tone of her fair skin radiant and gilded. She looked so lovely in the morning light – no, she looked lovely in any light… this morning she looked …satisfied, content. It filled him with pride that he was able to put that expression on her face… loving Sharona was definitely an experience he'd been unprepared for – the heat, the passion … the athletics… it wasn't neat or quiet in any respect… quite a difference from the relationship he'd had with Trudy. He put his arms around her waist in a mirroring gesture.
"Good morning," she all but sang.
"H-hi," he greeted her almost shyly. "Sleep well?"
"Mm-hm. You?" That smile she wore… Adrian's heart was beating so hard he could hear it inside his head and imagined that Sharona could see it pressing against his shirt.
"Yes, better than I have in a long time."
"I missed you when I woke up."
He kissed her forehead and nodded. "I was restless, and I was just thinking about some things," he paused to admire the way her eyes twinkled up at him. "I may have a few ideas about the case… and I was ruminating on how two people that are so different could be so perfect together… and last night—last night was perfect."
"It really was. The best night of my life…next to the night I had Benjy." Sharona turned to look into Benjy's room, "I miss him. I want him to come home so badly."
"Let's go see him."
"Now?"
"Yeah…well, you know, after a shower…and breakfast…and clean clothes…"
"How about a trip back to bed?" Sharona asked suggestively as she ran her hands up his arms to his shoulders and linked them around his neck.
"What about… what about Benjy?"
"Not to be insensitive to my one and only child, as much as I miss him, but for the first time in over thirteen years, not to mention the last five weeks, I think Benjy's mom needs some special attention first…" She giggled girlishly, broke free from his loose embrace, and took off for her bedroom. Always one to forgo a challenge, Adrian decided to go against his nature and rise to the occasion. He pursued her into her bedroom, the idea of a solution to the case forgotten for the time being; the only thing on his mind was getting his hands and mouth on Sharona and having hers on him.
They made love and slept and made love and slept through the early part of the day, a breakthrough for Adrian...he slept in daylight and didn't disappear. He'd spent the day in various states of dishabille and didn't die of exposure, another advance. They got out of bed only for food, to shower, and to call Benjy to tell him about their dinner and the trip to the theater, the "G-rated" version obviously, and nothing else. They wanted to savor their new bond privately; they had time to tell people, time to tell Benjy, whom they'd agreed would be thrilled at any rate. It had been his gentle shove that had sent them sailing in this direction, after all.
A local news station was on the television, muted, but the flickering pictures occasionally caught their attention away from each other. They'd "unmute" the TV for a while to hear a story or for the weather breaks the station took the sports scores… Sharona liked basketball nearly as much as Benjy did, so the NBA scores were important to her at this time of year, but their attention was always drawn back to the other person in the bed.
It happened when they were lying in Sharona's pink-sheeted bed talking, drowsy, and content.
Adrian was busily tracing his fingers over the delicate planes of Sharona's exquisite face and gracefully curved neck then following his fingers with soft kisses, when a commercial flashed garishly from the screen, one about a car repair shop. Adrian momentarily was diverted from his exploration of Sharona's supple and smooth skin and looked over at the TV for a moment, and then he looked over through the open door – towards Benjy's bedroom. He sat up abruptly. His brain had subconsciously done it again. Connecting seemingly random ideas and forming a sound theory to resolve a case. NBA… car repair… Benjy… photos… memories… souvenirs… medal… six years… podiums… tripping… headlight… anger.
"Sharona…" he said urgently.
"What?" she asked lazily, eyes closed, not picking up on his tone of voice, but definitely missing his earlier ministrations to the sensitive skin on her neck and face.
"I think I've got it."
"Got what?" she asked, too satiated to open her eyes.
"The answer… the pieces just fell into place." He got up and began the search for his clothes once again.
"To what?"
"To Benjy's case!" he said with mild irritation.
"Really?" Her eyes flew open, and she sat up with excitement at the thought that Adrian had solved the case, and at the same time, she admitted to herself, she sat up so she could lasciviously watch him throw his clothes on at random. Will I ever have enough of him…even in serious moments like these? God, I hope not.
"Come…" he held out a hand to her, echoing her method of persuasion from the previous night, and waited as she grabbed the rumpled sheet from the bed, wrapped it around herself, and was ready to follow him.
"Look!" He pointed triumphantly to the photo on the wall in front of which he'd stopped.
Sharona looked at a picture of Benjy, smiling a gapped-toothed, eleven-year-old smile as he tried to spin a basketball on his finger. Adrian hovered by the passenger side of the Volvo in the background. "I guess I'm an idiot. I don't get what this picture has to do with the case."
"Simple, what do you see?"
"Benjy doing his imitation of a Harlem Globetrotter, you impatiently waiting for me to go somewhere… a pretty day. The outside of Benjy's middle school… that's it."
Adrian rushed into Benjy's room and was back quickly with a magnifying glass the boy had used to study bugs one summer, which now collected dust on his shelf next to the pinned insects. "Look more closely."
She looked at the street signs, the other cars and came up empty. She shrugged and shook her head at them. He held the magnifier over the portion of the picture he was in. Right over the space where a right headlight should have been.
"Sharona, this is right after you… after I… smashed the headlight of your car. You hadn't gotten it fixed immediately."
"Right…we argued about the money and the insurance…remember?"
"Yes, yes…now isn't the time to be petty. Look at this." He took her to Benjy's bedroom and pointed to the shelf where the medals and pictures stood.
"Yeah…he won that medal the same year – it was his last year of pee-wee basketball."
"When you had the car fixed, did you have to have someone else take him to practice?" He pulled the picture of the six boys leaning on the burgundy car from the shelf. She saw that Benjy had the exact same gapped-toothed, eleven-year-old smile. Apparently, it had been taken very close to the time of the hallway picture. She recalled taking it, but not when or even why.
"Yeah, one of the other mothers offered. It seemed like a good idea, he'd have had to miss practice otherwise."
"Sharona where'd you get the car repaired?"
"I don't know; let me look in the card box. I'm sure I kept a business card."
One of Sharona's least organized endeavors was the collection of business cards. His memory conjured the business card from Christophe on the table in the front hall, exactly where she'd dropped it last night… where were the rest of them? He followed her at a distance because she was wrapped in just a sheet, and it dragged behind her as she walked into the next room. They would definitely not be spending another night with those sheets, Adrian thought with distaste and a slight case of the willies.
She climbed the step stool and took a metal box from a shelf over the phone in the kitchen. As she came down, the sheet slipped a few inches down her back, and before she could hitch it up again, he paused his ruminating about clean sheets and about Benjy's case long enough to plant an impulsive, warm kiss on her bare shoulder blade. She smiled back over her shoulder at him and sighed as she went back to the cards. "I can't understand why you want this card…it's been more than two years since I had the car repaired," she said with doubt in her voice. "Ah…here. Here it is!" She handed it to him and he looked at it with unease. His eyes grew larger in amazement, but no surprise.
"Sharona…" Adrian Monk didn't believe in coincidences. This was the shop that fixed Sharona's light on that long-ago day – the only time he'd driven her car and of course, as was typical of him, smashed it. He had to ask her how she came to use this particular shop. "Why did you go to this repair shop?"
"Uh… I don't remember."
"Did… did the insurance company choose it for you?"
"No, no. I think I asked someone for a reputable place that would handle it with the insurance company directly…" She paused to think back to that day. She smiled when she recalled Adrian's joy at doing well before the police review board; he'd literally danced in the street. He'd insisted on driving, that she not treat him like an invalid. Then his hopes, and hers as well, had been dashed days later… it had been a bad time for both of them. Getting the car fixed became a priority only when they got their next case, one that they had to work at night – she needed her headlight in order to drive.
"It's important," he said impatiently.
"I'm thinking…" she said pretend-whining, secretly glad that the Adrian she knew…and loved…wasn't going to change completely because things around them and between them had changed.
"Think...think faster," he chided with a playful grin and a caress up her arm that gave her goosebumps. It was a caress that also served to contradict his edginess despite the serious need for the information and to soften his impatience with her. He knew, contrary to Sharona's unvoiced beliefs, that things should change. Change would come… due as much to the changes between them as much as to the ones happening inside him. For the first time, possibly ever, he realized that things like obsessions, phobias, and OCD weren't the actual problem in his life, Sharona apparently loved him despite the difficulties he had getting through the day. He was only able to tackle the daily challenges of survival with her by his side and because she expected him to rise to her challenges. That might never change. She made his living possible, but it appeared he did that for her as well. His problem, then, was his inability to completely empathize or care about the needs of others. During the past six years, it was practically the only thing they truly argued about.
So the one thing that he thought really had to change was the level of regard he had for her feelings and her needs. As tough as she acted, there was vulnerability under the warm skin – a vulnerability that was now held in his unsteady hands. A vulnerability that he was now charged, by virtue of loving this complex and sensitive woman, with handling carefully and protectively.
She swatted playfully at his distracting hand on her arm and concentrated. "I think I asked one of Benjy's friends' parents… or maybe I was just talking about how I needed the car repaired and someone suggested this place."
She rummaged through the rest of the cards and began to tap them neatly into piles as she tried to recall the conversation. It had been about two years ago… she was lucky she remembered two months ago. Suddenly, a name came to her. "Munroe."
"What?"
"Mitch Munroe, one of the kids Benjy is friends with. You've met him."
"Yeah, he's the one with the father that's loud, uncouth, obnoxious, and inappropriate. What does that have to do with the card?"
"Benjy knows him from pee-wee basketball."
"And…" Adrian anxiously willed her to make a point. Following his earlier inner pep-talk about patience and protecting the feelings of this woman that he loved, he stopped himself from behaving like an impatient ass.
"Mitch Munroe's father worked in an auto body shop, and he gave me the card. I remember that the place was nice and clean. You'd love it. That's all I remember."
Adrian took a deep breath and looked at the card again. Al's Auto Appeal. "You're sure?"
"Yes Adrian," Sharona rolled her eyes at the refrigerator, "I'm sure."
"Okay. Okay. Come here." She turned from the cards on the counter and followed him back to Benjy's room, exasperated and concurrently consumed with getting back to bed…the hall was not as warm as her bed had been just minutes ago…and getting warmer … until Adrian's deft mind had interrupted his deft hands…She was too distracted to be a part of Adrian's wending, complex and long explanation. She tempered her normal impatience out of consideration for her lover's feelings and his need for organization.
"Look at this picture." Benjy and five of his good friends after a practice one day – long ago…uniforms, a purplish, no, burgundy, car… one kid hanging out the window… the rest leaning on the car. Suddenly a smidge of understanding began to dawn.
"That's Benjy with Stephen, Matt, Charlie, TJ, and Mitch. You know these kids."
"Which one is Mitch?"
"He's hanging out the window of the car, redhead on the end."
Adrian suppressed his exhilaration. "What did you say his name was?"
"Mitch Munroe."
"That's the part I don't understand. He looks just like this woman I met at Al's Auto Appeal right after the accident."
"Oh, yeah. That's his mom, I think she owns the shop… her dad was in the business and had no sons… yada yada…"
"Yada yada?" he was puzzled.
"Yeah, long story short, she inherited the business and made it in a man's world. She brags about it all the time, it's insufferable. She married the shop manager, you
know, Mr. Obnoxious, and they had Mitch. I think they have a little girl now too."
"What was the name of the shop when she inherited it?"
"I don't know… I wasn't living here that long ago."
"What's Mitch's mother's name?"
"Ah...Alison Munroe? No, I think professionally she uses Williams…no Willis. Alison Willis." That was it. Willis' Auto World – the computer run had turned up the name change - but it made no real difference. The people were the same. So was the fact that the tidy little shop ran a tidy little insurance fraud scam then and quite possibly now.
Adrian sank into the chair by Benjy's desk. Some relief poured through him. He was getting closer. Suddenly those five messages he'd gotten made more sense.
"Sharona, we need to go see Benjy."
"Now?"
"Yes, now." Adrian paced, thought, and made connections while Sharona quickly showered and dressed. To Adrian's surprise, she was ready in just twenty minutes.
"I didn't know women could do that," he said with wonder on their way out to the car.
"What?"
"Get ready so quickly."
She laughed, "If you'd seen the look on your face before, you'd have hurried too."
"Believe me, I will."
Sharona privately doubted it, but again, consciously decided that for harmony's sake she'd avoid her usual sarcastic comment for today. "Can't you tell me anything?" she asked as she put the key in the ignition.
"Not until I understand it completely myself."
"Alright." They arrived at Adrian's in less than ten minutes – a new personal best for Sharona. He was so focused on his thoughts that he hadn't commented on the two stop signs she passed and one yellow light she'd ignored.
He didn't make her park ten times, instead, he nearly leaped from the car before she'd put it into park. This certainly was an Adrian she'd never seen before…the past 24 hours had been a revelation of all sorts of new and interesting facets of this man. By the time Sharona made it inside, Adrian was in the shower, clothes already in the hamper, instead of strewn along the hallway as hers would have been. In a bold move, she laid out his fresh clothes – unsure if that was some sort of breach of "new-relationship-etiquette." But it would save time, and it wasn't as though she'd never put away his clothes. She touched all of his belongings, intimately, all the time. She was going to have to work on the Ziploc thing, though. That drove her batty.
His usual twenty-minute shower was shortened by eight minutes. A lot of time for a person who had a strict routine… an incredible amount of time for someone like Adrian. He walked out of the bathroom in a robe, smelling deliciously of shampoo, soap, and deodorant; the scent of a variety of cleaning products wafted after him. She smiled indulgently.
He was rubbing his hair with a towel and looked up to see Sharona watching him from the chaise in the corner. One arched blonde eyebrow raised in…anticipation? Interest? Will I be able to get used to this? He thought as a tremor of fear combined with sudden desire crawled up his spine. She'd been in his bedroom a thousand times if she'd been there once – but now the bed loomed largely in his peripheral vision. The sensation wasn't altogether unpleasant… the thrill of lust, the shiver of panic, the pleasure of anticipation combined. Jesus… he was dying for her again – here in the room he'd shared with Trudy. Apparently, his desire had no boundaries or understanding of appropriate restraint. This out-of-control feeling was definitely a new sensation for him… one he didn't think he'd ever conquer... or want to conquer. In two seconds she's going to be on that bed if he didn't get himself together. He got hold of his senses – propriety, or the lack thereof, wasn't his top priority at the moment. He straightened his neck and rolled a shoulder as he retrained his focus on the task of dressing and getting to Benjy. He saw that she'd laid out his clothes – no one had ever done that – no one but Sharona would have dared. He found, to his astonishment, that rather than feeling annoyed or out of synch, he felt loved and cared for… even if she didn't pick the right socks."Thank you," he said with sincerity.
She rose, walked to him, surreptitiously breathed in the clean scent of him, and said, "Are you sure you don't want to hang it all up and start over on your own?"
"No, I'm- I'm sure. Well, not about the socks. But otherwise, you know, it was great of you… to do that, and I'm sure."
With another smile, she kissed him fleetingly on the lips and left him to dress. There was no reason to make him feel like he was on display. He may not have thought the human body was beautiful, particularly his own, but she felt that she had to disagree with him, especially about his self-assessment, and would like to have stayed and watch him dress. But still, privacy was important in all relationships and she knew he needed it more than others.
With a huge sigh that encapsulated both her lust and her happiness, she walked into the pristine hallway. She noticed once again something was different. She thought back to Adrian's bedroom, and now to the blank walls in the hallway. Dizzy with comprehension and disbelief, she quickly walked to the living room and sat, much as she had the previous evening, gingerly on the edge of the sofa and uneasily looked over her shoulder at the wall next to the couch. She knew what the difference was now. It filled her with happiness and warmth as well as a tinge of painful remorse as she realized the difference was that all of the photographs of Trudy, and the ones of Adrian and Trudy, were missing from their places of honor.
Tabletops, prominent wall positions, and most glaringly in her mind's eye she could see his dresser when she went to get his socks just now, their wedding picture was gone. Sharona had loved that picture of them. They looked so young and happy and hopeful. Adrian in particular wore a look that was unguarded and free. Tears came to her eyes when she realized he'd done it for her. He took away the reminders of his previous life, of the love of his life, so that he could come to her with a clear conscience and a fresh start. And she had been her notoriously difficult, bitchy self when she arrived the night before. Embarrassment stained her cheeks and she swallowed the lump in her throat as the hot tears she couldn't stop coursed in powerful streams down her cheeks.
As she cried, she laughed aloud as well. She hugged herself – trying to find a way to contain the elation she felt inside – knowing that Adrian loved her enough to try and move forward, knowing he was close to solving the case and that Benjy was improving daily and that their future together was looking to be a reality rather than the agonizing dream it had been a mere twenty-four hours earlier. She also tried to contain the overwhelming sadness she felt – like when a favorite book ended or a romantic movie concluded sadly. She'd lived with the romance of Adrian and Trudy Monk for so long that it was like a cherished fairy tale or an Arthurian legend complete with a brave knight and a perfect princess. Although it was good for her that their story had finally reached its conclusion, she still ached in an ambiguous way for the loss and the ending of the fairy tale. She wished that Trudy could be happy for them in some way, and let them know if she could give her blessing to them.
She tried to compose herself before he walked diffidently out of his bedroom, dressed as she'd chosen him to be, except for the socks. She sniffed and quickly tried to hide the evidence of her tears.
He wanted to please her, and he liked the ensemble even if it wasn't meant for a Saturday afternoon. He wasn't sure when it was meant for, but he felt as comfortable as it was possible for him to feel on a warm April day and still be wearing several layers of clothing. He stopped fiddling with his buttons long enough to look at her clearly for a moment. He caught her expression and saw the tracks of tears that she had tried unsuccessfully to hide. Worried about what could have happened in the few minutes they'd been apart, he asked, "Sharona? You okay?" It was a familiar question from a voice and mind unfamiliar with caring about the feelings of others. Except for her…he'd always cared for her, he just hadn't always known how to show it.
"Yes," she lied.
"You're lying." She smiled an unsteady, watery smile. He'd learned a great deal from the incident with the elephant at the circus.
"Yes, I am." He moved to sit beside her. "Adrian, I realized – I realized what the difference in the apartment is."
He nodded sagely. "It was time. I had to try to let go in order to take hold of something that I really want and need more than I need to cling to the past." She dipped her head and hiccupped softly. He continued, "It's not that I'm totally over the past, and I may never be, but I can still give you what you deserve, Sharona. I swear I can."
She had no doubts about that. He had loved her last night, and this morning … and early this afternoon… with a passion she'd never known and he held her with a tenderness she'd only dreamed of – if this was only the start of what she could expect from their love, their future was going to be wonderfully fulfilling. She had patience and they had time.
"Are you okay?" he asked again.
She nodded and took his hand. "Let's go."
"You sure?" he asked, finally being the one in control, in charge, but letting her make the ultimate decision.
"Yes. We have a crime to solve." She smiled more confidently and stood up with a bounce.
He stood and kissed her softly. "Let's go end the bad and start the good."