She has always understood the importance of words. In school, although no one ever really knew about it, she used to read a lot. Mostly romance novels, yeah, but over the years the impact that a single sentence could have on her only increased. Now, here she was -- staring at notes her twelve-year-old son had been taking about she and Adrian.
There was one line that caught her attention:
You know, for all the time that they stare you'd think they'd catch each other or something.
She felt strange. Not sick, but not... comfortable. Yeah, damned uncomfortable. Benjy thought she and Adrian were... that they had... Oh, God, he thought they should...
In the back of her mind, there's a little nagging voice that sounds like her mom's. Why does it matter, Sharona? it asks her. Why do you always have to get so worked up over nothing? So the kid's insane -- so what? You could get him in with Dr. Kroger or something.
She's not afraid Benjy's nuts. There's a very small chance of that -- he could easily be more sane than she is. No... she's afraid of something else.
She's afraid he's right.
It's not that she feels guilty or anything. She knows she stares at Adrian -- he's kinda worth staring at... He's not exactly normal, and that is something that's pretty damn hard to ignore. She knows she argues with him, too, but only because he's unreasonable. Yeah, they laugh some... but only because he's completely ridiculous. It's not flirting or anything. She's done enough of that to know what it is...
She's not really afraid of those aspects of her son's notes. She knows all of that is true. But the context he's painting around them, the things he's trying to imply are way too much to handle.
She isn't in love with Adrian Monk. She can't be -- not nervous, claustrophobic, milk-fearing Adrian. He isn't in love with her, either. He's in love with Trudy.
A sharp pain slides through her, numbing her brain and sucking the breath from her lungs. He's in love with Trudy... It hits her again, this time with much more force. She doesn't know why, although the possibilities are bouncing around inside her head like rubber balls.
The impact of a single sentence can change a person's life.
He knows Sharona's hiding something. Something about Benjy's notebook -- he should have taken a better look at it, he should have read it and not told her. Then, at least, he would know what was going on and not feel... closed off or... cut out.
He should call her. He should call her and ask what's going on... He's going to go crazy if he doesn't find out soon -- but, then, what if it's something private? He really shouldn't interfere with Sharona and Benjy's relationship...
But... but it's like a new case has just been opened. Sharona is a... a witness or a suspect -- he'll decide that later -- who's hiding something, and he needs to know what it is in order to solve the problem. He really, really needs to know what it is.
He straightens the cuffs of his impeccably neat shirt, eyeing the telephone from where he sits on the sofa. He can do it. He can call and ask, just ask, what's going on. She won't mind -- he's called her before, and she's never said anything.
He reaches for the beige receiver, heart hammering in his chest. He can do this. He can do it, he'll be fine. He'll be fine, he's a detective.
He dials her number.
"Sharona?" he says when she answers the phone. "It's me -- Adrian."
"Really." she says, sounding like she does when she Looks at him.
"Yeah, um... Can I..." He can do this. He can do this. He's Adrian Monk. "...I think I left my handkerchief in your bathroom." He isn't lying. It's just the first thing that pops into his head, and he feels so stupid...
"Oh." She sounds relieved, and it's strange. "I'll bring it by in about five minutes... will you be okay without it?"
"Um... for a little while... Hey, know what? I could come and get it..."
"It's dark, and you don't drive, and you're terrified of everything." she says, "I'll just bring it over."
She hangs up.
God, he's a coward.