He wonders what she's doing. Probably normal stuff like... paying bills or, or doing dishes. He wonders, if she's doing dishes, whether or not she got the scrubbing wand he showed her in the store. And whether or not --
The phone rings.
He straightens up, stares at it. Guilt seeps back into his thoughts, but he tries to clear it away; it's making his lungs tighten.
It rings again.
He can't help himself -- he answers, sounding nervous and breathless. The only thing is, Sharona's voice is not the one he's hearing at the other end of the line.
"Hey, Mr. Monk," Benjy says, "This is Benjy."
Benjy? ...Why?
"Oh... Hey, Benjy," he says. "Er... isn't it a, a bit late to be calling... people?"
The kid laughs. "Yeah, it is, I'm sorry. But I don't have a lot of time to explain..."
Suddenly, "Where's -- where's your mom?" He shouldn't have asked that. He shouldn't have asked that... It's none of his business and he's talking to the boy who thinks that... Oh, God, that's going to sound suspicious...
"At the grocery store," he replies easily, probably ignoring the... the abruptness of the question. "She ran out of cherries, which is kinda why I have to be quick. Mom's really mad at you, Mr. Monk."
He swallows, feels his stomach sinking, blinks. She's -- she's mad. Okay. That's just fine... she's been mad before and life's gone on for them, hasn't it? They'll get by this, too... right?
"...Mad?" he asks.
"Yeah. She just sat on the couch eating chocolate-covered cherries, muttering about you. That's usually what she does when she's really mad."
Really mad. He takes a breath. And another, and another, trying to calm himself down.
"Oh," is all he can manage.
"That's why I called," Benjy says. "I don't like Mom being mad at you, Mr. Monk, so I came up with a plan so you can apologize before she's egged your house."
"Egged my house?"
"Ask Disher," a pause. "Anyway, just wait until it gets a lot later -- one or two, maybe -- and fake a panic attack. You call, she'll come, you can apologize."
"What?" He feels bewildered and sick.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Monk," Benjy whispers. "Mom's home now, I have to go."
Lie? A kid is telling him to lie? To her? He inhales sharply, still holding the phone close to his ear. She's mad at him. She's really mad at him, and there's a chance she'll egg his house. That would be so much to clean! He'd -- he'd have to get one of those, those vacuum things that cleaning services have and all the attachments, and she's mad at him.
He sets the phone down and sinks into the sofa, heart pounding. He doesn't want her to be mad at him.
She stays up until 1:00 am watching TV and eating. She knows, as a healthcare professional, that she probably shouldn't be doing these things, but she's annoyed and slightly hormonal. She doesn't care about her stupid metabolism.
When she finally gets into bed, thoughts and memories and punishments for Benjy whirling in her tired mind, the phone rings. She knows, immediately, who it is because it's never anyone else. She can see him sitting there, looking frantic and begging for her to get over there as fast as possible, and she really doesn't want to leave the safety of her bed. But, he's her job. He's relying on her.
She answers the phone: "Hi, Adrian."
"Sharona," he whispers. "Oh, God, Sharona..."
"I'm coming," she says, making sure she sounds put out. "Don't worry, I'm coming,"
She climbes off of the mattress, dragging a blanket with her into the hallway as she makes her way to Benjy's room. She wakes him up and asks if he wants to come, but he says no. It's better, she decides. He'd be reading everything wrong.
It's cold outside. She pulls the blanket tighter and gets into the car, starts it, drives down the streets like she usually does. She gets to his house, grabs the key from the ignition and heads over to the gleaming front door and spotless porch light in her pajamas and the big, puffy comforter wrapped around her torso.
He opens the door before she can raise her key to the lock.
"Sharona," he says, sounding out of sorts. "I... I'm so glad you're here -- it was huge!"
She allows him to drag her into the house, "What was huge?"
"The moth!" he exclaims, turning around to face her with a strained expression on his face. "The... the big, disgusting moth, Sharona."
"It was a moth."
"...Yes. I wouldn't lie to you about something as... mothy as a moth."
She snorts. "I don't believe it,"
"Why not?" He looks nervous. Shifty, and she smiles to herself. He makes her laugh when he's thrown off -- so confused and unsure of what to do. "There was a moth, Sharona! A big, disgusting... moth!"
"Okay," she says, "and it's gone now?"
"Yes."
She heads back towards the door, sighing, when she feels a hand grasping her arm through the blanket.
"I... I lied," he says, sounding completely disgusted with himself.
She turns around, facing him again and looks up into his eyes. "What?"
"There was no moth," he says. "God, I'm... I'm sorry, I feel so stupid..."
He lied. About a moth. She bursts out laughing, not noticing the fact that his hand is still on her arm... blanket. "Adrian," she says, "People lie... And about things that're more stupid than moths."
"...I know... I just feel, you know... bad about... about lying to you." He inhales. "So... you're not mad?"
"No," she laughs. "It was just a damn moth, Adrian. A big, disgusting, mothy moth."
"Good." he smiles. "Er... since you're... since you're here already, I kind of need to... to talk to you about..."
Her smile fades. She knows what he wants to talk about. She knows why he lied about the moth.
"About earlier," he says, looking as uncomfortable as she suddenly finds herself feeling. "God... Sharona, I... I was sitting too close and, and I..."
"Can we talk about this later?" she asks. "I... I have Benjy at home,"
He gives her a very serious, almost detective look. "We won't talk about this later if I... if I let you leave."