God, does he wish she was here. He hates being alone when he has to think, he hates Just Adrian, and he wishes she could be with him, to help him... But she asks too many questions. She's too distracting, too comforting and he really needs to focus here. Most of this isn't even about Sharona.
Trudy... Trudy's dead. Do they think he's stupid? Every morning he wakes up by himself, he has the file, he can't ignore a car bomb. He can't pretend it never happened -- she's gone. He knows it, so why do they think he doesn't understand? Just because he doesn't... doesn't date, just because Sharona's the only woman he really talks to, just because she's the only one he really feels comfortable with... When he takes it into consideration, she's lost a spouse, too, right? Not to the same circumstances, but that creep she married is gone...
So they can't get angry with him for not moving on, because according to his feelings and his psychiatrist, he's already started. It's like the world is being pulled from underneath his feet and she's the only one willing to reach out and catch him.
And -- and if he does love her, he has no idea what to do about it. It's obviously a problem... He can't think how he'd ever be able to function if every day was spent just, just watching her. Oh. Here's something funny -- he laughs to himself, trying to make himself believe it's amusing -- Dr. Kroger thinks he should tell her. Another weak chuckle escapes his lips but dies almost as soon as it starts. That would be embarrassing. Especially if... if she doesn't think about him like he thinks about her. If she thinks he's just Adrian.
She seemed disturbed enough by the paint, he tells himself, What would she say if I -- If I ever...
"Do you think she's attractive?" Dr. Kroger asked him.
Does he think she's attractive? No comment. But, but Dr. Kroger doesn't need to hear it because sometimes he sees things. He picks up on the circulating thought, the thought that started all of this trouble to begin with:
She's beautiful.
...He wishes she could be here, and his eyes are glued to the telephone. It's just inches away. He could reach out and touch it. He could pick it up and call her.
"Adrian," she said to him in the beginning, with the most Commanding Look he had ever seen. "If you need me, I want you to call me."
Oh, he needs her.
She's staring at the phone again, captivated by the contagious -- and it would have to be, because she never felt this before him -- desire to check one last time... just to see, just to make sure he's okay. Her fingers are starting to itch, and she guesses this is what he goes through when he sees a disorganized desk or a crooked picture. It's getting unbearable. She does the first thing that pops into her head and begins drumming her fingernails against the surface of the table in an attempt at distraction, but her eyes -- her eyes that now match the walls, she thinks with a smile -- never leave the silver plastic that sits on top of the TV.
Maybe she should check again. Just one more time, to make sure he's really okay and that he wasn't lying the first four times.
Her fingers suddenly falter in their rhythm.
She really should call. She's his nurse, she knows best. She's his assistant, she has a right to call if she thinks he's having a problem, so that she can assist him... She's his friend, and she's worried.
She stands up, walks over to the little phone and picks it up, but just as she's about to turn it on it emits a shrill version of that song "Another One Bites the Dust" and who else could it be?
"Adrian?" she says at the exact time he asks for her, and her pulse jumps at the sound of his voice.
"Sharona, um, hi. It's me, Adrian."
She says hi and that she knows who it is, but her tone isn't one of exasperation. More like somwhere between unease and cheer.
"Um, do... do you think that you could, er, come over, please?" and he sounds so hopeful, like he really needs her.
So hopeful and so tired and so nervous... how could she say no?
"Sure," she replies, "Of course. Do you want me right now?"
There's a very long, very uncomfortable pause on the other end of the line. She says his name a few times, hoping that he has't gone into some sort of fit, and never noticing the choice of words that wouldn't have made a difference before. She barely even gets it when his reply comes to her in a startled, almost incredulous tone:
"I'm sorry... What was the question?"
"Should I come over right now?" she repeats, and he accepts the suggestion with a tentative:
"Oh, yeah... Now... Now is great."
She sighs when the phone is back on the top of the television, wondering at the strangeness of their near call-collision. To think what might have happened if she had started to dial just a second sooner -- they'd both have gotten busy signals, and who knows what he might be doing instead of waiting for her to show up at his front step.
And as she ushers Benjy into the car, she marvels at her luck.
Meanwhile, as he sits alone in silence, he wonders if that was the best decision. Wonders if, maybe, he should call her back and say he changed his mind -- and, in his defense, he tries very hard to reach a conclusion. But by the time he gets there, she's already knocking on the door.
"Hi... hi, Sharona," he says, "Come in."
She apologizes for taking so long, she had to drop Benjy off at a friend's house, but he really doesn't care because she's here now. He's nervous and possibly going to be sick, but that doesn't matter because it's all for the best. And she's here, and she's looking very nice.
She asks if he's okay, and he replies that he is.
"I... I just needed someone here," he says, "Thank you for coming over."
"Any time!" she states with a smile, and they both sit down on the sofa.
There's a silence to rival Dr. Kroger's office now, both of them just sitting there and staring awkwardly and the wall in front of them. He wonders if she's bored. If she was doing something really important at home, or if she had company...
"You weren't busy, were you?" he asks, turning to look at her in hopes that she wasn't.
"Nah," she replies, sounding kind of... kind of suspicious. "I was just watching TV."
"Anything good?"
"...Not really. Why?"
"Just wondering..."
More silence. He can hear his heart, he can feel sighs as she sits next to him for no particular reason. Just to be comforting, and he wonders why. Sure, he pays her... But she always says she's going to quit. He wonders what makes her stay. He wonders if there's any particular reason. He wonders what would happen if he could just place a hand on her face and --
No. That's not something he can do. Firstly, because of germs. Secondly, because it's Sharona and he's seen her hit people just for... for saying things. If he tried something like that, he doesn't know what would happen... But that's not even a question because kissing is one of the easiest ways to spread disease and he couldn't ever kiss her.
He wonders what would happen if they went on a... to dinner. Or lunch. Or breakfast. It would have to be a nice place, of course, because there would be a cleaner environment and she deserves a really nice place most of the time. He wonders what she'd wear, and makes a game in his head of guessing. He wonders where she'd leave Benjy. With Gail, maybe? Or a friend?
...But most of all, he just wonders what she'd say.
"Sharona, can... could I ask you a hypothetical question?"