Today she doesn't see lions or dogs or even milk cartons. Today she can't even see the things she used to pick out with Benjy, when they were both younger. Now it's just thoughts without images, thoughts of work and of money and of Adrian.
Her fingernails dig into the mattress, clawing at some nonexistant annoyance.
The clock on her dresser reads eight-oh-three, and she sits up regretfully whilst attempting to disentangle herself. She has to have a shower, she has to brush her teeth, she has to get dressed and make sure her son's had breakfast before he runs off to a friend's house. And then... then she waits for him to call, which he'll do at exactly ten-thirty, just to make sure she knows she has to pick him up to go grocery shopping and it's the least crowded from eleven to noon. She always knows, he always calls.
The bathroom is an unusually long distance today and she walks very slowly, wondering what his morning routine is like. She's never witnessed it at all -- and into the shower she goes, making sure to rinse all the shampoo from her hair before she climbs out again and puts on the pink bathrobe that hangs on the back of the door. She reaches for her toothbrush with her hair still wet, as usual, and loads it up with extra-strength whitening toothpaste before bringing the bristled end into her mouth and beginning to scrub at her teeth.
And then, much to her surprise, there's a knock on the door.
She opens it a little, toothbrush hanging from her mouth, and sees Benjy standing there with the phone in his hand. There's only one person it can be.
She takes the receiver from her son and shuts the door, spitting into the sink before she raises it to her ear and speaks.
"Hello?" she says.
"Er... Hi, Sharona," comes the awkward voice from the other end of the line, sounding shaky and minorly excited. "This is Adrian... Monk."
"I know who it is." she says smiling to herself because that line is always right on cue. "Look, is this an emergency? 'Cause if it isn't... you kinda called at a weird time."
"Weird?" he sounds confused.
"Well, my hair's all wet and --" but that's all she gets out of her mouth before he suddenly begins shouting emphatically:
"Your hair is wet?! And you're talking on the phone?! Oh, my God, you're going to get electrocuted!" He sounds so horrified and traumatized...
And loud. She holds the phone at arms-length away from her, listening to him scream for a few more seconds before she finally shouts back that she's not going to be electrocuted. Then there's an argument, then there are mood swings and he refuses to say a word until she's done blow-drying her hair.
"You're a pain," she says to him before setting the phone down on the counter and getting out her blow-dryer.
She makes it take an unnecessarily long time, too, just to spite him. The only thing is, as she combs and scrunches blonde curls, she can't help but smile at his Safety First attitude. He's a real character, that's for sure.
"Your hair is completely dry?" he asks her when she announces that she's back.
"Completely," she replies, and walks into the kitchen where Benjy is eating toast. "Now, what did you call for?"
He wants to talk to Benjy, to ask him if her hair really is completely dry. She snorts and laughs and hands the phone over for about ten minutes, which is the precise amount of time it takes for Adrian to be convinced of the state of her hair. When she talks to him again, however, his mind doesn't seem to be on electrocution.
"I solved the case," he says, sounding very confident. "Do... could you take me to the station to tell Captain Stottlemeyer?"
"Sure," she says, wondering who the murderer could have been. "I'll be there in a few minutes, okay?"
"Okay... Bye, Sharona."
She hangs up the phone with a considerable degree of pride for her employer, smiling at the thought that another creep will be behind bars brecause of Adrian Monk. He's such a great guy, she thinks to herself, heading out to the station wagon as Benjy walks to Tyler's house across the street. And she's thinking it as he does the summation of the case at Valley View Apartments, standing on the sidewalk with a careful, intuitive air about him. It's going through her mind as Stottlemeyer slaps handcuffs on the murderer, as they head back to her car, as they sit there in complete silence.
"That was fun," he says, with no attempt at humor. He really does find it entertaining, she thinks. It's how his mind works and mysteries are like a complex game of wits.
She doesn't have anything to say to that, really, which is strange because she's supposed to. She's the Girl Friday, she's supposed to be full of amusing and sarcastic comments... but for some reason, all of them seem to be missing and she finds herself struggling for anything.
"...We should celebrate," she says, for lack of anything better, and turns to see his reaction to that suggestion.
He turns to face her, as well, with a funny look on his face. A little scared, a little curious, a little cheerful. It's kind of suiting, when she thinks about it, because when he's not depressed out of his mind or scrubbing everything in sight, he's pretty nice to be around.
"Celebrate?" he asks, staring at her with those brown eyes. "Like... like going on a --"
"Out to lunch," she finishes for him, thinking of the previous night and his strange question. "We still have your grocery shopping to do, so we could do that and go... Come on, it'll be different."
He swallows. "I... I'm... I don't know."
Apparently, it doesn't matter that he doesn't like different because they're sitting at a booth in a quiet, clean-ish place and he's peering down at a menu with his eyebrows furrowed. She's holding hers, scanning the list of food with her light blue eyes and wondering what will taste the best. Her lips are pressed together and a... a piece of hair is dangerously close to falling out of place, but that doesn't matter because he'll be right there to fix it when it falls into her face. He can just take it between his fingers and place it back on top of her head...
"You're staring at me," she says automatically, and looks up at him with a smile. "God, Adrian, if it's gonna fall you might as well fix it before you're swatting at my face."
He knows she's serious in one sense, but... but she's not angry. She's not laughing at him, either. He knows this by now -- she's laughing at the situation and he's never noticed how much her smile brightens those eyes he likes so much. Nonetheless, he stops thinking about that and brushes the little ringlet back, tucking it behind a few more secure pieces of blonde hair.
She smiles again and this time he joins her, trying not to focus on her cheerful attitude when there are more important things to be considered. Like... like... Oh, come on, he thinks in frustration, there are always more important things.
Aren't there?
"You did a really great job today, Adrian," she says, and somehow he doesn't think the important things ever existed. The Look she's giving him is important enough.
Proud. He's seen it sometimes, in milder forms and conditions, but... but he likes it. A lot.
"Nah," he says, and the Look gets a little more intense. "I... you know,"
And he can tell she does, because her eyes return to her menu and part of him wishes he hadn't said anything at all because she'd still be focusing on him. ...But that's, that's... no. So, he goes back to his menu and tries to find boiled anything.
"Number seven." she says suddenly, reaching over and pointing directly at the number seven on the menu, but he doesn't look down at whatever's printed beneath it.
Instead, he looks up and directly into her eyes for the second time in twenty-four hours. She's staring right back, and for a few moments they just sit there gazing at each other. But then... then his mouth gets the best of him, as it seems to do so often when he's around her, and he says something that he barely allows himself to think:
"Sometimes I... I wish I could kiss you."