November 26, 9:30 P.M.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Mood: Full

It was a great Thanksgiving. To start off, we had a wonderful parade this year. All the floats and balloons made me happy, and the anticipation of travel excited me. And I was making Grandma's roll recipe all by myself for the first time in my life. I tried so hard to make everything perfect, make every roll the same size and shape. Is it even possible? When they were done, they all looked different, so I put them in a basket and put a towel over them.

Dad called this morning just to make sure it was ok for us to come over. I remember he said, "About what time would you like us there? We wouldn't want to interrupt your favorite game . . . What?" The look on his face was priceless! He told me that he couldn't believe Mr. Monk didn't watch football. I wasn't surprised, actually. I said, "Well, somebody out there has some sense."

We got down there around 1:00. I was afraid things didn't get off to a right start with Dad and Mr. Monk. I told Dad like three times that Mr. Monk was a little bit of a hypochondriac and didn't like shaking people's hands, and guess what he did first thing? I nearly screamed at him. I didn't mean to. He just laughed and said, "Sorry. My daughter told me about you, but . . . old habits die hard, you know?" Mr. Monk just muttered, "Yeah, it's ok." He pulled his hand away and reached for a moist towlette in his jacket, but I got my hand sanitizer first. "Here. Save a tree," I said. And he said, "The tree's already dead. How can I save it?" That was good question. I gotta get him to use hand sanitizer though. I think it kills a lot more germs than a moist towlette.

He's got a nice house. He's got a lot of books, comfortable furniture, and there were pictures of his wife everywhere. Natalie was there, and this was the first time I met Julie. She was a lot younger than I thought she was. She's not even in high school yet.

We just came to give him the rolls, but they let us stay. They had a nice dinner. And I was watching Mr. Monk eat. For one thing, he had all of his courses on separate plates. I saw what he was doing. I don't like my food to touch either, especially when it's syrup touching something like bacon. Yucky. Sometimes I don't much have choice, though. I either got to scoot my food to other food or use my fingers, and I know the latter is bad etiquette. But this is what got me. He ate one course at a time! I thought I was the only person in the world who did that. I thought that was cool. And everybody talked a little bit. Dad spent a lot of time bragging about what he did, working for Industrial Lights and Magic, making special effects possible, meeting George Lucas. He sure wowed Julie. He didn't mention that he only fixed and installed equipment.

My rolls were a hit. Everybody had at least two. I told everybody the story behind them, how my mom's great-great-grandparents came over from Hungary, got their names changed and how they got last names that were unique to anybody in America so that the FBI could keep track of their descendants. My relatives never talked about "the old country." They didn't say who they were or why they came here. They wouldn't even talk about it to their children. I said that my theory was that they were members of the royal court, and they were fleeing the country after Archduke Ferdinand was assassinated. Mr. Monk thought it was more likely that they were running from the law. I guess that's true, but then why would the FBI get involved?

Afterwards, Dad wanted to talk to Mr. Monk and Natalie alone. I heard him mention Mom's name, and it sounded like Mr. Monk was talking about his wife. And I could tell at times that they were talking about me too. Dad was talking softer, but I recognized his tone. So I talked to Julie for a while. We talked about "The Simpsons" and Harry Potter. I told her a couple of jokes. She asked me what college was like. She wanted to know if it was fun. I almost wondered if I let her down.

I asked her how long her mother knew Mr. Monk. She said it had been a few years. He solved a case for them. It happened that he was looking for an assistant at the time. He had one, but she quit. After Mr. Monk solved the case, Natalie decided to work for him. Julie wasn't exactly sure why, but she thought it was because Mr. Monk reminded Natalie a little of her late husband. (I didn't know she was a widow.) Or maybe it was because he saved their pet fish. I asked Julie what exactly Natalie did for him. She said Natalie just helps him with things he has trouble doing, like driving, cooking, and socializing. Her job is to keep him cool in this world full of adverse stimuli. Man, I wish I had a Natalie, or someone like that.

Then Julie said, "Yeah, Mr. Monk is really smart, but he's also so weird." Weird. My least favorite adjective, especially when it applies to people. I was already pulling out my soap box and getting on top, and I said, "What do you mean, 'weird?'" And she said, "Well, everybody thinks so, even he does. He sees murder everywhere. Nobody dies by accident. It's always murder. Mom says if he never left his house, crime in San Francisco will take a nosedive."

And I looked down from my soapbox at her and said, "Well, that's not logical. That's not logical thinking at all. I don't know him as well as you or your mother do, but from what I know about him, crime in San Francisco would skyrocket, not nosedive. Because he wouldn't be out there to catch 'em!"

Julie was quiet. Then she said, "Yeah. Will you excuse me?" And she went down the hall.

I just barely hear a voice in the other room saying, "Did you hear that? Did you hear that? She defended me! I don't think anybody's defended me before! Oh my . . . I, I don't know what to say."

If I ever had any doubt that this friendship was mutual, that resolved it right there. We left shortly after. Natalie and Julie both said they enjoyed talking to me and Dad. All Mr. Monk said was, "Thank you for coming." But there seemed to be a look in his eye that expressed more than just courtesy. But I'm not sure. I don't make great eye contact, and I'm terrible at interpreting facial expression. I really hope I'm right, because it really made me feel good.

December 1, 7:30 P.M.

UUUUUUUUUURGH!

Mood: Angry

I got my bill today for next semester. They're charging me twice as much as they did this semester for my room! There's no way I can afford this. Dad was furious when he heard. He called over to the billing department and found out it was because they listed my room as a private room because I don't have a roommate! How unfair is that?

Well, maybe it'll give me an excuse to move. The dorms are so noisy. I've had my eye on some apartments just off campus. If I can't pay the bill, I can't live in the dorm. Simple as that, right?

December 2, 8:45 P.M.

To fight or to move? That is the question.

Mood: Pessimistic

I checked out some landlords in the area, and they say they're booked for the spring. Good gravy, where am I going to live?

I got a call from Mr. Monk today. I told him things weren't going well. He asked if there was any way he could help. "Not unless you're a lawyer," I said. He answered, "Well, here's the thing: I may not be a lawyer, but a private consultant and a former member of the police, I know a few things about the law. Will that help?" I sighed. "OK, maybe." Then I told him everything. He stammered for a moment. "You're, you're right. It's not fair. It's not your fault that Joy was murdered. They're charging you for your roommate's murder, even though you're innocent. Have you made that argument?"

Then I heard Natalie's voice screaming on the phone. She was pretty much ordering me to fight because this wasn't fair and all. But when I told her I wanted to move, she quieted down.

I talked to Mr. Monk again. He didn't have any ideas. He just knew that universities often pull fast ones like this. He told me if he thought of anything or if Natalie thought of anything that they could do, they'll let me know. It makes me feel a little better knowing that I got friends fighting with me.

December 15, 8:24 P.M.

Light at the End of the Tunnel

Mood: Hopeful

It's been two weeks since he called, but Mr. Monk didn't forget me. He asked me how things were going. I told him that I've asked a few friends and people at Church for some help, and so far I'm coming up empty. He said, "You know, I was thinking. Dr. Kroger that's his therapist, wonder if he's related to Chad Kroger? has some colleagues who live close to campus. Some of them are adjunct professors. Dr. Kroger even spoke at the campus himself a few times. He had to cut some of my sessions short to go do special presentations. Maybe I could ask him tomorrow if there's anything he can do."

I said, "You know, tomorrow's Dead Day. Maybe I could go ask him myself."

He seemed rather doubtful that Dr. Kroger would see me like that, but he was willing to try. He and Natalie will be down to meet me at 7:00. Man, that's too early to wake up on Dead Day. Well, this is important. I better get to bed.

December 16, 11:30 A.M.

A Revelation!

Mood: Contemplative

I had the midnight madness breakfast early this morning. It was just donuts and coffee, but at least it got me up. After that, I just rested on top of my bed until 6:45. Then I went down to the lobby. They were there, right on time. We walked out, and I noticed an earthworm on the sidewalk. I squealed, picked him up, and put him back on the ground. Mr. Monk was not comfortable with that. I explained that the poor guy was losing all the moisture in his skin, and he would die before he reached the end of the sidewalk. Natalie, for once, knew where I was coming from. "It's called 'compassion, '" she told him. He still looked at me odd, so I got out my hand sanitizer and scrubbed my hands really well.

I got to say, Mr. Monk was one of the biggest backseat drivers I've ever seen. He kept screaming traffic regulations, and he asked about twenty times if we were wearing our seatbelts. I'm not judging him because sometimes I'm pretty bad at that myself ("Dad, the speed limit's 60. You're not going 60. Dad, I don't know where we are! This isn't the way!" and then he yells at me that he knows what he's doing). It's just that I was trying to study for my poetry exam. The first two parts are matching. First you got to match poet to poem, then you got to match content to poem. Every poem we studied this semester is fair game. So after about ten minutes of it, I told him to quiet down. I explained why, and Natalie told Mr. Monk to help me. So I handed him my syllabus. He must not have even looked at it for two seconds, and he didn't ask for my textbook. He just rattled off poem titles and lines from poems. I tried my best to keep up. A couple of times he asked about poems we didn't study. Guess he got too caught up in it. Well, at least he wasn't screaming anymore.

I think he really cared. I started studying on my own when we got to the clinic, and he just said quietly to me, "You'll do fine." I explained that there was still an essay portion, and I had to read my notes for that. So he left me alone

Dr. Kroger had a cool office. It had a couch, of course, and a couple of armchairs. But the thing that I liked the best was that right outside his window was a huge waterfall. I couldn't stop staring at it. I can't remember much about the meeting because I was so entranced by those waters. But there is one thing I remember. I thought of a really good idea. I'm not going to say what it is right away because I'm not sure if it'll pan out, but I'll say this. If it'll work, it might solve my problem.

Video Tape AM041.1 (excerpt)

Dr. Charles Kroger

9:00 A. M., December 16, 20–

Adrian brought his college friend Sue with him today. Before the session, he apologized for causing an unusual situation, but they felt I could help them with a desperate situation. I was interested in talking to her anyway, since he has told me that she has Asperger's Syndrome. Upon entering the room, Sue went to the window and stared at the waterfall outside.

"Wow. That is . . . that is beautiful!"

"Yeah. Some of my clients enjoy that as well. It's calming, soothing."

"Does it make rainbows late in the day, when the sun hits it right?"

"No, it's rather shady here."

"Would you, would you mind too terribly if I watch that instead of you?"

"If it makes you more comfortable, go ahead." She grabbed an armchair, scooted it closer to the window, and stared. "So, Adrian tells me you have Asperger's."

"Adrian? Who's Adrian?"

"This is Adrian, right here. Did you not know that?"

Sue turns around to Adrian. "Your name is Adrian?"

He shrugs and nods.

"I thought that was a girl's name."

"It's spelled differently."

"Oh. You learn something new every day. It must be hard."

"Sometimes."

"But I can sympathize, sort of. I can't tell you how sick I am of 'A Boy Name Sue.'" (a brief chuckle here) "I'm sorry. What was it you asked me again, Doctor?"

"I was just wondering about your Asperger's. When were you diagnosed?"

"I was diagnosed at five with PDD-NOS."

"I'm sorry, what's that?"

"Pervasive Developmental Disorder Not Otherwise Specified. They call it the catch-all category. Then I was diagnosed with AS my senior year of high school."

"Interesting. I'm not an expert on the autism spectrum, but I want to learn more. I'm interested in learning what you can tell me."

"OK."

Then I spoke with Adrian about his recent events. Near the middle of our session, he explained the situation. Sue is looking for a new place to live, and since she is not currently able to drive, she needs a place close to campus or at least living with someone who won't mind providing her transportation.

"Has she told you why she wants to move?"

"Well, they're charging her too much for her dorm. Because of her roommate's death, they made it into a private room."

"That's not fair."

"No, it's not, but she'd rather move than fight it."

"How come?"

"Obviously because she's not satisfied with the dorms."

"Hey, Sue?"

Sue did not immediately respond.

Adrian tried, "Sue!"

Sue jumps in her chair. "Oh! I'm sorry. I, I kinda forgot where I was."

"We were just wondering why you want to move."

"Oh, have I not told you? It's so noisy over there. People next door keep playing loud music, and everybody was screaming. And at night it's very evident that people aren't respecting the dry campus policy. I'm working on a thesis next semester. I can't work in these conditions!"

I said, "Oh, a thesis! How ambitious! That's wonderful! What's it about?"

"It's a character analysis of four characters: Auguste Dupin from Poe's short detective fiction, Phileas Fogg from Around the World in 80 Days, Alice from Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass, and Sherlock Holmes."

"Well, two of those are right up Adrian's alley. So what's the connection, besides that they're all from the nineteenth century?"

"I believe they all had AS. I want to analyze, compare, and discuss the history behind them. My argument is that they were so popular because that time period had a fascination with autism, and the people didn't even realize it."

"Sounds intriguing. I think I'd like to read that."

"Thank you."

"Alright, back to question now. Who would you like to live with?"

"Someone who's quiet and respects my need for privacy. Someone who will understand . . . me." Sue turns around in her seat and looks at us. "Hey. I think I know a good candidate."

"Who?"

She points to Adrian. "You!"

"Me?"

(Tape runs out)

Rach–Actually, that was a real dream I had. And yes, Monk was in it. I'm not sure if Natalie was though. And I added in the scene with the Golden Gate Bridge. I thought that would make the interpretation clearer.