JAN. 27, 2006
COFFEE WITH THE CAPTAIN, PART I

After Capt. Stottlemeyer's wife left him, Monk gave him my number and told him he could call me any time if he needed to talk.

I was surprised that Monk offered my shoulder to cry on without asking me, but I wasn't going to argue with him about it in front of the Captain. So I said yeah, the Captain could call me.

Besides, it was a safe thing to do because I knew the Captain would never take me up on Monk's offer. For one thing, Stottlemeyer is a cop, so he's got to be tough, stoic, and invulnerable, because to be anything else would be a sign of weakness (which is probably one of this reasons his marriage tanked, but what do I know?)

For another thing, we aren't friends. The only connection we really have is our concern and affection for Adrian Monk.

So when Stottlemeyer called me one Saturday afternoon, my natural assumption was that he was looking for Monk.

"Who died?" I asked jokingly.

"Nobody," he said. "I was just thinking you might be free for a coffee or something." Before I could reply, he quickly added: "I'm not asking you out."

"Of course not," I said. Then I cringed, thinking of all the different, hurtful ways he could take that. His wife just left him, after all, so his self-confidence must have been in the toilet as it was. The last thing he needed was me making him feel like the least desirable man on earth. "I mean, not that you aren't dateable. You've very dateable. What I meant was that I knew you didn't mean it the way it could have been meant, know what I mean?"

"Yeah," he said. "This was a bad idea. Forget I called. This never happened."

"Wait, it's okay. A coffee sounds great. Really great. Julie's at a movie with her friends and I was looking for an excuse not to do laundry, wash the dishes and pay bills." I said. "Where would you like to meet?"

We met at this coffeehouse and newsstand down the block from me. He looked terrible. I wanted to hug him, but that's the mother in me. I want to hug everybody who looks the least bit unhappy. I never had that urge until Julie was born. Instead we shook hands. How awkward is that?

He mumbled a "how are you?" and we made some unmemorable small talk while we ordered our coffee and pastries and found a table. Then there was a long awkward moment of silence while we blew on our coffees and tried to ignore the long awkward moment of silence.

"I'm beginning to understand Monk a whole lot better," he finally said.

"Why is that?"

"He always had his problems, but when he was with Trudy, he found a balance. He could function. But after he lost her, he lost himself," Stottlemeyer said. "He fell apart and he's still trying to put himself back together. He tries desperately to organize every little detail of the world around him because he thinks if he succeeds, he can put himself back together again."

"You've always known that," I said.

"Yeah, but not like I know it now," Stottlemeyer said.

"Why is that?"

"I'm alone," he said. "You'd think I would mind, considering."

"Considering what?"

"My wife used to tell me I was in my own little world, shutting her and everybody else out," he said. "She said that it was like living in the house alone. But it's not. I know the difference."

"Now you do," I said, and regretted it the instant the words came out of my mouth.

(continue reading "Coffee with the Captain")