The Bedtime Predicament
Ice cream turned out to be a bad idea.
Sheldon had a pint of chocolate ice cream with marshmallows and rainbow sprinkles on it—the formula for gastronomic bliss, obviously—but that didn't do the trick. He still couldn't sleep and he knew something's wrong when not even ice cream can satiate his palate. All it gave him was an ice cream headache, a full stomach and an additional thing to worry about: his bowel movement.
It had been two weeks since he left Pasadena to organize his thoughts. He thoroughly checked the hotel he's currently staying at and even tailed a chambermaid to ensure that no germs or other yucky, squishy things will share the room with him.
He looked around. Just like the previous days, the room was cleaned to his satisfaction, despite the barrage of vulgar-sounding Spanish words the cleaning lady threw at his face before leaving.
Yet, something felt not quite right. It was already 3 minutes and 19 seconds past his bedtime and he was growing more and more uncomfortable with each passing time. He needed to sleep but, for some reason, his body won't relax. He positioned himself on the bed, straight and still like a hibernating vampire, and closed his eyes. "I am sleepy. I am sleepy. I am sleepy." He muttered.
Sheldon, however, was not the only one having trouble sleeping that night.
No matter how hard she stared at the ceiling, imagining a brain diagram and reciting her favorite parts, Amy can't will her body to shut down. She shouldn't have sneaked into the UCLA cadaver lab that night because all that excitement before bedtime is really not advisable. But what can she do? When the janitor texted her that fresh cadavers were delivered to the lab that day, she had no choice. She was certain no self-respecting neurobiologist would miss such an opportunity to fiddle with those brains and marvel at the jerking legs of the departed. Besides, she badly needed things to distract her from thinking about her absentee boyfriend.
She considered making chamomile tea but, the moment the word tea came out of her mind, thoughts of Sheldon reappeared. Although they continue to communicate on a daily basis, not sensing his physical presence made Amy feel hollow. She closed her eyes and pictured a happy place for her, where she's sure Sheldon or ideas of him won't follow.
She was imagining herself in the cadaver lab when her phone rang. It was he-who-must-not-be-thought-of.
"Sheldon? Is everything okay?"
"Yes, Amy, everything's okay. Did I wake you?" Sheldon answered.
Her heart stopped upon hearing him. They talked earlier in the day but still she found herself delighted and appeased by the sound coming from the other line.
Amy sighed, there really is no escaping him. "It's fine. If there's no problem, why are you calling at this hour? You had a nightmare, did you? I told you not to watch cheap science fiction before bedtime."
Sheldon sat up on his bed. "First of all, I didn't have nightmares and second, I don't watch 'cheap' science fiction. I am a fan of intelligently-written, high-quality works of fiction that happen to use science, which, for all you know, might govern other universes. Honestly, woman, your distaste for science fiction never fails to puzzle me."
"Really, Sheldon? Maybe you should just go find a girl who worships sci fi just like yourself and ask her to be your girlfriend," she countered.
"Don't be silly. Although I can easily find girls who like science fiction, I wouldn't ask them to be my girlfriend. I can never like other girls the way that I like you." He said with a smile on his face. He just can't help but smirk at the absurdity of Amy's suggestion.
On the other line, Amy was smiling too. "Good. You just have to live with my dislike of some of your passions then. In the same way that I have to get used to being exposed to them because of you and my similar inability to like other men the way that I like you. But, you didn't answer my first question. Why did you call?"
He paused for a while, thinking. "For some unknown reason, I find myself having difficulty sleeping tonight. And since you're awake maybe you can, uhm, help me pass the time." He quickly introduced a topic. "So, how was your day?"
Propping her back with a pillow, Amy recalled the events of the day for him. "Hmm, and after work, Penny, Bernadette and I went to a bar. I found out that there is a cocktail called Slippery Nipple. Did you know that?"
"Ugh, that sounds like something only horny zombies will find enticing. Did you find out what's in it?" Sheldon said while making a mental note that he should talk to those two hens about bringing his girl to bars.
"No but they assured me there is no actual nipple on it. Besides, I didn't get to try it because the janitor at UCLA informed me of the fresh deliveries in their morgue and you know what that means." She laughed.
Her laugh was contagious and Sheldon, despite his aversion to biology, laughed at his girlfriend's enthusiasm. "You brain monkey. Speaking of brains, I saw Eric earlier on the train. Remember him? The delivery guy. I thought we could share more fun facts about trains but after some time, he kept giving me the same information we talked about before. He was repeating himself and doesn't even know it. Being the good acquaintance that I was, I recorded our conversation and played it to him so he would know. But he just went on and on saying the same words as it was playing. Boy, was it like simultaneously listening to two broken recordings."
"Ooh, his brain would be amusing to study! I would note that, in the event he or a similar case ends up in my lab," she said.
Sheldon chuckled and after a few more exchange of stories, he realized how his earlier restlessness was gone. And then, he finally yawned.
"Hmmm. I'm feeling sleepy. I think we should go to sleep now," he said.
Amy sensed that she has calmed down as well. Gone are her worries for the night. "I concur. I have a feeling I am going to have a good sleep tonight. Thank you for calling."
"As do I. I am glad I called you. Somehow, I know your stories will put me to sleep," he answered.
That didn't sound right, Amy thought. Is he saying her stories are akin to those humanities lectures that made her sleepy during her undergraduate years? That can't be right. She was about to protest Sheldon's remark, when he spoke.
"Or it could be because of your voice. I thought earlier that I was craving for ice cream. It turns out it was a simple case of biology wanting a little physics."
"I don't understand," Amy said.
He rolled his eyes. She was being impossible again. Does he always need to spell it out? He exhaled, might as well get it over and done with.
"Hard as this may be to believe, it appeared that my earlier diagnosis was incorrect. My stomach wasn't the problem and, consequently, ice cream was not the solution. It was my ears, oddly longing for a very particular sound."
Even though she understood perfectly what he was trying to say, she didn't let him go easily just like before. "And what sound is that?" she asked.
"Well, I have been listening to you for the past hour, haven't I?" he retorted quickly.
Then, he heard Amy chuckle. "I like hearing your voice too, Sheldon."
"Good lord, Amy, how you manage to be adorable and pushy at the same time is beyond me. Good night."
"Good night, Sheldon."
Finally, with each other's voice and quirky, charming words committed to memory, Sheldon and Amy closed their eyes and effortlessly fell asleep.
[End]