Chapter Four
"I don't like The Olive Garden. They treat me like family."
Sheldon Cooper (TBBT Season 4)
"The Apology Insufficiency"
Sheldon's childhood home smelled like pastries, freshly-laundered clothes, and domestic tranquility. The front rooms were cozy, quaint, and impeccably cleaned. They were also packed to the rafters with enough spiritual art and assorted Jesus-themed knick knacks to start a religious cult.
Amy was fascinated.
While Sheldon put away his house key and called out for his mother, she perused the brown walls peppered with various photos of family members. She found one of Sheldon at approximately age nine or ten with his father and older brother. The two older Cooper males proudly held up rifles and the bloody carcasses of animals for the camera. Sheldon, standing uneasily in the background, was clearly out of his element.
"We were required to be proficient in the use of firearms. According to my father, the rite of passage to male adulthood includes the slaughtering of innocent animals, consuming mass quantities of cheap liquor while watching football, and copulating with multiple female companions. I confess the correlation of these aptitudes to male maturity continues to escape me."
She turned to see Sheldon standing behind her. He stared at the photo, his expression confused and forlorn.
"Quite illogical," she said, shuddering to remember all the embarrassing, feminine pursuits her own mother had forced her through as a teenager.
"Thus," Sheldon continued, "I concluded that if completing these tasks were what it meant to be a grown up in my father's eyes, I would remain a child forever … like Peter Pan." He smiled to himself, but it didn't last. "Fortunately for Dad, my older brother excelled where I didn't. In fact, if they awarded doctorates in those areas, George Jr. would be considered quite a learned man."
Amy was prevented from commenting by the entrance of Mrs. Cooper. "Shelly, is that you?"
Without waiting for an answer, she engulfed her son in a hug, which he tolerated a moment before moving away. Mrs. Cooper, obviously well used to Sheldon's idiosyncrasies continued on as though nothing had occurred. "Well, praise the Lord you made it. I'm sorry I didn't hear y'all right away. I was out back hanging a fresh load of towels up on the line." She checked the Jesus Saves clock on the wall. "Aren't y'all early?"
Sheldon scowled. "Mom, we're nine minutes late. Didn't you read the itinerary I sent?"
"I try not to, lamb chop," she replied, patting him on the cheek before smiling at the woman at his side. "Amy, it's a pleasure to see you."
Before Amy could respond, she was embraced. Cinnamon and sugar clung to the woman like perfume. When the hug continued on for longer than the established norm, she awkwardly patted Mrs. Cooper's back while waiting to be released. When the older woman finally pulled away, her hands remained on Amy's shoulders. "Let me look at you."
"You've seen me before, Mrs. Cooper. Don't you remember?" Amy asked, wondering if Sheldon's mother was suffering from dementia of some sort.
"Of course I remember meeting you before, honey. It's just this time, you're Sheldon's girlfriend." With a bemused smile, she shook her head. "Don't tell me about power of prayer. I've got the proof right here in my hands."
Sheldon rolled his eyes. "Mom, kindly release Amy and refrain from spouting such hokum before you frighten her. I would prefer her exceptional mind remain untainted by religious fanaticism."
Mary kept her hands where they were. "Fear is a good thing to have when it comes to God. Keeps you humble." Over her shoulder, she caught her son in what Amy could only assume was a quelling glare. "Sheldon Lee Cooper, you watch your mouth when you're talking about our Lord and Savior. Be respectful."
His head immediately bowed. "Yes, ma'am."
Captivated, Amy stared, both intimidated and impressed by the power this woman deftly brandished over one of the world's most brilliant scientific minds. "It's nice to see you too, Mrs. Cooper," she said as politely as possible. After all, it was best to stay on Mrs. Cooper's good side.
"You may as well call me Mary. You're practically family already. Well, God willing." She paused to send a look heavenward. "So, Amy, you ever been to Texas before?"
"No, my travels in the United States have been regulated primarily to the east and west coasts. I was once invited to attend a conference in Houston on the 'Neural Correlates of Consciousness,' but my mother forced me to go on a Mormon singles cruise instead."
Mary's lips thinned. "Oh my goodness! You aren't Mormon, are you?"
"Of course not. I am without religious affiliation."
"That's a relief." She released an audible sigh. "Undecided I can work with. Once you get in with the Mormons, they marry you and your sister off to Warren Jeffs and then it's almost impossible to get you out."
Amy opened her mouth to correct Mary's obvious religious ignorance, but she'd already moved on to another subject.
"You two go on and have a seat in the living room. I've got snickerdoodles in the oven. How about some sweet tea?" She ushered them to an alcove off from the main room where an old couch and loveseat set of indeterminate color were scrunched together with a black leather recliner.
"Yes, thank you," Amy replied, choosing a seat on one end of the couch. When Sheldon stopped in front of her, she looked up in confusion.
"What?"
"You're in my spot," he said.
Rolling her eyes, she immediately scooted to the middle and allowed him to take her vacated position. Mary returned with a tray holding three glasses of iced tea and a small plate of warm cookies.
"I hope your trip was pleasant," Mary said as she served everyone.
"It was not," Sheldon grumbled. "The airline launched a plot to drive me to the very edge of my sanity. After three hours, they apparently decided to complete the task I'd paid them hundreds of dollars to do, which is to deliver us to Texas in a safe and timely manner. They seem to be under the impression that achieving only one of those caveats somehow equals good customer service, but I'll be sending a strongly-worded letter to correct these kinds of misconceptions for the—"
"That's nice, Shelly," Mary said, dismissively before focusing on Amy. "I hope my son hasn't been too much of a challenge for your patience, Amy. Traveling with him has always been a mite tricky. There's just so much space up there in his brain for information, and he can recall any of it in a second. It means boredom for him is more of a problem than for an ordinary child. Honestly, his smarts are a blessing and a curse. I've learned it's best to keep him busy with games and trivia. But, if that doesn't work, he can't taste Nyquil once it's mixed in cherry Kool-Aid." She reached over to pat Amy's hand. "Keep that in mind, dear."
Interesting. How could such ignorance live in perfect tandem with such wisdom? Mary Cooper was a walking oxymoron, and Amy was enthralled. I wonder if she'll allow me to hook her brain to electrodes? A brain scan, of course, would be optimal, but I doubt we'll have time for that.
Amy opened her mouth to ask about the electrodes when someone called out from the back of the house. She couldn't distinguish what had been said, but it affected Sheldon in a curious way. One minute he was happily nibbling on a snickerdoodle. The next, he was running towards the kitchen. Amy, more than curious, followed.
"Meemaw!" he yelled as a tall, fleshy octogenarian with a gray bun and Sheldon's blue eyes pushed through the swinging kitchen door. Without waiting, he propelled himself into the woman's arms, snuggling against her like a child would its mother after a long absence.
Remarkable, Amy thought. Minutes had passed, but Sheldon still remained locked in his grandmother's embrace. If anything, he seemed to relish prolonged physical contact with her.
Meemaw rubbed her hand soothingly up and down her grandson's back. "Oh, I missed you, too, Moon Pie. But, we can't stand here cuddlin' all day. You've gotta introduce me to your girlfriend. We can't have her thinkin' we're rude."
She delicately drew Sheldon from her arms, but softened her words by delivering a gentle kiss to his cheek. Instead of jerking away in horror, Sheldon seemed gratified by his grandmother's affection.
Absolutely perfect! Amy was more euphoric now than she'd been when she'd found her first tumor in a brain specimen. It was thrilling. Most women might think it odd to find that their boyfriend was so attached to his grandmother, but Amy wasn't most women. No, this was a good sign. If Sheldon could be so open and at ease with physical affection with his grandmother, this meant it was possible for him to be so with other people. She almost squealed out loud, but stopped herself. Now was not the time to look foolish.
Sheldon colored at his grandmother's mild rebuke and seemed to remember Amy existed. He moved to stand between the two women. "Amy, this is Meemaw. Meemaw, this is Dr. Amy Farrah Fowler."
Amy's hand shot out in preparation for a handshake. "Nice to meet you."
The older woman eyed her inquisitively for a moment before shaking her head. "Welcome, Amy. But, you should know, I've never been one for hand-shakin'—especially around family. I'm a hugger by nature."
And, with that, Amy was enveloped in the warmest, softest, safest embrace she'd ever known. It felt as though every hurt she'd ever experienced was immediately healed, ever transgression forgotten, and every wrong made right. In fact, if hugging were golf, Meemaw would've been the Tiger Woods of the sport. No wonder Sheldon loves her. I've known her for three seconds and I love her.
Amy was slightly disappointed when the hug ended, but consoled herself with the hope that there might be a repeat performance before they left for the evening.
Meemaw looked Amy over as meticulously as Mary had. "Well now. My name is Virginia Darcy. But, you may as well call me 'Meemaw'. Everyone else does."
Amy nodded, in no way able or willing to refuse this woman anything. She wanted to give her the sun, the moon and all the stars. She wanted … Her train of thought derailed as she suddenly remembered the hostess gifts she had stashed in her purse. She could give her those. Amy looked around for her purse to get them, only to realize that in her haste to catch up with Sheldon earlier, she'd left it in the car.
"If you'll excuse me, there's something I need to retrieve from the car," she explained.
"Of course," Meemaw said. "You hurry on back, you hear? I want to get to know Moon Pie's special girl." She glanced at her grandson. "Guess what? I made you—"
"Cinnamon rolls? Oh bully! Thanks, Meemaw," Sheldon shouted, rushing into the kitchen.
Amy hurried herself, intent on getting her errand completed quickly so she could get back. Not only did she want to observe all the interactions between Sheldon and Meemaw and pick the older woman's brain for any relevant Sheldon-related data, but she also just wanted to soak up all the comfort and reassurance generated by the woman's mere presence.
It's like a drug, Amy considered, grabbing her purse from the car, locking it back, and hastening towards the house. In fact, if we could bottle Meemaw, drug companies would be out of business. Screw putting electrodes on Mary, I wonder if I should attach them to myself and then spend the day in Meemaw's company. It would be interesting to see which areas of the brain are stimulated by—
"Howdy there, sweet thang."
She looked up. Across from her—too close for comfort, actually—was a lanky man in a baseball cap, dingy t-shirt and faded blue jeans. The words "Wrap It In Laytex Or She'll Get Your Paychecks" were emblazoned across the shirt in black lettering. There was also a large can of beer in his right hand, which he used to gesture towards her. "You lost?"
Amy examined the man's face. Hard nose, strong jaw, and cherub-like cheeks. Yep, definitely a Cooper relative. She scanned through the images in her memory until she came upon a match from the family tree pictures Sheldon had made her memorize.
"You're Hank Cooper," she said.
He gaped. "Are you a psychic?"
"I'm a neurobiologist."
"Is that a kind of psychic?"
She frowned. "No, it's a kind of scientist."
He moved closer, towering over her until she was uncomfortable. Amy took a step back, but decided it was imperative that she retain her proverbial ground. A verbal warning was clearly in order. "Maintain a safe distance from me, sir, or I shall be forced to employee radical, physical protective measures in order to uphold my safety."
"Huh?" he asked, taking another swig from his beer.
Amy pursed her lips in frustration. She'd had more intelligent conversations with Ricky, the monkey at the primate lab. "Let me put it in a way you're alcohol-addled brain will understand: I have mace, and I'm not afraid to use it."
He backed up, one hand in the air in mock surrender. "Ain't no need to spray me with no mace. I'm just trying to talk to a beautiful lady."
She nodded. "Thank you for the compliment. And, while I know the tilt of my ample bosom is aesthetically pleasing—curse you, Victoria's Secret front-closure bra—and the beckon of my hips has been known to be the downfall of many a man, you should understand that it is not appropriate to invade the personal space of a lady. You may have forgotten this due to your inebriation, but—"
She broke off when Hank swayed deliriously towards her. Without thinking, she reached out to steady him. He grabbed hold of her waist.
"Got'cha," he said, leering drunkenly down at her. "Now, what'cha gonna do?"
Amy was about to knee him in the groin—a maneuver Penny had guaranteed would bring any overly-ardent admirer to his knees—when she heard Sheldon shout behind her.
"Hank, release her or I shall be forced to thrash you within an inch of your worthless life."
Hank released her and turned to face down Sheldon. "Well if it isn't Smelly Shelly. Don't tell me this little filly belongs to the likes of you. Don't your tastes run more to robots?"
"She's my girlfriend. Now, back off before I trounce you. I should warn you that I watched a ninja movie just last week and I learned quite a lot."
Hank laughed. "I ain't afraid of you, Cuz. I ain't afraid of nobody."
"Hank!" Mary yelled from the front window. "Leave them alone before I call your mother."
This threat had Hank wilting like a flower in the desert. "Yes, ma'am. I'm going."
Without another word, he slinked off down the road, wobbling as he walked. Amy watched him for a bit. Obviously Sheldon isn't the only Cooper male to fear his mother's wrath. She looked over the man at her side.
"Thank you, Sheldon."
He wasn't listening. He was too busy glaring after his cousin.
"Sheldon, let's go back in the house. Your grandmother's waiting on us," she said, unable to reason what thoughts could be racing through her boyfriend's brain right now, but absolutely sure they weren't good ones. After all, she'd seen this expression before. It was his this-is-a-good-day-to-build-a-death-ray face.
He finally turned back to her. "Amy, in light of recent events, I think it would be prudent to take measures to protect you. Therefore, I propose activating the PSA clause of the relationship agreement."
Amy's jaw dropped. "What? The Public Showing of Affection Clause only goes into effect if one party believes the other is being encroached upon by a romantic rival and feels the need to mark their proverbial territory. You can't seriously see Hank as a romantic rival to you?"
"This isn't just about Hank. I'm thinking about the entire weekend. I have 33 cousins, Amy. Seventeen of them are male, eleven are unmarried and nine are currently without longstanding romantic partner." His eyes ran over her. "And you're entirely too attractive for your own good."
Amy melted. "Did you just call me pretty?"
Sheldon glared down at her. "Can you focus, please? My point is that I have no wish to have to do battle with every member of my family in order to defend you. If we show overt public affection for each other, they will get the message that you belong to me, which will, in turn, save me a lot of complications down the road."
"I belong to you?" Amy's feminist inclinations began to argue, but she stopped them. What are you doing? Your boyfriend just asked to engage in physical touching with you in public. What's to argue about? She quelled her sudden excitement and somberly faced Sheldon. "Well, your logic is infallible."
"Of course it is."
She nodded, not able to look him in the eye. "Would this clause include my requesting that you wrap your arm around my waist?"
He immediately did so. "Of course."
"And a kiss … on the lips?"
His body jolted as if hit with an electrical shock. "What? Why?" He looked around. "There's no one out here."
She shrugged as nonchalantly as she could. "We don't know who's watching from a window. You could have gorgeous, stud-of-a-cousin next door checking me out right now."
He pondered this for a moment. But, before Amy could get her hopes up, he shook his head. "No need. The only cousin who lives around here is Hank."
Amy sighed in disappointment. But before she could get too mired down in the feeling, Sheldon took her hand and gently pulled her back towards the house. "Come along. Meemaw made cinnamon rolls, and they're getting cold."
Amy grinned as she meekly followed her boyfriend. The PSA Clause was in force, Sheldon had just called her pretty, she was getting to spend an entire afternoon with the glorious Meemaw, and, from the smell wafting from the house, there were delicious cinnamon rolls to be eaten.
All in all, the most perfect day of her life.
A/N: Thanks again for all of the reviews—or Gracias for those who reviewed in Spanish. Google's translation of them was odd and inappropriately funny, but I appreciated the sentiments expressed nonetheless.