CHAPTER 6
It's not a date. She drilled on her walk home.
It's not a date. She thought as she hovered over bed, which was now a forrest of pleated dresses and corduroy skirts.
It's not a date. She reminded herself after she applied another layer of soft pink lip gloss.
It's not a date, but it's proper etiquette to look your best for a dinner "not" date. And as a society ready lady of Miss Lorelai's Etiquette School for Girls, Amy zipped the back of her pastel blue dress, secured her jeweled hair pin, and made her way downstairs.
Her mother waited at the bottom of the staircase also dressed nicely for dinner. After the prom fiasco Barbara banned Amy from going places, besides school and the lab, by herself. Pair her mother's argument against Amy's reluctancy to argue and they agreed that they would both have dinner at the Coopers. Confirming that this was in fact NOT a date.
Despite how lovely her mother looked wearing the pale pink shawl or with her hair down it couldn't distract Amy from the fact that her legs shook the entire drive and she checked her appearance at every red light.
"There is no need to be nervous mom, it's not like it's a date or anything." The sound of 'date' set panic loose in her mother's chest, her eyes jumped wildly as she tugged at the collar of her shirt. She stifled a laugh. Amy often found herself an emotional wreck at the hands of her mother so she secretly enjoyed seeing her so distraught for once.
"I know, I know." She responded barely over a whisper as she fixed her blouse for the 100th time. After her husband died Barbara grew a hatred for being social, building and maintaining relationships, and being a human. She'd virtually cut off all contact from her husband's family. Only speaking to them in 4 year intervals having the same conversation.
"It's been so long. We have to do better."
"I'm fine"
"Amy is fine."
"Let's not wait another 4 years. Bye"
And sure enough four years later they would have the same conversation. A part of Amy understood her mother's response after his death, you can't lose someone close to you if you aren't close to anyone, but regardless she wasn't going to let that ruin her first "non" date.
"Mother, just smile. Say please and thank you, and laugh when everyone else laughs and you'll be fine." Amy said as comforting as she could. "Act like you're having a conversation with a buyer at one of your garage sales!"
"The only thing I've said to buyers are estimated prices, and threats until they lower the price." She replied embarrassed.
"Okay, I'll do most of the talking. Just don't say anything bad about trains, Star Wars, Star Trek, physics, Leonard Nemoy, or Stephen Hawking and you'll be fine." Each item she listed her mother gripped the steering wheel tighter. Her knuckles paled and her skin looked like it was threatening to rip. "Just smile and nod"
"Smile and nod. I've got this!" Barbara said not believing a word.
"So Mary, did you see the news about those Christians protesting on Goodman Road today? A bunch of zealous religious nuts if you ask me." Barbara said. Amy could already see the newspaper headlines 'Woman starts World War 3 at non-dinner date.' Because by the venomous snarl on Mary's face, World War 3 looked like the only possible response.
Amy prayed a silent prayer to every god and self proclaimed god to allow a massive hole to swallow her and remove her from this awful dinner. What harm would it do if she left anyway, no one was enjoying it.
Missy, spent the first part of the dinner on the phone. The spiral cord tangling her body like a snake. Amy should have offered her a lesson in whispering because her not so silent 'I can't believe she's at my house right now' comment was louder than George's chewing. His mouth never closed, he sat hunched over his plate: the fork and knife clasped in his hands like a barbarian. Throwing handfuls of food into his mouth and swallowing. It was amazingly disgusting. At least her mother did as she was told and did nothing but smile and nod. So when Mary asked her where she worked, or what she enjoyed doing in her free time Barbara smiled and nodded. And when Missy jokingly asked if she was mute, she smiled and nodded.
"No, Barbara I did not see the protestors." Mary finally said. "Maybe it was because of those hoarding garage sale lunatics that make the neighborhood look like a thrift store threw up." Mary said in a sickeningly sweet southern accent.
Smile and nod.
Thirty minutes had passed and Sheldon still hadn't come from his room to eat. So Amy's perfectly brushed hair was ruined by the humidity in the kitchen and her face was so red he would probably think she was running a fever. She needed a moment to herself. But excusing herself outside would be too obvious, that would lead to people following her and asking probing question like, "Are you alright?" "You look sick?" "Are you about to vomit?" Because she wasn't a good liar she'd have to respond "No I'm not alright, I'm miserable" "No, I'm not sick, I'm humiliated into the next millennium" and "Yes, I am about to vomit."
She needed something that would secretly remove her from this circus for a few seconds. Whether by impulse or stupidity she placed a trembling hand on her fork and quickly threw it off the side of the table.
"Clumsy me!" She she said unconvincingly. Luckily everyone was preoccupied with themselves that nobody noticed her drop to the ground.
It was dark underneath the table, and the noise above was muffled by the wooden top and the detailed ivory cloth. She let her heavy head fall forward and finally released a built up sigh of tension. Her face being only a few inches from George's foul cowboy boots was the most relaxing moment of her night. How great!
Once the moment passed she should have gone back to her seat; she'd gotten what she needed, don't stretch the moment. But like every unsuccessful robber she stayed and preoccupied her time by observing everyone's shoes.
Missy had on typical loud clacking cowboy boots. On the side etched in the torn leather with a knife was MC + and a litany of short lived male initials.
Mary had on sensible kitten heels. Appropriate for church and running around the house because of her kids.
Barbara; tan orthopedic shoes which she also made Amy wear. Because no sensible woman would be caught in non-sensible shoes. George had on work boots and Sheldon had on brown loafers.
Sheldon!
She saw his two toned loafers standing a few steps away from her side. Before she had time to gain composure she sprang up from the floor like an enthusiastic pop tart ready to be eaten. Her head hit the edge of the table sending George's glass of tea hurling to the floor. Broken glass, syrupy tea, and ice bathed nearly all of the right side of the floor.
"God!"The word sprang out like a bullet, she exaggerated the ' O' and popped the 'D' for extra emphasis. Mary sucked in a slash breath and clutched her crucifix necklace. "Oh, I'm sorry. I can- I'll just. I'll clean it right up!" She fell to her knees and began scrubbing the floor like an overworked orphan. Her thin napkin absorbed as much liquid as it could take and was now dissolving in her hand. She needed more paper towels but they were on the other side of the kitchen. And that meant her getting up and walking across the entire room and facing everyone. And facing Sheldon. She'd rather be back on stage at prom.
She continued to scrub her thin napkin on the tile floor with so much vigor she was sanding her red knuckles on the hardwood. The kitchen was soon to be a syrupy mess for the flies in a couple of minutes.
"Amy, stop dear. It's fine. Accidents happen, leave it there and I'll mop it up." Mary pushed from the table and slowly made her way to Amy's side. She placed a gentle hand on her back trying to coax her off of the floor.
"N-No thank you, Mrs. Cooper. Everything's under control." Her voice was failing her. Between her stifled breath and tense neck she was lucky she managed to squeak out anything. Let alone anything comprehensible.
"Bless your heart sweetie." Mary southernly insulted "You're only making it worse. Please sweetie I've cleaned up after my husband for thirty years and my daddy's hog. One was covered in dirt and other questionable substances all day, ate Lord knows what, and had no sense of hygiene, and the other one was a farm animal. I think I can take a little spill." She rubbed her back like she did the night of prom. She actually felt like it wouldn't be that bad if she stood up.
"Amelia!" The shrill voice hit her ear like a dart. "Get up this instant." So much for the encouragement.
Her mother levitated across the room speaking through an inhumanly clenched jaw. She was standing directly above her and Amy could feel her hot and stifled breaths on her neck. Barbara was a filled balloon ready to be let go and rip from every direction destroying everything in her path. Amy knew if she stayed under their any longer the consequences would be too great for her to handle.
The moment she stood she wished she was back under the table. It was just as she expected. Missy held her head in her hands while she shook with laughter. George, surprisingly and not surprisingly, was still devouring the remaining chicken and potatoes as if this entire ordeal wasn't occurring beside him. Mary tried to give Amy a reassuring smile but it turned into a piteous stare.
Amy was afraid to turn and look at Sheldon. She desperately wanted to build a friendship with him. He was intelligent, witty, and caring. The type of companion Amy needed more than she care to admit. She finally nudged him enough to consider a friendship and she ruins it by acting like this is her first time being around other people. She would have to resort to her mother's famous saying "Find a fictional friend in a book. You can do whatever you want in your imagination." So much for having a real friend.
"Let's. Go." Her mother demanded. She had no energy to protest her mother. She hung her head to her chest and headed for the door.
"Wait" Sheldon caught up to her and stopped her "You can't leave."
"W-wwhat?"
"We haven't finished eating dinner or dessert, we haven't made any revisions to the friendship agreement, and no documents have been signed. If you leave now, that'll throw off the entire schedule."
"You still want to sign the agreement? Even after all of this?" A soaked piece of napkin fell from her hand as a button to the horrendous event.
"After all of what? Spilling tea? That's no fault of yours, for some reason my mother is incessant on using furniture from the Antebellum era. So the legs are loose, the top is wobbly, and the wood is old and splitting. It's a wonder this entire meal isn't on the floor. Besides, I occasionally suffer from the misfortune of imbalance and have spilled a drink time to time. Don't fret over something beyond your control." His hand was still on her shoulder. She swore she felt his thumb caress her slightly. His interjection wasn't moving or heroic but it was enough to reassure Amy that he genuinely wanted to be friends with her and her colossal mishap was nothing. "So, shall we continue with dinner, that chocolate pie won't be here forever."
She wanted to cry. She couldn't tell if it was from Sheldon standing up for her or the fact that her knuckles were raw from scrubbing. Either way she was touched. He stood up for her.
Sheldon Cooper stood up for Amy. She couldn't deduce if it were exciting or pathetic but this was the first time someone ever stood up for her. Judging stares, she was used to. Quick glances away trying to ignore her, been there done that. But having someone lifting you on their back and fighting her battle was something new to her. She wanted to hug him and thank him endlessly. She settled with mouthing "thanks".
Her mother eyed Amy from her fidgeting toe to her dewy eyes. Who was his man bewitching her daughter? She turned to Sheldon and mentally dissected him as he sat beside Amy. The pair exchanging shy glances and smiles the entire meal.
Everything post the ice tea conundrum went well. Mary berated Sheldon for eating before praying. Sheldon berated Mary saying "we're eating chicken fried steak, God needs to bless our diabetic levels, not the food." Her mother and Mary became cordial enough to have meaningless small talk. While Amy and Sheldon snuck to the porch to finish their agenda.
The pair sat on the porch swing, both huddled over a hot kettle of tea and two filled mugs. Amy was a symphony of "mmhmms' 'ahh's' and ' oh's' while reading the document.
Article 1
Communication
Daily communication must be had by the two participating parties for a minimum of 2 hours a week to a maximum of 14 hours a week. The time can be allocated with a 2 hour maximum per day.
During the allocated conversation at least 50% of the conversation must be for party A( Sheldon Lee Cooper). 25% may be for party B ( Amy Farrah Fowler) the other 25% must be for silence.
School and Outside Gatherings
Both parties members are allowed to eat lunch together only twice a week. Where the communication rules will apply.
Both parties are allowed 3 gatherings outside of school hours. All gatherings outside of school, including house dinners, museums, lectures, movies, train conventions, Comic Con, must end strictly at 10pm. All communication rules apply.
At any moment if any party member abuses or breaks the regulations set the contract will be broken and the trial and friendship will cease to exist.
"It's a cute draft, I must say."
"Cute" he said bewildered. His contracts weren't some notebook paper a child gives to their Mom promising they won't paint the walls again, his contracts were music. A perfectly orchestrated page of rules and sanctions, hereby's and therefore, exceptions and limitations. Cute? Nothing close.
"Precisely. Well, it's well crafted but it seems you've missed a litany of loopholes. I know the intellectual thrill one gets when uncovering and getting through a loophole. And I would hate for you to miss that opportunity because it's so skewed in your favor."
He was thinking. About what was the mystery. His face was a wash of bewilderment and awe. Who was this woman? This woman who challenged him intellectually. No one dare call him out on his work, yet here was the one.
"Interesting. I've never thought of it that way." He stroked his stubbled chin. "I do love the look of defeat when I've swindled someone by my intellect."
"Exactly." Amy never actually cared about Sheldon fulfilling his desire to intellectually defeat the world. She just wanted more time for a friendship and less of an evil genius/ minion relationship. They sat with their knees daring to kiss, equalizing the agreement.
"Ms. Fowler I must say no one has ever criticized my work before. It's always been exemplary. But the suggestions you've offered have made the contract even stronger. Well done." He picked up his mug and held it up for a congratulatory toast. Amy tucked her head low hiding a grin and her red cheeks. Blushing? That was new.
