CHAPTER EIGHT
Amy waited outside of the apartment of her neighbor Kim, willing the woman to open the door but secretly thinking of an alternate plan if she didn't. Just when she remembered that there was only one more blank spot left on her Fun House Rec Room punch card before she got a free pizza, the door swung open.
Kim looked a little blurry-eyed and groggy.
"Did you forget?" Amy asked.
"Nope, I just took a nap. I worked a long shift last night. I figured your knock would wake me up." She rubbed one eye. "It did." She squinted at a gigantic tote bag dangling from Amy's shoulder. "What's that?"
"Ah, this," Amy said, tapping the bag. "I was unsure of your household's protocol for emergencies, so I brought a first aid kit, a few safety devices the portable defibrillator that Sheldon and I purchased in case the unthinkable were to occur. Activity-wise, I brought an assortment of age-appropriate puzzles, coloring books, flash cards, blocks and even figurines from contemporary children's movies, in case the young ones desired to engage in more modern play."
Just then a toddler waddled out. Amy found his presence surprising.
"I wasn't aware you had two children," Amy said with some regret. "I'm afraid I didn't bring anything for a child of that age-group."
"Trust me, they have enough toys," Kim said. She wandered back inside, tacitly inviting Amy and the twins in. Upon entering, Amy found that the apartment was generally clean, but a bit bare for her liking and not stimulating at all for developing minds. The TV was on and tuned to a daytime talk show, but neither child seemed to be watching it and, instead, were wrestling (and arguably abusing) a little pug dog. He seemed to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
"Before we get started with this much ballyhooed 'playdate,'" Amy said. "Where is your restroom located?"
"Same spot as yours. I think we have the same floor plan."
Amy nodded. "Silly me; indeed we do."
"You guys want something to drink?" Kim asked, while walking over to the kitchen and pulling down some glasses. "We have orange soda, milk and coffee." As Amy considered her options (only one of which was suitable for children) the little boy ran over to the twins.
"Wanna play?" he asked.
"I thought you'd never ask," Amy said, dropping her bag and pulling out an assortment of items. "I've brought with me some things I think you'll love!"
"Come on, Amy," Kim said with a wave of her hand, and handed Amy a glass of ice and a can of soda. "Trust me; you do not have to teach those two how to play." She sat on the couch and patted the seat next to her, and Amy reluctantly joined her. Kim, suddenly excited, placed a hand on Amy's lap. "So, anyway. Please, please, please tell me you watch Weight Wars!" she yelled.
Amy shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't."
"Oh my God! Last night was the BEST EPISODE EVER!"
Amy glanced down at Kim's kids, who were both beating the carpet with two plastic bats. She resolved herself to relax. This was about socializing them, right? She took a deep breath and turned back to Kim.
"So, Weight Wars, you say?"
Sheldon had gone to work that morning preoccupied with the implications of the interferometric nature of neutral mesons, but as the day wore on, he couldn't help but think back to the events transpiring on the home front. By the time his workday had ended, he was actually was dying to know how everything had gone. When he came through the door, Amy looked up from a pile of paperwork on the dining table. She was probably working on gathering housing information, sorting bills, researching schooling requirements, or perhaps a frightening mix of all three.
"So, how was the play date?" he asked, dropping his keys into the bowl.
"In a word: a disaster," she answered and returned her attention to shuffling through papers.
He just barely repressed the glee he invariably felt when he was right about something. "Amy," he said, "I have never claimed to be clairvoyant and I have no tolerance for people who claim to be able to divine the future using paranormal methods, but… I had a hunch about this one."
Amy turned back to him. "Sheldon, you didn't have a 'hunch.' You wanted it to fail." She stopped working and then stood, walking over the couch and plopping down sadly. "I guess you got your wish."
"I wouldn't say I wanted it to fail," he said. He went to get a drink from the kitchen. "Even so, I may entertain a certain curiosity about how, exactly, the events transpired. Tea?"
She shook her head.
"Having never visited Kim's home before," Amy explained, "I was wholly unaware of what program of play she had already implemented in her home. So, I came prepared for every scenario I was likely to confront. I brought first aid kits, a few safety devices—like plastic outlet covers—and our portable defibrillator in the case of an unthinkable emergency. Activity-wise, I brought an assortment of age-appropriate puzzles, coloring books, flash cards, blocks and even figurines from the Pixar, Disney and PBS Kids catalog. After consulting with Kim about the location of the bathroom, the condition of the fire detector and the location of all emergency exits, I allowed the children to commence with play while Kim and I sat on the couch in the corner."
Sheldon liked what he heard.
"Amy, I find your management of the play date to be exceptional. For the life of me I can't imagine what could have possibly been disastrous about it. If absolutely nothing else occurred, the event you've just described was an undeniable success."
"Well, then it was a success, because absolutely nothing else happened."
Sheldon furrowed his brow. "I'm sorry. I'm not following."
"As I sat trapped on the couch, subjected to mindless babbling about Kim's favorite reality show—a program that has anorexics and the severely obese battling in weekly weight challenges—I frequently glanced over at my twins and Kim's two children: six-year-old Michael and two-year-old Tara. Instead of watching four children getting lost in a world of make-believe and parentally-guided play, I watched on as Aditi and Robert stood, pressed against the wall silently while the other two shrieked, laughed and abused a pug named Ralph with shameless abandon."
"The twins silence was likely a result of the foreign surroundings and the inferior vocabulary of the other children. Trust me. There is no greater challenge than being forced to collaborate with your inferiors. I typically have to be forced to do so, often under the threat of bodily harm or job loss. I hope you didn't threaten them."
"I would never threaten them, Sheldon. I just gently encouraged them. However, after my repeated tries at verbally coaxing them to play failed, I finally joined them on the floor, only for them to remain timid and aloof. Kim's ingenious contribution to the situation was," she imitated Kim's tone, "'You can't play for them, Amy,' which was a comment I resented. Moments later, Aditi tugged on my shirt and whispered, 'Mommy I want to go home.' Defeated, that's just what we did."
"And that's how it's done," Sheldon said, with a celebratory gesture.
Amy turned to him, discouragement on her face. "That is not how it's done, Sheldon. Your daughter is incapable of one of the most basic of human activities… socialization. While that makes you proud, my heart aches at the thought of her in college, still sharing a room with her brother in the co-ed dorms, spending her Friday nights playing Scrabble alone and pretending her V8 is a Bloody Mary while she listens to the raucous merrymaking of her fellow classmates just a block away at the Student Union, her only comfort being the prospect of a new episode of Monk, who she secretly imagines is her boyfriend." She snorted. "Defective detective, my ass."
"You think Aditi will be watching Monk in college?" Sheldon said, confused. "That program went off the air years ago."
"Of course," Amy said, clearing her throat with a bit of embarrassment. "Then likely some other program, then." The visualization had revealed more about herself than she intended.
Tea in hand, Sheldon took his spot on the couch. "Maybe she'll have grown up to be a Doctor Who aficionado," he said, staring dreamily off into space. "We should have met Thirteen at least, maybe even Fourteen, by then." He shuddered excitedly at the thought of it. "Long live the Doctor. Or at least may the TV gods make the heads of British programming keep time-defying period pieces on the air forever and stop sending us bawdy reality TV show ideas."
Amy herself had prayed that same pagan prayer about Downton Abbey, only to weep as she watched the credits roll on the series finale of that beloved program.
Maybe she should start watching Weight Wars after all.
As happened each night, time rolled on steadily towards 11:00, and with its arrival came the time to sleep. From the bed, Amy watched on while Sheldon changed into his pajamas. At some point, she went from watching to just staring, and her mind drifted back to Kim's apartment. The day's incident had rattled her more than she had anticipated. She was beginning to wonder if she should even go back to work. How could she? The twins were wholly ill-prepared for life in the outside world. Perhaps she'd been too hasty in assuming they were ready. Perhaps Sheldon was right. Maybe it was too early to turn them over to someone else's hands.
"Amy?"
She turned towards Sheldon at the sound of her name. He was sitting on his side of the bed.
"Yes?"
"I said, 'Why do we put suits in garment bags and put garments in suitcases'?"
Amy didn't have an answer. "I don't know. Why?"
"I don't know either. But, you have to admit it's a rather fascinating bit of inconsistency in our language."
The words barely registered in Amy's brain. She laid her head back against the headboard, and Sheldon noticed.
"You're upset," he said, or maybe asked.
She nodded. "A little."
"Because the playdate was disappointing."
She turned to him. The playdate had been disappointing. But really, the playdate had only been that: disappointing. And hearing that said out loud made it sound less scary or overwhelming. Hearing it from Sheldon made her suddenly not want anything else in the world but for his arms to be around her.
"Yeah," she said and drew closer. "It was disappointing."
"Understandable," he said. He fully got into bed and turned out his lamp.
"Sheldon," she called, before he lay down.
"Yes?"
"Can you hold me?"
He didn't say anything, but scooted closer and wrapped his arms around her. In his embrace, she could feel her stress peel away from her. She could feel herself calming down.
She felt something else too.
She snuggled her head under his neck, then turned her face up, feeling his warm skin against her lips and nose. A sudden flush rushed through her body, and she could feel it in her cheeks, nose, ears and the tips of her fingers. She pushed her lips out, and his late-night stubble brushed against her face. She brought her hand up and rested it on his neck. He suddenly spoke.
"Feel any better?" he asked.
"Yes," she whispered.
"Good," he said. Then he abruptly let go, turned over and pulled up the covers.
"Sheldon?" she said, irritation in her voice. He noted her tone.
"Pardon my manners," he said. "Goodnight, Amy."
Amy just sighed, turned over and went to sleep.
It's weird. Even if Amy had sex a million times (or considerably less than that) some moments stood out from the others. Like the first time Sheldon really made love to her.
It was the night of Leonard and Penny's wedding. A glorious event by any standard, it was held at a local church that Penny had fallen in love with while filming a jilted-at-the-altar scene on the soap The Love of a Thousand Summer Nights. She hadn't even been playing the bride (just one of the bridesmaids) but bad omens be damned, they decided to have their wedding there anyway.
In the weeks preceding the ceremony, Sheldon had more than once soliloquized on his rather unromantic views on marriage. Formal matrimony, he argued, no more bound two people to a relationship than putting a lock on the front door and (considering the high cost of the modern wedding) he said that the entire process was a trite anachronism at best and an expensive spectacle of doom at its worst. Officially, that was Amy's stance as well, mostly because it was a stance she could afford to have. She and Sheldon were as permanent as any pair she'd seen, and she was confident they'd always be together. That, coupled with the fact that they already had a growing family, meant she had more stability and love in her home than many married couples could ever dream of. Even so, as she sat crossed-legged on Penny's bed tying ribbons on party favors, she sometimes thought that there were worse things than making a fancy declaration of love in front of friends and family.
On the day of the nuptials, the small church was filled to the brim with academics, family, and friends, as well as a host of waitresses, valets and coffee baristas who all aspired to be movie stars someday. As they waited outside, Amy had watched, giddily, as each member of the bridal party had disappeared behind the church doors. When her turn came, she'd gripped Penny's hand and, with a bob of the head, said "Go get 'em kid," before walking out ahead of the bride. She'd done this before (been someone's maid-of-honor), but this time Sheldon—standing tall and handsome—was at the bottom of the aisle, and walking towards the alter felt grander somehow. Leonard himself had looked like nothing short of the happiest man in the world as, moments later, he watched his bride come to him, escorted by her proud father, Wyatt. And what a bride she was: decked out in an elegant designer dress (regal in its simplicity), with a proper veil and a train a mile long, Penny radiated a beauty that seemed to light up the whole room, if not the entire world beyond those four walls. Amy had beamed to just be standing beside her best friend as she vowed to take her beloved Leonard as her lawfully-wedded husband. As the newly-appointed Dr. and Mrs. Hofstadter leaned into their first kiss, Amy and Sheldon caught each other's eyes and there was a flicker of something magical between them. The moment was followed by a swell of music from the stringed quartet that signaled the crowd to rise to their feet, and Amy was covered in goose bumps as—arm in arm with the love of her own life—she and Sheldon followed the bride and groom out of the chapel. She stole a glance up towards Sheldon and discovered that the wide smile on her face was complemented by the demure grin he was wearing in spite of himself as they entered the limo that was waiting for them outside.
The splendor continued into the reception held at a nearby hotel, a gilded affair replete with good food, live music, laughter, and love. Amy couldn't help but be swept up in the festivity of the night and floated around the room, meeting gossipy great-aunts and snotty-nosed nephews alike. When it was time for the toast, she looked around to find Sheldon, racked with nerves and tucked in the corner, almost in a prayerful stance. She strolled over and slipped her hand in his. The silent gesture infused him with renewed confidence and he opened his eyes before making his way to the front of the crowd and reciting his rehearsed speech (slash roast) on his and Leonard's relationship over the years, followed by his well wishes for their matrimony. He would later get mixed reviews on his opening joke (on the Fundamental Forces of Nature) and an anecdote about Leonard getting sick, but Amy found him as humorous and charming as always and was proud that he was hers.
Sometime after the cutting of the cake, the dancing really picked up, and Amy pleaded for Sheldon to dance with her. After turning her down several times, the DJ played a rousing waltz that managed to lure Sheldon out onto the dance floor. As he spun her around, Amy realized it was the most fun she'd had in a long time. When the song was over, it immediately faded into a slow dance, an old Elvis song that her mother would play when she was little, and Sheldon paused a moment, silently debating whether or not to head back to the table. Without saying a word, Amy took his hand and placed it on the small of her back, then she drew in close to his body, tenderly pressing her head against his chest. He took her petite hand in his, and they slowly swayed back in forth in time to the King's sultry voice reminding them of how some loves were as inevitable as the river flowing down into the sea. Those words had never felt truer, and in Sheldon's arms, Amy felt safe and cared for. The feeling overwhelmed her and she stopped moving; so did Sheldon. He looked down at her with a question, but she couldn't explain and maybe she didn't need to.
"Let's go," he whispered, and she nodded in agreement.
After confirming that Mary would watch the twins for the night, Sheldon and Amy cut out early and they made their way to the front desk. Keys in hand, they scurried up the stairs to the second floor. Sheldon's hand was trembling as he swiped the card to their room and they fell through the door, not wasting a moment as they fell into each other. The scene started out familiar; they just kind of started making out, but Sheldon was growing more harried, more impatient. He picked her up and placed her on the bed, while he stood, crouching over her, from just beyond the foot of the bed. He leaned on one hand while pulling off his bow tie with the other. Amy cursed the tight-fitting dress, the intricate fastenings and the binding corset that she was wearing and was torn between freeing herself and freeing Sheldon—all the while distracted by his lips, by his mouth, by his… tongue. They started kissing more urgently—more single-mindedly—and he paused for the briefest moment only to pull off his T-shirt before he descended to her body again.
It was a Sheldon she didn't know—wasn't even sure existed—before that moment.
"Sheldon?" she asked, because it was a question.
He shook his head, trying to pull an answer from the haze of his mind. "I love you, Amy," he panted.
Hearing those words never got old, and Amy checked herself for over-thinking things… for wondering. What more reason was needed? She never doubted his love and, God knows, she wanted nothing more than for Sheldon to take her. She relaxed and succumbed to the moment.
Sometimes she still thought back to the way he had peppered her jaw with careless kisses, panted weakly into her ear, and pressed his needy fingers into her hips until it hurt. She could remember lying back, open-eyed and breathless, as he hovered over her, his eyes heavy with desire, his body—hot, moist and firm—moving rhythmically back and forth…
It had been the most amazing sex of her life.
They had stayed in bed after that, spent and awake—not even leaving to shower—tangled up in the sheets and not talking, for words were too heavy, too inadequate and wholly unnecessary. He was lying on his side, while she was on her back, and she cherished having his arm splayed across her body and his warm face against her shoulder. She was turned towards the ceiling and her eyes were shut, but even though she wasn't looking at him, she could feel him there beside her. It was a simple thing, but she never stopped being amazed at how wonderful that felt.
"Amy?" he whispered, as he always did, and with her eyes still closed, she turned her head towards him, taking special pleasure in the sound of his voice. She didn't see it, but his somber face was just barely lit by the first faint rays of daylight trickling in through the window in the wee hours of the morning. "Have you ever thought about getting married?"
"To you?" she asked.
He pushed himself up a little, leaning on his elbow. "Of course."
She waited a second, considering her answer. "I… have." Silence. "What made you ask?"
"Because," he said. Then he dropped back down, turning over onto his back. Their shoulders were up against each other, and his elbow fell lazily over hers. "Because, I never thought much of the practice, but… customs become customs for a reason, I think."
She finally opened her eyes and was a little startled to find he was staring at her, his blues eyes piercing and bright and hypnotic. She almost felt she could fall into them. Absently, she traced her finger along his shoulder.
"Maybe it's something we should talk about," she said. "If you would be amenable to that."
He nodded. "I would be. Amenable. To talking about it."
She nodded, too. And for the first time, maybe in her whole life, Amy actually thought she might be getting… married. She smiled in spite of herself. It triggered a smile in him too.
He did have a beautiful smile.
"I love you, Sheldon," she said.
He didn't say anything but tucked one arm under her head, wrapped the other around her body and pulled her into a firm embrace. She clung to his arms fiercely, and thought to herself that she may never let go.
It was the perfect night. At this moment, however, it seemed like a million miles away.
ENDNOTE: Thanks for your time. Thanks for your love. Thanks for your edits. (OK, that last note was to my betas.)
