Chapter Twelve: The Daisy Discount
Kate had figured just as much. She was sleeping for thirty minutes and woke up. She knew she'd been asleep for said time; her alarm—or rather Leonard's—read 11:30. Now it was midnight and she was completely awake. Her small nap was the smallest mercy; she felt irritated, cranky—all kinds of frustration.
She crawled out of the covers and headed into the kitchen, feeling most tired but lacking the proper drowsiness required for a good night's sleep. Her irritation increased when she thought of Howard's excuse for sneaking in the middle of the night in the apartment, and she had only thought of how she was able to defend herself properly. She'd burst open the door and come out flailing arms, feet, and screaming her head off. The light came on and the body of Howard Wolowitz was barely moving but his voice had been certainly groaning amounts of pain. Perhaps he had low pain tolerance, or Kate was a definite fighter.
Kate wondered what would've happened if Sheldon had been the only one to hear. What would he have done if the engineer had been a robber, or a rapist—or a murderer…or all three? Kate didn't know him well enough to know anything. She had seen a light saber in Leonard's room, in the corner; perhaps she could have used that to hit Wolowitz, even after she found out it was him. He may have not deserved a good few kicks in the balls but he did deserve something for sneaking around in an apartment temporarily residing a woman who'd been robbed of all she needed to get to work and sleep soundly in the night. Kate didn't even have her clothes.
Ah, shit, right…
Until now, Kate had forgotten. She needed scrubs. Well…it was early in the morning, and she couldn't sleep. That was for sure.
She didn't want to wear Leonard's garb; no doubt, although they were the same size in pants and jeans, the shirts he wore fit her as well as Penny's underwear would fit Mr. Sweatypants. Nope, she'd borrow Penny's outfit that looked most like clothes instead of Pajamas. Kate dressed quickly, didn't bother showering as she felt she could take one in the hospital locker room.
Kate took Leonard's keys in the bowl and walked out of the apartment, taking care to jot down a note on the door should something happen to her on the way to the store, or if Sheldon happened to awake earlier than he intended. It was common courtesy, and Kate knew several things in courtesy; her mom was strict on that, yes, ma'am, she was.
She went to the 24-hour consignment shop across the street, and the business woman acclaimed her presence, considering it was after all midnight.
"I've never seen someone come out of the bed as early as you have," she said; her accent was Californian, a local. She smiled at the young woman.
"I can come back at a later time," Kate said.
"Oh, don't worry; I'm here all day," said the business clerk; her nametag read 'Daisy'.
"Good. I'm looking…well, I'm looking for several things," said Kate. She felt a little embarrassed; she was at a Good Will store for clothes because some wackjob stole her car while she was seeing a sci-fi movie with someone she'd met online. How crazy of a store was that?
"Anything in particular?" asked Daisy. She was fifty years old, relaxed blue eyes, and had a smile that was rather drawn, rather than planted. She was happy with her job.
"Yes, I need five pairs of scrubs, three pairs of jeans, shirts, and a pair of pajamas," said Kate flatly.
Daisy found this peculiar but respected Kate's privacy by not asking. Kate offered her an explanation though, feeling very much embarrassed and needing to explain herself. When she'd started with being carjacked, the woman seemed to understand completely.
"I thought it was rather odd for someone as pretty as you to wear shorts and a T-shirt to this place, asking for that many items," said Daisy. She touched Kate's shoulder. "Don't worry, hon; that kind of thing happens only to the best of us."
She went around the counter and guided Kate to the scrub section, then to the jeans, shirts, and shoes, then the last pajama section of the store.
"Luckily, for you and what most people don't know, all clothing items are off fifty percent when customers arrive between eleven at night and two in the morning." Daisy said. "It's to up the ante on customer numbers."
"So why not tell anyone?" asked Kate.
Daisy laughed, stating, "Because I took the night hours for a reason, to help individual customers. It's my passion."
"I see."
"What is yours?" asked Daisy.
"Sorry?"
"What's your passion?" asked Daisy. She noted the scrubs. "Evidently, you must work for some medical facility. I'm too rude to ask your salary but from my understanding, I think you'd be some kind of doctor or nurse, right?"
Kate nodded.
"I'm a surgeon," said Kate, "but I'm also a doctor. How did you know?"
"People talk in a way that reflects their education," said Daisy. "I, myself, am a former nurse; do you work out here at Pasadena General?"
"Yeah," said Kate.
"It's a great place to work; I loved it there."
Kate nodded. She didn't ask the woman why she'd quit. It wasn't her business or place to ask, but instead, Daisy offered such information freely.
"I'd grown tired of such irregularity; I needed a more concise routine. Routine is everything to me," said Daisy. She smiled. "You'd be amazed at how people can completely lose control when their routine is interrupted."
Kate thought of Sheldon.
"I don't think I could be amazed," said Kate. "But other people could, I'm sure. Are scrubs part of that deduction you mentioned? They're clothes, but they're different than clothes."
"They're quite comfortable, aren't they," chuckled Daisy. "I wear the old pairs to bed now. But yes, to answer your question, they are the same deduction; half off."
"Thank you," Kate replied. "You've been very helpful."
"I'm always here to help." Daisy returned. She grinned briefly, shook Kate's hand, and returned to the customer desk.
Kate went to shopping. She had a budget but in this case, it was moot. She needed clothes, more than two or three pairs. So Kate bought a week's worth of jeans, shirts, t-shirts, long-sleeves, and then five pairs of scrubs. Kate knew Sheldon was a creature of habit; they'd go to do laundry on Saturdays and Kate worked a fulltime job but seldom needed five scrubs in a row, but for the sake of it, she bought another pair, equally six. They were solid colors, but Kate wanted that vibrant color like Penny's; she bought neon pink, green, blue, purple, and a black pair of scrubs so she could wear yellow underneath (a batman combination); her last pair was red. When she'd gotten the scrubs in the cart, Kate felt a vibration in her pants; she pulled out her phone from her purse and answered it.
"Dr. Burns," said Kate—pure habit.
"It's Sheldon."
"Oh, hello," said Kate. She glanced at her watch. It was two o'clock. She'd literally spent two hours at a consignment shop, in and out of the booth to try on scrubs? Wow…time flies when you're having fun.
"Where are you?"
"I'm at a consignment shop across the street," said Kate, putting her phone between her neck and shoulder so she could pick out her jeans and shirts.
"Really, Kate? A consignment shop?" Sheldon's voice leaked sarcasm and disappointment. The next statement was liquefied with disapproval: "Do you have any idea what could be transferred from the clothes you've modeled and those that were previously possessed and worn naked by the predecessors? Obviously not; I'd suggest the mall, or someplace more inhabitable by mankind."
"Sheldon, it's a short distance from the apartment and it's cheaper," said Kate tiredly.
"I'm offering prevention of transferred diseases, Kate, not convenience."
"And I'm offering reason," returned Kate. "I'm tired and I needed to go someplace anyway to get clothes, pajamas, and scrubs. I'm not walking around town or the hospital with jeans or Penny's pajamas. Besides, I thought it would be more beneficial if I'd gone this early that way I can come home and try to sleep again."
"And you thought that would benefit you and me?" asked Sheldon, his voice obviously stating the opposite. "What comfort did you think you would provide by writing a note—in chicken scratch, I must add, very unprofessional—without specifying your time of leaving or location?"
"Why would I need to tell you when I left?" asked Kate.
"Why would—Kate, you must be tired," Sheldon stated factitiously. "When you left is just as important as when you may arrive. If you left here an hour ago and said you would be here an hour later, perhaps you'd already been an hour gone and I'm supposed to perceive already the time you left versus the time you've been gone? What would I tell the police?"
"The police?" repeated Kate. "Why would they have anything to do with it?"
"I'd have to file a missing person claim," said Sheldon in his matter-of-fact tone again.
"Sheldon, nothing would have happened to me in the past two hours and…"
"Ah, so you've been gone two hours? How would I have known that?" Sheldon interrupted as though he'd proven his point.
"Because I just told you," said Kate.
"That excuse would have been pure hokum in the event of your disappearance; no one would have known how long you'd been gone," said Sheldon. "Quite frankly, I'm offended by your lack of courtesy. Do you know that there has to be a time range of 24 hours between the disappearance and the non-reappearance in order for a missing person to become an official missing person?"
Kate sighed quietly. She was tired, and getting a migraine. That must have been the sleep deprivation.
"Yes, I know," Kate returned.
"Well, you clearly have ignored the objective, as you haven't written, emailed, nor texted me the time you've been gone, aka, disappeared," said Sheldon.
"I haven't disappeared; you're talking to me on the phone," Kate replied.
"Irrelevant," Sheldon replied immediately.
"Look, I'm sorry for not giving you the time when I left. I left two and a half hours ago, okay? Now, I'm almost done." Kate said. "I have two more shirts to try on and then I'll be home within thirty minutes; If I'm not home by three o'clock, you can assume that I'm dead."
"That's a morbid assumption; I prefer to presume than assume," said Sheldon.
"Then presume I'm dead," said Kate, mouthing afterwards the phrase 'oh my god'. Kate heard Sheldon say his good bye and then she hung up as well. Quickly, she tried on the two last shirts, agreed they fit well, and rung up her items with Daisy.
"Was that your boyfriend on the phone?" asked Daisy. When Kate glanced at her befuddled, Daisy smiled apologetically and said, "I couldn't help but hear the conversation."
"He's a friend," said Kate.
"He's quite worried about you, isn't he?"
"He does nothing but worry," she replied.
Daisy grinned broadly and handed Kate five full bags of clothes.
"Thanks," said Kate. "I'll probably come again real soon."
"Hopefully between eleven and two," said Daisy, grinning.
"Good bye and good night," said Kate.
"To you as well, my dear." Daisy said, waving her hand.
Kate drove back home and she met Sheldon who was sitting on the couch, waiting for her.
"What are you doing?" asked Kate, walking in with the five bags. Sheldon stood and helped her, probably out of courtesy than willingness.
When the bags sat on the couch (except on his spot), Sheldon looked at Kate, apparently still disappointed with the last conversation.
"You still went to the beaten down shop, didn't you?" said Sheldon. He shook his head. "I thought you'd have acted more rationally after our conversation."
"Call me crazy, Sheldon, but I was tired and already there. Besides, we're doing laundry tonight anyway," said Kate.
"I think your talk with Penny bore your rationality out of your head and replaced it with her idea of sensibility," Sheldon chastised. He sat on the arm of his side of the couch and looked at the bags. "What is all this?"
"This," said Kate, holding up her scrubs, "is my clothing attire for work, vacation, and overall cover so I don't have to walk around in Leonard's shirts."
Sheldon nodded his head, for this seemed more than reasonable to him.
"At least you accepted my advice per Leonard's bedsheets," Sheldon returned.
"I did," said Kate. "And again I thank you."
"You're welcome," returned Sheldon. He paused for a moment. "Kate, would you really want me to presume your death had occurred if you truly had not arrived in more than thirty minutes, not a minute later?"
Kate looked at him, placing her scrubs back in the bag.
"Of course not," she returned. "I was tired and being sarcastic."
"I'll have you know that I'm not an expert in sarcasm, nor do I completely understand facial expressions and body language," said Sheldon.
"Accepted," said Kate. She smiled. "Are we good?"
"Good what?" Sheldon asked.
"Nevermind." Kate said. "I'm going to bed after I hang all of these up. I'm going to put Leonard's garb into a bag and set it in front of Penny's door…I don't want to sneak around and scare Leonard and watch him try to attack me."
Sheldon paused for another moment and then exhaled his breathy laugh.
"What's so funny?" asked Kate.
"Your reference to Howard's cowardly pose on the floor being the similar circumstance which Leonard would be in if you were to sneak as well was humorous," said Sheldon. He did his breathy laugh again and he smiled at her. "Good night, Kate."
"Good night, Sheldon." Kate returned, smiling as well.
He left the living room to his bedroom. Kate went into the bedroom, took down Leonard's belongings and placed it in a trashbag, folded neatly ontop of each other. In the closet, she hung her long sleeve shirts, then t-shirts, jeans, and her scrubs; her pajamas were hung as well, feeling that Leonard could sweep out his…delicates…on his own time.
She laid down in the bed and fell asleep for another few hours before awaking at seven; she went to the bathroom to relieve her bladder and bowel, showered, and was ready at eight when Sheldon awoke as well. She wore her black scrubs over a long sleeve yellow shirt, and had her hair pinned in a delicate bun; a few locks of hair fell from the bun and gave her a fashionable, but messy, bun look.
She was more than prepared to work and come back home to do laundry.
