Chapter Fifteen: Him
A hushed tone slithered its way into his slumber. That soothing-turned-harsh noise rang in his ears in a dreamy, dazy way it would in the middle of his sleep. Awaken by his ringtone, he groaned in fatigue as he saw the caller ID. Mom
Just the usual. Mary wanted him to go home for Christmas blah blah blah, attend his nephew's, Noah, 1st birthday blah blah, go to church with the whole family blah blah blah. It was a lot to process, especially in his situation, but fortunately, his mother let him off the hook. Besides, he went home last year's holiday, attended church with them, and practically stood up to become the doctor when his sister gave birth. Not that he wasn't a doctor anyway, but childbirth wasn't exactly his expertise; he's not that kind of doctor.
Relief quickly rushed into him the moment the call ended.
He was lying in bed, still in his pajamas. The feel of the delicate mattress was tempting. So tempting that he'd been lying there, on and off, since Monday. It was Saturday; some might say it is advisable not to do what Sheldon did.
But a certain thought made him leave the security of an inanimate object. An idea he thought his stoic side wouldn't even acknowledge. An underlying fear of how he would accept it and not deny it. Being alone.
Not a foreign feeling, but being alone now seemed very inapplicable to him, especially that he can now call some people his friends. But not all friends do that, do they? They deliberately planned to take a vacation elsewhere and left him for good. No sympathy for the lone man.
He was sitting at a cold, uncomfortable bench when numerous flights flashed before him in the screens. He was still thinking about where to go. Or whether not to go at all.
Clutching his passport, the ideas of being alone became potent. The flashing of the screen in front of him became so violent that he had to close his eyes tightly and hold his throbbing head down. After painful seconds of overwhelming, disruptive thoughts, he opened his eyes. Everything was normal. People walking right passed him, some running. People sitting by themselves, enclosed in their own world.
Then, he realized, these people do not care about his woes, they don't care about his victories. They don't care about him at all. They just coexist. I'll mind my business, you'll mind your own. Their personal mantra. That brought a smile on his face, not being in front of the spotlight, especially when he doesn't feel like it.
Still, he couldn't piece together why on earth would he stay behind by himself, at the peak of holidays, locked in his room, when he could be in an adventure that would lead him to different places.
However, he had an impediment to that solution; he doesn't like new places. He despised the feeling of being at the unknown, with the unknown, toward the unknown. It would've been easier if Amy was always by his side, by then, he could act like his usual despite the unknown.
However, he and Amy had gone places. And by places, literally coast to coast, sea to sea, Pacific to Atlantic. Not only that, their emotions had gone places, as well, just because of miscommunication.
Firstly, Sheldon knew the repercussions of what Amy revealed to him the night she was drunk. It was a revelation, so shocking that their thinking had gotten itself in a clutter.
The morning after their fight, he went out of bed at dawn. In fact, his thoughts were so bothersome and worrisome that he must have acquired only 2 hours of rest, scattered through the night. Taking a cold shower, followed by dressing for the day, he started to arrange all his bags. All dirty clothes were separated in a canvas bag, his electronics were kept inside his messenger bag. Despite Amy still snoozing her way into the morning (until 8 a.m.), he managed to fold the sheets and comforter on his side of the bed.
When he showed up for breakfast, he was the first one. He waited for a few minutes and, little by little everyone of his group took their seats. They were very restrained, almost to the point where they couldn't even look at him.
At that point, he knew his friends were aware of Amy's plans, and worse, they must have heard about the fight because, in all honesty, Amy's outburst got a little loud and coarse last night. The morning progressed as awkward as it got, only getting more awkward when Amy walked in. On how she knew they were at the restaurant and not traveling back to Pasadena was still a mystery to Sheldon. Everybody cleared their throats deliberately and were suddenly silenced by her arrival. Sheldon's suspicions of his friends knowing everything only proved to get stronger.
As they were resuming with their breakfast, she tried to touch the back of his hand, but Sheldon stressed by his cutting stare that he was having none of it and pulled away from her touch. Amy must have believed that everything would suddenly vanish, as if a poof in the air, through the night, and all is well; apparently, she was nothing but incorrect.
He figured that his actions that morning were harsh and rude, especially when by no means Amy's fault. What he doesn't want to happen was his mind to be muddled with uncertainties brought out by her. If she wants to go, she should, even if his initial thoughts about it was not to let her go.
He understood where she was coming from. An opportunity is an opportunity. Even if it doesn't happen, at least, the prospect of it happening is palpable. Of course, a good, well-meaning opportunity is the most alluring of its kind, but a bad opportunity (or so he perceived about Amy's Dartmouth escapade) still is equally enticing in its own cheeky means.
But what he couldn't understand was why Amy was so persistent about it. It's okay to have the opportunity, but why would she want that? Why would she give in to such a compromisable situation that might endanger their relationship? Even if his disagreement appeared to be a selfish act, in the long run, he was just thinking about how this will affect his relationship with Amy.
The idea of Amy going away was tough to deal with. He first lost her once. Out of her 2-year stay on the east coast, the last 6 months before she went home, they weren't even communicating. The very last thing that he received from Amy was a Christmas greeting that seemed like a computer-generated letter sent to numerous people. He replied to her right away, even though composing a Christmas letter was against all his beliefs. Luckily, Amy replied back, but when he responded again, that was where it all ended. It took him 6 months and having Amy as his date to discover that, all along, she's at Caltech since the beginning of the year.
Evidently, after the recent enlightening trip he had, complaining and ranting to Amy about why their communication suddenly went off was slightly inappropriate, considering that out of all the women he'd met, Amy's at the top of them all. Holding a grudge against her, seemed juvenile and taxing.
He always values the relationship that they'd formed through the years. Hearing about this plan of Amy, seemed to trigger something in him. Something revolting and hard to swallow.
It worried him that maybe this will be the end of everything. It was dumb of him to ever consider putting up a joint bank account for him and Amy to manage. It's not about the money he was concerned about—he's got lots of those—nor the chance to brag about having someone to have a joint account, it's about how Amy tricked him to ever consider it in the first place. She moved her way into his mind and heart that led him to decisions that would be unrepresentative of his values. A dumb idea to begin with.
It took him days to recover from that secret. It didn't even matter that they had to take the plane back home because everybody was still feeling the effects of alcohol from the night before; he just wanted to go home. At least in that way, one of the things he's used to the most will not be deprived of him.
For him, the last 12 days of Amy at Caltech went by in a blur. To collect his thoughts, he would wake up really early just to avoid her. By the time he's done preparing, he would go to Penny's to hitch a ride. He would time it with Amy's bedroom door opening so that she would know that he's ignoring her on purpose. He wanted to say something but not unless he had cooled down and thought about it thoroughly. As much as he wanted to indulge in yet another train journey to clear his mind, it wasn't as advisable to his upcoming teaching job that required his presence even weeks before classes—whatever that may be.
So in order to be at Pasadena and still ponder on his decisions quietly, he decided to not communicate with Amy. Sure she wouldn't mind. Amy is the most patient person he had ever met, of course excluding his mother who'd put up with all his crap.
But he was a bagel in a bag of grits when Amy suddenly vanished the weekend she was finished with Caltech. It's not truly her fault, per se. He was having a late dinner, still pondering on how he'll tell Amy when she came out of the blue. She told him she was taking a short vacation to her parents' house over the weekend. Of course he wasn't listening! He was preoccupied with his apology. He just shrugged nonchalantly, face blank, as he was deep in his thoughts.
When Saturday morning rolled in, he was ready by then, to talk about it. He prepared his points he'd like to discuss, and yet she was nowhere to be found.
Great! Just great… That left a sour taste in his mouth. He was ready, for goodness' sake! How would he tell Amy that he's now fine with her going away? How would he tell her that he really was just governed by his inconsiderate, mean side when they were fighting that night and he wanted to apologize? How would he tell her that he liked whenever Amy was always with him. He liked it a lot. He liked her A LOT! And finding out that Amy went away, he felt wronged.
He scampered down into this dark, sunless inferno that led him to believe that he was right and Amy was wrong, after all this time. When she returned Monday daybreak, he did nothing but ignore her. Not just like what he did the first week, where ignoring her was for the greater good, but this one was a full-blown snubbing like Amy was the invisible woman with no intention of ever discussing to her that he was about to give in to what she wanted.
He returned to his routine that Monday morning. Unlike the morning where he woke up earlier to avoid her, he opted to wake up like how he would normally do on workdays. Amy greeted him as he went out of the bathroom, still wearing the clothes she wore when she went home at 5 in the morning, but he stuck with ignoring her.
She suggested that she was willing to drive him to work; he declined, because "Why would I want to hitch another ride if Leonard's obviously going to the place where I am going?" Well, when Amy was still working at Caltech he would ride with Leonard just to avoid her, so, really, his argument contradicted his stance.
It took a week of convincing and eventually Amy giving up on asking him every day. He scoffed in victory. Alas! But not part of his brain seemed to cooperate with his hatred toward her. Instead, it might have won over the logical, apathetic side of him, causing distress.
When Tuesday rolled in, Amy went and made breakfast for the two of them. He was garbed with his suit yet his tie still off, and Amy was wearing her nightgown. It was hard not to ignore her because of the breakfast showcase she had going on in the kitchen. Ignoring the food was pointless because a.) he was running late, and b.) what she made sure was appetizing. They simply ate in silence, his urge to moan at every bite of the omelet was agonizing.
He felt it the Monday Amy returned that she wanted to say something. As though words were her enemy, and she couldn't formulate the better ones. As though something was bothering her, and she couldn't get it off her chest.
Something had been bothering him, too! But Amy was not interested in asking about it. Maybe he came off as stern and adamant right from the beginning that caused Amy to be mortified. Little did she know, he was mortified, too.
He was in the middle of the living room when Amy approached him. She might have noticed that he was struggling with his tie even though he intentionally turned his back to her, prompting her to pop up in front of him.
The urge to decline Amy and make her as miserable as she did to him was so strong. But her tired, bloodshot eyes made him reconsider what he had done. When Amy asked him if she could drive him to work, hesitation overruled him. Outside, he still tried to appear emotionless when he agreed to her offer. But it was exhilarating the way her face contorted as she stifled a smile, trying her best to not appear as delighted as she should.
He turned his back against her again. This time, fishing out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the lone tear that somehow found an escape from his eye, trying to stay as normal as he could as go not raise any suspicions. Suddenly his tear duct had acquired its own brain. Darn! Why is this happening?! With luck on his side, Amy seemed to look past it and scampered to change her clothes.
The next 2 days of him being driven to work had been a hell of a ride. And by hell, it was ear-ringing silent and sometimes a one-sided conversation.
A certain conversation really caught his attention. It was Thursday. He assumed Amy will be gone by Friday since that's what she said to him when they had a fight, this drive will be the last one she'll ever do that week… that month… maybe even that year.
"Do you know that New Hampshire shares its northern border with Quebec?" she jovially started, but still a bit hesitant.
"I'm aware of that," he politely answered, looking outside, careful not to maintain a very long eye contact.
"Vermont is also across the river from Hanover, so more maple syrup for me." She chuckled, eyeing him.
He cleared his throat and seriously said, "Good for you."
"It's just a fascinating place, don't you think?" Amy tried to let him think it was.
He just nodded in agreement, striving to be as respectful as he could. He had succumbed to his laconic self and had been a loss for words since the very beginning. Despite her mundane and pointless (he believed that's what she thought otherwise) attempt to spark some stellar conversation, Sheldon thought it was good-natured to do so. Despite its irrelevance to any of his interests, he found it relieving.
Relieved to have known that Amy acknowledged his presence; he still thought she was treating him differently. Relieved that in him lies a person who recognizes small talks that urged either one of them to open up, and frankly, he doesn't mind Amy's attempt at all. Relieved that maybe, just maybe, they can put this all behind them before Amy goes to Dartmouth.
But everything ended there. Amy flew away the next morning, just as soon as he went to work.
Days had been numbing. Weeks had been harrowing. Months had been complicated. Before he knew it, the darkness crept up into his system. With the purpose of not succumbing to yet another episode, he had been trekking up and down the stairs right before dinner and before going to work. Waking up early and showing up tardy at their dinners, proved to be a worthwhile habit that soon spiraled to him suddenly disappearing on morning weekends and appearing 3 hours later with a baggie of food with him and clothes soaked with sweat.
Sure, it was odd, especially on days where he would turn off his phone and let everybody engage in a thrilling manhunt to defeat time and, possibly, a serial killer with the knack for tall, scrawny men usually walking by themselves. But he knew, they knew, that in the end, he will still go home on time, unscathed and in one piece.
The intention was mainly to give his mind a breather. Things had been bombarding him in unusual ways. Having a newly appointed role as a professor—a rather aberrant task—led him to take a step back. And by taking a step back meant him walking for days that he could.
He had been sitting at the center of the bustling LAX for a bare minimum of 4 hours. Still, no destination at the top of his head. It's a wonder why airport security hadn't escorted the lanky, weird man hanging around the departure area. Maybe if he stayed a little bit longer, hulking, terrifying men in black will drag him out of the premises.
The fear of men in black seemed absurd. He returned back to his planning about where to go. Just a few feet from him, an array of screens were suspended at the vestibule of the terminal where he stayed. Real-time, flights were being displayed, as well as their status and their respective terminals and gates, and were constantly changing by the minute.
ATL. JFK. MCO. DFW. IAH. SFO. MIA. PHT. CLT. PHL. LGA. SLC. TPA. PDX. CLE.
A lot of options for a man who has got a lot of time. He saw a flight to Honolulu transformed its status from boarding to take off, and then disappeared from the screen, only to be replaced by a flight to Halifax. When a flight disappears from the screen, a new one appears at the very end of the roster. Domestic and international flights alike swarmed the screen like flies feeding on decayed material. It happened for minutes on end. He estimated that planes took off in 5-minute intervals preceding its predecessor.
A specific flight caught his eye. With nearly 200 destinations flashing at an abrupt speed, the letters BOS displayed at the very end. Of course he had seen a Boston flight numerous times and still hadn't thought about it much, but the recently added Boston flight to the list takes off an estimate of 3 and a half hours from now.
A light bulb flickered! A better idea than any he had done in the past.
Before anything else, he quickly scanned the airline's website, searching with vigor for that specific flight number. And sure enough, it does offer a connection to a more precise state he'd like to go to.
A small smile crept in his face. Without wasting any second, he scrambled for his luggage, almost tripping over his messenger bag, checked his passport and wallet with sweaty hands, and ran for his life, still clutching his iPad in one hand.