Chapter Eighteen: Say You're Sorry

The aroma coming from the neighboring kitchen tickled the tip of his nose. At first, he thought his mother was cooking breakfast for him. Considering his rejection of her offer to come home for Christmas, she, instead, brought the whole family in Pasadena to celebrate it with him.

But it wasn't the case.

From the moment he laid eyes on that unfamiliar place, a surge of unfamiliar feelings came rushing into him. His back was aching. His legs were numb. His torso was rigid. He had a localized pain in his neck that suggested that it was either hit or took pressure from something hard. He looked around and saw a woman occupied in the kitchen.

With the minimalist analog clock hanging above the fake-looking fireplace, it displayed a few minutes past 8 a.m. He had slept for almost 12 hours and yet it appeared like his body was worse for wear.

He stood up, groaning at the muscle pain from his unlikely sleeping position. When he saw Amy noisily washing in the sink, a gush of memories from last night hit him in his noggin'. Blood rushed to his head, and he was furious.

He stomped his way into the counter separating the living room and the kitchen.

"AMY, WHAT WAS THAT!?" he confronted through gritted teeth. Arms akimbo, his hands clutched his pajama top tightly as he began breathing heavily.

Amy closed the tap and wiped her hands on the towel, acting like she didn't hear anything.

"Talk to me," he demanded, following her as she sat down on the dining table with her plate and mug.

He stopped in front of her and cried, "Amy, why wouldn't you say anything?!"

"Because if I say something, things will escalate," she snapped at him but it was quickly followed with remorse.

He scoffed. "Like what you did to me last night?! You took advantage of me!" He loosened his hold on his shirt but begun to clenched his fists on his sides. At the onset, he felt betrayed. Anger lingered in next, but the betrayal seemed more detrimental.

Amy's calm demeanor altered. She never wanted to feel this but she had no way out. "I took advantage of you?! You didn't tell me to goddamn stop!" she exploded. "No! You seemed to enjoy it like a sexed-up horndog!"

He groaned. "I'm a sexed-up horndog?! How about you with your beguiling wiles. You're the sexed-up horndog!"

"I won't tolerate that kind of talk from anyone," she stressed out, leering at him over her hooded eyes.

Sheldon sat in front of her in surrender. He slumped his shoulders and was containing his emotions. "Why did you let me do that, Amy? You know I love you!" he wailed, flailing his hands in the arms like he was exhausted. He leaned in and confronted, "Why did you let me do that!"

Amy matched him. "Why did you let me do that?!"

"Because I love you!"

Amy huffed and squared her jaw. "Not because you love someone, you would be willing to be that intimate with her," she responded bitingly.

It's true. Amy always believed that sex should be not used to get your way or prove something. And yet she displayed the opposite last night. She was upset about the accusations brought by Sheldon and the only way to prove that was to show that he was wrong.

"And you can't love me that much. No one can love someone that much."

A pained expression hit his face. Why is she saying that?

"But it's true Amy! I told you I love spending time with you when we were at Napa. And then when you traveled away, that's when I realized you somehow wiggled your way into my heart like a heartworm!"

He propped his forearms on the table and got closer to her. "Do you not love me?" whispered Sheldon. He looked at Amy like he would look anyone who was tricking him: penetrating and eager. He wanted to see her reaction. Will this make it or break it? He wished to have heard the exact words, but more powerful and passionate, coming from her.

Amy leaned back into her seat and admitted, "I care for you, Sheldon. I would not be here with you if I didn't."

He scoffed. "It's not the same." Hissing at the vivid memory of last night that popped out of nowhere, Sheldon rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Oh why, Amy! Why—Why did it have to happen? What if that escalated to a more intimate territory? Do you happen to have any condoms stashed in your nightstand? What if we had sex and . . . there's no condom available? Do you expect me to pull it out and make a mess? A man's instinct is the opposite of that and you saw me last night! I-I was not in control of my self!"

He inhaled shakily. "W-What if you get pregnant, huh?! Am I the one to blame? I told you I'm still not equipped for that role, and you told me you're not either! And mom says it's not okay to get an abortion because Jesus will be sad. So, if you're screwing with me, i-it's not fun at all. Not at all."

The words bounced from wall to wall, piercing through her ears. Amy realized that no one was to blame; both of them didn't do anything. But she felt that a chunk of their problem was her fault. At first, she was reluctant to accept her role in this, but seeing Sheldon being miserable in this situation, she felt sorry for the man.

Amy knew that Sheldon might have been blaming himself for all that's happening to them. It breaks her heart to have witnessed him be so vulnerable, so fragile. Maybe for a good reason, it would be okay to be vulnerable, but his vulnerability stemmed from frustration—not the good one.

"Sheldon." She held down his trembling hands on the table. She dragged her chair to sit closer to him. "Look, I'm sorry," whispered Amy, patting his hand as he held his head down. She couldn't tell from his obscured face what his emotion was, but a liquid wandered down from his nose bridge to the tip of his nose and dropped at the wooden table. Another one dropped, and then another one.

Sniffling was his way to stop this nonsense. Cursing at it may be ineffective, doing his best to sniff in the tears was enough. He knew Amy would look at him differently, especially when she sees him crying.

Without second thoughts, she gently wrapped Sheldon in her arms. He wasn't reciprocating her embrace, but he wasn't resisting either; he just made it happen. His face was tucked in her neck, and she can hear him trying his best not to sob. It was quick and consolatory, and Amy pulled away slowly.

"This feud of ours has been causing pain on both of us. We haven't resolved it yet since I left. None of this would have happened if we effectively talked with each other. Instead, we always dispute one another's opinions."

He gruffly wiped his eyes with the cuffs of his sleeves, wiped the surface of the table, before he could ever face her. "I came here because I missed you. And because I didn't like the strain between us. We haven't talked in over a month, Amy. And this is the welcome I get."

Amy sighed heavily. "Sheldon, I'm really sorry. I'm truly am. I feel like I've brought this upon us. I was not myself last night. I was . . . and . . . and you're here and I've missed you, too. I really do. Your accusations yesterday were very provocative. I had a very busy day yesterday when you were napping and that phone call was the only break I got and suddenly you're lashing at me like I was some filthy animal."

He sat back straighter. "You're not."

"I know that you didn't mean that," Amy assured. "But think this: you can't just accuse people of something that they didn't do," she candidly stressed out. Sheldon sighed and had a look of disappointment etched in his face. "And it sounds like you started it all, but I take full responsibility for my actions, whether or not it caused you any pain."

"Y-You can't do that…"

"It's the only reasonable thing to do. I apologize for all the things I did to hurt you."

Sheldon nodded and kept quiet for a while. He was trying to compose himself for the sake of an intelligible conversation between them

"Can I ask you a question?" He clenched his jaw as he waited for her confirmation.

It took Amy a while to reply. "Okay."

"Who were you talking to last night? Where did you go and why did you go there? Are you involved with the Conor guy yesterday? Did you go to him yesterday," he rambled with his raspy voice. He didn't know if he made sense or if the message was properly heard, but he couldn't contain his agitation. It needed to be clear now.

"That's a lot of questions." Amy cleared her throat before nibbling on a half-bagel with cream cheese. "But I'll start with the easiest. No, I'm not involved with Conor in the kind of way you are thinking right now. He is a visiting professor in biochemistry from Ireland, and I met him when we needed a biochemist's insight into our research. Other than that, we were flat out platonic with each other . . . the same goes with every researcher in here."

He had furrowed his forehead as he listened to her carefully. Sheldon was about to say something when he was cut mid-air.

"Hep, hep . . . still my turn," Amy interrupted before stealing a quick sip from her mug. "Last night, I ate at a Dunkin' Donuts—it's a thing here in New England. About 30 minutes from here. I downed a cup of coffee, although I think that was a bad idea since I couldn't sleep until midnight," she explained.

"And the last one," her voice softened, "I know you're anxious to know who I'm talking to, but here's the deal: you're going to meet him first before I tell you who he is. Tomorrow, we will go."

Sheldon felt a twitch in his chest. "Him?" he whispered weakly.

"Yes, a man," Amy confirmed, as though saying 'I love you' to another man other than your husband and being secretive about it was accepted by society, "but no, not a lover. Never will be."

"I hope that's not a ruse to bring me to the court and petition for an annulment. Then I'll get to see your lover when we're there and he will snatch you from me," he imagined.

"No, it's not."

He asked stiffly, "How will I know that what you're telling me is the truth? How will I know that you're not just manipulating me?"

"I think you're smart enough to notice that," Amy responded thoughtfully.

Sheldon looked at her for a long time. Was she bluffing or was she telling the truth? Was it really a man that is not her lover? Convinced, he nodded his realization and agreed, "Drat, you're right, Amy."

He snapped his fingers and looked down. Her bare hand caught his attention. There used to be 2 rings there. He knew Amy brought it with her because he felt it dug in his skin when she touched his shoulder and kissed his cheek that morning he accompanied her to her cab.

"Where are your rings?" Another wave of emotions surged. Why is she not wearing the rings I gave her?! This seems unfair.

Amy looked at her finger and gasp in realization. "Weather really mess up with the rings. I had to take it out when I arrived because it keeps getting loose with the sudden drop in temperature. Even with the gloves, they go haywire."

She pulled out the necklace hidden from her sweater, her rings clinked as she tugged the chain. It was the one she used when they were still keeping the fact that they were married. Of course Amy had to keep it away once they revealed their status to their friends, but he was certain that it would be no use in the future.

"Oh, alright," he replied. Part of him doesn't want to believe that that was true, however, the grounds of her keeping the rings in her necklace instead of her finger was reasonable. With her convincing explanations of the phenomena that had been bugging him, it was a lot easier to trust her. Sheldon just hoped that Amy hadn't used her expertise in brain science to manipulate everything that he believed.

By then, Amy gobbled up the remains of her bagel, downed her cup of coffee, and washed the plates clean. Sheldon followed her and whipped up a quick breakfast similar to hers and washed his dishes, too, as Amy waited for him in her living room.

He was offered an impromptu tour of Dartmouth. Although that tour would only encompass the Physics department, specifically the library where Amy will leave him as she goes to work, Sheldon was still thrilled to hear it. It will be sort of like a daycare, but he doesn't need a change of diaper or a caregiver other than himself and the shelves of books that would accompany him.

As they were rounding the corner of the street, Amy pointed out the Life Sciences department she's currently assigned on.

In the middle of her captivating storytelling, Sheldon interrupted, "Amy…"

She looked up to him as he looked at her with hesitation.

"It seemed like when we talked an hour ago, I didn't apologize to you. So here it is: I'm sorry," he admitted as kept his gloved hands in the pockets of his coat and fiddled with the visitor card Amy handed him that morning.

"Apology accepted. Although, you don't need to say that, you were pretty stricken by our confrontation and I saw that you were sorry."

Impressed, he looked at her in awe. "It's amazing that you do have that ability to read me. I should have been more grateful and proud that you got to do research here, but instead, I shut you off from my world and let you leave without saying goodbye."

Amy stopped in her tracks, piquing Sheldon's interest. "Honestly, I was hurt by what you did. I was appalled by your reaction. I thought that the trip to Napa would allow us to know each other and it will be easier for me to tell you about Dartmouth. We did enjoy our time there together but when I told you about it, you acted like a jerk."

He snorted. "A jerk would be a nicer word. I'd like to consider myself an idiot."

"You're a smart man who did idiot deeds," Amy quipped as she let out a tiny laugh.

Sheldon stopped and looked at her incredulously, "Correction, my IQ says otherwise. I am more than smart."

"My apologies, Dr. Cooper. I misspoke."

They shared a laugh as Amy pointed out the Physics library.

Sheldon indulged himself at the spectacle of the library. The feeling of being surrounded by towering bookshelves was extraordinary. The smell, too, was familiar yet every time it registers in his mind, it felt very surreal.

With the absence of his laptop, he had to use his imagination and use his iPad, instead, to do some work. Handling 3 classes in 2 different topics made his work inbox a consultation machine for all his students. Files after files of term papers needed to be checked, however, he didn't need to scour his whole inbox for every student's submission, he delegated that job of collecting all papers and sending it through 1 email to a student that he trusted the most. So that job was done for him.

One of the perks of teaching graduate students was the presence of a teaching assistant. A young woman, named Alex, who he deemed as god-sent because it took him 10 applicants before landing her as his assistant, was currently checking the exam papers over the holidays. However, he might be tired from all the interviews that he purposely lowered the standards so that President Siebert wouldn't sulk anymore as to why he still hasn't picked an assistant.

Amy arrived at the library to fetch him for lunch. They walked to the center of the town, passing through the Dartmouth Green—which was in no way diffused with green grass, as advertised. It was the first time that he'd seen a lot of people in the town. That time they bought his clothes and went to the supermarket, people were still in their homes. It seemed like the majority of them prefers to go out at noon.

They stopped by a local restaurant just across the campus. He was apprehensive at first when he saw the fast-casual style of serving, buckets and buckets of chopped vegetables, and heaps of cheeses, and squeeze bottles of sauces displayed right before their eyes. It took a lot of convincing from Amy to order—she even likened it to Chipotle, which he enjoyed religiously—but knowing about nothing of the food, he let Amy pick for him, as long as he watched her do it.

After scarfing down 1 burrito and a green-colored smoothie, which tasted rather appetizing, and grabbing 2 more burrito bowls for dinner, Amy dragged him to a nearby barbershop. The coercion was real from Amy. With the current state of his hair—enough to be summoned to a boy band—Amy said he needed a haircut.

Indeed, he did. The flat cap he'd been wearing all day covered the bird's nest that was his hair. Similar to that time Penny had butchered his haircut, he was hesitant to have someone cut his hair other than Mr. D'Onofrio. It scared him to death when he needed to go to work after that uneventful weekend.

Ever the insistent Amy sat with him, making sure the barber doesn't mess up his hair and kept him company. She even saved him from having to converse with the barber by doing the small talks. He now grasped the willingness of Amy to do some things in his stead; he was fortunate. What a gal, indeed!

"Thanks for accompanying me," he said as he messed with his freshly cut hair. Gone were the days where he would tuck it behind his ear or swipe it off his forehead, he got used to it since stopping with his haircut appointment in mid-October.

"You're welcome. Now you look more like yourself," Amy replied, in awe at the reemergence of the Sheldon that she used to see every day.

"Only that?" he asked in a teasing manner. The months of living with Amy had brought back this side of him that constantly wanted to tease her. He just liked the way she matches up to his teasing and as soon as they're done, she reddens at the cheek.

Amy noticed what he wanted. "Do you want me to say how drop-dead gorgeous you are now that you had your haircut?" There it is, the return jab. Oh, how he missed those.

"Wouldn't hurt." He shrugged his shoulders and looked at her in his periphery, grinning like a kid.

"The nerve of you! You just got a haircut and then you want me to give in to your masculine wiles?" She chuckled as she jogged away from him. Fortunately, they're way past the main street, which would be unlucky if Amy ran into traffic.

He paused and looked at her, oblivious. Nonchalantly, she stooped down to the pile of snow (Did she drop something?) and grabbed a handful of snow. Her back was against him so he couldn't see what she was doing. Swift as wind, she whirled her upper body and throw a snowball at him. She looked like a Red Sox pitcher pitching a fastball into his direction.

He opened his mouth in shock as the snowball swiped the top of his head and disintegrated as it passed his hair. It was sort of anti-climactic to see the ball hurl to him at a slow pace. A subtle splat was made as it hit his skin.

Amy was there chuckling like a child, almost dropping down to the snow in joy. To seek his revenge, he casually grabbed a handful, as big as his palms, and balled it tighter. He heard Amy shuffled along and ran as she laughed.

"Come back here, you!" he yelled as he followed her, brisk walking. His foot had considerably healed overnight, making it easier to run after her. She was forced to slow down when a couple was walking side by side and was blocking the sidewalk. He grabbed the opportunity to reach her, and once he went by the couple, he threw the snowball into Amy's direction, hitting her in the lower back.

He gasped in delight, mouth ajar, and soon started laughing as he hit Amy. The snowball dispersed in her coat that made Sheldon even more ecstatic.

"How dare you!" Amy feigned irritation.

They went on for minutes, throwing snow at each other and basking in what was left of the day. They arrived back to her apartment, soaked and exhausted but very much in the best mood ever since that uneventful morning. Without any context of the weather outside, it looked like there was a blizzard that caused them to appear that way. Even, they looked like they were buried in the snow and got up with all the white particles clinging to their outerwear. A subsequent hot shower was almost shared, if not for Sheldon's objection.