Sheldon was confused, unable to rationalize the match-up of Amy's gregarious father with her aloof (frankly, almost hostile) mother. He could see where Amy's kind nature came from: Rob reminded Sheldon a great deal of his Pop-Pop. Sheldon's Pop-Pop never met a person he couldn't call "friend" after only a few minutes.
Carole, though… she sure appeared to be a piece of work. Sheldon knew enough from his entrance-level psychology course in undergraduate school (it was mandatory for graduation, after all) that there must be some reason for Carole's haughty demeanor. If he could only figure it out, maybe he could help Amy learn how to work with her mother. Understanding emotions always challenged Sheldon, though. Texting Leonard's mother for advice (being her field of study, she might be interested in neurological scans of everyone in this room) was probably out of the question tonight. Sheldon was going to have to figure this one out on his own. It was going to be far more difficult than solving quadratic equations in his head.
Rob held the door open, allowing Amy and Sheldon to step inside before he followed. In any other situation, Sheldon would have been delighted to be invited into this house. The house was immaculate. The furnishings were of the highest quality and everything fit a single design perfectly. The art on the walls and the mantle overlying the fireplace was absolutely beautiful. The floor was clean enough even Sheldon thought he could eat off of it. But the house was missing something entirely… character. There were no family photos on the walls, no delicious smells wafting from the kitchen, no miscellaneous "stuff" littering the living room table, no comfy couch to toss your coat onto. It was a beautiful house. What it wasn't… was a home.
Sheldon visually sought out Amy and stepped up beside her. She looked up at him, her eyes reflecting the conflict in her soul. Amy desperately needed to heal this rift between herself and her mother, but had no idea how to do so or even where to start. Sheldon knew that today's issues were only the tip of the iceberg. And it would be like repelling a long way down a steep ice face to find a complete solution.
He put his arm around Amy and squeezed her waist gently from the opposite side. Amy recognized the silent gift of courage he was sending her way. Inwardly, this gave her a small measure of peace. Amy was grateful Sheldon was with her this night.
Carole stepped out of the kitchen at that moment, and set a tray with a pitcher of iced tea and four glasses on the table. She walked directly up to Sheldon, and did not wait for anyone's introduction.
"Sheldon, I am Carole Fowler, Amy's mother. It is good that we finally meet face to face." She held out a hand for Sheldon to shake. He accepted the offer, amazed by the cool touch of her hand.
"Mrs. Fowler, it is my pleasure. Thank you for your kind invitation to dinner this evening," Sheldon replied. Inwardly, Sheldon silently thanked his mother, MeeMaw, Pop-Pop, and everyone else who tortured him as a child with manners education. It would finally pay off this evening. He hoped.
"Please think nothing of it, Sheldon. I believe our meeting tonight, while not necessarily under the most auspicious of circumstances as they developed this morning, will serve us both well. It is past time we had a chance to talk… all of us, of course," Mrs. Fowler quickly corrected herself.
Sheldon tipped his head toward her in agreement, but kept his peace. If Mrs. Fowler thought she could bait him into losing control of his temper, she had what his mother always described as "another think coming."
Amy, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck. She knew her mother's tendencies … her mother had always loved a good argument, and relished the opportunity to convince her opponent they were not only wrong but wrong in every possible way. Amy knew if her mother could get underneath Sheldon's skin, even just a little, it could spell disaster. Not only for this night, but possibly for the entirety of her and Sheldon's relationship as well. If Sheldon couldn't handle contending with Amy's mother, would he be willing to stay with her?
Rob decided this was a good time to diffuse the tension in the room. "Sheldon, can I get you some iced tea?" He pointed to the table. "Alternatively, we have some soda in the refrigerator, or would you prefer beer or wine?"
Sheldon took the cue. "Iced tea would be perfect. Thank you."
Rob looked toward Carole, and she nodded.
"Amy, how about you?" Rob asked. Amy answered, "Iced tea, please, Dad."
Within a couple of minutes, all four were seated in the living room, glasses of tea in hand. Sheldon and Amy sat together on the stiff high-backed couch, and Rob and Carole each seated on their own of a pair of Queen Anne chairs. The coffee table in front of Sheldon and Amy was equipped with coasters; Sheldon reached out and set one in front of Amy and then one for himself. Rob caught Sheldon's eye and nodded slightly in approval.
Sheldon decided to break the silence. "Mrs. Fowler, Amy tells me that you are an attorney. What branch of law are you involved with?"
"Domestic Relations… sometimes it's still called Family Law. I work mostly with divorces, accusations of child neglect or abuse, and non-custodial support cases. The majority of the work is challenging, often because no one ever ends up entirely satisfied with the result." Mrs. Fowler stopped for a moment, and became thoughtful. "However, once in a while I feel like I've actually made a difference. Those are the cases you work for. The ones that make the other ninety-plus percent worthwhile."
"How long have you been doing this work?" Sheldon inquired.
"Almost 35 years. Rob and I met when I was a law student at the University of Southern California, and he was a professor in the English department there. We married immediately after I graduated from USC."
Mrs. Fowler smiled a little at the memory. Then her eyes became misty.
"I started at Smith, Jackson, and Rogers that summer. They do many types of law work, but Domestic Relations always stood out to me. Unfortunately, this means you work with people often at their worst, and in the worst times of their lives. It never fails to amaze me what a narrow line exists between love and hate. People who promised to love each other until death parts them, break into physical fights in a court room. And even those who manage to control those impulses tear at each other verbally, which seems in many ways worse than the physical brutality. I learned the axiom early on in my career. "There's always three sides to each case: His side, Her side, and the truth."
Rob had risen while Carole talked, and walked around behind her. He placed a comforting hand on her right shoulder. She looked up at him, initially mildly startled, but then reached up and patted his offered hand. She returned her gaze to Sheldon. "You learn to rely heavily on those you love to do this job." And then the favor of her look turned back to Rob. "I am blessed to have such a willing listener."
Sheldon thought about all that he had heard for a moment. His side, her side, and the truth. Maybe there was something more in that remark than on its face…
Sheldon began, "I am certain doing this work takes a toll on you personally."
"Yes. It is not easy watching other beautiful children being emotionally rent asunder by their own parents. People can become so embroiled in their personal battles, even attempting to ruin each other's lives, that they don't see the harm they are causing their own children that are locked in between."
Mrs. Fowler continued. "Amy came along after we had been married about three years. Unfortunately, Rob and I were unable to have any more children. She is precious to us both. I could never imagine her living through a similar situation."
A light turned on in Sheldon's mind, and he began to see how Amy's mother's over-protective nature developed. Her mother saw only the worst of relationships at work. Naturally, she would look for the worst in relationships elsewhere as well. Sheldon looked over at Amy, and saw for the first time how much she resembled her mother physically. Maybe there were emotional similarities here, too.
The knots of the fabric of this tangled family began to unravel before him. Now, if he could only find a way to bridge the gap between Amy and her mother…
"I understand your feelings. Amy is precious to me as well," Sheldon continued.
Mrs. Fowler's eyes narrowed. "Really," she said, in leaden tones. "What would you know about that?"
"Carole…" Rob voice carried a low warning.
"Sheldon…"Amy implored simultaneously, trying to get him to break gaze with her mother. She rubbed his arm to grab his attention. Nothing worked.
"No, I'd like to know that answer." Carole responded, without even looking at Rob. She stayed focused intently on Sheldon. "What on Earth makes you think you know anything about love for my daughter?"
"Do you mean Amy?" Sheldon countered. Amy gasped; she had never heard anyone speak to her mother in that manner. And Amy didn't think she had ever heard Sheldon being intentionally rude.
"Who else would I be talking about?" Mrs. Fowler retorted.
"I wasn't certain. Amy is a PhD and a renowned neurobiologist. She's also a thirty-two year old grown woman who can manage for herself. It certainly seemed to me you were referring to a child. Amy is far from that," Sheldon responded.
Oh, holy crap, thought Amy. She looked over at her father, who looked just as helpless as she to stop what was brewing between the other two parties in the room. Electricity was in the air.
It appeared, as they say, it was on.
Sheldon proverbially jumped in with both feet. He might be burned in the fire, but Mrs. Fowler needed to hear what a toll her edicts had taken on Amy.
"Amy is no longer a child, yet she seldom makes a step without your undue influence. It's long overdue that this stops.
She's dressed in almost puritanical fashion ever since I have known her. She endured seemingly unending teasing from her peers growing up as a result. Tonight, many years later, she tried something new at the last minute at my request. Her first reaction was concern that you wouldn't approve. Isn't it interesting that her own father didn't share any such concern, at least none that he voiced? I'm not trying to imply Amy should be immodest, but you passed the line of reason.
You've convinced Amy to be so completely professionally focused throughout her life, that she never had a social life growing up. I know what that feels like. It has only been in the last ten years I have enjoyed peer relationships as well. It's a lonely life for which you sentenced Amy. Fortunately, she now has friends in this group of ours, and enjoys the support and love we all give her.
Ironically, it was your attempts to get her to date that brought us together in the first place. I still don't understand that, based on her upbringing. What happened, did you finally figure out you wouldn't have grandchildren if she didn't soon find someone to pair bond with?"
The room became deathly quiet. The only sounds that measured were the tick-tock of the clock on the mantle, keeping time with Sheldon and Mrs. Fowler's labored breathing.
"I'll be thrice damned before I let you speak to me in such a tone in my own home," Mrs. Fowler spat out, marking each and every word. "You may…"
Amy's head came up. Something inside of her gave way. Amy found the courage within herself to face her fear of her mother. "He may what, exactly, Mother?"
"Stay out of this, Amy Farrah. This is between Sheldon and myself," her mother replied. She didn't waiver from Sheldon's equally impassioned glare.
"Actually, Mother, this is between us," Amy stated, echoing her mother's leaden tones on the last word. As Mrs. Fowler turned, Amy knew she finally had her mother's full attention.
A/N: What is it about mothers and their daughters, anyway? Amy and her mother are long overdue for a chat. See you this weekend!
As always, thank you for reading, and for your feedback in a review if you choose.