Penny lifted her head from her bathroom sink and looked intently in the mirror. Warm water trickled down her cheeks and dripped from her chin as she rinsed off the last of the cleanser from her face. Blotting her face with a towel, she turned her head left and right and inspected her hairline. Her hair was still wet from where she had hastily washed it in the shower, and it was combed back, giving a full view of her clean, unadorned visage. She sighed as she considered the oval-shaped face, the dimpled cheeks, the full, bee-stung lips, the smooth but prominent nose, and the well-trimmed brows that hooded those greenish-hazel eyes that drew so many compliments from friends and strangers alike.
Got it all, she thought to herself, seeing no traces of grime. Then she reflected on the irony of that thought. What all did she have? A stalled acting career, a dependable but dead-end job slinging cheesecake, an on-again-off-again relationship with a nice guy that made a better friend than lover, a crowded yet lonely apartment that she really couldn't afford, and a circle of strange and loyal friends that amazingly had become like a second family. Oh, and she had her looks. They were her saving grace, her ace in the hole, the one thing that she knew would never fail to get her what she wanted. There always was a way of talking, flirting, and working what she had to open the doors and escape the jams of her life.
But as she looked deeper into the smooth, olive-toned skin of her face, she noticed that her cheeks seemed fuller, her eyes seemed shadier, and her chin looked more rounded than it did just a few short years before. She was getting older. Twenty-seven was hardly ancient, even by Hollywood standards, and, really, she was in the prime of her life. But time, though an abstract concept, does in fact move forward, though we are the ones that do the moving, and time is just a marker—and she was seeing more of those markers all the time.
Time is just a marker. Isn't that something that Sheldon would say?
Ugh. Sheldon. Ass! Picturing his smug, self-righteous face smothered in goo snapped her out of her introspection and onto the source of her present angst. Sometimes she just wanted to…Grrr! She began angrily rubbing her head with the towel as the questions flew: Why couldn't he just once admit that, in spite of his best efforts to be a perfect robot, he was really a flawed human being? Why couldn't he acknowledge her strengths, or give her a hardy "Well played, Penny?" Why did he have to be so arrogant and yet so needy, so pompous and yet so innocent? The questions kept popping up in her brain as her annoyance and inner conflict grew. Then the question she didn't want to ask stopped her internal tirade in its tracks:
"Why did I kiss him?" she said out loud, dropping the towel on the sink. She stared into the mirror, as if the half-dressed girl in the mirror with the big, angry eyes was her inquisitor. She stood for a moment, willing the girl to give her the answer she wanted, but instead, only hearing the answer she dreaded: Because he is your Moon Pie, your Whack-a-doodle, the man than perplexes and yet fascinates you in ways you've never known…
The four rapid knocks on her door disrupted her musing, making her jump slightly. She recognized the knock as Amy's, although it seemed more forceful than usual. Sounds pissed, she thought. Obviously another casualty of Sheldon Cooper: Equal Opportunity Offender of Women Everywhere. She quickly ran to her room and donned shorts and a T-shirt, then opened the door to her exasperated friend.
"Hey, Amy. Let me guess. Sheldon?" she greeted tersely as she stood in the doorway.
"Oh, Penny," Amy's face was taught with emotion, and the front of her shirt was wet. She engulfed Penny in a stiff, awkward hug, filling the blonde girl's eyes with surprise.
"There, there, sweetie," Penny cooed, returning Amy's embrace and patting her back. "He's an ass and a tool and a horrible person, and doesn't know how to play well with others."
"I've tried so hard to be patient with him, because he's come so far, but sometimes he just makes me want to…"
"…Grab his nose and pull? Twist his nipple? Throw his Green Lantern doll in the toilet?" Penny interjected, nodding her head and curling her lips in her usual look of annoyance mixed with menace.
"I was going to say cry, but those will all work just as well," Amy responded, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "Of course, any of those acts would be flagrant violations of our Relationship Agreement. It would be grounds for termination."
"Termination of what, of being his plus one? Study buddy? Nose wiper?" Penny asked incredulously. "Talk to me. What did he do?"
"It wasn't so much what he did to me, but to you, calling you that," Amy trailed off, reticent to poke the fresh wound.
"What? A pig?" Penny huffed, straightening herself. "Trust me, Amy, I've been called worse. But I've just had enough of his snotty attitude, always telling me I'm dumb, clumsy, not good enough for him, and then he crawls back wanting he to drive him to the bank, or rub his hairless chest, or teach him how to wipe his own ass. He needs to apologize to all of us, because he's been given a free pass for too long."
Penny stomped into the kitchen, reaching into the fridge and pulling out a half-filled bottle of cheap white wine. "I think we need a little chaser after that mess, don't ya think, girlfriend?"
"Hit me, Bestie," Amy sighed, plopping on the sofa and letting out a disgruntled sigh. "Mama's not feeling like a winner tonight."