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CHAPTER 2

A few weeks after her diagnosis, Amy still isn't feeling like herself. She has an initial consultation scheduled with an endocrinologist next month, and with that new doctor's guidance, she hopes to be able to formulate some kind of plan.

Amy strips off her lazy Sunday loungewear and turns the knob to start the shower running. She tries to avoid it, but she catches a glimpse of her naked body in the mirror over the sink. It's so easy to hate herself these days. She takes off her glasses, a process which only serves to remind her of her poor eyesight. Her teeth are straight, but it is only due to the wonders of orthodontia. Her orthopedic shoes are resting out of sight somewhere near her front door, marking yet another failure of her body.

It's no wonder that neither Sheldon nor any other man has sought to plant a seed in her garden. This ovarian issue is only one more piece of the broken puzzle that is her inferior body. She feels like an evolutionary mistake.

Sheldon has spoken on several occasions about his desire to someday rule the world and sire benevolent overlord offspring. She has always shared in this vision, planning to be right there with him, the mother of any such progeny. But now? It's time to start facing the truth that whatever 'homo novus' superiority they have hoped for will never even get a chance to exist.

Amy chides herself for her negativity and tries to shake off the bad feelings as she steps into the shower. Years of bullying and rejection by her peers have given her plenty of practice at dealing with such emotions.

She reminds herself that Sheldon does love her, even despite her many imperfections. Her life is far from terrible, and there are a great deal more good things about her situation than there are bad. She has been blessed with intelligence, an excellent job, good friends, and the very best boyfriend that a girl could wish for. Aside from a few superficial things, her body has served her quite well. At least, it had up until this most recent betrayal.

After a quick lather and rinse of her hair, Amy reaches for the body wash. She exfoliates a bit more intensely than necessary.

She has been unable to make herself tell Sheldon about her condition. In fact, she hasn't even come close to broaching the topic. It is so much harder than she anticipated. She doesn't want to look into his eyes and see how he reacts while she tells him how inferior she really is. Would he look at her with pity? Disgust? Even more disinterest than ever?

Being able to have his children someday had always seemed like one way that he might finally bring himself to fully be with her physically. With that possibility dwindling into nothingness, she finds her long-term hopes dying off with it.

Amy has to admit to herself that she may be projecting her own fears onto Sheldon. It's possible that he wouldn't be fazed by her news at all. He is a loyal, steadfast friend, ever-resistant to change, and he might decide that her news alters nothing. In some ways, though, that only makes things more difficult. She doesn't want him to feel obligated to stay with her or to remain with her simply out of habit.

Amy feels dizzy as her thoughts continue to swirl. She shuts off the stream of water and reaches for a towel to wrap her body in.

The mood shifts have been growing more and more disturbing. She knows that she has to stuff this pessimism away. After all, tonight is their five year anniversary, and Sheldon has agreed to a make-out session. In spite of everything, the thought still makes her smile.

Her previous negativity begins to dissipate as she ponders the upcoming evening. Maybe this will be the moment when Sheldon lets himself go at last. Sure, he has choreographed the entire encounter, and he did argue in favor of extensive restrictions. Still, if he feels anything even remotely approximating what Amy does, then he should find it impossible to remain aloof.

Amy can see the bright flush of pink on her cheeks as she brushes her hair in front of the mirror. Having dated Sheldon for so many years, she reminds herself that it's unwise to hope for much in the way of traditional romance or physical demonstrations of affection. He is not a typical man, so she will only make herself vulnerable to heartbreak if she lets her expectations run too wild. Even so, the promise of a make-out session makes her heart pound with anticipation, and she can't hold back the growing flood of jubilant, wild optimism.

—-

Sheldon hopes that Leonard and Penny will finally work up the courage to take the plunge and get married someday soon. Their ongoing indecisiveness is starting to get on his nerves. He's not sure how they can be so unsure of what they want after so many years together. It's truly absurd. And while the idea of Leonard moving out is rather unsettling, he has been experiencing a growing curiosity about what it might be like to have Amy move in.

The oven timer dings, so Sheldon heads over to remove his loaf of bread from the oven. Amy is a big fan of his sourdough recipe, and he hopes that she will look favorably upon the anniversary dinner he has prepared for her as well.

There was a time not too long ago that he would have known what to expect from an evening spent with his delightfully predictable girlfriend. These days, however, he's not so sure. She has been acting a bid odd for the past couple months. It's not like her normal, endearing oddness either, but something altogether different. One minute she seems to worship him as if he is the best boyfriend ever, and rightly so. But in the very next minute, she'll seem unhappy with him for reasons that make no sense to Sheldon whatsoever. Who wouldn't want to receive a mushroom log for Valentine's Day? It is both practical and delicious.

He has tried matching up her unusual behavior patterns to see if any of it fits with her menstrual cycle, but it doesn't seem to line up on his chart. Besides, often the shifts in her mood are far too rapid to have anything to do with a monthly happening. If he's honest with himself, her behavior shifts started not long after he first told her he loved her. Perhaps her ovaries are just inundating her with extra goofy juice.

It's not like he is unaffected by their growing relationship too. In addition to making dinner and acquiring a new dress shirt, he found it necessary to engage in an embarrassing bout of self-abuse this afternoon. It simply wouldn't do for him to allow his baser impulses to rule him this evening.

He has planned it to the last detail, but their impending make-out has him nervous. With any luck, he will get through it without making a fool of himself, and then they can move on to the other important aspects of the evening. As he has done many times today, Sheldon glances to his desk drawer. He isn't ready to propose at this time, but he hopes that he'll get a chance to ask her how she feels about the concept of commitment in a general sense.

At 6:00 pm, he hears her soft, distinctive knock. Much like Gandalf, Amy is never late. Nor is she early. She always arrives precisely when she means to.

After brushing his sweaty palms against his pants, Sheldon walks over and opens the door, revealing the welcome vision of Amy's smiling face. Like him, she is wearing a new outfit for the occasion.

Sheldon wonders if his own grin is as giddy as the one that she gives him. The skin of his cheeks feels stretched, so he supposes that it must be. He decides that a compliment would be appropriate in this spot.

"Punctual as ever, Dr. Farrah Fowler. Is that a new outfit? It's very… pink." It's the best he can think of, but Amy's wrinkled brow indicates that his statement might be lacking in some way.

When she doesn't respond, he adds, "I had a rash on my elbow last week that was almost that exact same shade."

That conversational addition doesn't seem to help, and if anything, her face only scrunches up more. Perhaps asking her a question will shift her attention from whatever he has said wrong. "Was there a sale at Goodwill?"

Amy sighs. She slides off her cardigan and hangs both it and her purse on a hook near the door. Her shoes look new as well, but Sheldon thinks that it might be wise to refrain from further comments about her outfit.

"Actually, yes there was—40% off. I see you've also got a new shirt this evening. Did your mother buy it for you?"

Her voice sounds a little funny, but Sheldon nods. Of course his mother bought it and shipped it to him. How else would he ever acquire the correct garments?

This entire exchange only serves to re-confirm his long held belief that talking about superficial nonsense is a terrible waste of time. He gestures to invite her to sit on the couch. "Can I get you a beverage?"

His compliment went over like a lead balloon, but she gives him a giant smile for this simple question. Women are so weird.

"Tepid water, please," she replies.

Sheldon shrugs. "Are you sure? I've got a bottle of wine that Raj recommended."

Amy's smile fades yet again and her shoulders slump. "Yeah, sure. Maybe something a little stronger would be a good idea."

He heads over to pour her a glass. Wine isn't something that he and Leonard tend to keep on hand because Penny would only drink it all if they tried. He hopes that Amy will enjoy it. It is part of his greater plan to avoid embarrassing himself this evening. If she's a little tipsy, then maybe she won't notice if he turns out to be incompetent when it comes to the art of 'making out'.

His mother taught him that it is rude to let someone drink alone, so he pours himself a glass of milk. Halfway through doing so, he suddenly remembers the first time that Amy referred to tepid water. Oops. His endocrine system must be slowing down his synapses. For what must be the thousandth time in his life, Sheldon wonders why the human mating process must be so ridiculous.

Rather than admit to any kind of mental failing, Sheldon opts to ignore his minor memory lapse. He carries both beverages over to the living room and sets them on the coffee table.

"Thank you," Amy says, and then she drains the entire glass in one long swig. It reminds him, in a disturbing way, of Penny.

Perhaps she is as nervous as he is. Sheldon feels as skittish as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. It's probably not a good idea to point out the weirdness of the situation.

"This is awkward," he blurts out anyway. "We have already agreed to terms. Maybe it would be best if we simply get it over with."

"Get it over with?"

She doesn't look happy, but he can't tell for sure. It seems like she should be pleased. Once again he supposes that she might be a bit nervous too.

"This whole 'make-out' thing is unnerving. And nervousness leads to indigestion. So, yes, I'd prefer to…" he waves his hand between the two of them, struggling to find the right words, "before we have dinner."

Amy's eyes widen, but she gives one quick jerk of her head and says, "Um, okay."

"Very well," he says with a nod of his own.

Sheldon begins by placing his shaky hand on her knee, as specified in their agreement. Amy hesitantly reaches for his shoulder, and they both lean in to kiss.

The first attempt goes awry, their noses bumping together. They break apart, and Sheldon sees her smile at their combined clumsiness. After a brief smile of his own, he reaches for her again and moves his face in at a more optimal angle. This time he succeeds at making contact with her mouth, and he soon finds himself immersed in the soft, warm feeling of her lips against his own.

Unlike most of their kisses, this one goes on for some time. She smells good, like dandruff shampoo and dryer sheets, and even though the material of her jumper feels soft under his fingertips, he suspects that it is nowhere near as soft as the skin that lies underneath it. He traces the rounded shape of her knee, and decides that it definitely isn't as pleasant as the generous curve of her hip would feel. As if under someone else's control, he feels his hand begin to slide up above her knee.

Amy breaks the kiss, jarring Sheldon's mind from its wandering thoughts and his hands from their wayward path. She is rubbing his shoulder with the palm of her hand, an action that is well within the limits of Sheldon's make-out mandate. He wonders if she will chastise him for moving his hand outside of the prescribed zones, but she just smiles and says, "Can you believe it has been five years since our first date?"

Everything has gone so well, and Sheldon doesn't want to ruin it. He tries to stuff any remaining prurient thoughts back into the little corner of his mind where he can control them. He needs to talk to her about something important right now anyway. "I know. Do you think I should start watching The Flash tv show?"

It is, in Sheldon's opinion, one of his greater strokes of relationship brilliance. He takes watching a tv show to be a serious commitment, and he is curious to see if Amy thinks it is worth starting this particular show. More than that, however, he wants to find out how she feels about the concept of commitment. Hopefully, she will hold it in high regard, as he does. He likes the idea of finding out her thoughts on the matter without having any of the emotional mumbo-jumbo of marriage itself clouding the issue.

But somehow she misunderstands. In the midst of her angry words and her even angrier eyes, he tries to explain that he is wrestling with a big commitment issue. It is all so clear to him, but she doesn't seem to hear what he is saying. Somehow everything goes terribly wrong.

—-

Amy is feeling lost, but at least she still has her friends. As she sits at Bernadette and Howard's house to watch Leonard and Penny's wedding, she begins to feel less lonely. They are all very understanding, which shouldn't come as a surprise to her. They know what Sheldon is like.

After talking about him for a bit, Sheldon suddenly appears at the window. As if summoned by some supernatural force, his forlorn, ghostly face is an unexpected sight. He reminds her of a sad, abandoned puppy.

She doesn't blame him for being upset, and she understands that the unclear nature of 'taking a break' is driving him crazy. He doesn't deal well with her indecisiveness, and she can't really blame him for being peeved.

All of her sympathy evaporates in an instant, however, when he says the worst thing that she can imagine right now. "Well, you should think fast, because men can sire offspring their entire lives, but those eggs you're toting around have a sell-by date."

He still doesn't know, of course. She hasn't worked up the courage to tell him. Nevertheless, the sharp arrow of his words pierces right through the bullseye of her insecurities. It may be nothing more than words, but the statement still feels like a physical blow. She has to swallow down the bile that wants to creep up her esophagus. Her lunch is threatening to deposit itself onto Howard and Bernadette's carpet.

She can barely focus on his face. A haze of pure rage clouds both her mind and her vision when she manages to force out a response. "You know what, Sheldon? You've made this really easy. You're immature, you're selfish, you just insulted me to my face. I don't need any more time to think. We're broken up."

—