—-
CHAPTER 4
Weariness that can only come from extreme physical exertion has taken over Amy's body. Done hiking for the day, she has set up her small tent and gone through her pack to pull out a lazy hiker's dinner of a protein bar and trail mix. It's a bad idea to make a fire in the arid dryness of Southern California, but that's fine. A cold dinner and a lukewarm sleeping bag should suffice.
Amy is glad that Penny recommended the Pacific Crest Trail. The scenery is beautiful, and looking out at the vast hills and deep valleys around her has helped to make her own problems seem smaller and less significant in the grand scheme of things. Maybe she can't have the relationship that she wants with the man that she wants, and maybe she will never have children at all, but at least the world is still full of experiences like this.
Beginning in Angeles National Forest, Amy has planned to hike north and west for six days. Regardless of how far she gets, she will then turn around. It seems like the best way that she can think of to make sure that she is back for work on time in two weeks.
At first, she had decided to do this as a bit of a dare to herself. She figured that she was already an evolutionary failure of sorts, so why not throw herself out here and let nature take a more direct shot? Survival of the fittest and all that.
However, as she has dragged herself along for mile after mile, she has found her spirits lifting in spite of herself. Her brain had been running on a constant loop of negative thoughts, but the complete exhaustion that she has been putting her body through doesn't seem to leave enough energy to waste on feeling mental stress. The endorphins released by all of the physical activity tops her list of suspects for the more even keel of her mood. She isn't exactly happy, but she isn't broken either.
After today's long journey, Amy settles down into her makeshift abode and pulls out her notebook and pen. She has started her first letter to Sheldon, and she adds something to it each time she takes a break.
The days of silence have been peaceful, but lonely. The process of writing to him makes her feel a little bit like she has someone to talk to. And unlike a normal conversation with Sheldon, the Sheldon in her head can't talk back. That's both a good thing and a bad thing. His absence allows her to think things through without the distraction of his brilliant mind and alluring body, but on the other hand, she misses his insights, his unintentional humor, and the unique way that he views the world around him.
So far she has been a complete coward in this initial letter. Sheldon has always prided himself on his superior intellect and physicality, and Amy is in full agreement. He truly is a magnificent specimen, but that fact only makes it all the more difficult to talk about the way that her own body has let her down and the way that emotion and desire have come to rule portions of her intellect. While she'd love to be rid of her medical issue, she has no interest in returning to the robotic, distant woman that she used to be. Emotion and desire do complicate things, for sure, but these feelings also give her life meaning, purpose, and fulfillment in a way that academics never could.
Instead of trying to explain some of these things to Sheldon, she has succumbed to the urge to stall. She has written about the scenery and other mundanities, her day-to-day experiences. It will probably drive Sheldon nuts to read it. She even wrote a bit about the geology of the area. It makes her smile to picture him ranting at her for taking an interest in that subject. Hopefully, he will be happy to hear from her even though her letter doesn't contain the answers he requested.
Amy tears out the pages that make up her first letter from her notebook, taking care to keep the edge ripping along the perforated marks. Others might not appreciate this perfectionist tendency, but she knows that Sheldon shares her need for order and tidiness. She folds it into precise thirds before stuffing it into an envelope.
Staring down at a fresh page now, she resolves that in this second letter she will start to tell him the difficult truths. She doesn't feel depressed at this point, but rather resigned to her fate. Nevertheless, it is difficult to make herself reveal these vulnerable parts of herself to Sheldon. Her very own Spock, he isn't all that fond of human emotions. Still, it must be done. She grips the pen with her sweaty hand and forces herself to begin.
Sheldon,
I'm sure that you are frustrated by the contents of my first letter. I promised you that I would tell you the reasons behind my choice to end our relationship, but I'm afraid that the courage to do so has eluded me until now.
This is very difficult, but first and foremost, I broke up with you to set you free. You have always been very clear about wanting a relationship of the mind. You have been kind enough to placate me with hand holding, hugs, and even kisses, but I know that your heart is not in it in quite the same way that mine is. You see, TV shows aren't the kind of thing that cross my mind when we kiss.
Far beyond the physical trivialities, I've wanted us to share a life together. I know that you prefer your life exactly the way it is, and it is your life to live. You are not beholden to me.
I have pressured you throughout this entire relationship. I've been blinded by my desire for physical intimacy and by my desire to feel wanted. Loneliness is my oldest companion, and in my yearning to have someone to live with, to grow old with, to have children with, I have pushed you for things that you don't want. But I can't conscience pushing you in this way for even one moment longer.
It's not your fault, and I'm not mad at you.
I love you, and I believe you when you say that you love me too. As you well know, the Greeks had at least four different words for love: Agápe, Éros, Philia, and Storge. Love is not a term that can be so easily defined. It comes in many forms.
I will always consider you my greatest friend: Philia. But I hold Éros in my heart for you as well, even though I know that in that much I am alone.
Her mind and body now feeling equally exhausted, Amy tucks her notebook and pen back into her pack. It's a cathartic process to write these things out, she supposes. Facing the reality is devastating, but it's best to do so while she's out here in the middle of nowhere, while she still feels more numb than anything else.
She needs to add in the truth that she got from her doctor, but that bit of news isn't at the heart of her issues with Sheldon. It's more like the final nail in the coffin of their relationship.
Amy is far too tired to get into all of that tonight. The first letter she wrote should buy her some time. She can mail it tomorrow morning when she stops by the next town on her map. With any luck, she'll find the right words to finish this second one and mail it in a few more days.
The light of dusk is fading, so Amy prepares for sleep by stretching out on her unrolled sleeping bag. She peeks out of the opening to her tent and stares up at the vast sky, watching as the stars appear one by one.
Instead of counting sheep, Amy decides to count the sore muscles of her body. She closes her eyes and feels the ache from head to toe.
Trapezius. Deltoid. Latissimus Dorsi.
Erector spinae. Gluteus maximus. Piriformis.
Quadriceps femoris. Rectus Femoris. Sartorius.
Biceps femoris. Semitendinosus. Semimembranosus.
Pectoralis major. Pectoralis minor. Serratus anterior.
Her consciousness begins to drift, but she manages to count just one last pain. The heart.
—-
The clock on Howard's dashboard shows that it's three minutes past noon when he parks at Sheldon's apartment building. He gets out of his car and can feel his stomach rumbling while he walks towards the entrance. It's probably a bad idea to have agreed to skip his lunch hour just to help out Sheldon. That weirdo is unlikely to appreciate his sacrifice.
He enters the lobby and spots Sheldon pacing back and forth in front of the mailboxes. It looks like his laptop is tucked under his arm.
"Sheldon, what are you doing?" he asks.
"The mail should arrive sometime between now and 12:10. Enrique is usually very prompt."
Okay. That doesn't really answer the question. Howard tries again, "So, you're what? The world's lankiest guard dog waiting to bark at him?"
Sheldon continues to pace, which is starting to make Howard dizzy. "Of course not, I'm just expecting an important communication."
So that must be why he insisted that they meet here. Howard is aware that Sheldon has been acting a bit crazier than normal in Amy's absence, but pestering the mail guy in his impatience to receive correspondence from her seems a little over-the-top.
"And are you going to growl at him if he doesn't bring you what you want?"
Sheldon cocks his head, thinking it over. His shoulders slump when he decides, "No, it wouldn't be his fault."
"Fine. So, what is it exactly that you need my help with, anyway?"
That question is enough to stop Sheldon's repetitive laps, and instead he pulls out his computer and shoves it into Howard's chest. It's grab it or drop it, so Howard holds on tight.
"I want to track Amy down. When Penny pointed out how creepy the process would be, I knew that you were just the man for the job."
He no doubt intends that as flattery, but Howard scowls at the insult. Undeterred by this reaction, Sheldon continues, "Ideally, I'd like to hack her iPhone and access her GPS data. In addition to that, we could try to gather clues from her credit card or ATM history."
He can't believe that Sheldon wants to do this. "You do realize that what you're asking me to do is not only creepy, but it's also criminal. "
A blank stare is Sheldon's only reply. At least he's not pacing again.
"Come on. Amy is my friend. I may have done some questionable things in my life, but I'm not going to—"
Howard is interrupted by the opening of the front door. Sheldon perks up and trots over next to him, and they both turn to see that the mailman has arrived. Once the guy spots Sheldon, his eyes go wide and he takes a step that leaves Howard sandwiched like a human shield between them.
"Good afternoon, Enrique, what have you got today?" Sheldon asks, craning his neck to see around Howard.
"As I've told you, sir, I have to put the mail in the box first," Enrique says. In an obvious effort to placate Sheldon, he holds out a small box of Red Vines.
Sheldon accepts the treat with a surprised look on his face. He also takes a step back, which is probably what the mail guy was trying to accomplish.
"You a friend of that guy?" the mailman whispers to Howard, rushing the short distance over to the mailboxes.
Only a few steps away, Sheldon is distracted, munching on a long, red strand. A little ashamed to admit it, Howard nods.
"A short, curly-haired fellow with glasses gave me the Red Vines yesterday. Sometimes I carry a few dog treats, just in case. But this… this is a new one."
Howard nods again in commiseration at having to deal with Sheldon's weirdness.
Enrique finishes the delivery with haste, and then gives Sheldon a friendly slap on the back on his way out. "I hope you find what you're looking for soon, man."
That jerks Sheldon's attention away from his treat. He scampers over to the mailboxes while wiggling his keys out of his pocket. Jabbing the key in and turning the lock, he soon gains access to the one marked 4A. There's a small stack of envelopes inside, and Howard sees him scoop them out and start flipping through them. Suddenly he drops all the papers except for one, and after staring at it for a second or two, he tears through the envelope.
Howard wishes he'd stopped to pick up a burger on the way here. Maybe it won't matter, though. There's no way in hell that he's going to help Sheldon hack into Amy's private information, so he should still have plenty of time to find sustenance before he needs to head back to work.
"Sheldon, as I was saying, I'm not going to help you go full stalker-psycho on Amy. You're perfectly capable and aware of most hacking methodology. In fact, I think what's going on here is that your conscience is getting to you. You only invited me here because you know that this is wrong, and what you really want is for someone else to do your dirty work."
He doesn't even look up in response to the accusation. His face is buried in the letter, and Howard becomes certain that it must be from Amy. Looking at Sheldon's expression, it appears that he is relieved, but as he finishes, he flops his arms down at his sides.
He never does address Howard. Instead, Sheldon folds the letter and tucks both it and the remaining Red Vines into his pocket. Then he bends to scoop the mail off the ground, swipes his laptop out of Howard's arms, and turns on his heel to start trudging up the stairs.
After a few steps, he can just make out the sound of Sheldon muttering to himself. "Rock formations, really? Geology isn't a real science, Amy."
—
It's close to dinner time when Sheldon realizes that he forgot to eat lunch. All of this ridiculous Amy angst is messing with his digestive routine. Hopefully, she will come to her senses soon. This isn't Lord of the Rings, so she needn't go out questing through the wilderness. Besides, it's Sheldon himself who holds the one true ring. She should not have left without him.
He usually has a plan for every meal, but this past week has been pure chaos. It's no wonder his stomach has been bothering him all the time. A quick glance into the freezer and refrigerator does not provide him with any appetizing ideas. He assesses his row of cereal boxes but decides that fiber and dairy products on an uneasy stomach might not be the wisest of plans. Perhaps some bread and water might suffice, the traditional meal of the suffering and condemned.
Sheldon spots a loaf of bread on the countertop—the sourdough loaf he had baked for his anniversary date with Amy. He forbade anyone else from touching it, assuming, of course, that Amy would be back again to eat it with him. After six days, it is now spotted with green and black. He picks it up, places it gently into the garbage, and then makes his way back over to his desk chair. He isn't hungry anymore.
About an hour later, he is distracted from his online research when Leonard comes in through the front door of their apartment.
"Hey Sheldon, how's it going?" he asks, setting down a few styrofoam takeout boxes on the coffee table.
"Did you know Apple has tightened up their security measures since that unfortunate incident with all the naked ladies last year?"
"You mean 'The Fappening'?"
Sheldon nods. "What does that even mean, 'The Fappening'? It's such a ridiculous, made-up word."
"Well, it refers to the fact that a bunch of guys on the internet who are lusting after these famous women would obviously… never mind." Leonard wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. "Anyway, how about a burger?"
Sheldon feels his stomach make a hopeful gurgle. Maybe he can take a quick break. He walks over and accepts the container that Leonard is nudging towards him.
"Thank you," he says, remembering the manners his mother taught him. The burger looks good, but Sheldon removes the bun.
Leonard tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. "Going low carb?"
"I don't want any bread," he replies, feeling no real desire to explain further.
As they both dig in to eat, Sheldon returns to the previous conversation. "You know, I really wish all those people had kept it in their pants. This heightened security has made it impossible to hack Amy's cloud to see if she has stored any geotagged photographs of her trip or any other data that might indicate her location. All this inconvenience just so a bunch of Neanderthals can ogle strange women."
"Some of them were pretty hot," Leonard says with a goofy grin.
"Ugh. Of course you'd think so." Sheldon gives him his best look of disapproval, but Leonard's smile only grows wider.
"So, you're a sudden advocate for privacy? Can't you see a little hypocrisy here?"
Drat. The little man makes a good point. Still, it's not like he has malevolent intentions. "I'm not doing this so that I can try to gawk at Amy's naked form."
"Maybe that's the problem," he mumbles under his breath.
It's still loud enough that Sheldon can hear it, but discussing coital matters with his roommate is an unappealing proposition. He decides to ignore the comment.
Leonard gulps down a few bites of burger before he starts talking again. "Howard wasn't able to help?"
Sheldon uses his fork to pick off small pieces of his burger to eat. It's too messy to pick up by hand without the bun. "He's an engineer and I'm an accomplished physicist with two doctorates. No, he was no help at all."
"You mean he refused? Good. You really need to calm down about all of this. Do you even realize that you missed a department meeting this afternoon?"
"Nothing important ever comes from a Friday afternoon meeting. Everyone just stares at the clock and hopes that no one else notices them staring at the clock."
"Yeah, but the same could be said for most other meetings. That's not the point, though. You can't just go skipping part of the work day to stalk your ex-girlfriend."
Hearing the prefix 'ex' is enough to kill whatever remained of Sheldon's weak appetite. He sets his fork in the box and rests his weight back in his spot. That's another good point by Leonard, his second of the night, and Sheldon feels like this must be The Twilight Zone.
"I don't know what to do," he admits.
"Well, what did her letter say?"
"She wrote about hiking, local wildlife, unique fauna..." He has to pause to let an involuntary shudder pass through him. "And geological formations."
"Oh. That's probably not what you were hoping for, but the important thing is that she's doing okay. I think you need to do what she asked you to do before she left. Give her time. It took years for Penny and I to work everything out. Sometimes you just have to be patient."
Sheldon doesn't want to be patient. He wants everything to work out right now.
"So, where is Penny? I didn't expect to see either of you on a Friday night."
"Oh, uh, she has this… thing. A meeting. She is shopping for some supplies. Tomorrow she's traveling to meet with a friend—cousin, er... person," Leonard sputters. "Anyway, I thought that I should stay here and keep you company for a bit."
Sheldon may be terrible at reading facial expressions and vocal inflections, but his roommate is an even worse liar.
"Tell me, Leonard, is Penny's friend-cousin-person fond of cardigans?"
"Um, well, Nebraska can get a bit nippy, so I think that, um, that could be a—a possibility."
Leonard's continued stuttering confirms the truth, so Sheldon crosses his arms over his chest and issues one simple demand.
"Tell me where she is."
—