Entertaining the Possibility
By TheBucketWoman
Disclaimer: I do not own Life with Derek oranything else I mention herein. No money's being made and no infringement is intended. And all locations are used fictitiously.
A/N: This is the flashfic challenge from Invalid Minds, (Jo). The prompt was: "Emily's a journalist in New York City, Sheldon's in New York City for the week. When these two run into each other, what happens. (Whether it ends badly for Shemily, or not, I don't care, it can be angsty or humor or whatever. It's up to the writer.) Shemily." I think we've all been spoiled about the Shemily storyline. If you don't know what I'm talking about, then you might not want to read on.
Another reading. It was part of Adam Rothstein's Quest for Cheap Entertainment, and Emily always got sucked in. She's been to free concerts, poetry slams, $5 night at the comedy club, and approximately nine hundred readings.
This, Adam told her, was what real New Yorkers did. Especially if they were broke.
"Real New Yorkers, huh?" Emily had said. "You should know, being from Toledo and all."
Emily Davis had known Adam for about a year, having met him when he first started freelancing at Noisemaker Magazine. He'd gotten her the job copy-editing at Earworm, where they were both currently making very little money. Hence the cheap entertainment.
Technically, this could qualify as free entertainment, if it weren't being held in a bookstore. There was no charge for the reading, but both were kidding themselves if they thought they were leaving empty-handed. In fact, as they rode the escalators to the fourth floor, where the reading was held, Emily couldn't stop herself from scanning titles. It was here that Emily learned that, from a slow moving escalator, even the self-help titles looked like fun.
She grabbed a folding chair near the front, without stopping to look at the signs that advertised the reading itself. She knew she wouldn't recognize any of the names this time as this particular reading was billed as one to showcase "New Voices in Fiction." The names would mean nothing until after she'd heard them read their work.
She tossed her jacket and bag on the chair next to hers to save it for Adam, who would inevitably show up in a few minutes, already loaded with a stack of paperbacks. He was the only one she knew who actually used the shopping baskets the store provided.
The seats slowly began to fill. They usually didn't, unless the author was famous. They'd gone to a reading by Timothy Moore, showing up several hours early and finding it already standing room only. The newbie readings, however, usually were like weekday movie matinées. Emily was getting excited. These people knew something she didn't. She almost got up to check the names on the sign by the escalator, but a store employee came to the little podium to introduce the first reader.
Up first was a twenty year old who'd published a book of short stories. Emily was torn between wanting to mess up his hair and give him cookies, or throw stuff at him because he made her feel old (she was all of twenty-four). She had a quick flash of the boy looking up from a bed full of action figures, the comforter arranged to look like mountains and stuff, turning directly to her and say "I'm published, what are you doing with your life?"
"Pissant," Adam whispered, reading Emily's mind.
The second of the three was an older woman who'd written a novel that had received a comical number of rejections. She'd been happy to provide this bit of information, having just gotten word that the paperback rights had sold for half a million dollars. The chapter she read had been so good that she'd gotten a standing ovation.
Emily's ears perked up when the announcer mentioned that the third reader hailed originally from London, Ontario.
"Hey!" Adam said, "One of your Canadian, crunchy granola paisan!"
"Shut up,"Emily whispered. Honestly, she thought, show up with one hemp necklace and you get branded for life.
"So," The announcer said. "Our third and final reader of the night is the author of Tripping Upstairs. A graduate of Ryerson University: Sheldon Schlepper."
"Nuh-uh," Emily said.
Adam turned to her, saw the look on her face, and grinned. He'd grill her for details later. He leaned forward a little in his seat, which meant things were really getting interesting.
There was one step onto the little stage, and Emily watched the guy take an inordinate amount of care in climbing up that one shallow step.
"Nuh-uh," Emily said. She clapped a hand over her mouth. She felt a squeal coming on. She reminded herself that this was the Union Square B&N, not TRL, it would not do to squee like the sixteen year old that she still more or less felt like.
At the podium, Sheldon kept his head down as he opened the book to the page he needed. His tongue flicked out over his lips, he rolled his shoulders like a boxer and then he looked up and smiled quickly.
"How ya doin," he said. He got a couple of "alrights" and a "can't complain."
"Cool," he said. Then he started to read. It took less than a minute for the laughter to start. He read dryly, it seemed to Emily that he was deliberately downplaying the funny parts to see if they still got laughs. This calm, deadpan delivery had to be something he learned after they lost touch. The Schlepper she remembered did not value subtlety. That Schlepper had been the King of Trying Too Hard, Population: him.
He read an anecdote about two girls his narrator had known in high school. These were girls who had spent three years at each other's throats even though the rest of the student body knew that it was only a matter of time before they got together.
One of these girls had a tendency to drag out the two syllables of the other's name whenever she was angry: "Don-na!" the girl would yell.
Emily snorted, unable to help herself. The people sitting around her laughed harder as she covered her mouth again. She looked around guiltily.
She looked up and locked eyes with him. The corners of his eyes crinkled up a little as his smile widened.
Sheldon's eyes traveled over the page as he tried to find his place again.
"Uuhhmm," he said. "Oh yeah, here we go." Then he picked up where he left off.
Emily heard little of it as her mind was filled with one thing: OhGodOhGodOhGod etc.
He'd seen her, obviously. So now what? Did she go up to talk to him? Be all, "Hey nice to see you again" and get a peck on the cheek for her trouble? Suddenly that felt like the worst idea in the world. Because she knew that despite what her heart had just done when he'd just looked at her, nothing was going to happen. They'd moved on years ago.
And it occurred to her that she couldn't see his hands. There could be a wedding ring. It was highly possible. He wasn't popular in high school, but his type often came into its own shortly afterward. He was a dork, but a warm, sweet, intelligent and talented one. Somebody snapped him up.
She made up her mind to go talk to him, telling herself that if she saw a ring glinting on his left hand, she'd have to be cool about it. She could pretend that he was someone else, Casey perhaps, or even Derek or Sam. That way she could ask questions about a possible spouse and/or kids without seeming disappointed.
You're crazy, Emily told herself. This is the official diagnosis. You take one look at a guy that you haven't seen in eight years and you lose your mind. He looks good and he's doing well for himself, so you're proud of him, do you understand? You are not crushing. You will stop thinking about what it was like after he moved, and how even Derek treated you with kid gloves for weeks. You have moved on. And you will certainly not entertain the possibility of hitting on him if you don't see a ring, because he'll have a girlfriend. Look at what he's become. You, on the other hand, have not changed a bit. Sometimes that's a compliment, but this isn't one of those times.
He got the second standing O. of the night. Emily had drifted a couple of beats behind everyone else so she was the last to stand up, but she caught up. She clapped hard enough to turn her palms red, and she berated herself for spazzing out yet again.
Emily bent to pick up her stuff and cleared out of the aisle like the place was on fire. Adam, infuriatingly seemed to be taking his sweet time. He grinned at her as he gathered his own stuff. He knew Crushing! Emily when he saw it, and, she knew, he couldn't wait to tease her about it.
"What's the matter with you?" he asked when he joined her by the Test Prep section.
"Me?" she asked.
"Yeah, you," Adam asked. "Why are you still standing here when you could be over there?" He nodded toward the window behind the podium where Sheldon was currently looking out as he talked with somebody-or-other.
"I like it over here," Emily said. Even though she knew how he'd react. He'd been one of four men to have seen her naked. (He jokingly referred to himself as one of the Few, the Proud, the Exes) She couldn't lie to him.
But she couldn't exactly tell him that the first of the four was currently staring out that window.
"I'm going to do you a favor and not ask questions," Adam said. "Until later. But you need to go over there."
"Oh God," Emily said.
Adam shook his head and took her by the upper arm, pulling her toward the window. At one point Sheldon turned, and seeing them, excused himself from the conversation he was having and started to walk toward them. Adam let go and gave her a little push.
"I knew it was you," Sheldon said. "I'd know that laugh anywhere." He was kind enough not to mention the snort. He pulled her into a hug, and she felt her heart speed up. She reminded herself that the hug couldn't possibly mean anything.
Then he gave her a little peck. He was probably going for her cheek, but he got the corner of her mouth.
"So, um," Emily said. "Can I have your autograph? Once I pay for this?" She walked over a few steps to the small display near the podium.
"Your money is no good here," Sheldon said. "This one is on me."
"I'll pay you back in hugs," Emily said. Sheldon groaned. He should've known she'd use that against him someday.
"Look at you," Sheldon said, after a beat. "You're just...gorgeous."
"Oh, well, thanks," Emily said. "So do you often go out without your seeing-eye dog because maybe that's not such a good thing, I mean this is New York, and it could be dangerous—"
Sheldon rolled his eyes.
"Take a compliment, Em," he said. "You're gorgeous and you know it. In the last ten minutes or so since I've seen you, I've lost IQ points and any wit I might have ever had. Does this ever happen to you? You run into someone and you regress? 'Cause I'm feeling mighty sixteen right about now."
He turned the book over and over in his hands. No ring.
"Sixteen exactly," Emily said. "But I'm usually sixteen."
"I'm sure that's not true," Sheldon said. "Not completely anyway. But why don't you tell me about yourself—whatcha been up to?"
"Not a lot," Emily said. "College. Moved down here. You know—"
"Sorry to interrupt," Adam broke in.
"No problem," Sheldon said.
"Sweetie, I'm taking off. It's past my bedtime," Adam told Emily. He turned to Sheldon. "Excellent reading, by the way. I'm actually looking forward to reading the rest. So I'll just let the two of you...talk."
He winked at Emily as he headed toward the escalator, giant basket o' books in hand.
"I work with him," Emily explained. "I should probably deny knowing him, but—"
"He knows too much?" Sheldon guessed.
"Yeah," Emily said.
"Mhmm," Sheldon said. He nodded his head aimlessly, looked at his shoes and the worn wall to wall carpet beyond. "So do you wanna get a cheeseburger?"
"Yes," Emily said. "Or maybe some chili fries."
"What do you mean 'or'?" Sheldon asked.
They went to the cashier on the ground floor, and true to his word, he paid for his book and the other one she'd grabbed.
"This is precisely why you never had money in high school," Emily said.
He smirked. "I have an accountant now."
"Who?"
"Shawn's a CPA," Sheldon said. "My mother introduces the three of us as the CPA, the Pediatrician, and...well...Sheldon."
"You're kidding," Emily said.
"Nope," Sheldon said, grinning. "But she is, so it's cool."
She led him to a diner, one with mini-jukeboxes in every booth. As predicted, his eyes lit up and, after they were seated, he went to get change. He plunked the quarters in and had her pick some songs and he picked some of his own.
Sheldon told her about his job, teaching English comp to college freshmen in Toronto.
"I have office hours!" he said. " In an office! With a view of a parking lot!"
Emily told him about the copy-editing job and how more and more often, she was getting to do some actual writing.
"I have a cubicle," Emily said. "I push-pinned a bunch of postcards to the cloth partitions."
"What kind of postcards?"
"The kind you buy at the Metropolitan Museum," Emily said.
"Colorful stuff, right? Abstract?" Sheldon asked. "Kandinsky, Picasso, maybe an Impressionist or Two?"
"Uh-huh," Emily said. "And Lichtenstein."
"You used to have that button, the—" Sheldon began.
"Keith Haring," Emily said. "That I found in the street. I still have it somewhere."
"So you have changed a little," Sheldon said.
"Huh? You just predicted all of the postcards in my cubicle. How does that show that I've changed?" Emily asked.
"You always knew a lot about art," Sheldon said. "But you didn't really talk about it. Only the two or three people who had been in your room knew about the coffee table books and the posters. You were afraid that people would think you were weird. Now that you've reached the age where it's cool to know things, you show it off."
She pouted in annoyance because he'd hit the nail right on the head.
"Hmph," Emily said, folding her arms. Sheldon laughed.
The music kicked in.
The Flaming Lips' "Do You Realize" drifted out of the tinny speakers. Emily's face flushed.
Two can play at this game, Emily thought.
"Your turn," Emily said, an evil smile spreading across her face. "You, sir, still do that lip-licking thing when you're nervous. It's your biggest tell."
He stopped himself from doing it.
"But you look where you're going now," she said. "And you're so much more confident than you used to be."
"I am?" Sheldon asked. "Wish somebody'd told me sooner."
"You used to pretend to be sure of yourself. Sort of 'fake it till you make it.' And people smelled your fear, so it didn't work," Emily said.
"And you think that this has changed somehow?" Sheldon asked.
"Tonight was pretty strong proof," Emily said.
The food came, and the both of them spent some time focused on their burgers. Emily realized that she was starving, not having eaten since the bagel she'd had for lunch. Any burning questions she had for Sheldon could wait until she had some burger in her.
"So," she said, putting her burger down after a minute. "What else?"
"Huh?"
"Well," Emily said, picking up a french fry and gesturing with it. "I know about your jobs. I know about Shawn and Shawna, but there's gotta be more."
"Like?" Sheldon asked.
"The girlfriend situation..." Emily cursed her lack of subtlety.
"Situation..."Sheldon said. "Interesting way of putting it. The situation is...that there is no girlfriend."
Squeee, Emily thought. She kept a straight face. Talk about entertaining the possibility, she thought. I'm putting out wine and cheese for the possibility. I'm letting it put its feet on the coffee table. The possibility is entertained.
"Is there a boyfriend situation?" Sheldon asked.
"No," Emily said. "There is not."
Jeff Buckley sang "Everybody Here Wants You" from the little jukebox.
Emily turned to face the thing and thought Are you kidding me?
"How long are you in New York?" Emily said, once again trying for a casual tone and failing.
"Week," Sheldon said. "My sister lives in Harlem, and I'm on her couch. Where are you?"
"Brooklyn," Emily said. "A week, huh?"
"Yeah," Sheldon said. "My semester just ended, and I have a little book tour to deal with."
"When are you done with that?" Emily asked.
"It's on and off," Sheldon said. "It'll be done in July, though."
"Do you know if you're free on June 16th?" Emily asked.
"Jeez, that's specific," Sheldon said. "What's June 16th?"
"Wedding," Emily said.
"Whose?"
"Casey's" Emily said.
"Casey!" Sheldon said. "How's she doing? Who's she marrying? Haven't thought of her in forever."
"Who's she marrying?" Emily asked. "What do you mean 'who's she marrying'? You can't guess?"
"Last I heard, she was with Max Miller," Sheldon said. "And I sincerely hope it ain't him."
"Um, no," Emily said, smiling. "Try again."
The lightbulb went off. "No way," Sheldon said.
"Way," Emily said. "You know about Derek, right?"
"I live in Toronto," Sheldon said. "I have been caught in so much traffic before and after Maple Leafs games. Believe me, I'm not that big on hockey, but I know about Derek Venturi. He owes me gas."
Emily laughed.
"What about the others?" Sheldon asked.
"Oh wow," Emily said. "Let's see. Sam just finished med school, so that makes him...an intern?"
Sheldon nodded.
"Ralph's a cop," Emily said. "Derek threw him a party when he graduated from the Police Academy. Lotsa donuts."
"I'm picturing being pulled over by Ralph," Sheldon said.
"It would be an experience," Emily agreed.
"'Do you, like, know how fast you were going?'"Sheldon said, doing a decent impression of Ralph. "'Dude, that's just not cool.'"
Emily laughed so hard that all she could do was nod her head.
"What about Dimi?" Sheldon asked, referring to her little brother.
"He's at Thompson," Emily said. "Hanging with Marti Venturi."
"Are they still married?" Sheldon asked. There'd been at least one night that Emily and Sheldon spent babysitting both of them while Marti planned her wedding to Dimi. Marti and Dimi had been seven.
"You know, I think they're working on a trial separation," Emily deadpanned.
Sheldon shook his head in sorrow. "But maybe they'll work it out?" he asked.
"There's always hope," Emily said.
They took the subway to Emily's apartment. Sheldon acted like he was just making sure that she got home safe. Emily played along. She even asked about the long trip that he was going to have to take after he dropped her off. He assured her that he knew the way back to his sister's place, even going so far as to tell her what train he needed and what stop was nearest.
Not that it really mattered because Emily's roommate was out of town. So he didn't go home.
A few weeks later, she took him to Derek and Casey's wedding. Roughly seven months after that, Sheldon took a job teaching in the Bronx while he worked on his next novel. Before the year was out, they moved in together.