What he'd told Leslie wasn't entirely true.
Although Leonard had acted ashamed, he really did love his cello. He enjoyed the sound it made, the relaxation he felt when he played Bach on it. It was one of the few things that Sheldon actually okayed for him to play in the house—"Sparingly," Sheldon protested when Leonard had begun practicing again, "because you are no professional."—and he actually enjoyed practicing.
But, it had been years since he had actually taken lessons; he had been taught for two brief years during middle school, and he had played from sixth grade to senior year in an orchestra. Unfortunately, his college load allowed no room for orchestra or lessons, so he had to continue on his own.
After his wonderful "practicing" session with Leslie—and the not-so-wonderful events that followed within the days after—Leonard realized just how much he missed having motivation to practice his beloved instrument. After many arguments with Sheldon—"But your lessons might take place on Comic Book Night, and then who will drive me?"—he decided to sign up with a private teacher.
Upon arriving for his first lesson with a Mrs. Sharron Casareno, he expected to wow her with his playing ability. In her soothing, polite voice, Mrs. Casareno told him, "Okay, sweetie, play whatever you feel most demonstrates your playing ability."
With a smile at her and a nod, he launched himself into the Gigue from Bach's first suite. Once had concluded the rather short song—but, certainly one of the most entertaining—he looked up at her expectantly, waiting for her to gush out enthusiastic compliments. Wow, for someone who hasn't had lessons for years, you sound amazing! With some help, you could become the next Yo Yo Ma!
Instead, what came from her mouth was, "Okay, let's first go over what you need to fix the most."
Leonard spent the next fifteen minutes listening to her talk about his performing issues and having her demonstrate how he should be playing. Apparently his bow was constantly moving up and down the strings, and never because he meant for it to happen. She showed him how his fingers were at an uncomfortable angle, how he should be using vibrato—he had tried arguing that Sheldon hated it when he used it, but she hadn't met his eccentric roommate yet and didn't believe him—and that he was clenching the instrument too tightly. "If you don't fix these things," she said, sounding concerned, "you could end up with wrist issues."
Feeling extremely discouraged after his lessons, Leonard went home to Sheldon's nagging, announcing rhetorically that he sucked at the cello. Not at all helping, Sheldon was quick to agree, hoping that was the end of the instrument-playing nonsense.
After two more lessons of being scolded for every single thing he had been taught wrong, Leonard began to consider not taking lessons after all. "I mean, I'm feeling unhappy with these lessons," he told Raj, the only one who wouldn't completely blow him off if he brought up anything related to the instrument. "The point of playing the cello is supposed to be recreational, and I don't see the purpose of recreational activities that aren't enjoyable."
Raj rattled off a somewhat related quote about perseverance, which pretty much encouraged Leonard to stop talking about it for the rest of the day.
But then, one day, he was in the middle of practicing, trying to figure out how he was supposed to keep his bow from sliding up the fingerboard—it was really annoying to have to check every five seconds, but, nonetheless, that's what Mrs. Casareno told him to do—when Penny barged in, seemingly drawn by the music. "Hey there!" she said in her peppy voice, coming to sit on the couch—making sure to avoid Sheldon's spot, even though he wasn't even there. "Whatcha playing?"
"Gigue," he answered, launching back into it for only a measure or two before stopping because his bow was all over the place. Grumpily, he told Penny, "Apparently everything I was taught was wrong, and I have to basically relearn how to play the cello."
"Oooh, that sucks," Penny said. "How's relearning going?"
"It's awful," he said, making a face that could have answered her question all on its own. "I seriously don't know if it's possible to break these habits. I've spent too long playing this way, so now it's natural for my fingers to do this and my arm to do that."
With a sympathetic smile, she said, "You're a smart guy; you'll get it. Just don't get up." Standing up, she started to head to the door before Leonard called out to her.
"Do you really think I can do it?" Penny turned around, a smile on her face.
"Of course you can, sweetie," she told him, and then turned to leave.
Three months later, Leonard had a cello recital. He was able to play Gigue to his teacher's satisfaction, and Penny sat in the front row, giving him the most encouraging smile ever.
Now Leonard knew that he was meant to play the cello.