10. Holiday Cheer
Several months passed in which, Penny got out of control in a stubborn attempt to shirk the rules as if she were more important than anyone else. As with any foe, Sheldon would have fought to the death—except that Mom called and told him to play nice, reminded him that he was above revenge, like a Jedi.
Then a tight situation forced him to illegally wipe the data from government computers in an attempt to save Howard from a lifetime in prison—the situation caused him to grudgingly admit that the small Pipe l'pu of a man actually was a friend, not just an acquaintance, and thus he was obliged to help.
The only good thing to come out of that adventure was the McCoy Sheldon had been looking for. Leonard's newest squeeze, Dr. Stephanie, was nice—by far the most tolerable of Leonard's conquests—and smelled plainly like old fashion soap. Sheldon was comfortable around her and she was kind to him. He was desperate that she stay—the amount of stress it would reduce in his life would be substantial. While he considered Leonard his best friend—a brother, even— the amount of stress that he caused Sheldon in his attempts to find a mate was substantial.
Sadly, and despite Sheldon's best efforts, Leonard's relationship with Stephanie ended, as all good things tended to do around poor Leonard.
Christmas time rolled around. The monthly letter he received from MeeMaw was in a much larger envelope than usual. He sighed as he pulled it out of the mailbox. It did not matter how many time he told that woman that he did not believe in giving gifts, she always sent him one.
But then, again, he always sent her one, too.
He was smiling as he ascended the stairs, thinking about his grandmother's expression when she would open the box from him and find inside it a fresh set of advanced drawing utensils. The envelope from her had sketches of Navitivity scenes, trees, stars of Bethlehem, Charlie Brown, and of course, her Moon Pie. Inside was a three page letter in her neat handwriting.
The first page told him a brief story of adventure, heroes, and magic in the fashion of the bed time stories she told him as a child—all with sturdy morals in their themes. This story was about perseverance winning over all of adversity.
MeeMaw was as wonderful a storyteller and writer as she was an artist. In the card he had sent with her new drawing set, he had urged her for the millionth time to try to get published. He knew her reply would be, "Get 'em published if you want, but wait 'til I'm dead. I want my stories to be only for my Moon Pie while I'm alive."
In the other two pages of the letter, she told him of the recent adventures she and Paw Paw had had getting a tree knocked over in a storm and then blowing out a tire. He smirked at the image of MeeMaw changing the tire in the middle of a snowstorm while Agamemnon, her Great Dane, tried to help. She had said it was PawPaw's adventure as much as her own, because all of her adventures were PawPaw's too, since she carried his memory with her always.
She went on to ask Sheldon details of his work—MeeMaw always took pains to understand what it was he was doing. She never encouraged something she did not understand—and then she wished him a happy Christmas, reminding him to gives thanks that Jesus was born to save him.
The gift she had included was a made-by-hand comic book about the adventures of Sheldor the Conqueror. The pictures were stunning and a flip through it let him know that Sheldor was going to receive a very interesting reward from the Lady of Skygale. Sheldon found himself blushing from all of the peach-colored curves his grandmother had drawn for him. He knew, though, that Sheldor would honorably decline; his heart belonged to the fair maiden Eliza.
The thoughtful gift from his favorite person in the world was eclipsed, however, by a gift from the most unlikely person in the world. Not even realizing it was a big deal, Penny gave him the most exciting, wonderful, amazing Christmas present ever—autographed DNA from Leonard Nimoy!
He framed it, hung it on his wall next to the portrait MeeMaw had done twenty years ago of herself in a rocker with seven year old Sheldon in her lap, and he then sat at his desk to write a lengthy e-mail to MeeMaw all about it. After sending it, he found in his inbox an e-mail from Dr. Winkle.
Dr. Cooper, I've sent an e-mail out to everyone wishing them a joyous holiday and a happy new year. I don't like to leave anyone out, even my enemies. I don't hold grudges over the holidays, so I send this as a peace offering. Merry Christmas and God Bless.
He had known what it would say before clicking into it. He'd been getting the exact same e-mail, with no changes, once a year for eight years now. Perhaps it was the joy of the most exciting, wonderful, amazing gift that was putting him in an uncharacteristically Christmas Cheer mood, but this was the first year he wrote back with more than two words.
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Leslie was curled on her couch, scrolling through her emails, reading the cordial responses of her colleagues with the mild sense of accomplishment that she received every year when she found that it was easy to spread holiday cheer. The email from Dr. Cooper came up, but she'd already hit the Next button before realizing it didn't have the typical message waiting in it.
She burned her lip with her hot coco and went back to the few lines of text that made his email one of the longer ones from the list. Most everyone else just replied with an e-card, or a "thanks, have a good one."
Dr. Winkle, before receiving the first of these e-mails, I had no idea you were religious, but to each his own (or her own as the case may be). Thank you for the peace offering. As usual, I accept, but I'm in a gracious mood and go one further than that; Merry Christmas.
Leslie stared at the last sentence, and then struck the delete key rather harder than necessary. Her computer had been acting buggy lately and took its time responding to the command. She had to look at the insufferable words for a minute longer than she liked. She didn't know why but the news that he was in a gracious mood only angered her.
Perhaps it was partly due to the fact that it was no small secret that Dr. Cooper had been burning through the small herd of female graduate students since fall. The shrill red head showed obvious resentment, but the rest bragged about kisses and hugs and, as they put it, that adorable smile! (Leslie had no way of knowing that the string of grad-students had simply started rumors to match Ramona's success.) The giggling made Leslie sick. Despite her complaints, the bosses were just happy he was making such remarkable progress with his work.
She punched the delete key repeatedly until the disgusting email disappeared, to reveal Krikpe's slightly sexist Christmas joke e-card. She deleted that one too, to see Leonard's usual lengthy reply about how amazing it was that she could be so thoughtful, and he wished her the merriest of Christmases. It reminded her of the purpose of her emails.
She shouldn't hold grudges. It was Christmas, she reminded herself firmly, even Dr. Dumbass deserved a prayer for happiness—however short a prayer she could stomach.
By the grace of God, when work resumed after the holidays, the buzz around campus did not. Dr. Cooper had not return with a break-through as everyone had hoped he would, and the usual quid-pro-quo quickly returned and he sank back behind the curtain to be ignored. Leslie saw him only once, briefly, on the first day back in front of the main building where she sat finishing her favorite Christmas book—it was even better this year, perhaps because the heroine was also alone, though she waited for her husband to return from the war.
He was walking up the path with Leonard, in some kind of spirited debate about Leonard Nemoy clones, and Leslie glanced up prepared to greet Leonard with a polite smile, but he was fiddling with the lid on his coffee and did not look up. Instead, Sheldon's blue eyes met hers squarely for two of his long strides, and then Leslie, unable to forget his current reputation, scoffed.
The general happiness in his face suddenly hardened before he looked again at the sidewalk, saying stiffly as he passed the wall were Leslie sat, "I don't have to believe in gifts to make it the best Christmas gift ever!"
Leonard spilled a little of his coffee and shook his burnt hand angrily. "Fine, but you're not buying her a new car; it's just a check engine light, Sheldon!"
Leslie frowned angrily and returned to her novel—the best part was coming up anyway.
Sheldon opened the door to the college and breezed in without first allowing Leonard to go ahead of him, as he probably should have since Leonard's hands were full and blistered from his coffee spill. He just wanted to get inside, out of the fresh air. He honestly did not understand the world's fascination with fresh air—in the spring it was full of pollens and allergies, and now, in the winter, taking a deep breath as he tried to suppress the sudden irrational memory of a knee to the groin, it did nothing to aid him.