Chapter 40 – Sheldon's Cousin
After returning to the apartment, Ethan was still stuck in a strange state of blood rushing + brain completely offline.
He wandered into the kitchen, pulled a cold drink from the fridge, and hoped basic thermodynamics could calm his body down.
As the refrigerator door slammed shut, he suddenly remembered the "Penny Emotional Response Prediction Chart" Sheldon had once taped to the fridge.
Ethan had protested fiercely and insisted it be taken down.
At this very moment, however… he kind of regretted it.
He found himself oddly envious of Sheldon's bizarre, diagram-based memory system.
Sometimes, it really was useful.
He cracked open the drink and downed it in one go—only to realize his condition hadn't improved at all.
Looking down, he saw the label.
Electrolyte sports drink.
The so-called "best post-event beverage," according to Sheldon's unsolicited lectures.
Ethan paused for a second, then accepted his fate.
"Fine. Cold shower."
---
The next morning, noise from the living room woke him up.
Rubbing his eyes, Ethan stepped out of his room and saw Leonard standing there in pajamas. In the kitchen, however, sat a complete stranger—eating cereal, spoon in one hand, a glass of orange juice neatly placed beside him.
The guy looked so skinny a strong breeze might knock him over. His hair was a carefully cultivated mess, like dried weeds after a storm. He wore a frayed sleeveless denim vest over a wrinkled gray T-shirt, giving off the unmistakable aura of someone who'd wandered in from an underground band rehearsal and never quite found his way back.
Leonard spoke up.
"Ethan, guess what? This is Sheldon's cousin—Leo!"
Ethan frowned.
"What? Sheldon doesn't have a cousin named Leo."
"On the contrary," Leo said calmly, picking up a sheet of paper and reading aloud.
"I'm twenty-six years old, born in Denton, Texas. However, I grew up on military bases around the world as a Navy dependent, which left me feeling perpetually out of place… a key factor in my later substance abuse."
"Excuse me," Sheldon interjected, suddenly appearing beside them, "we just rehearsed this. As a textbook middle child, your gambling addiction stems from chronic emotional neglect."
"Sheldon," Leo sighed, "do we really have to go with this pop-psychology cliché?"
"It's supported by research. You just need to perform according to the character profile I prepared."
Leonard blinked.
"Sheldon?"
Sheldon turned to him.
"Oh, my apologies. This is Toby Loobenfeld, a research assistant at the particle physics laboratory, who is also pursuing a minor in theater at MIT."
"Technically," Leo added, "it's a double bachelor's—Theater and Physics. Care to guess which one my comfortably middle-class parents forced me to choose?"
"All right, all right, I get it," Leonard said, turning to Ethan. "Ethan, help us out?"
Ethan raised his hands.
"I have absolutely no idea what kind of plot you're staging here."
Sheldon took over smoothly.
"I'll synchronize the information for you. Leonard told Penny we were attending a lecture, but that lie is easily verifiable. Therefore, I adjusted the narrative: Penny now believes we attended my cousin Leo Cooper's drug-intervention meeting. This ensures that the next time Penny invites us to one of her singing performances, Leo can conveniently suffer a 'relapse.'"
"She already bought it!" Leonard snapped. "This is over!"
Ignoring him, Sheldon continued.
"I further explained to Penny that if she exposed Leonard's lie, he would experience acute embarrassment. She agreed to cooperate and pretend nothing was amiss—much like the previous lie had never been uncovered."
That was when Ethan remembered: when Penny had invited him yesterday, she'd also mentioned a lecture—no rehab meeting at all.
She really was considerate.
"Drug rehabilitation is not a short-term process," Sheldon went on, unfazed.
"And I later realized that the character profile I designed would never voluntarily enter rehab."
"IT DOESN'T MATTER," Leonard insisted. "SHE BELIEVED IT."
"That's impossible," Sheldon replied calmly. "Because Leo is a middle child."
Leonard turned to Ethan, practically pleading.
"Ethan, please help?"
"Sorry," Ethan said, shaking his head. "I sat through Penny's entire performance last night. I've already paid my dues."
He settled comfortably onto the couch.
"You have no idea what I went through."
Leonard hesitated.
"Was it really that bad?"
Ethan sighed.
"It wasn't just the performance. There was… an after-effect. Never mind."
He leaned back, watching Toby and Sheldon rehearse their absurd improv for the rest of the morning.
His only takeaway:
Sheldon was a terrible director—but Toby could probably win awards at a spoken-word poetry competition with this level of commitment.
---
Around noon, there was a knock at the door.
Penny poked her head in, her bright smile just a touch too deliberate.
"Hey—good morning, everyone."
Her eyes flicked briefly to Ethan. They made eye contact—then both looked away.
"So… how did the family meeting go?"
Sheldon adopted a grave expression.
"Regrettably, we failed to persuade him to enter rehabilitation."
Penny nodded, unsurprised.
"Based on what you told me yesterday, I can't say I'm shocked."
"But we did convince him to move out of that terrible motel," Sheldon added quickly, stepping aside.
"Come in and meet him. Leo, this is Penny—our friend and neighbor."
Penny stepped forward, trying to sound casual.
"Hi, Leo. Um… how are you feeling today?"
Leo lifted his head and replied wearily:
"Have you ever woken up covered in vomit, in a run-down motel, next to a transgender sex worker?"
Penny froze.
"…No."
"Then don't ask me how I'm feeling."
Leonard jumped in immediately.
"That's Leo. Anyway—Penny, tell us about your show last night?"
"Oh, it was okay," she shrugged, her gaze flicking once more toward Ethan.
"Not a huge crowd. But aside from Ethan, there were two other people who seemed… deeply invested."
She said it lightly, teasing.
Then, as if casually, she asked,
"Ethan… how did you feel after you got home last night?"
Ethan scratched his head, carefully choosing his words.
"Me? Uh… I didn't really sleep. Your performance was… very stimulating."
He paused, then added, "What about you? Everything okay afterward?"
Penny laughed, a hint of smugness flashing across her face.
"Let's just say my chocolate stash declared a state of emergency."
They exchanged another look—the tension between them quietly easing.
Suddenly, Leo threw his head back and shouted theatrically:
"DAMN YOU, FATHER HARRIGAN!"
Penny jumped. Sheldon immediately launched into an academic monologue about genetic predisposition and double-blind trials.
Seeing the chaos, Leonard hurriedly said,
"As you can see, recovery is a very… messy process. Maybe we should give them some space?"
"Sure, sure," Penny nodded. Then brightened.
"Want to come over for coffee? I just bought new beans."
"Sounds great," Leonard agreed instantly.
"I could use a drink too," Ethan added.
As they headed out, Penny casually said,
"Oh, I also have video from last night's performance. Leonard—want to see it?"
Leonard and Ethan stopped in unison.
They looked at each other.
Oh no.
"Why not?" Leonard said, forcing a smile.
As Penny walked ahead, he whispered to Ethan,
"This is getting ridiculous."
"I just wanted coffee," Ethan muttered.
"Now I'm watching it again."
They sighed, exchanged a look of shared suffering, and followed Penny out the door.