Highly Illogical Behavior Page 4

  After settling into his favorite chair with an alarming amount of candy, Solomon watched eight episodes in a row. It should be very obvious to you why Solomon would feel so deeply connected to Data, a character who, as an android, lived just on the edge of humanity. Because of this, Data always found a way to say something wise and painfully simple about existence and even before he stopped leaving the house, Solomon had proclaimed the character to be his personal hero.

  When he was halfway through the eighth episode, Solomon found what he’d been looking for. In it, two characters are thought to be dead after a run-in with another ship. And there’s this moment where Lt. Commander Data says that Geordi, one of the men feared dead, treated him just like he treated everyone else. He accepted him for what he was. And that, Data concluded, was true friendship.

  Maybe he’d never realized it before, but, when Solomon heard it, he suddenly knew why Lisa Praytor scared the complete shit out of him. Because, like Data, he didn’t want to be treated just as different as he was.

  But, he already knew he was scared, so Data’s wise words were only validation that he wasn’t brave enough to invite Lisa over just yet. Maybe he needed someone wiser than Data, even though it pained him to admit it. He needed his grandmother. And, luckily, she was coming over for dinner. She wasn’t like most grandmas, he was sure. For one thing, she was fairly young. She had Jason, her only child, when she was twenty. This was shortly after she’d left her small town in Louisiana to move out to Los Angeles and become an actress. One commercial and a Vegas wedding later, she’d gone from Hollywood hopeful to suburban housewife. And she loved it. Now, in her mid-sixties, she drove the sports car she’d always wanted and acted like the star she’d never become. She’d taken up selling real estate after Solomon’s grandfather died in the eighties. And by the time Solomon was born, she had an empire. And if he could leave the house, he’d see her face on signs in yards all over Upland.

  “This is WONDERFUL!” she shouted immediately after reading the letter, her Southern accent peeking through every word.

  “Wonderful?”

  “Yes. Sounds like my kind of girl. She knows what she wants and she goes after it.”

  “But why would she want me? I mean, want to be friends with me?”

  “Look at you. I’d be your friend if I didn’t have one foot in the grave.”

  “You are my friend, Grandma.”

  “Well, there you go then.”

  “I don’t think that helps me any,” he said.

  “Are you afraid it’s a prank or something? Some punk ass punks trying to pull one over on you?”

  “No,” he said, laughing. “Don’t say punk ass punks, Grandma.”

  “I know a lot of people in this town, Solomon. And a lot of their kids are spoiled little shits. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit.”

  “No one even knows I exist.”

  “This girl does!” she said loudly. “So this is it then, Solomon? Just me, your parents, and the pizza guy for the rest of your life? You wanna stay in here all the time, that’s fine by me. But at least let someone new in. If anything, it’ll keep you from going completely nuts someday and killing us all.”

  “Is that what you think I’m going to do? Snap and kill you?” he asked.

  “Not me, you won’t. I keep mace in my purse. You never know what kind of creep’ll be shopping for a house.”

  “Wait . . . what?”

  “Invite her over, Sol. Do something different just to see what happens. Hell, I know I would. You get to be my age and you learn to start saying yes, even when you’re a little scared.”

  “I’ll think about it,” he said. “Dad said to sleep on it.”

  “Your dad was a lonely little boy. Did you know that? He’d never tell you to think on it. He’s just being nice.”

  “I’m not lonely.”

  “Not yet,” she said. “But you’re still young. It’s going to get tougher and tougher the older you get. Nobody wants to come hang out with a middle-aged shut-in who lives with his parents.”

  “Geez, Grandma. Go easy on me, will you?”

  “I’m just trying to help you here. Anyway, what else is new? What’re you working on?”

  She walked across his bedroom and flipped open his laptop. There were many things he wouldn’t want his grandmother to find on his computer screen, and a website about swimming pools was, surprisingly, at the top of that list.

  “Please don’t tell them,” he said. “Not yet.”

  “You want a pool?” she said, barely containing her excitement.

  “Don’t read into it, please. I just miss the water.”

  “This pool is outside, Solomon. How am I not supposed to be happy about this?”

  She ran over and hugged him around the neck. He didn’t move a muscle, waiting for her to let go and stop swaying from side to side. When she did, there were tears in her eyes.

  “This is exactly why I’m not ready to show them yet,” he said. “Too much pressure.”

  “I’ll buy it, Solomon,” she said. “Get them to say yes, and I’ll build you the best pool in Upland.”

  “This doesn’t mean I’ll go out there,” he said. “I mean, I want it to mean that, but I can’t promise.”

  “You have to do one thing for me though, okay?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Really?”

  “One visit,” she said. “Let the poor girl come over for an afternoon and at least see if you like her. Either way, you get what you want. And what you might get is a friend to share that pool with.”

  She kissed him on the forehead and walked out of the room. When she got to the kitchen, Solomon could hear her as plain as day, like she’d never left his room. So, he listened for a while, making sure she wouldn’t share his secret just yet. She was trustworthy, but sometimes her love of gossip got in the way of that. And he’d just given her the biggest piece of news to hit the Reed family in three years.

  “Sol!” his mom yelled from the kitchen. “Phone!”

  Solomon just sat there and stared at the phone sitting on his desk. Everyone he knew was right down the hall from him. So, who the hell was waiting for him to pick up?

  “Hello?” he answered with hesitation.

  “Solomon?” a girl’s voice asked from the other end. “Is that you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Lisa Praytor. Did you get my letter?”

  Solomon held the phone away for a second and took three deep, calm breaths.

  “Hello?” she said. “Are you there?”

  “Here,” he said, maybe too loudly. “I got your letter. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She sounded relieved and also really excited. “I hope it didn’t, like, freak you out too bad or anything.”

  “Just a little,” he said. “Not too much.”

  It had been a long time since Solomon had talked to someone this young, and he wasn’t really sure what he was doing. He felt compelled to say things like “cool” and “chill” and “brb,” and was very relieved that she was barely letting him speak.

  “Anyway, I’m sorry to call like this, but I just wanted to confirm that you got the letter and that you know I am totally okay with whatever you decide. I will say this, though. I am a hell of a friend. You can ask my best friend Janis Plutko. Would you like her number?”

  “No . . . thank you. I . . .”

  “Oh no. I’m freaking you out right now, aren’t I? I guess I just get too excited about things sometimes. Clark says I get too excited about everything. Even the things that piss me off. What sort of things piss you off, Solomon?”

  “Umm . . . I don’t know . . .”

  “You know what? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. I have obviously caught you at a bad time. Would you like to call me later or . . .”

/>   “Can you come over Wednesday?” he interrupted.

  “This Wednesday? Of course I can.”

  “Great. So, the address is 125 Redding Way.”

  “Got it. How’s after three p.m.? Are you free around then?”

  “I’m always free,” he answered. “So, yeah.”

  “Awesome. Thank you, Solomon. I promise this won’t be weird. Just fun. Maybe a little weird, but weird in a fun way. Fun. Focus on the fun part.”

  “The fun part, right,” he said. “I will.”

  “Until Wednesday then,” she said.

  “Okay. Bye.”

  He hung up and ran into the bathroom across the hall. He knelt down on the cold linoleum and stared into the toilet bowl. He could see his face in there, staring back at him as he drew in slow, deep breaths. Seeing himself in toilet water was not the way to feel confident about his decision to invite Lisa over. But, what could he do about that now anyway?

  He didn’t lose his lunch, but he came close. So he had to count and breathe and sit on the bathroom floor just in case it got worse. But it didn’t. His heartbeat settled. The air got thicker. And he stood up. He walked over to the sink, splashed some water on his face, and then walked out into the hallway, letting it drip down his cheeks and neck, some of his hair stuck to his forehead.

  Just before he stepped around the corner to the living room, he overheard his grandma spilling the beans about the pool, just like he knew she would. And as soon as he stepped into view, they all looked over at him in unison. Then he gave them an affirmative nod and they all smiled.

  “Better buy this kid a bathing suit,” Grandma said.

  EIGHT

  LISA PRAYTOR

  Solomon didn’t sound as wounded and frail as Lisa had expected. He sounded a little nervous, but no more so than anyone getting a phone call from a complete stranger would. Her first thought was relief—maybe this kid would be easier to help than she’d expected. But, she knew she couldn’t assume too much before she’d even met him. And he said yes. She had no idea why anyone would get a phone call like that and actually agree to see her, but he had and he did and now she was well on her way to being the best thing that ever happened to him.

  She wanted to share her good news with Clark, who was at his dad’s apartment in Rancho Cucamonga where he spent a court-ordered fifty percent of his time. Harold Robbins was a tax attorney and he was just as boring as that sounds. But, he’d do anything for his kids and Lisa adored him. She called Clark and he picked up on the first ring.

  “Clark Robbins, at your service.”

  “I’m in,” she said.

  “In what?”

  “Solomon said yes. I’m going over Wednesday.”

  “Oh, wow. That’s great.”

  “Yeah. I waited around all day for him to call, but then I decided I couldn’t make it any longer.”

  “Wait . . . you called him? Lisa, the guy obviously wants to be left alone.”

  “Well, he took my call. And I figure he’d have hung up on me if he didn’t want to hear what I had to say.”

  “Good point, I guess. Well, how’d he sound?”

  “Normal,” she said. “A little caught off guard, but why wouldn’t he be?”

  “So then you invited yourself over there?”

  “No. Can you have a little more faith in me? It was his idea.”

  “So I’m supposed to feel better that another guy invited you over to his house?”

  “Hmm . . . we’re both making good points today.”

  “I’m serious, Lisa. You need to be careful.”

  “I’m always careful.”

  “You want to come over?” he asked, a little defeat in his voice. “You can spend some time with me before you meet your new boyfriend.”

  “Definitely. I need to study for a calculus test tomorrow, but I’d love an excuse to procrastinate.”

  “Sweet. We’ve got popcorn and Netflix. Bring candy.”

  “I’m not watching a war movie,” she said firmly. “Otherwise, I’m headed over.”

  • • •

  The next morning, after acing another test and being the first one in class to finish, Lisa spent her free period in the school library reading up on agoraphobia. She knew a little already—how it’s pretty much just a result of panic disorder. And she knew Solomon would try to defend his choices, maybe argue that it’s best for him, that reducing the stress of the outside world kept him healthy. And that was fine with her. But she believed there was a thin line between accepting one’s fears and giving in to them altogether. And she was determined to help him overcome his. It wouldn’t be easy, especially pretending to be his friend instead of his counselor, but she knew he’d thank her in the end, secret or no secret.

  She also knew she couldn’t go in and start cognitive behavioral therapy on the first day. She had to be subtle. This was a new kind of therapy anyway. It wasn’t about counseling him back to health through endless conversations and waiting for tiny emotional breakthroughs. This was about giving him a friend who would, hopefully, make him want to try harder to get better. Her essay was about her experience with mental illness, after all, and if she could prove that her inventiveness, compassion, and patience were enough to help someone like Solomon, then maybe the people at Woodlawn would pick her. She was certain she’d be the only candidate smart enough to pull something like this off. Who knows, maybe they’d just hand her a degree and let her start grad school early.

  “What’re you doing?” Janis said, sneaking up behind her.

  “Oh, hey. Just some research for my history paper.”

  To avoid being talked out of it, and to respect his privacy, Lisa wasn’t going to tell Janis about Solomon. Did she feel a little guilty for being secretive? Maybe. But she was way too determined to make this essay thing work to listen to another one of Janis’s lectures on morality.

  “Boring,” Janis said. “You want to hang out after school?”

  “Can’t. I’m helping Clark’s sister with her geometry homework.”

  “Is she paying you?”

  “Clark’s dad is. Ten bucks an hour.”

  “Damn,” Janis said. “I mean, darn.”

  Lisa knew helping Solomon would probably put a strain on her friendship with Janis. She knew it would eat up time with Clark, too, not to mention all the hours she needed for studying, working on the yearbook layout, and presiding over Student Council meetings once, sometimes twice, a week. But it was worth it. Some people sign on for the impossible. And they’re the ones everybody remembers.

  • • •

  She’d seen his house before—not because she was stalking him or anything—but because she’d been to a birthday party across the street once as a kid. When she got out of her car, an orange cat darted across the driveway and made her jump a little, almost dropping the cookies she’d baked for Solomon in the process. Yes, she’d baked him cookies.

  “Look!” she blurted out nervously as soon as he opened the door, presenting the plastic-wrapped plate with her arms outstretched. “Cookies!”

  “Hi,” he said.

  He was standing several feet back, but he leaned forward to take the cookies and she got her first good look at him. He was handsome. His dark hair was slicked back to one side and he had big brown eyes—the kind that look a little green sometimes in the right light. He was tall, too, much taller than she’d expected. At least 6’1”. He smiled at her after he spoke, but she could immediately see how unnerved he was by all of this.

  “That your cat?” she asked, still standing outside.

  “Oh, no. That’s Fred. He’s the neighbors’.”

  “Ah. I’m allergic.”

  “Same here.” He nodded his head a little.

  “Solomon? Am I going to get to come inside?”

  “Yeah . . . yeah . . . sorry. God. Come
on in.”

  He stepped back away from the door and let her enter. Then he used one foot to gently kick it shut, and Lisa wondered if that was as close as he’d get to the outside.

  “So . . . umm . . .” Solomon attempted. “I don’t really . . .”

  “Give me a tour?” she interrupted. “That’d be a good place to start maybe.”

  “Right, right,” he said. “Uh . . . this is the foyer, I guess.”

  “It’s lovely,” she said.

  He showed her the living room, dining room, kitchen, and den without saying much more. She asked lots of questions though, and he gave the shortest answers he could muster.

  “Do you cook much?” she asked.

  “Not really.”

  “Is that your Xbox?”

  “No, it’s my dad’s.”

  “Can I see your room?”

  “Sure.”

  In his room, with its bright white, empty walls, Solomon took a seat on the edge of the bed and watched as Lisa walked around, inspecting his bookshelves and the tchotchkes he had scattered around on his desk. She was trying to be nonchalant, but it was hard to do with him watching her like that.

  “You like to read I see.”

  “Passes the time.”

  “Yeah. I guess it would.”

  “Lisa,” he said, “can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.” She sat down in his desk chair.

  “Why are you here?”

  “You know the answer to that,” she said. “To be your friend. But you’re going to have to be a little more talkative to keep up with me.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “I’m not really sure what to talk about.”