Highly Illogical Behavior Page 6

  “I just don’t know anymore.”

  Then she started crying. She always cried when she talked about Ron. Lisa had stopped feeling sorry for her a long time ago. But she still sat there and listened as her mom went on and on about a fight they’d had the night before. It was over money this time, which didn’t surprise Lisa one bit. Her mom worked eighty hours a week and Ron had been changing jobs a lot lately, which wasn’t a good sign. Do phlebotomists even take business trips?

  “I’m sure everything will be fine,” Lisa said.

  “I know, honey. You know how emotional I get sometimes. I just need a good cry and then I’ll be back to normal.”

  But Lisa wondered whose definition of normal her mother was going by. Things with her mom had always been weird. And she didn’t have the world’s best track record for maintaining healthy relationships, either. In fact, that was the longest conversation she’d had with her daughter in months.

  Eventually, Lisa was able to go change clothes and when she got back downstairs, her mom was asleep. She cleaned the dishes and took out the trash. She wrote a note saying she’d be at Clark’s. And then she set a glass of water and two aspirins on the coffee table next to her mom on her way out.

  When she got to Clark’s, he was in the driveway playing basketball with his little sister. Drew was only thirteen to Clark’s seventeen, but she was nearly as tall and a much better basketball player.

  “Why even bother, Drew?” Lisa asked once out of her car.

  “Right?” she said, shooting the ball.

  “Hey, hey,” Clark said. “I’m letting her win.”

  He walked over to hug Lisa and she held on for a little longer than usual, despite how playing basketball in the spring made him smell.

  “Better save him, Lisa,” Drew said. “This game’s getting ugly.”

  They went upstairs to Clark’s room and, as soon as the door was shut, Lisa started kissing him. It was pretty much the same every time. He would kiss her like they were filming a scene in a movie or something, all passion and no restraint. And then as soon as things started to heat up, he’d ease off and kiss her like they were at a middle school dance in the fifties. And God forbid Lisa tried to put her hands below his waist. He would, in the nicest and most subtle way possible, move her hands right back up to his stomach or chest every single time. And his stomach and chest, while quite impressive, could only do so much for Lisa.

  “I love you,” he said before a long kiss.

  “I love you, too,” she said back, again with her hands moving down.

  “Come on, quit it.”

  “You quit,” she said, trying again.

  “Lisa!” he yelled, jumping up.

  She was too embarrassed to say anything, so she just fell back onto the bed, grabbed a pillow, and held it over her face. She thought she might cry, but she didn’t do that often and it always took more out of her than it was worth.

  “Lisa? Babe?” Clark said gently, sitting beside her and rubbing her arm. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to act like that.”

  “Do you need to tell me something, Clark? Is there something I’m doing wrong?” she asked, her voice muffled by the pillow.

  “No. No, not at all. Look, it’s just . . . I can’t wait to do this with you. But I told you I’m not ready. And I’m trying not to let the embarrassment kill me.”

  She sat up, letting the pillow fall to one side. It looked like he’d been crying, or close to it anyway. She’d never made him cry before, never even seen it. She’d seen her stepdad cry though. It was something her mom had a strange talent for—turning a fight into a shame-fest that always ended with Ron getting emotional. Lisa didn’t remind herself of her mother very often, so this made her squirm and sent a sharp pain shooting through her stomach.

  “Clark . . . I . . .” she said with a sad smile. “It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

  She leaned forward to hug him, and he let his forehead rest on her shoulder. He was breathing so hard. She let the tip of her nose touch his and then she closed her eyes.

  “What’re you doing?” he asked.

  “Ancient meditation ritual,” she whispered. “Repeat after me.”

  “Okay,” he whispered back.

  “Lisa is the only thing that matters,” she said in an almost chant. “Lisa is my life. She is queen of all that is good.”

  “You say this to yourself?” he asked, holding in a laugh.

  “Self-esteem is very important.”

  “Let’s take a nap,” Clark said, holding her tightly. “The queen must rest.”

  • • •

  She wasn’t sure how long they’d been asleep, but it was definitely dark out and Clark’s family was definitely home. She could hear his mom’s voice downstairs, probably talking to Drew.

  “Clark,” she whispered. “Wake up.”

  “What time is it?” he asked.

  She got her phone off the bedside table, and the light from the screen nearly blinded them both. Seven thirteen p.m.

  “Shit,” she said. “Your mom. Get up. Shit shit shit.”

  “It’s okay. Maybe she’s not home yet.”

  “I can hear her. Now get up and help me sneak out.”

  “She doesn’t care,” he said. “I promise.”

  Out of all the times Lisa had come over after school like this, she’d never stayed long enough to see Patty Robbins home from work. She’d always just assumed that they’d both get into big trouble if they were caught upstairs in his room with the door shut. His mom was a churchgoer, after all, and Lisa figured teenage sex wasn’t high on her list of Jesus-approved activities.

  “Oh my God.” She walked over to the window, looking down into the backyard.

  “Your car’s out front, Lisa,” he said. “She already knows you’re here anyway.”

  “Shit.”

  She gave him a blank stare and started putting her socks and shoes on. Then she tied her hair up and tried to compose herself.

  “This is so embarrassing,” she said. “What do we do?”

  “MOM!” Clark shouted.

  “What the hell?” Lisa whispered.

  She could feel her cheeks turning a warm red. A few seconds later, Patty Robbins poked her head through the door. “Yeah, hon?”

  “Lisa’s here. We took a nap.”

  “Oh. Hi, Lisa. Great. Stay for dinner?”

  “S . . . sure,” she managed.

  “Taco Thursday!” she said loudly, vanishing from sight.

  “I told her it’s supposed to be Taco Tuesday, but she won’t listen,” Clark said.

  Lisa took a seat on the bed and started laughing.

  “I was so scared,” she said, slapping Clark on the arm.

  “We work under complete transparency here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She trusts me,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders.

  And why wouldn’t she? He’s had his girlfriend in his bedroom alone countless times now and had, every single time, failed to seal the deal. Lisa shook her head and looked at him. He was too nice to be mad at, which sometimes drove her absolutely insane. But not tonight. She didn’t want to fight. She just wanted to have dinner with his nice little normal family.

  Lisa stayed for a while after, watching TV with Clark and Drew and wondering how late she’d have to stay out to avoid running into her mother again. Around eleven o’clock, she decided she’d better head home, so Clark walked her out to her car.

  “So, movie this Saturday? Something scary?” he asked, leaning down outside of her car window.

  “Oh,” she said. “Umm . . . I sort of have plans, actually.”

  “Plans? What kind of plans?”

  “Solomon,” she said with her teeth clenched.

  “Solomon . . .” he said slowly.

  “
Seriously? Are you upset because I . . .”

  “I’m just . . . I guess I’m not really sure what to do with myself now.”

  “Now? Clark, this isn’t going to be every weekend. I promise.”

  “I want you to be up front with me,” he said.

  “Of course.”

  “Anything I need to worry about with this guy? Because you say it’s for your essay thing, but it seems weird that you’re already going back over there.”

  “You have nothing to worry about,” she said. “I don’t think he swings my way, if you know what I mean.”

  “Convenient.”

  “Don’t be like that,” she said. “I’ve told him all about you. Nothing to worry about.”

  “Try to see it from my side, Lisa.”

  “Well, maybe you can meet him eventually,” she said. “He’s into Star Trek. Did I tell you that?”

  “No,” he said, turning her way, excitement in his eyes. “Next Generation?”

  “Yep.”

  “I take it all back,” he said. “This guy sounds amazing.”

  “He’s . . . interesting. But, nice. And funny, too. I didn’t think he’d be funny.”

  “Do you think I’m funny?” Clark asked.

  “Funny looking,” she said.

  “Please. I bet you dream about this face at night.”

  “Yep,” she played along. “My dreams are just your face with lasers shooting out of the eyes.”

  “Awesome.”

  “Anyway, let me make sure he isn’t a complete psychopath first and I’ll figure out a good time to introduce you guys.”

  “He hasn’t left his house in three years, Lisa. He’s not crazy. He’s a genius. Just TV and video games twenty-four/seven. I think he’s my new hero.”

  “Who was your old one?”

  “Well, there’s this old guy at the Vons on Foothill who greets you when you walk in. I think he was probably the one to beat until now.”

  “You’re so weird. The grocery store greeter is your hero?”

  “Was my hero. Pay attention.”

  It struck her on the way home that maybe she could use Clark’s jealousy to her benefit. She figured most of it was playful enough, but if she could get him over there, it would only raise her chances of getting Solomon better—and it may even speed up the process. His therapy, after all, was about showing him that the world wasn’t the scary, chaotic place he remembered it being. And Lisa knew introducing him to Clark Robbins was maybe the best way to prove that not everything out here is so bad.

  ELEVEN

  SOLOMON REED

  There were no two ways about it—he was going to have to tell her. Which would be his first time ever saying it aloud. Solomon was gay. He’d realized it sometime around the age of twelve. It wasn’t a hard thing to figure out, really. He saw boys and girls differently. And he preferred seeing one to the other. It’s simple like that when you’re young. And Solomon was sure it would always be that simple for him—why would he ever need to acknowledge his sexuality if he didn’t ever plan on leaving the house again?

  But he’d have to tell Lisa because now, with this Saturday night sort-of-date, Solomon was entertaining the possibility that he’d somehow struck a romantic chord with his new friend. He didn’t know any better, really. He was handsome enough. And his mom had made sure he combed his hair before Lisa’s first visit. So maybe he had charmed her in just one short afternoon. He’d surprised even himself with all his joking around and talking. Isn’t that mostly what couples do together anyway? Don’t they just act goofy and talk and then take breaks for sex and stuff?

  What he couldn’t reconcile, though, was why Lisa would ever choose him over Clark Robbins. He’d seen the picture on her phone, and he knew good and well that no girl in her right mind would opt out of being with that guy for a reclusive borderline albino who didn’t even own a pair of shoes. So maybe he was being paranoid. Maybe he was reading way too much into her friendliness.

  “What’re you kids going to watch? Nothing rated R I hope,” his dad asked Saturday evening as they waited for Lisa to arrive.

  Solomon was lying faceup on the living room floor, staring at the ceiling and listening to the TV.

  “I can’t decide,” he answered. “Nothing sci-fi.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Well, she’s seen the garage. I don’t want her thinking I’m one-dimensional.”

  “Why do you care?” his dad asked in that nosy-parental tone he used sometimes.

  “That’s a very good question, Dad.”

  Solomon stood up as soon as he heard the doorbell. But once he was on his feet, he nearly fell back down. It had come on as quickly as any he’d ever had—a sudden flush in his cheeks, an unstoppable throbbing in his chest. He leaned against the wall with one whole side of his body and focused on counting. If you can get to ten, he thought, you can breathe. And he did. And he breathed.

  “Dad,” he said between breaths.

  “Shit,” his dad said, hopping up and running over to him. “C’mon. Let’s go back to your room.”

  His mom walked out from the kitchen when the doorbell rang for the second time and, without asking, knew exactly what was going on. So, she planted a big smile on her face and opened the door.

  “Lisa!”

  “Hi,” Lisa said, stepping inside.

  “He’ll be out in a minute. I think he’s probably trying to comb his hair or something,” she said with an amused look on her face. “Have a seat and I’ll go check.”

  She walked down the hallway and into her son’s room. He was sitting on the bed, his dad beside him, leaning forward a little with his eyes closed. He was breathing. He was counting. He would be okay, but that didn’t make it any easier to see him like this. It was never easy for them.

  “Should I ask her to go?” his mom asked.

  “No,” Solomon managed, his eyes still closed.

  When Valerie returned to the living room, Lisa was sitting on the couch and leaning over to look at a framed photograph on the side table.

  “Big Bear Lake,” Valerie said. “We used to have a cabin up there. I bet we went at least once a month.”

  “I love Big Bear.”

  “I really miss it,” she said. “Cold weather always suited me better.”

  “I like the mountains,” Lisa said. “It’s about the only thing Upland has going for it.”

  “More like hills,” Valerie added. “He’ll be out in a minute.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Oh yes. Last time I checked, he was trying to find a pair of matching socks.”

  “I can’t even do that,” Lisa said, immediately realizing how insensitive it sounded. “Sorry . . . I didn’t mean it like . . .”

  “Hush,” Valerie interrupted before pausing for a few long, quiet seconds. “I’m not naive, Lisa. Sol’s unique. He can’t find matching socks because he probably hasn’t worn them since the last time he left the house and, by my count, that was a long damn time ago.”

  Lisa smiled at her, but stayed quiet. Then Valerie laughed a little to herself as she took a seat on the sofa. Suddenly, her mood shifted and she scooted up to rest her elbows on her knees before speaking to Lisa in a whisper.

  “Tell me something,” she said. “Do you like him?”

  “What do you mean?” Lisa asked.

  “Solomon. Do you like him? Is he likable?”

  “Yeah. Totally.”

  “You’re not lying, right? And don’t try to spare my feelings. Solomon’s never gotten away with a lie in his life.”

  “It’s the truth,” Lisa defended. “I was afraid he’d be boring.”

  “It’s important that you know something, Lisa.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ve been really scared—about Solomon and all the time he
spends alone and in this house. And then you come along and suddenly he’s talking about swimming and getting a tan. I don’t know if it’s crazy to believe him or not. But we couldn’t dig that pool any faster if we tried.”

  “You’re getting a pool?” Lisa asked, looking over toward the windows that face out into the backyard.

  “He said he wanted one,” she answered. “He said he’d go outside.”

  “No way.”

  “I need you to promise me something, Lisa.”

  “Okay.”

  “Promise me you’ll stick around for as long as it takes to get him out there. That’s all I’m asking. If you get bored or just decide he’s not the kind of friend you wanted him to be—just please wait until we can get him out there, okay?”

  “Okay,” Lisa said. “But, I . . .”

  “Thank you,” she interrupted.

  Just as she was about to ask more about the pool, Solomon stepped into the room and said “Hello.”

  He was visibly unnerved, but no more so than the first time she’d come over. He was wearing a T-shirt and shorts, with no socks. Lisa looked right at his bare feet and over to his mom.

  “Okay. You guys can have the living room. I’ve got to run up to the office and . . . Sol, where’s your dad?”

  “Right here,” Jason said, walking in. “Hi, Lisa. I’m Jason.”

  Lisa stood up and they shook hands. He looked over to Solomon and smiled, giving him a wink.

  “All right, let’s get out of their hair. Nobody wants two old people hanging around,” his mom said.

  “I do,” Solomon joked nervously. “Tell us about taxes.”

  “And what exactly is a 401k?” Lisa added.

  Jason and Valerie walked out of the room, still laughing. Lisa sat down at one end of the sofa and Solomon sat at the opposite end, an entire cushion length between them. He flipped through movies on the TV screen in silence, never looking her way.

  “You get shy on me, Sol?” Lisa asked.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s cool. Got something in mind?”

  “Not really,” he said. “I can’t be trusted with this. Here, take it.”

  “Okay,” she said, reaching over to grab the remote from him. “So, let’s be smart about this. Comedy, sci-fi, drama, or horror?”