Highly Illogical Behavior (18 page)

T
wo weeks of radio silence from Clark and Solomon had driven Lisa to a very lonely, strange place. She'd even stayed up late several nights in a row watching reruns of
Star Trek: The Next Generation
on cable. She liked to think that at least one of them was watching with her, or maybe they were watching together, despite everything she'd put them through. It wasn't such a bad show, she discovered. It had some pretty cheesy parts in just about every episode, but when she was finally able to set that aside, Lisa started to see why Solomon and Clark loved it so much.

She'd fully expected Solomon to shut her out—what she'd done to him was unforgivable and she knew it could be a long time before she saw him again, if ever. But with Clark ignoring her calls and texts, Lisa was starting to worry that she'd lost him for good, too.

So, after thirteen days of restraining herself, Lisa drove over to Clark's and marched up the stairs to the front door. She knocked three times, hoping she wouldn't be left out there like she deserved to be. And when Clark's dad opened
the door, she couldn't stop herself from giving him a hug.

“Oh, hi, Lisa,” he said, lightly patting her back with one hand. “Get him out of the house, will you? He's driving me crazy.”

She walked down the hall to Clark's half-open door and pushed it slowly, waiting for him to see her. The room smelled like him—like his deodorant and that cologne his mom bought him every Christmas. He was sitting on the floor, his back against his bed, and reading a book. When he saw her, and their eyes met, he didn't move. For a second, she thought maybe they'd laugh or something. If they both decided to brush the whole thing off as some big joke, then maybe they'd survive it.

“Sit down?” he asked, moving his legs out of the way.

Lisa took a seat on the floor across from him and, instinctively, started to lift her legs to set them on top of his. But she stopped herself just before he noticed. She'd planned to open with an apology, for it to be the very first thing out of her mouth, but he knew she was sorry. He knew everything about her.

“Have you talked to him?” she asked instead.

“Once.”

“Is he okay?”

“I think so. It was brief.”

“Clark, look, I . . .”

“Do me a favor, Lisa?”

“Sure.”

“Don't apologize.”

“Okay,” she said, not used to this kind of assertiveness from him.

“Good,” he said. “Let's figure us out later.”

“What do we do about Sol?”

“It was the scariest thing I've ever seen,” he said. “He just lost it.”

“I'm such an idiot,” she said.

“You were supposed to change your mind.”

“I was?”

“Yes!” he raised his voice. “My God.”

She'd never heard him talk to her like that before, with so much disappointment and anger in his voice. It actually frightened her a little to see this side of him she didn't know was there.

“I guess I gave you more credit than you deserve,” he said. “Now I'm an asshole, too.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“You're welcome,” he snapped.

“I don't know what happened,” she said. “I got so caught up. And then Janis said . . .”

“You know she hates me. Why would you listen to her?”

“I don't know,” she blurted out, hiding her face in her hands.

“And even if you were right, do you think I'd cheat on you? It's like you forgot who I was or something.”

“I thought we were figuring us out later?”

“Maybe there's no hope.”

“For us?”

“For anyone,” he said. “I'm betting Sol's not any better off than he was a week ago, and I could tell just by his voice that he was barely hanging on.”

“Shit,” she said quietly. “I
am
an asshole. I'm a total asshole.”

“You're not a
total
asshole.”

“I accused you of cheating
and
I thought you were gay.”

“Only one of those makes you an asshole,” he said. “I should've realized you felt left out. Honestly, I just didn't think you cared that much.”

“Why wouldn't I care?”

“Because, like I said before, all you think about is leaving.”

“In a year.”

“Yeah, well, I don't want to spend the next year with someone who's just going to leave and forget about me.”

“I want you to come with me,” she said. “Have you even looked at any schools yet?”

“No,” he said. “I like it here. I don't even know if I want to go to college anywhere.”

“Oh. Well, why all the water polo then?”

“Because I
like
it,” he said, frustrated. “And I'm not worried about how every little thing I do is going to get me out of here. That's
your
thing, not mine.”

She just looked at him for a second, wishing he'd take it back and say he'd been secretly applying to colleges in Maryland or DC. But instead, he looked away from her as soon as their eyes met.

“Did he tell you he loved you?” she asked.

“Sure did.”

“And?”

“
And
it was weird, okay? It made me so sad. I bet this kind of shit happens all the time.”

“Probably,” she said. “You're so . . . I don't know,
happy
around him. Like, not bored and complainy like you are around your other friends.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Doesn't make me gay.”

“Of course it doesn't.”

“Look, I get it. It's not crazy. It's just frustrating. You
know
me. I didn't suddenly start keeping secrets overnight. He's my friend. He's
our
friend. I was just being his friend back.”

“I think you're the only reason he ever went outside,” she said. “Like if he got better, then maybe you two could . . .”

“How could you
possibly
know that?” he interrupted. “They were digging a damn hole in the backyard before we ever showed up. I didn't do anything to help him.”

“Yeah, well, that makes two of us.”

A quiet fell over the room after she'd said it—that kind where you're sure the other person is going to say something you don't want to hear.

“We can't just show up over there, can we? And hope he doesn't freak out?” Clark asked.

“No,” she said. “At least I can't.”

“I'm not going without you.”

“I'm so confused. Are we still together?”

“I don't know,” he said. “You're the one who wants to be a shrink. You telling me all this doesn't seem a little like self-sabotage?”

“You've spent too much time around me.”

“I listen. Even when you think I'm not.”

“I love you, you know?”

“Lisa,” he said, closing his eyes for a second and taking
a deep breath. She'd never seen him so frustrated. “Two weeks ago you were so convinced I was gay that you told the
only
person in the world you shouldn't have. I'm not sure this is a healthy relationship anymore.”

“It was, though,” she defended.

“You remember when we first met?”

“Of course. In biology.”

“Physics,” he corrected. “I know, because I switched my schedule to be in there with you.”

“Huh?”

“Only good thing Janis Plutko ever did.”

“I had no idea.”

“You guys were always together so I finally worked up the nerve to ask her for your number in homeroom. She gave me your schedule instead.”

“Oh.”

“I sort of fell in love with you during your speech freshman year.”

“That was my third best speech to date,” she said.

“You talked about
social change
and I thought that was so funny. You were running
unopposed
for a
freshman
senator spot on the student council,” he said. “And you took it so seriously.”

“Maybe that should've been your warning.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But it was good, yeah?”

Lisa knew a lot of things about Clark that no one else knew. She knew he called his grandfather every Sunday, like clockwork. And that he'd never had a sip of alcohol, despite, or maybe
because of
having three older brothers. And she knew that as frustrated as he got with his mom, he never
talked back to her or came home even a minute after curfew. Clark Robbins was honest and true, like some weird reincarnation of Abraham Lincoln. And without a little help, he'd let this breakup drag on forever just to spare her feelings.

“It was great,” she said. “Look, I realize my track record as a friend hasn't been so hot lately, but I think Solomon needs us. Both.”

“Since when does he hit himself?”

“Maybe always,” she said. “I'd know that if I actually tried to help him like I set out to do.”

“That's not your job.”

“No, it's not,” she agreed. “So . . . umm . . .”

“I don't want to decide right now,” he said. “About breaking up.”

“Okay.”

“You want to see what I've been working on instead?”

“Sure. Just don't make me go back home yet.”

She followed Clark out to the apartment parking lot and couldn't believe it when they rounded a corner to see his old green van sitting right there as ugly as ever.

“You got your van back.”

“I only saw his mom and dad when I went to get it, though. They said he wasn't feeling well. Then he called me later that night and hung up before I could even apologize.”

“He's probably just embarrassed,” Lisa said.

“Of course he is. I broke his fucking heart.”

“I don't think I've ever heard you say
fuck
before.”

“I curse when I'm sad.”

“I don't think I've ever seen you sad, either.”

“It's all I can think about,” he said, leaning against the
van. “Solomon stuck in that house forever with no one to talk to.
We
did that to him. We proved him right. And now we need to figure out how to fix it or I'll never sleep again.”

“Clark, what Sol has is a very complicated disorder that is unpredictable by its very nature.”

“You're not a doctor yet, Lisa. And we've all got Wikipedia.”

“Fair enough,” she said. “But nothing we can do is going to cure him. That's what I'm saying. He needs years of therapy. Maybe decades. Staying inside is one thing, beating the shit out of yourself is another.”

“Would you still have done it? If you knew how bad he was?”

“Probably,” she said. “But clearly my decision-making skills are questionable.”

“At least you're honest,” he said. “You ready to see?”

Clark walked around to the back of the van and opened the heavy double doors. The entire cab had been painted solid black—the floor, the ceiling, and both walls. As she looked inside, Clark just stood there with a proud expression on his face.

“I can't believe this,” she said.

“We totally gutted it. Took both rows of seats out. All the foam inside them was rotting, which is maybe why it smelled like death in there.”

“God, I'm just glad it wasn't an animal or something.”

“You and me both. Then we took up that gross carpet and ripped out the ceiling fabric.”

“I sure will miss that dick drawing your brother left with the Sharpie,” Lisa said.

“Yeah . . . Sol's dad thought that was pretty funny. He asked me if I wanted to keep it. Anyway, we also replaced the battery
and
all the belts. It's running a little better than before, but I think it still needs a lot of work.”

“So, what's with the black paint?”

“I did that yesterday,” he said, showing her his spray-paint-stained hands. “I could've died from the fumes, but I had an idea and just decided to go for it. I need your help on the last part, though.”

About an hour later, Lisa was staring into the back of the van, shaking her head. And Clark did the same thing, standing right beside her. She thought, just for a second, that maybe he'd reach over and squeeze her hand like he used to—this little thing that would silently take them back to what they were.

“I'm not sure this'll ever work,” she said, still staring.

“Maybe it doesn't have to,” he said. “Gestures, you know.”

Lisa stayed for a while after that, eating takeout with Clark and watching some home renovation show that his sister put on. It was like old times, really, except for the wary looks she kept getting from Drew. Lisa knew she was pretty protective of her older brother, but this seemed more personal, like maybe Drew was upset that Lisa hadn't been coming around as often as she used to. So, when Clark left the room to take a phone call, Lisa didn't wait too long before quietly getting up to follow him.

“You there, buddy?” Clark said into the phone when she walked into his bedroom.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“I heard his dad's voice and then he hung up.”

Clark took the phone away from his ear, looked at the screen, and then looked up at Lisa.

“Do you think everything's okay?” she asked.

Then the phone rang and they both saw Solomon's name on the screen. But as soon as he put it to his ear, Clark had to hold it away because Solomon was speaking so loudly on the other end.

“I need you to come over. Can you come over? I need you to come over
right
now,” Solomon said frantically.

“Lisa's with me, okay?”

“Whatever. Just come over, please!” he said before hanging up.

“We'll take the van,” Clark said, rushing out and down the hallway.

“It barely runs.”

“It
runs
,” he said, turning back to face her.