Highly Illogical Behavior (3 page)

B
y most people's standards, Solomon was a pretty weird kid. There was the agoraphobic thing, sure, but there were other things, too. He had impossibly weird eating habits, refusing to eat anything green, without exception, and having a substantial fear of coconut. Most days, he walked around half-clothed with a persistent case of bed head and a red line across his stomach where he'd rested the edge of his laptop while he did his schoolwork or streamed movies online. And, despite being terrible at video games, he'd ask his dad to play them just so he could watch, for hours and hours.

Oh, and he said his thoughts aloud sometimes. Not all the time, but often enough so his parents expected to round a corner and hear him saying something that made no sense to anyone else. The day after his mom met Lisa Praytor, she walked into his room at just the right time.

“Antwerp,” he said, sitting at his desk and not realizing she was behind him.

“Who're you calling a twerp, twerp?” she said.

He spun around slowly in his chair until he was facing
her. His cheeks were a little red, but they'd be back to normal soon enough. He spent a
lot
of time with his parents, so there were few things left that could embarrass him.

“You know that new patient I was telling you about? The one from your school?”

“Lisa something?”

“Praytor,” she said. “She sure was asking a lot about you.”

“Well, it seems like she's all you can talk about lately. Are you trying to say I don't have perfect molars? Are you going to trade me in?”

“I haven't ruled it out.”

“And she was asking a lot about me? That's creepy, Mom.”

“She wasn't creepy at all. A little nosy, I guess. But not creepy. It's nice to know someone out there's thinking about you, isn't it?”

Solomon didn't really know what to say. So someone out there had been thinking about him. Great. What was he supposed to do with that—invite her over for brunch?

“I guess.”

“It wouldn't hurt you to have a friend or two, you know?”

“We're not friends? You're saying we're not friends?” he joked, raising his voice and using a mobster accent.

“I'm saying your only friends shouldn't be middle aged and they certainly shouldn't be your parents.”

“I don't see anything wrong with it,” he said.

“Oh my God.” She grabbed both sides of his face. “You're as hopeless as your dad.”

Valerie Reed lived with older and younger versions of the same man—a minimalist introvert who never talked about his feelings and obsessed over ridiculous things. She managed to make it through their weekly viewings of old science fiction films and the in-depth conversations that would always follow. But she
did
like to joke that watching movies with them was “like pulling teeth.” Get it? Of course you do.

“You know, you could probably reconnect with some of your old school friends online,” she continued.

“Why would I want to do that, Mom?”

“For fun. I don't know.”

“I have plenty of fun,” he said.

“Fine,” she raised one hand into the air and walked away. “I've got to go pay bills.”

Solomon wondered if he'd ever have his own bills to pay. He didn't plan on leaving the house again. Ever. But even at sixteen he was starting to feel guilty for always being there—and for planning to always be there. His parents weren't the type to sit around growing old. He knew they'd want to travel or maybe even move somewhere else after retirement. On some days, especially when his mom would hint at him getting better in even a small way, he felt like the biggest and only problem in their lives. And he didn't want
his
cure to be their life sentence.

After his mom left the room, Solomon went back to his schoolwork. But, every now and then, he'd get online and do research. He didn't miss much about the outside world—Target sometimes, with its organized shelves and relaxing department store music. Some of his favorite restaurants,
sure. Oh, and he really missed the way it smelled outside when it was about to rain, and the way the heavy drops would feel on his skin. This, though, he'd been able to enjoy by sticking his arm out of a window from time to time. Water calmed him down. He didn't know why, but it helped. He'd lie in the bath for an hour or more, his eyes closed, focusing his attention on the whirring of the bathroom vent. And that blocked it all out, anything that could make him worse, any thoughts that could start looping around and around in his mind. He knew that when it happened, he was supposed to close his eyes and count to ten and take slow, deep breaths. But that never worked like the water did.

So, for weeks, he'd been secretly working up the nerve to ask his parents for a pool. But how could he even mention the idea of it if he couldn't promise to go outside? He thought maybe he'd be ready by the time they could have a pool put in since he wasn't especially afraid of the outdoors anyway. It was the potential chaos that lay beyond their yard that scared him. Plus, he could damn sure use the exercise, because running on a treadmill had become mind-numbing. It's just that when you're afraid of dying, you'll do whatever it takes to keep yourself pretty healthy and the pool would help. He'd been fantasizing for weeks about waking up every morning and starting the day with a long swim. And, as much as he hated to admit it even to himself, he would imagine the warm beams of sun heating up his skin and eventually helping him look less like a walking corpse. Even in his isolation, Solomon wasn't completely immune to superficiality. He didn't know why
he cared about his looks, but he did. And, at the very least, he hoped it was one more sign to his parents that his life was sustainable and not some statement against civilization.

Solomon hoped maybe if they thought it would help him, his parents would say yes to the pool. But, sitting there at his computer, thinking about what he'd be expected to do, his breathing starts to pick up. He didn't want to waste their money, sure, but most of all, he didn't want to give them hope and then let them down. He turned away from the computer, and bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees and hanging his head down as low as he could.

This is how it always started. Everything would be fine and then a sudden sinking feeling would come over him, like his chest was going to cave in. He could feel his heart bumping up against his rib cage, wanting out, quickening with every beat and then radiating down his arms and up to his temples. It vibrated him, making everything he saw bounce around like the world was just photographs being flipped in front of him. And with everything around him muffled, but still noisy, all he could do was focus on breathing and close his eyes tight and count.

Every number had an image attached to it. He saw himself standing at the back door, looking out at a brand-new pool, his parents beside him. And then he saw the looks of disappointment on their faces when they realized he was frozen in place and that it had all been for nothing.

When he got to one hundred, he sat back up and closed his laptop. He needed a break. He couldn't think about the pool anymore. He couldn't think about what the pool
meant, to him or to them. He couldn't do anything but go to the garage, lie on the cold cement floor, and close his eyes again. The panic attacks drained him, like he'd just run a marathon, so it always took a little while to recover. So he lay there in the dark without them ever knowing he wasn't okay. Because he'd learned a long time ago that the better they thought he was, the longer he could live this way.

O
ne week after her first appointment, Lisa was back in Dr. Reed's office and waiting to get her cavity filled. She'd written a letter, which was sealed in a light blue envelope and tucked into the front pocket of her hoodie. She'd start with that, and if it didn't get her closer to Solomon, she'd find another way. She was almost certain she could convince Dr. Reed that her son needed a friend, but she was hoping the letter would get her in sooner.

It had been a long day at school, with three tests and a Student Council meeting, but Lisa still managed to exude a level of energy that no one in the small dental office could match. This wasn't her usual demeanor. She was more of a pragmatic know-it-all with control issues, but she was smart enough to know that you catch more flies with honey, so this cheery, inquisitive version of herself seemed like the best way to charm Dr. Reed.

Once seated in the exam chair, she chitchatted with the dental hygienist, Cathy, who was setting out some tools. But her eyes kept wandering over to the family photo hanging on the wall by the window—the photograph of
Solomon Reed the way he was when she last saw him, only not soaking wet and hyperventilating. She wondered what he looked like now, having witnessed firsthand what three years in the life of a teenage boy can do. Three years before, Clark had been a chubby eighth grader with acne problems and now look at him.

“Well, Lisa, you ready to get that cavity filled?” Dr. Reed asked, walking in and taking a seat next to the exam chair.

“You know it,” Lisa answered. “How's life?”

“Life's good. Same as last week. Very busy.”

She didn't give Lisa much opportunity to speak after that, quickly asking her to open wide and getting started on the anesthetic. Valerie Reed was a beautiful woman. She had laugh lines around her eyes and mouth, but the kind that make you envious of whatever put them there. Lisa had expected a hardened, maybe bitter person to be this troubled boy's mother, but Valerie Reed seemed as happy as could be.

“What's he like?” Lisa asked, her face half numb.

“Who? Solomon? Gosh. He's just
Solomon.
”

“Oh. Well, what does he like to do?”

“He likes to watch TV and read books. He's just like his dad.”

“So how come that's the most recent picture I see around here?” she said.

“I don't know, Lisa. We don't take too many pictures just sitting around the house. And I think maybe I lucked out with the one teenager on earth who doesn't constantly take selfies.”

“It's about insecurity,” Lisa said. “I don't get it, either.
Maybe Solomon and I are just mature for our ages?”

“He has his moments.”

“Can you give this to him?” Lisa pulled out the letter. “I know maybe it's weird. But, I just thought he might like it. You can even read it first if you want.”

Dr. Reed looked down at the envelope and smirked a little, like she wasn't surprised at all that Lisa had written it.

“No, no. I don't need to do that. I'll give it to him. I can't promise you'll ever hear back, but I can promise he'll get it.”

“Thank you so much.”

As Dr. Reed filled the cavity in her lower right second bicuspid, Lisa closed her eyes and let her mind wander with the sound of the drill drowning out all the noise of the dental office. She thought about lonely Solomon Reed, sitting in a house all by himself with no clue that she was about to change his life. And even though there were a couple of fingers and a suction tube in her mouth, Lisa managed a smile.

When she got home, Clark was waiting in her driveway with a milk shake in his hand. He did things like that all the time, and it still surprised her.

“I can't feel half my face,” she said, once out of her car.

“Can you feel this?” He stepped forward and poked her cheek.

“Nope.”

“Weird. I've never had a cavity, so, you know, I wouldn't really know.”

“Yeah, yeah. Gimme my milk shake.”

“Oh, this milk shake? No, this is
my
milk shake.”

He took a sip and then held it high above his head
where she couldn't reach. He was tall anyway, about 6'1”, and with his long, apish arms in the air, Lisa was screwed. So she went for his biggest weakness and started for his underarms. Being tickled made him physically ill, something left over from having grown up with all those older brothers. He practically threw the milk shake at her to make her stop.

“Mean,” he said. “You're just stone-cold mean.”

“Can we go inside now? I think the lidocaine's making me woozy.”

In her room, Lisa finished her homework while Clark flipped through a magazine and kept her company. He had homework, too, but he was more the kind of guy to say he'd wake up early the next morning and do it and then botch the whole plan and get the answers from one of his classmates instead. He was smart, but not as smart as he was handsome. And not near as smart as he was athletic. Water polo was his life, mostly, but the season was over now so he spent most of his free time with Lisa—so much of it that she was starting to wonder where the hell all of his friends were.

“Where the hell are all of your friends?” she asked, slurring a little.

“The guys from the team? I don't know. Probably with
their
girlfriends.”

“It just seems like you haven't hung out with them lately.”

“I'm sure I haven't missed much,” he said. “They pretty much drink beer and talk about sex. It's exactly what you'd imagine.”

So, Clark was bored with his friends. That would make
a lot of sense, seeing as most of them were fairly boring. Lisa was more of a one-close-friend type of person and had always had trouble fitting in with Clark's teammates and their girlfriends. But this was her first time realizing that maybe Clark felt the same way.

“How's the college essay?” he asked.

“Slow,” she said.

“Are you still going to write about your cousin?”

Lisa needed to tell him about Solomon. She knew she could keep lying, but she'd already cleared her spring and summer to spend time helping Solomon get better, to make sure she'd actually have something to write about, something groundbreaking enough to get her that scholarship. Plus, Clark trusted Lisa and even if he
did
think her plan was unethical, he'd never try to talk her out of it. Or, at least, he'd never succeed at it.

“Hey, do you remember me telling you about that kid who jumped in the fountain in eighth grade?” she asked.

“I do,” he answered. “What about him?”

“I found him.”

“I didn't know you were looking for him.”

“I wasn't. It's the weirdest thing. My new dentist is his mom. I didn't piece it together until I saw a picture of him in her office. Crazy, right?”

“Totally. Where's he been?”

“Home.”

“Oh. That's kind of boring. I was hoping for something more dramatic.”

“He's
only
been home,” she says. “Nowhere else.”

“Since eighth grade?”

“Yep.”

“Weird. What do you think's wrong with him?”

“Well, lots of things, probably. You don't become homebound for no reason. His mom said he had panic attacks, like at the fountain, so I'm guessing they kept getting worse and worse. So, preliminarily, I'd say he's got severe anxiety disorder that's contributed to a very persistent case of agoraphobia. And I wouldn't be surprised if he's got some obsessive compulsive tendencies as well.”

“That's sad.”

“I'm going to ask you something and I want you to promise to be completely honest with me. Okay?”

“Okay. . . .”

“I want to meet Solomon Reed. I don't know why I need to do it, but I do. And I think maybe I can make that happen.”

“Okay.” He laughed. “This is . . . unexpected.”

“It's just . . . you know . . . I've thought about him so much and wondered if he was okay and maybe it sounds crazy, but I just need to see for myself.”

“Lisa, you didn't even know the guy.”

“I know. But what if I can help him, Clark? This is what I want to do with my life and I feel like passing up an opportunity like this is . . .”

“I'm not stupid,” he interrupted. “This is for the essay, right?”

She didn't say anything, but she nodded her head with her eyes lowered, afraid to see the disapproval on his face.

“How long have you been planning this?” he asked.

“Weeks,” she confessed. “I'm sorry. I didn't want to
make it a big deal if it wasn't going to come to anything. But his mom's giving him a letter I wrote. Hopefully he'll respond.”

“A letter? You wrote him a letter? Who are you, Lisa? My God.”

“It's important to me, Clark. I can help him.”

“You never wrote me a letter.”

“Oh come on. You're jealous? Lock yourself away inside a house for three years and I'll write one up.”

“That's not funny,” he said.

“It's a little funny. I know it sounds awful, but I can help him. I need him and he needs me. It's not just about the scholarship. But, say the word and I'll stop.”

He wasn't going to stop Lisa from doing anything and she knew it. And she could hardly expect him to be jealous over Solomon, especially after she'd been so up front about it. She knew it
was
weird that she'd reached out to him the way she had. But she also knew that there were a lot of people in the world who regretted never doing the things they felt were right because they were afraid of seeming strange or crazy. Lisa wouldn't settle for that sort of mediocre existence, one bound by invisible social cues. And she had a good feeling that someone like Solomon Reed would appreciate that.