Highly Illogical Behavior (7 page)

T
here 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?”

“No sci-fi,” he said promptly, sticking to his guns.

“Deal.”

“Your turn,” he said.

“Oh . . . umm . . . no drama.”

“Great. No horror. I hate scary movies.”

“Me too. Clark makes me watch them and then I can't sleep for a week.”

“That's actually spousal abuse,” he joked. “Okay, comedy then.”

“Thank God,” she said. “What makes
you
laugh, Solomon Reed?”

“I don't know . . . slapstick?”

“I knew it,” she said. “I know this is old school, but are you a fan of Mel Brooks?”

A huge smile stretched across his face.

“Where'd you come from?” he asked her.

“Upland,” she said. “Keep up, will you? I vote
Robin Hood: Men in Tights
.”

“Is my mom paying you to be here?”

“No,” she said, scanning the screen for the movie. “But I
do
like to swim. And, you know, a free root canal would be nice, should the occasion ever arise.”

“She told you about the pool, I guess.”

“She did. And you're going to swim in that pool, yeah?”

“That's right,” he answered.

“She seems pretty psyched,” Lisa said. “That you asked for it, I mean.”

“No pressure,” he said. “Did she tell you my grandma bribed me?”

“No she did not. How so?”

“Said she'd buy the pool if I hung out with you.”

“Smart,” Lisa said before getting really quiet.

“Just the first time,” he said. “Not anymore. I want you here.”

“Oh good. I was getting scared this situation would forever ruin
Robin Hood: Men in Tights
for me.”

“That would be tragic,” he said. “I think my grandma's hoping you'll fall in love with me and save me from myself.”

“Too bad I've got Clark,” she joked.

“Too bad I'm gay,” he blurted out, closing his eyes and expecting the silence to be deafening.

“Yeah, too bad,” she said with a big smile.

She raised her hand into the air for a high five and he sort of just looked at it until she put it back down.

“I've never told anyone before.”

“Oh my God,” she said. “Thank you.”

“For being gay or for telling you?”

“Both?”

“You're welcome. I sort of had a panic attack when you got here.”

“I figured. Your mom said you were trying to find socks.”

“She's a bad liar,” he said, raising his foot into the air and wiggling his toes.

“At least give her credit for trying. She seems really cool.”

“Pretty cool,” he agreed. “Dad too. This wouldn't really work if they weren't, I guess.”

“And, umm . . . do
they
know? That you're gay?”

“Why waste their time with it? It's not like it'll ever be an issue anyway.”

“Yeah, but, it's who you are, right?”

“I guess so,” he said. “I don't really know how to be any way else.”

“When did you know?”

“I was twelve maybe. Something I just knew one day, even though I hadn't known it the day before.”

“So it's like that, huh? A feeling? Not just being into other dudes?”

“Oh no, it's
that
too. Of course it's that. But it's more, I think. Not so much a feeling as a fact, like having blue eyes or brown hair. It's just maybe something you don't discover until you're ready to understand it better.”

“Like being straight,” she said. “Only we don't have to deal with all that closet bullshit.”

“Bingo,” he said.

She slipped off her shoes, and put her feet up with his.

“Oh,” he said, standing up. “I have candy.”

“Make it happen, Cap'n,” she said.

When he got back from the kitchen, a box of Mike and Ike's in one hand and Hot Tamales in the other, he sat much closer to her, so close their elbows occasionally grazed during the entire movie. And like they'd done it a million times, without even thinking about it, they silently passed the candy back and forth between them with their eyes locked on the screen.

L
isa ended up staying at Solomon's house until well after midnight. Then, just as they were about to say good-bye at the front door, she asked if she could give him a hug.

“Sure,” he whispered. “But make it quick.”

She didn't. She held on just long enough for him to know she meant it. And she did mean it. He had told her something he'd never told anyone else in his entire life. If that isn't friendship, then what is? She was in the inner circle now. Hell, she
was
the inner circle. And all the progress she'd made in just two visits with Solomon was enough to help her ignore that little pang of guilt she was feeling in her stomach.

“You can tell Clark, too,” he said before she left. “He should probably know he's got nothing to worry about.”

Even though it was one in the morning before she got home, she needed to talk to Clark. He was at his dad's again, so she knew he'd be up late eating junk food and playing video games or something. And he was.

“Yellow,” he answered. She could hear a TV in the background.

“Well, you don't have to be jealous of Solomon anymore.”

“Bad date?” he joked.

“He's definitely gay.”

“Oh. Funny.”

“Funny?”

“Not funny
ha-ha
, but, you know, funny like
my girlfriend's other boyfriend is gay.
”

“Shut up,” she said. “Anyway. I just wanted you to know.”

“Great. I'll alert my mom. She'll have some bibles mailed over ASAP.”

“It's nothing to joke about, Clark.”

“Sorry. I think it's great he told you. Sounds like he needed someone to talk to.”

“I guess so,” she said. “He asked his parents for a pool.”

“He goes outside? I'm confused.”

“No. But he says he's going to.”

“Crazy,” he said. “But not like
crazy
crazy. You know what I mean.”

“It was sort of sad,” she said. “He told me he isn't sure he'll ever tell his parents. Says it's a nonissue.”

“He's not wrong, is he? If he never leaves the house, what's it matter?”

“It's not just about that though, right?”

“I don't know. If I never left my house again and I didn't already have you, I don't think being straight or gay would matter at all. Well, outside of my Google searches.”

“Gross.”

“Sorry.”

“It's bigger than that,” she said. “Maybe that's part of it. Of what's wrong with him. He doesn't know how to be himself because he thinks it doesn't matter who he is. This could factor hugely into his social anxiety.”

“Lisa, you meet this guy
once
and the second you show up again, he's coming out to you. That doesn't sound like someone who isn't being himself, does it?”

“No,” she answered. “That's what makes it more confusing. He's a little anxious, sure, but otherwise, he's like us. Easy to talk to. Funny. Really funny, actually. I just don't know why he can't deal with anything out here. I think he's as capable as anyone.”

“Obviously not,” Clark said. “But you think being his friend is the best way to help him?”

“That's the plan,” she said. “Start with me and then eventually bring you into the mix. Show him what he's missing out here.”

“Oh, is that right? I'm part of this now?”

“Only if you want to be. You said yourself that you're getting tired of the guys from the team.”

“So tired,” he said. “Everything is such a pissing contest with those morons.”

“Well, there you go.”

“You know, you could probably just make something up for your essay and still get that scholarship,” he said.

“I know that. But, I want to help him. It's not just about the scholarship anymore.”

“You promise?”

“I promise,” she said. “Give me a few more weeks with him. I don't want to overwhelm him and since you'll probably dethrone me as his new best friend, I'd like to get to know him a little better.”

“I
am
very fun,” he said.

“Let me guess. Right now you are wearing pajama pants, probably nothing else, and there's a bag of Doritos somewhere visible in the room. Maybe even a doughnut or two.”

“Amazing. How do you do it?”

“Magic,” she said. “What's your sister doing?”

“Same thing. We've been playing video games for, like, five hours. I'm not proud, Lisa. But, also, I
am
proud?”

“It's funny,” she said. “The second I start hanging with a dorky recluse, you turn into one. What is this
life
?”

•   •   •

The next day, Lisa was happy to find Ron's car in the driveway. She didn't like him much, but her mom did. And she was a lot happier when he was home. It sucked that they were the way they were: one of those couples that's either all over each other or at each other's throats. But some people are just wired that way, Lisa thought. And she was glad she wasn't one of them.

Around lunchtime, she was looking over some history notes when her phone rang. It was Solomon.

“Didn't I just talk to you a few hours ago?” she answered.

“What happened last night?”

“We watched the best movie ever and you came out to me.”

“Yes, yes,” he said. “Being out is exhausting. I just woke up like an hour ago.”

“And what have you accomplished? Because me? I've already run two miles, written a book report, and started studying for a test.”

“Yeah. I spent twenty minutes watching a documentary on eels until I got too creeped out to keep going.”

“Okay . . . so, you're having a productive day, that's good.”

He laughed harder than she'd expected. It was a great laugh—that kind where you can actually hear the
ha-ha-ha
's if you listen closely enough.

“Yeah . . . umm . . . did you know the lifespan of an eel is about eighty-five years?”

“That's horrifying. Solomon, did you call to invite me over?”

“Maybe.”

“Go ahead. Just do it. Don't be shy.”

“Are you serious?” he asked.

“If you want to be friends, you're going to have to do the things that friends do. They call each other up and invite each other over. You're halfway there.”

“Fine. Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you want to come over today?”

“I'm actually pretty busy,” she said, holding in a laugh.

“You've got to be kidding me.”

“I am. How's two o'clock sound? I've got about thirty more pages of notes to look over.”

“That's perfect,” he said. “I mean, if you want to.”

“Solomon,” she scolded. “You were doing so well. What's this
if you want to
business? I want to, okay?”

“Great,” he said. “What do you want to do?”

“Do you play chess?”

“I do. Very poorly.”

“Awesome. So chess it is then. Do you have a set?”

“Yeah,” he said. “It's an Adventure Time edition. Please don't make fun of me.”

“Are you kidding? Clark and I watch it all the time.”

“You're shitting me!” he said.

“Am not.”

•   •   •

When she got to his house a couple of hours later, he had the chess set ready to go at the dining room table. She'd actually never spent any time in this room and it looked like nobody else had, either. Maybe this was an eat-on-your-own family like hers had always been. For whatever reason, she sort of hoped not, though.

“What's your favorite food?” she asked, taking a seat.

“Are we in kindergarten?”

She looked down at the chess set and back up at him with one arched eyebrow.

“Okay,” he said, sitting down. “Pizza, probably.”

“Ugh,” she said. “So boring, Solomon.”

“You can say Sol if you want,” he said. “Or Solo.”

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Yeah.”

“I think
Solo
sounds kind of mean.”

“Nah,” he said. “Think
Han
, not
Lonely Agoraphobe
.”

“Ah . . . yeah, that works.”

“I like
Sol
though. My great-granddad was a Sol.”

“Mine was
Gator
,” she said.

“Wait . . .
Gator
Praytor?”

“Yep,” she said, lowering her head in fake shame. “He was a zoologist. I'm not even kidding.”

“What was his real name though?”

“Dick,” she said.

“Well, see, that's just a man who made good choices.”

“Okay, okay. Are you ready to be annihilated at chess?”

“Ready as I'll ever be,” he said. “Who goes first?”

“Oh, Sol. You're not off to a great start.”

“Shit,” he said. “White first. I remember.”

“You know, you've got quite the mouth for someone who's never been to high school.”

“Don't let my folks fool you. When no one's around, they talk like sailors.”

“My mom made me wash my mouth out with soap last year,” she said. “I called my stepdad a
son-of-a-bitch
. Funny thing is, she was only mad about the cursing.”

“I don't do it much around them,” he said.

“That's just
your
form of rebellion. If they were criminals, you'd probably grow up to be a cop. The world is a mysterious place.”

“Or maybe you just bring out my bad side,” he said, moving his first pawn two spaces.

“I doubt that,” she said, moving one of her knights.

She didn't care who won the game, really. She was trying something she'd read about online that morning. Game therapy. It was supposed to relax and distract a patient enough to help them open up more about personal or painful
things. Now that Solomon had shown so much progress so quickly, she wanted to see how far she could push him without him realizing he was being pushed.

Lisa won the first game, trapping Solomon's king with a pawn and a rook. Then, without a word, she watched as he reset all the pieces on the game board and carefully turned it around so the white pieces were facing her.

“I'm better with black,” he said.

Halfway through the game, it looked like Solomon might actually win. He was so focused on the board that he hadn't looked up in fifteen minutes. Maybe it was working, she thought. Maybe now was as good a time as ever for her to play therapist.

“So, aside from losing this game, what's your biggest fear?”

“Being buried alive,” he answered with little pause.

“That's reasonable.”

“Yours?”

“Tornados. Don't ask me why. I've never even been close to one.”

“They're giant wind vortexes that destroy whole towns,” he said. “Respect.”

“And, I don't know . . . I guess being stuck in Upland forever, too.”

“And
that
is where we differ,” he said, moving a pawn. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere,” she said. “Somewhere bigger. A big city. The suburbs bore the hell out of me.”

“But they're full of old people and little kids and crazy
guys like me,” he said. “What's not to love?”

“Do you do that a lot?” she asked. “Call yourself
crazy
?”

“Only when it's funny or gets me out of chores.”

“So, your biggest fear is being buried alive. Okay. What about something that could
actually
happen to you?”

“Like being asked repeatedly what my biggest fears are when I'm trying to beat you at chess?”

“Sorry,” she said. “The mystery will have to stay a mystery I guess.”

He looked up from the board and right into her eyes, like he was asking her what she thought she was doing without saying anything. She answered by looking down and capturing one of his bishops with her queen.

When the game was over, Lisa followed him back to his bedroom, where he dug through some boxes in his closet before finally pulling out a small stack of comic books.

“Here,” he said. “Give these to Clark. I've read them a hundred times.”

“For real?” she said, flipping through the one on top. “Thanks.”

“No worries. My one stipulation is that he can't hide them. They must be displayed proudly in his home for all to see. It's the only way.”

“I'll relay the message,” she said. “Who knows, maybe you two can meet someday.”

“Maybe,” he said. “If you think he'd want to.”

“You kidding? It's all he talks about. I think he's jealous.”

“Jealous of the crazy gay kid. That doesn't sound right.”

“Hey, Sol,” she said, her tone getting serious for a second. “Those are two things about you out of a million. Don't box yourself in.”

“Too late for that,” he said, looking all around the room with an unconvincing smirk. “Much too late.”