Highly Illogical Behavior(12)
“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.