Highly Illogical Behavior(9)
“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.
SEVEN
SOLOMON REED
Solomon had never gotten a letter before. Ever. It was 2015, after all, and even if he had been more social, or perhaps not been a shut-in for almost a fifth of his life, he still could’ve probably gone on forever without getting one. So, when his mom handed him the blue envelope with his name scribbled on the front, he looked at her like she’d just handed him a rotary telephone or something.
“What do I do with this?” he asked.
“Read it, dummy,” she said, rolling her eyes as she walked away.
Solomon ripped it open at one end, slid the letter out, and unfolded it, looking around the kitchen like maybe he was being pranked or something.
It read:
Dear Solomon,
You don’t know me and I doubt you’ve ever even heard of me, but my name is Lisa Praytor and I want to be your friend. I know that sounds ridiculous. Of course it does! But I also know that you can’t go through life never pursuing what it is you really want, and, for whatever reason, at this time in my life, right now, I want to be your friend. I saw you that last day you went to school. I saw you and I was so scared for you. And, if you’re still even reading this, I want you to know that I’ve spent years trying to figure out just why that boy jumped into the fountain that morning at Upland Junior High. Then, by some act of God herself, my new dentist turns out to be your MOTHER. This universe sends us signs sometimes and whatever you believe or don’t believe, this means something. I know your situation is different from mine; I know you have chosen to live a certain way and I respect that. So, I hope you’ll at least give some thought into having a friend out here. I could sure use one and I bet, at the very least, you could use a little conversation from someone who doesn’t know what the word “escrow” means.
Sincerely,
Lisa Praytor
909-555-8010
“I don’t need a friend,” he said aloud to himself.
“Are you hearing voices, Sol?” his mom teased from the other room.
Solomon walked out with the letter in his hand and stared right at her. She shook her head a little, and he could tell she was trying to keep her smile as best she could.
“It’ll turn out just like Grant,” he said. “Why bother?”
“Honey, Grant was a jerk.”
“He was just normal,” Solomon defended. “I don’t know how to be around people like that.”
“Are you saying I’m weird? Your dad’s weird?”
“I’m serious, Mom,” he said. “What am I supposed to say to her? What’ll we talk about? I don’t go to school. I don’t go anywhere.”
“Your problem is that you’ve never had a real friend, Sol,” she said. “Give it a try, why don’t you?”
“No way,” he said, setting the letter down and walking back to his bedroom.
An hour later, Solomon was still lying on his floor staring up at the ceiling. Their house was built in the seventies, so it had that weird gold glitter mixed in the white popcorn plaster on its ceilings. Solomon liked to count the little shiny flecks, but never made it past a hundred before his eyes starting going blurry and they all seemed to blink and glow like they were real stars, like the roof had been ripped off his house and he could see them again.
He didn’t really know if he wanted a friend. Some days were lonely, sure. Always quiet, but that was something he’d gotten used to a long time ago. And, like his mom said, he hadn’t had a real friend in a long time, so what did he know about being one? Jack squat. That’s what. He didn’t fit in when he was in school, so how would he feel now, around someone whose life is out there where he’s nothing but an alien? What he feared most was that all this hiding had made it impossible for him to ever be found again.
On top of that, Solomon was a little weirded out by the whole thing. He’d basically gotten a letter from his stalker and his mom was acting like they should be throwing a party over it. He didn’t know if he could trust her on matters like this—when she could just be trying to push him closer to leaving the house again. His dad, though, always knew what to say.
“Dad,” Solomon said, walking into the living room.