Highly Illogical Behavior - John Corey Whaley Page 0,62

good friend to you.”

“But he knew. How do I know if any of it was real?”

“Because you know. C’mon.”

“I don’t know what I know.”

“You ever going outside again?” his dad asked, looking him right in the eyes.

“Why’s it matter?”

“I can’t answer that,” he said, stepping out into the hallway. “But when you can tell me it doesn’t, I’ll quit asking.”

• • •

Later that day, Solomon’s dad was reading a book in the living room when his son walked through, still wearing the pajamas he’d had on for days, a guilty look on his face.

“It emerges,” his dad said. “From the room of eternal stench.”

“Okay, that’s not fair.”

“Have you had a bath this week?”

“Maybe not.”

“Where are you going?”

“Outside, I think.”

“Look, I’m sorry for . . .”

“Dad,” he interrupted. “Don’t be.”

Solomon looked out at the blue water across the yard and then over at his dad, who pretended not to be watching. Then he turned back to slide the door open, this thing he’d done hundreds of times like it was no big deal. Only, as soon as the outside air touched his face, his heart started beating faster and faster and he suddenly couldn’t catch his breath. Everything turned so loud and shaky that suddenly the pool looked farther away, too far to reach. And by the time his dad got over to him, he was sitting on the tile floor with his knees up and his face tucked between them.

When it was over, he looked up at his dad with this hopeless expression on his face. And in that silent moment, just before he walked back to his room and shut the door, he knew they were thinking the same thing—that maybe it would always be this way.

Eventually, Solomon would stop trying to go outside altogether. The panic attacks would subside and they’d all pretend those few months away, not wanting to feel the pangs of nostalgia it gave them to think about the two weird kids who showed up one day and made everything better.

Solomon stayed in his room until his grandma came over for dinner that night. He knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid her, so he was dressed and ready when she got there. He tried to plant a smile on his face, but it wasn’t working and she could tell. So, when she went to kiss his cheek, she whispered You’re okay into his ear and patted his back lightly.

He didn’t talk much at dinner, which was easy since his grandma was over. He just chewed his food in silence while she rambled on and on about a difficult new homebuyer she’d been dealing with earlier that day. He’d been listening to her describe the ins and outs of the suburban realty world for his entire life, and it was always a lot more darkly humorous and twisted than you’d think. This particular story involved an extramarital affair and a poltergeist. No joke.

After dinner, Grandma asked if he wanted to get his butt kicked at a game of cards and, although he hesitated at first, he couldn’t say no. She dealt a hand of canasta at the dinner table, eating her dessert and sipping coffee. Solomon’s parents went to the kitchen to do dishes and as soon as they were out of sight, he knew he was in danger. Grandma didn’t mince words, and this was the first time he’d been alone with her since he’d gone back to his old ways.

“Remember, twos and jokers are wild,” she said.

“Okay.”

Five minutes in and not a word had been spoken between them. She was typically an aggressive game player, but her shift from funny storyteller at dinner to serious, poker-faced card shark was throwing Solomon for a loop. Eventually, at the end of one of his turns, he broke down and said something.

“Listen . . . I’m sure I’ll be able to go back out there sooner or later.”

She didn’t respond at first, but instead set her cards down and took a sip of coffee.

“I tried. I did. Earlier today. Did Dad tell you? I bet he told you.”

“Solomon,” she interrupted. “I don’t care about that.”

“Oh,” he said. “I thought maybe you were . . .”

“Why haven’t you seen your friends?” she asked.

“You know why.”

“They were helping, you know? I’ve never seen you so happy.”

“They were lying.”

“So they’re not perfect,” she said. “You’re better with them than without them.”

“She was using me, Grandma,” he defended. “She was using your crazy grandson to get into college. How does