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.
SIX
LISA PRAYTOR
One 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