“So weird.”
Solomon took a seat on the couch and picked the letter up off the coffee table. He read back over the first few lines before looking up at his dad with worry in his eyes.
“It’s a quandary,” his dad said. “On the one hand, she seems pretty genuine. On the other hand . . .”
“You shouldn’t trust people who send letters to complete strangers asking to be their friends?”
“Exactly. But, your mom says you’ve got nothing to lose.”
“Yeah, but, that’s not true. I have a lot to lose. I like it here, Dad. The way it is. I get that I’m the only one who sees it that way, but can you guys at least try to understand that bringing someone else in here—changing everything—that it could make me go crazy again.”
“You were never crazy. Don’t say that.”
Solomon knew very well that saying “crazy” was a sure way to make his dad get serious. Jason could insert a bad punch line into any conversation. Most of the time, Solomon loved this about his dad, but not when he was desperate for help.
“Tell me what to do, Dad. Please.”
“Sleep on it,” he said.
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to.”
“I don’t know then, Sol. What would the robot do?”
“He’s an android, but you’re a genius, Dad,” he said, getting up from his seat.
“You thought you got it from your mom?”
That android wasn’t real, of course, but was the character Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation (or, STTNG). Solomon had seen every good episode of STTNG at least nine times, and every not-so-good episode three times or more, depending on how not-so-good it was. So he had a few ideas about where he could find some answers. And, yes, he got answers to a lot of life’s questions from the show. When you only have your parents and your grandma to talk to, you figure out ways to learn about the world—and Solomon, for reasons that made terrific sense to him, had chosen a nineties space drama to forever be his compass.
After settling into his favorite chair with an alarming amount of candy, Solomon watched eight episodes in a row. It should be very obvious to you why Solomon would feel so deeply connected to Data, a character who, as an android, lived just on the edge of humanity. Because of this, Data always found a way to say something wise and painfully simple about existence and even before he stopped leaving the house, Solomon had proclaimed the character to be his personal hero.
When he was halfway through the eighth episode, Solomon found what he’d been looking for. In it, two characters are thought to be dead after a run-in with another ship. And there’s this moment where Lt. Commander Data says that Geordi, one of the men feared dead, treated him just like he treated everyone else. He accepted him for what he was. And that, Data concluded, was true friendship.
Maybe he’d never realized it before, but, when Solomon heard it, he suddenly knew why Lisa Praytor scared the complete shit out of him. Because, like Data, he didn’t want to be treated just as different as he was.
But, he already knew he was scared, so Data’s wise words were only validation that he wasn’t brave enough to invite Lisa over just yet. Maybe he needed someone wiser than Data, even though it pained him to admit it. He needed his grandmother. And, luckily, she was coming over for dinner. She wasn’t like most grandmas, he was sure. For one thing, she was fairly young. She had Jason, her only child, when she was twenty. This was shortly after she’d left her small town in Louisiana to move out to Los Angeles and become an actress. One commercial and a Vegas wedding later, she’d gone from Hollywood hopeful to suburban housewife. And she loved it. Now, in her mid-sixties, she drove the sports car she’d always wanted and acted like the star she’d never become. She’d taken up selling real estate after Solomon’s grandfather died in the eighties. And by the time Solomon was born, she had an empire. And if he could leave the house, he’d see her face on signs in yards all over Upland.
“This is WONDERFUL!” she shouted immediately after reading the letter, her Southern accent peeking through every word.
“Wonderful?”
“Yes. Sounds like my kind of girl. She knows what she wants and she goes after it.”
“But why would she want me? I mean, want to be friends with me?”
“Look at you. I’d be your friend if I didn’t have one foot in the grave.”
“You are my friend, Grandma.”
“Well, there you go then.”
“I don’t think that helps me any,” he said.
“Are you afraid it’s a prank or something? Some punk ass punks trying to pull one over on you?”
“No,” he said, laughing. “Don’t say punk ass punks, Grandma.”
“I know a lot of people in this town, Solomon. And a lot of their kids are spoiled little shits. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit.”