“Dude, we could bring you stuff from the outside, too, you know.”
“He’s not in prison, Clark.”
“Sorry . . . I didn’t mean it like that.”
“No, it’s cool,” Solomon said. “I don’t miss much. It’s easier than you guys think it is.”
“I saw this movie called Copycat once,” Clark said out of nowhere.
“I know that movie,” Lisa interrupted. “With the chick from Alien.”
“Yeah. Sigourney Weaver. Anyway, she played this criminal psychologist who couldn’t leave her apartment. But then she gets all wrapped up in helping this detective find a serial killer.”
“Oh no. Do you guys need help finding a serial killer, too?” Solomon asked. “This explains everything.”
“Or maybe someone else needed your help finding us,” Clark said.
“That makes sense,” Solomon said. “Now you’re going to kill me?”
“Serial kill you,” Clark said.
“Now you’re just being ridiculous, dude.”
“Why does, like, every show on TV have a serial killer now?” Lisa asked. “There are five in the world and a thousand on TV. Every week, it’s a new sociopath making sculptures with human body parts.”
“You have such a way with words, Lisa,” Clark said.
“She’s right, though,” Solomon added. “If there were that many serial killers in real life, we’d all be scared shitless.”
“Have you ever been scared shitless, though?” Clark asked. “Like, so scared that you can’t even think about ever taking a shit again. You’re just done. For life.”
“You’re so gross,” Lisa said.
“Have you?” Solomon asked Clark.
“Oh yeah. This one time . . . I guess it was about a year ago . . . my friend TJ and I went in this doll room at his grandma’s house and I swear to you we saw one move.”
“A doll?” Solomon asked.
“Yeah. So, this room was filled floor to ceiling with those old creepy porcelain dolls. The ones with the evil eyes, you know, that follow you no matter where you go. She collected them. Must’ve been a real psycho because right when I stepped into that room, I felt the devil trying to get inside me.”
“I don’t believe in the devil,” Solomon said.
“Me neither,” Lisa added.
“You haven’t seen what I’ve seen,” Clark said with true terror in his eyes.
“He was really freaked out for a while,” Lisa said. “It was hilarious.”
“I still can’t walk through the toy aisle at Target,” he said.
“All right, I’m falling asleep,” Lisa said, stretching her arms out above her head. “Thanks for letting us hang out, Sol.”
“Yeah, anytime,” he said.
He smiled and reached his fist out to meet hers. This is how they always said good-bye, but he got suddenly nervous about doing it in front of her boyfriend. When their knuckles met, Clark set one hand on top of theirs and shouted One, two, three, break!
“Weirdo,” Lisa said. “Say good-bye, Clark.”
“Well, the night was too short, my friend,” Clark said, extending a hand to Solomon.
“What are you guys doing tomorrow?” he asked just as his hand gripped Clark’s.
“Oh, umm. . . .” Clark had a surprised look on his face.
“Sorry,” Solomon said. “I mean. Thanks for coming.”
“I’m free tomorrow,” Lisa said, looking Clark’s way with wide eyes.
“Oh, yeah. Me too. It’s Saturday, though, so I’m sleeping like half the day but that’s it.”
“Perfect,” Lisa said. “I’ll call when we’re on our way.”
After they were gone, Solomon walked to his room and fell back onto the bed, letting his feet dangle off one side. It was pitch-black except for a faint red glow from his alarm clock. It was so quiet suddenly, like it had always been. And even though he was a little relieved to finally be alone, he replayed the entire night in his head. He’d made it through without any problems. But instead of celebrating it, Solomon felt his heart racing and his breathing picking up and his hands shaking. He turned and grabbed a pillow, pressing his face into it and trying to take deep breaths. And there in the darkness he rode it out as he heard his parents getting home. When the door slowly opened a few minutes later, he pretended to be asleep, his face still covered.
? ? ?
The next afternoon, Lisa and Clark came over around three and as soon as Solomon answered the door, they each held out gifts for him.
“I thought I wasn’t in prison,” he said, blushing but trying to move past it.
“Well, these are really for all of us,” Lisa said, holding up a plate covered in pink plastic wrap. It’s a secret recipe. Best brownies you’ll ever taste.”
“It’s the truth,” Clark said. “And I brought some DVDs that are probably scratched up.”
“Awesome. On all accounts. Come on in.”
“Dude, are your parents ever home?” Clark asked, looking around.