“About the essay,” she said, closing her eyes tightly.
“What essay?”
“Shit,” Clark said.
“Solomon . . . it seemed like such a good idea, and I didn’t know it would be like this. I didn’t know you would be like this. That you’d be you. And now . . .”
“Lisa, what the hell are you talking about?”
“It’s an admissions essay,” Clark said. “To Woodlawn.”
“So what?” he said. “I mean . . . what about it?”
“They give one full paid scholarship a year to the candidate with the best essay,” Lisa said.
“I’m really confused. . . .”
“It’s supposed to be about her personal experience with mental illness,” Clark blurted out.
“It’s a psychology program?” Solomon asked.
“Yeah.”
“I thought you wanted to be a doctor.”
“I never . . .”
“You never said what kind,” Solomon interrupted. “So I guess I’m . . .”
“You’re her personal experience with mental illness,” Clark said.
“You knew?” Solomon asked. Clark just nodded his head with this expression of total defeat on his face.
“You guys need to leave,” Solomon said quietly. His voice was deep and sad and nearly unrecognizable.
“Sol, I . . .” Clark began.
“Leave,” he said, standing up. He started to pace along the edge of the pool and he let the towel fall from his shoulders and into the water.
“I’ll get that,” Lisa said.
“Leave it alone!” Solomon shouted. “Get out! Go home! Both of you! Go home!”
Tears were smeared across his face and even in the faint pool light, you could see the panic in his eyes. Lisa stepped toward him, but he jerked back, almost falling into the pool. She begged him to sit down and take deep breaths, and so did Clark, but he was too far gone. The more they tried to help, the more he paced and twitched and yelled for them to leave. It didn’t take long for his parents to come outside, and when his dad put an arm around him he shoved him to the ground. Then, just as he went in to try again, Solomon took his right hand, raised it into the air, and then slapped it hard across the side of his own face. And then he did it again, so hard that his mom whimpered a little and ran over to hold his arms back.
Through the house, and out to the front door, they could still hear him yelling. Lisa closed the door behind her and stopped to take a deep breath, like she’d just escaped from a monster in a dream. Even from the driveway, as they got into Lisa’s car, they could hear Solomon’s parents trying to calm him down. But he wasn’t calming down. He was yelling and throwing things. Lisa heard something hit the side of the house. Maybe he’d thrown a chair or one of those little garden gnomes his mom had all around the yard. Then, just as Lisa was about to crank the car, one loud yell from Solomon’s dad echoed through the neighborhood. “Damn it, Solomon! Stop!” And everything got really quiet.
As they backed out of the driveway, Lisa eyed the house with tears trickling down her cheeks. She looked over to Clark, who had his face completely covered with his hands. His legs were shaking up and down like he couldn’t stop them and a few times on the drive to his house, she thought she heard him crying. Solomon’s world had become his, too, and it looked like she’d just destroyed it. It was all over now.
After she dropped a still-silent Clark off at home, her good-bye never met with a response, she drove back to Solomon’s and parked across the street. She stayed there, watching the dark, quiet house for over an hour. She didn’t do it because he needed her. She did it because she was afraid the farther she got from him, the better off he’d become. And despite spending most of her time thinking about leaving, Lisa wasn’t ready to go just yet.
TWENTY-SEVEN
SOLOMON REED
He’d been hitting himself like that for years, but it was the first time anyone outside of his family had seen it. Now he would always remember the looks on their faces—right after the first strike.