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 that make you feel?”
“I never said it was right. But do you really think that’s all it was? You don’t need to spend every day with someone just to write a few paragraphs, Solomon.”
“Then she tells me Clark’s gay, that she’s sure of it, and of course—he isn’t after all, and now I’m back to where I started and I wish I hadn’t met either of them in the first place. That would make this better.”
“You must really miss them,” she said, stone-faced.
“I do.”
“Let me tell you something,” she said. “I spent a good part of my life being unhappy. I was stuck in my shitty little hometown for longer than I thought I could take. But I got out. It was life or death. And that decision led to every good thing that ever happened to me. Now, I don’t know what you want your life to look like. And I won’t pretend to understand what it feels like when you’re at your worst. I can’t imagine how awful it must be. But, I know what it’s like to constantly think about a life you aren’t living. That’s exactly how I felt when I was sixteen and if there was anything I could have done about it, I would have. I know it’s easier said than done. I know that. But, you have to try, Solomon. Just look at me. The older I get, the smaller my world gets. And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it, either. Life is short, kiddo. You have to at least try to live it before you end up where I am—counting down the days till they decide to put you somewhere you can’t escape from. That’s what I have to look forward to, you know? Having someone else wipe my ass in some place full of dying people.”
“Good lord, Grandma.”
“Now look at yourself,” she said. “Young and smart. This world could be anything you want it to be. Maybe my time’s running out, but at least I’m living. And if that’s what this is for you, being here inside where nothing ever happens, where you think you’re safe, then stay. Stay right here and you let me know how that works for you. Because I’m guessing it’ll never really be enough.”
“Maybe not.”
“I think you can do it,” she said. “And you’ve got plenty of time before I wither away and die to prove me right.”
“You said you’ve got what, like twenty years left?”
“At least. I quit smoking in the eighties, so maybe twenty-five or thirty. You’ll have your father’s hairline by then, no doubt.”
“Okay. Fine. I promise I’ll go outside before you kick it.”