“Attaboy,” she said, looking down at her cards.
For the rest of the game, he kept picturing her stuck in a nursing home somewhere, sad and lonely and wishing he’d come see her, wishing he could. He was afraid of the world, afraid it would find a way to swallow him up. But, maybe everyone was sometimes. Maybe some people can just turn it off when they need to.
After his grandma left, all he could think about was growing old and running out of time, so he used the surprising rush of courage it gave him to walk back to his bedroom, dial Clark’s phone number, and wait for an answer.
“Hello.”
“Hey,” he said, his voice raspy.
“Are you okay, man?”
“I think so. I mean, yeah. I will be.”
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to say . . .”
“I bet you tried to talk her out of it,” he interrupted.
“A few times.”
“So why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was going to, then you told me how you felt and I . . . I didn’t want to make it worse.”
“Did you want to meet me or was it part of her plan or whatever?”
“I asked to meet you,” he answered. “But she told me it would help, too.”
“You want to know how I know you love her?” Solomon asked.
“How?”
“Because you kept her secret. You protected her.”
“I was protecting her and you,” Clark corrected.
“Have you talked to her?”
“No. She texts me every morning, but I haven’t answered yet.”
“Are you going to?”
“After everything she’s done?”
“Yeah.”
“Probably. How ridiculous is that?”
“Not at all,” Solomon said. “I’d forgive you for the same.”
“You know I came and got my van, right?”
“The holodeck’s not the same without it.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Do you really care or are you asking for Lisa? So she can record it in her notes?”
“I don’t know what she was thinking,” Clark said. “But I know she wanted to help you. It wasn’t just about her, man. If you can believe that.”
“I’ll work on it,” Solomon said. “I better go. Thanks for talking to me.”
“Oh. Yeah. Of course. I’m really . . .”
Solomon hung up because he knew if he heard any more, he’d start panicking. And then who knows how long it would be before he was breathing normal again and not pacing around the room or crying.
He knew eventually, when he was able to see or talk to Clark without losing his mind, that things between them would be okay. As far as Lisa was concerned, though, he wasn’t so sure when he’d be ready to see her again—or, if he’d ever be. But it made him sad to think of his life without her. She’d be like that one missing game piece that you try to forget about or replace but can never quite shake the memory of. And if he missed her this much after a week, then what would a month or a year feel like without her? Maybe he’d never have to find out. At least that’s what a big part of him was hoping.
TWENTY-EIGHT
LISA PRAYTOR
Two weeks of radio silence from Clark and Solomon had driven Lisa to a very lonely, strange place. She’d even stayed up late several nights in a row watching reruns of Star Trek: The Next Generation on cable. She liked to think that at least one of them was watching with her, or maybe they were watching together, despite everything she’d put them through. It wasn’t such a bad show, she discovered. It had some pretty cheesy parts in just about every episode, but when she was finally able to set that aside, Lisa started to see why Solomon and Clark loved it so much.
She’d fully expected Solomon to shut her out—what she’d done to him was unforgivable and she knew it could be a long time before she saw him again, if ever. But with Clark ignoring her calls and texts, Lisa was starting to worry that she’d lost him for good, too.
So, after thirteen days of restraining herself, Lisa drove over to Clark’s and marched up the stairs to the front door. She knocked three times, hoping she wouldn’t be left out there like she deserved to be. And when Clark’s dad opened the door, she couldn’t stop herself from giving him a hug.
“Oh, hi, Lisa,” he said, lightly patting her back with one hand. “Get him out of the house, will you? He’s driving me crazy.”
She walked down the hall to Clark’s half-open door and pushed it slowly, waiting for him to see her. The room smelled like him—like his deodorant and that cologne his mom bought him every Christmas. He was sitting on the floor, his back against his bed, and reading a book. When he saw her, and their eyes met, he didn’t move. For a second, she thought maybe they’d laugh or something. If they both decided to brush the whole thing off as some big joke, then maybe they’d survive it.