The Soloist

A fictional short-short story

Freepik

Lenny was average in all respects except one: He usually preferred to be alone.

In preschool, his teacher said, “I’m worried about Lenny. He doesn’t interact much with the other kids. Might you want to test him for autism?” Of course, his parents freaked, but no, Lenny wasn’t autistic. He just preferred his own company: building Lego towers by himself, painting by himself and, yes, reading by himself. By age 4, Lenny had already taught himself to read — His favorite book: Ping, about a duck who swam away from the group.

In elementary school, the school psychologist “diagnosed” him as having “social anxiety disorder” and laid out a three-page Individualized Education Plan (IEP) detailing orders for Lenny, his teacher, schoolyard supervisors, and parents. Lenny was scared but didn’t believe any of it and so refused for example, to “be placed in situations in which he receives progressive exposure to ever more demanding social situations.” Lenny shook his head — “Bullshit. I just prefer my own company.”

In college, Lenny did, for example, play intramural basketball but when games were over, he didn’t hang out with the others. “I preferred watching movies, reading, and studying over alcohol-soaked small talk.” After class and extracurriculars, Lenny usually went back to his dorm room, a single, even though it cost more. “I couldn’t stand the noise and smell of roommates, with them often pressuring me to “par-tay” or “asking” whether I mind if he brought a sexual partner over to spend the night.

Lenny got a master’s in library science and became an archivist, usually working at home if not at the university library basement. Many of his coworkers were getting married — Lenny noted their frequent use of negative terms: “I’m getting hitched, “tying the knot” “taking the plunge,” even “funeral for two.”

Lenny’s commitment to staying unhitched was strengthened on hearing many stories of wedded bliss having devolved into overwhelmed parenthood and/or clawing divorce. When he saw a movie, book, or song romanticizing marriage, he scoffed. Examples of such songs: Frank Sinatra’s “Love and Marriage,” Stevie Wonder’s “Signed, Sealed, Delivered, Etta James’ “At Last, John Legend’s “All of Me,” Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect,” and Train’s “Marry Me. ” Lenny much preferred being able to choose what to do, down to what temperature to keep the bedroom, without having to often give in to a wife or be restricted by children’s endless needs, not to mention the enormous costs of raising a child, not even counting college, let alone graduate school.

When Lenny reached 70, he started noticing articles about how to live longer. Often recommended: Be social: “People with relationships live longer.” Again he scoffed: “They’re confusing correlation with causation. The pool of healthy people is more social because they’re feeling good. The sick aren’t and/or are suffering mental decline and would be embarrassed to be with people. Health causes socialness, not the other way around.”

At 93, Lenny was in the hospital, on his deathbed. No surprise, he had few visitors. In the room’s other bed was a woman who had a nonstop procession of visitors, who often asked the nurses’ questions, a tactful way of monitoring them. Maybe that’s why she seemed to get better care. Lenny would have preferred more care but, as he reflected on his life, felt that was a small price to pay for life as a soloist.

I read this aloud on YouTube.

Marty Nemko isn’t as extreme as Lenny but does enjoy a lot of alone time. When not alone, Marty does enjoy his work as a career and personal coach, and as a writer. His 36 books include — no surprise — Soloists: short-short stories of people who tried to make it on their own. You can reach Marty at mnemko@gmail.com