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“Changing it up today. Last chance and all that.” He puts the menu down and looks up at Rae. “What do you suggest?”
“What, did you get the alert or something?” Her laughter is short-lived. She turns to me and I lower my head until she crouches beside us. “No way.” She drops her pen and notepad onto the table. “Are you boys okay? Sick? You’re not pranking me for a free meal, are you?”
Rufus shakes his head. “Nah, not kidding. I come here a lot and wanted to roll through one last time.”
“Are you seriously thinking about food right now?”
Rufus leans over and reads her pin. “Rae. What should I try?”
Rae hides behind her hand, shakes he
r shoulders, and mutters, “I don’t know. Don’t you just want the Everything Special? It has fries, sliders, eggs, sirloin, pasta . . . I mean, it has everything you could want that we have in the kitchen.”
“No way I’m gonna eat all that. What’s your favorite meal here?” Rufus asks. “Please don’t say fish.”
“I like the grilled chicken salad, but that’s because I eat like a bird.”
“I’ll have that,” Rufus decides. He looks at me. “What do you want, Mateo?”
I don’t even bother looking at the menu. “I’ll have whatever your usual is.” Like him, I’m hoping it’s not fish.
“You don’t even know what it is.”
“As long as it’s not chicken tenders it’ll be something new for me.”
Rufus nods. He points to a couple items on the menu and Rae tells us she’ll return shortly, then rushes away so quickly she leaves behind her pen and notepad. We overhear Rae telling the chef to make our order priority number one because “there are Deckers at the table.” Not sure who our competition is—the guy in the back already drinking his coffee while he reads his newspaper? But I do appreciate Rae’s heart, and I wonder if Andrea at Death-Cast was once like her before the job killed her compassion.
“Can I ask you something?” I say to Rufus.
“Don’t waste your breath on questions like that. Just come out and say whatever you want,” he says.
He’s coming on a little strong, but good call.
“Why did you tell Rae we’re dying? Doesn’t that screw with her day?”
“I guess. But dying is screwing with my day and there isn’t anything I can do about it,” Rufus says.
“I’m not telling Lidia I’m dying,” I say.
“That makes no sense. Don’t be a monster. You have a chance to say goodbye, you should do it.”
“I don’t want to ruin Lidia’s day. She’s a single mom and she’s already had a rough time since her boyfriend died.” Maybe I’m not actually so selfless—maybe not telling her is really selfish, but I can’t bring myself to do it, because how do you tell your best friend you won’t be around tomorrow? How do you convince her to let you leave so you have a chance of living before you die?
I push back against my seat, pretty disgusted with myself.
“If that’s your call, I back it. I don’t know if she’ll resent you or not, you know her best. But look, we gotta stop caring about how others will react to our deaths and stop second-guessing ourselves.”
“What if by not second-guessing our actions we end ourselves?” I ask. “Don’t you have little freak-outs wondering if life was better before Death-Cast?”
This question is suffocating.
“Was it better?” Rufus asks. “Maybe. Yes. No. The answer doesn’t matter or change anything. Just let it go, Mateo.”
He’s right. I am doing this to myself. I’m holding myself back. I’ve spent years living safely to secure a longer life, and look where that’s gotten me. I’m at the finish line, but I never ran the race.
Rae returns with drinks, hands a grilled chicken salad to Rufus, and places sweet potato fries and French toast in front of me. “If there’s anything else I can get you boys please just shout for me. Even if I’m in the back or with another customer, I’m yours.” We thank her but I can tell she’s hesitant about walking away, almost as if she wants to scoot down next to one of us and just talk some more. But she collects herself and walks away.
Rufus taps my plate with his fork. “How’s my usual looking for you?”
