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9:24 p.m.
I’m receiving medical attention in the back of the ambulance as they rush me to Strouse Memorial. Sitting here reminds me of my family dying all over again. My heart is burning and I’m so pissed off at Mateo for dying before me. I don’t wanna be here, I should find a rental bike or go for a run even if breathing hurts, but I also can’t leave him like this.
I talk to the boy in the body bag about all the things we said we’d do together, but he can’t hear me.
When we reach the hospital they split us up. They take me to Intensive Care and wheel Mateo off to the morgue for observation.
My heart is burning.
9:37 p.m.
I’m in a hospital bed getting good air from an oxygen mask and checking out all the love from the Plutos on my Instagram pics. There’s no bullshit crying-face emojis, they know I’m not about that. Their messages on my last pic with Mateo are the ones that get me:
@tagoeaway: We will live it up for you, Roof! #Plutos4Life #PlutosForever
@manthony012: I love ya, bro. Catch ya at the next level. #Plutos4Life
@aimee_dubois: I love you and I’ll look for you every day. #PlutoConstellation
They don’t tell me to stay safe or nothing like that because they know what’s what, but they’re no doubt rooting for me.
They’ve left comments on all my pics, wishing they were with us at the Travel Arena and Make-A-Moment and the cemetery. Everywhere.
I open up my Plutos group chat and send them that painful text: Mateo is dead.
Their condolences spill in mad fast, it’s dizzying. They don’t ask for details, and I bet Tagoe is really fighting that urge to ask how it happened. I’m relieved he doesn’t.
I need to close my eyes for a bit. Not a long time because I don’t have that. But in case I don’t wake up because of some complication, I shoot them one last text: Whatever happens to me, scatter me at Althea. Orbit each other so damn hard. I love you.
10:02 p.m.
I snap awake from the nightmare. Nightmare-Mateo was completely ablaze, blaming me for his death, telling me he would’ve never died if he hadn’t met me. It sears into my mind, but I shake it off as nothing but a nightmare because Mateo would never blame anyone for anything.
Mateo is dead.
That was no way for him to go out. Mateo should’ve gone out saving someone, because he was such a selfless person. No, even if he didn’t die a hero’s death, he died a hero.
Mateo Torrez definitely saved me.
LIDIA VARGAS
10:10 p.m.
Lidia is home on her couch, eating comfort candy, letting Penny stay awake. Lidia’s grandmother has gone to bed, exhausted from watching Penny, and Penny herself is winding down. She isn’t cranky or whining, almost as if she knows to give her mother a break.
Lidia’s phone rings. It’s the same number Mateo called her from before, Rufus’s. She answers: “Mateo!”
Penny looks at the door, but doesn’t find Mateo.
Lidia waits for his voice, but he doesn’t say anything.
“. . . Rufus?” Lidia’s heart races and she closes her eyes.
“Yeah.”
It’s happened.
