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“How’s the kitty?” Small talk before and after shifts is encouraged by the D-C administrators; mini-opportunities to connect with those in possession of tomorrows.
“Still a kitty,” Andrea says.
“Cool.”
The elevator arrives. Victor and Andrea get on and Victor quickly presses Close so he doesn’t have to share the elevator with some of his coworkers who do nothing but ramble on about things that don’t matter, like celebrity gossip and bad TV, on their way to basically ruin someone’s life. Victor and Delilah call them “Switches” and they both hate that people like them exist.
His phone buzzes inside his pocket. He tries not psyching himself into thinking Delilah is calling and his heart races when he reads her name. “It’s her,” Victor tells Andrea, turning to her as if she’s in the know. She’s as interested in his life as he is in her new kitty. He answers the phone: “Delilah! Hi.” A little desperate, sure, but this is love we’re talking about.
“Did you do it, Victor?”
“Do what?”
“Don’t mess with me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The End Day call. Did you have someone harass me because you’re pissed? If you did, I won’t report you. Just tell me now and we can forget about it.”
Victor’s spirit drops as he reaches the tenth floor. “You got the alert?” Andrea was about to get out, but stays on the elevator. Victor doesn’t know if she’s staying because she’s concerned or interested, and he doesn’t care. Victor knows Delilah isn’t playing with his head. He can always tell when she’s lying by the tone of her voice, and he knows she’s accusing him of an actual threat she most certainly would report him for. “Delilah.”
Delilah is quiet on the other end.
“Delilah, where are you?”
“Althea,” she says.
The diner where they met—she still loves him, he knew it.
“Don’t move, okay? I’m coming.” He presses Close again, trapping Andrea in there with him. He presses Lobby thirty-something times, even as the elevator is already descending.
“I wasted the day,” Delilah cries. “I thought . . . I’m so stupid, I’m so fucking stupid. I wasted the day.”
“You’re not stupid, you’re going to be okay.” Victor has never lied to a Decker before today. Oh shit, Delilah is a Decker. The elevator stops on the second floor and he bursts out, running down the stairs, losing cell service as he does so. He runs through the lobby, telling Delilah how much he loves her and how he’s on his way. He checks his watch: two hours, exactly, but for all he knows, it could be over in two minutes.
Victor gets i
n his car and speeds to Althea.
RUFUS
10:14 p.m.
The last photo I’m throwing up on Instagram is the one of me with my Last Friend. It’s the one we took in his bedroom where I’m wearing his glasses and he’s squinting and we’re smiling because we won some happiness before I lost him. I scroll through all my pictures, mad grateful for the pops of color Mateo gave me on our End Day.
The nurse wants me to stay in bed, but it’s not only in my Decker rights to refuse assistance, there’s no way in hell I’m camping out here when I gotta see Mateo’s father.
I have less than two hours to live and I can’t think of a better way to spend that time than respecting Mateo’s final request to meet his father, but for real this time. I gotta meet the man who raised Mateo into the dude I fell in love with in less than a day.
I head to the eighth floor with the insistent nurse. Yeah, she’s well intentioned and wants to assist, I get it. I just don’t have much patience in me right now. I don’t even hesitate when I get to the room. I march in.
Mateo’s father isn’t exactly what I pictured Mateo would look like in the future, but close enough. He’s still sound asleep, completely unaware that his son won’t be around to welcome him home if he ever wakes up. I don’t even know what’s left of their home. Hopefully the firefighters stopped the fire from spreading.
“Hey, Mr. Torrez.” I sit down beside him. The same seat Mateo was in when he was singing earlier. “I’m Rufus and I was Mateo’s Last Friend. I managed to get him out of the house, I don’t know if he told you that. He was really brave.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and I’m relieved when it powers on. “I’m sure you’re really proud of him and you knew he had it in him all along. I’ve only known him for a day and I’m really proud of him too. I got to watch him grow up into the person he always wanted to be.”
I scroll through the photos I took from the beginning of the day, skipping over the ones from my time before meeting Mateo and starting with my first color photo. “We did a lot of living today.” I give him the full recap as I go from photo to photo: a sneaky shot of Mateo in Wonderland, which I never got to show him; the two of us dressed up like aviators at Make-A-Moment, where we went “skydiving”; the graveyard of pay phones where we discussed mortality; Mateo sleeping on the train, holding his Lego sanctuary; Mateo sitting inside his half-dug grave; the Open Bookstore window, minutes before we survived an explosion; that dude riding my bike I no longer wanted because Mateo was scared it would be the death of us, but not after one first and last ride together; adventures in the Travel Arena; outside of Clint’s Graveyard, where Mateo and I sang and danced and kissed and ran for our lives; Mateo jumping around on his bed for me; and our last photo together, me in Mateo’s glasses and he’s squinting but so damn happy.
I’m happy too. Even now when I’m destroyed again, Mateo repaired me.
