Daddy

by Jack Harbon

  Mateo walked to the fridge and pulled it open, searching for something good to eat. He noticed a small Styrofoam box and peeked inside, the smell of fried rice wafting into the air. Normally he would have loved that, but he wanted something simple today. He grabbed a peach from the bottom shelf and rinsed it off in the sink. As he ate, the boy wandered the kitchen, curiously poking around here and there.

  Beside the fridge, he found a picture of Arthur and a man who looked just like him. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the other man was Arthur’s brother Joseph. They looked identical, that same knowing twinkle in Arthur’s eyes making an appearance in his brother’s. They looked happy together.

  As Mateo returned to the couch, Clementine watched him carefully. “Hey, he said I could be over here without him.” She looked at the peach in his hand and sniffed. “Okay, okay, I’ll buy him a new one if he gets mad.”

  Mateo could hardly believe he had to explain himself to a dog. She turned her attention onto something else and he turned his back onto the television. Now that all the wine had been thrown, the ladies started tossing plates and screaming at one another. He tried focusing, but every so often he heard Clementine scratching at the floor, and he quickly became distracted.

  “What is it?” he asked, standing up.

  He tossed the rest of the peach in the trash and rinsed his hands off in the sink. While squatting down in front of the dog, he patted his hands dry on his denim jeans. Clementine continued scraping at the ground, and he looked down to see what was bothering her. He remembered this spot. He’d tripped over it during the first night he’d visited Arthur. The loose plank in the floorboards. Mateo pulled it up and jumped back when a spider came scuttling out. Clementine barked and chased after it.

  “Clementine, no,” Mateo called out. She backed away far enough for him to step on the spider. He twisted his ankle back and forth to make sure the thing was dead. Repulsed by the fact that it was smashed against his sock, he removed them both and rolled them into a ball. He’d wash them when he got home.

  Mateo started to return the plank when he glanced down. There were two large envelopes in the space underneath. Curiosity got the better of him, and he pulled them both out. He folded his legs and opened the lighter one first.

  Inside he found a collection of pictures of a woman. Some of the shots were taken from far away while others were up close, like the photographer knew her. She was beautiful, with brown tresses just past her shoulders. Every now and then she’d wear a ponytail with the end curled. Whoever she was, she was gorgeous.

  Mateo paused when he found a picture of her and two children. They were both kissing her on the cheeks. They had to be her kids. His smile faded when he began wondering why Arthur had these hidden under the floor. In between the photographs, he found a check for five thousand dollars. He made a face and flipped it over. On the back were the words,

  “Finish it.”

  “Finish it?” he read aloud, his eyebrows knit together. He placed the pictures and check down and reached for the heavier manila envelope. He tipped it upside down and something dense and black came tumbling out. “Jesus,” he gasped, turning away when he recognized it as a gun.

  Mateo sat still for a moment, his stomach twisted in a knot. He reached out for the weapon, careful to keep his fingers away from the trigger. He’d never seen one in real life before. It was a lot heavier than he imagined it to be. They’d always seemed pretty light on TV.

  Behind him, the lock on the door twisted. Mateo was still looking at the gun when Arthur said, “Oh! What’re you doing on the floor?”

  Mateo turned around when he heard Arthur approaching. Like the flick of a light switch, the smile on Arthur’s face disappeared. His lips were pressed in a thin line, and he glanced between Mateo and the envelopes on the ground.

  “What are you doing?” he asked again.

  “I found this. Clementine—she—there was a spider,” he stumbled, placing the gun down and backing away. Arthur dropped to his knees, placed his carryout bag to the side, and stuffed the contents back inside the proper envelopes.

  “I didn’t mean to—”

  “Get out,” Arthur said simply.

  Mateo sat stunned, unsure how to respond to that. He wasn’t sure what the man’s problem was, but he knew Arthur had never used this tone with him.

  “I’m sorry I went through your stuff, I just didn’t know what—”

  “I said, get out,” Arthur said in a low, deep voice.

  It sent chills down Mateo’s spine. For the first time since their first date, Mateo felt truly afraid. He pushed himself off of the floor and grabbed his shoes, tugging them on. He walked to the door, Arthur’s presence behind him all too noticeable. He wanted to turn around and say something, but each time he came up with the words, he was reminded of the cold chill that ran over him. There was a rage in Arthur’s voice, and now with the proximity of the man behind him, he felt unsafe. He shouldn’t have felt that way, not around someone he cared about.

  Mateo reached for the knob, opening the door and walking out to the hall. As he turned to say goodbye, the door was promptly slammed in his face.

  Mateo stared at the apartment number, his mind reeling. Crying felt right, but he was too stunned, too caught off guard, to feel anything other than confusion. What was all of that stuff under the floorboard about? What was Arthur supposed to finish? Why had Arthur’s entire demeanor changed so quickly?

  These questions weighed heavy on Mateo’s mind as he pedaled home.

  18

  GET IT TOGETHER

  “A gun?” Valerie repeated, skepticism written across her face. Mateo nodded and stirred his milkshake solemnly. He could barely believe it himself. He would have kept it all to himself, were it not for the fact that Valerie and Rob nearly beat the information out of him.

  “So, he had a gun, a check for five grand, and a bunch of creep shots of some random white woman in his floorboards,” Rob said, thinking out loud. He made a snorting noise and shook his head. “Sounds to me like he’s a weirdo.”

  Valerie reached out and slapped his shoulder, the French fry in his hand falling back down onto the plate.

  “What?” he whined.

  “He already feels bad enough,” she hissed.

  “It’s fine,” Mateo sighed. “I just feel really weird about this situation. The check said, ‘finish it.’ Like someone was giving him that money to off the woman or something.”

  “What’d she look like?” Valerie asked.

  “Was she hot?” Rob added.

  “She was really pretty. Green eyes, brown hair, and that ageless look TV moms have. I should have taken a picture. We could’ve found out who she was or something. I don’t know.”

  Mateo ran his hands through his hair and sighed. All of this was starting to give him a migraine. All he wanted to do was call Arthur and get to the bottom of things. That wasn’t going to happen, though. No matter how many times he hit redial, all he heard was Arthur’s voice telling him to leave a message after the tone.

  “Are we for real talking about this guy being a killer?” Rob asked, looking between the two of his friends. They were both silent. “I guess that answers that.”

  “On the positive side, this might mean your boyfriend has a different kind of body count,” Valerie offered. Mateo wanted to laugh, but all he could think about was the possibility that this might be real. It sounded too soap opera for him. He may have enjoyed watching drama on TV, but Sami Brady he was not.

  “Have you asked him what all of that stuff was about? Maybe it was a late April Fools’ prank?” Rob asked.

  “No, and it’s worrying me,” Mateo said. “I’ve called him like fifteen times and he’s yet to answer a single one. The fact that I can’t reach him is making me even more worried. What if something bad happened to him?”

  “I’m sorry, Matty,” Valerie said, reaching out to hold his hand. Rob nodded at him as well, offering his own form of reassurance.

&n
bsp; “Thanks, guys. I haven’t had anyone to talk to for the past week. My mom doesn’t know about any of this, and you two are the only people I’ve even told. It just sucks not being able to be honest.”

  “One of these days you can tell your mom you’ve got a man,” Rob said, hope in his voice.

  “I might not have him for very long,” Mateo muttered.

  The three of them stayed in the diner until nine, ordering more food and talking about something other than the situation with Arthur. Valerie told a story about how her parents had recently caught her sister Jessie with a boy in her room, and Rob talked about the video game he was working on. He’d been at a friend’s house for the past two days coming up with a few character designs, and now he was in the process of writing the actual story of the game.

  This was all the perfect distraction for Mateo, but when the group split up and he made his way back to his apartment, he was left alone with his thoughts of Arthur. The man was all that had been on his mind for the past three months. Suddenly going a week without talking to him felt weird. He pulled out his phone and tried his number again, hoping that just maybe he’d finally answer.

  The phone rang and rang and rang, but he never picked up. Trying not to sound too annoyed, Mateo said, “Arthur, I really wish you’d answer my calls. We need to talk about some things, and not being able to reach you is really scaring me. Please call me back, okay?” He sighed and hung up his phone.

  While he walked, he adjusted the strap of his bag, looking around the relatively empty street. Mateo took this one because there was less traffic and he didn’t have to worry about being run over or cars zooming by without a second thought. Just as he turned his attention back to the sidewalk, a black car pulled up alongside him. He made a face and continued walking, trying to pay the car no mind. It was easier said than done.

  The car kept pace with him, and he could feel the hair on his arms stand up. It was foolish to be afraid, but all the talk about hitmen and murders had him on edge. Was the driver following him? Was it Arthur, getting ready to take him out? But just as quickly as the ideas popped into his head, the sedan pulled around the corner and disappeared.

  Mateo scolded himself for being so stupid, eventually laughing and shaking his head. “Get it together,” he whispered.

  He rounded the corner, suddenly running into someone.

  “Jesus, sorry,” Mateo apologized, stepping back to look up at the man. He recognized Mr. Estes immediately.

  “This is what I get for texting and walking,” the older man laughed.

  “Honestly it was my fault. I was kind of distracted. There was this weird car that I thought was following me,” he explained.

  “In this neighborhood, that doesn’t surprise me. You be safe, okay?”

  “You too!” he said, and the two of them continued on their way.

  Suddenly, Mr. Estes said, “Oh, by the way, I just remembered that I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

  Mateo looked back. “What’s up?”

  “It’s actually about the painting class you’ve been doing.” By the tone of Mr. Estes’ voice, this wasn’t going to end very well. “Things have been hard at the store. We’ve tried everything we can, but business isn’t like it used to be. Just last night we had a break in. Someone came in and took all the money from the registers.”

  Mateo covered his mouth. “Are you serious?”

  “Unfortunately. I don’t know how much longer we’re going to be able to keep this all running. Right now, I just want to put my hands up and tell God to deal with it. Let Him worry about running the store. I have to focus on Valentina and the baby.”

  “Do you know how much longer the store will be open?”

  Mr. Estes shrugged, smiling sadly. “I have no idea. We’ll try to keep it up for as long as we can, but I can’t make any promises. I just wanted you to be aware. I love having you teach those kids. Almost as much as they love you. But it might be time to start looking at other side jobs, just in case. I don’t want you empty-handed taking care of your pops and all.”

  Mateo nodded, trying not to let his disappointment show. He could see that Mr. Estes was already upset about this, and he didn’t want to project his sadness onto him as well. Instead, he said, “Thanks for letting me know. And if there’s anything I can do to help with the store, you just have to tell me. I don’t mind it at all.”

  Mr. Estes clapped a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You’re a good kid, you know that? If I come up with something, I’ll let you know. Get home safe, okay?”

  “You too.”

  Mateo watched Mr. Estes disappear before he began walking home again. What the hell was with this week? First Arthur kicking him out, and now Design Depot possibly going out of business? Clearly, he’d angered some higher power because luck was the last thing on his side.

  Mateo made it back to his apartment to find his mother on the couch, watching TV. He pecked her on the cheek and took a seat next to her.

  “You seem upset,” she said, her eyes glued to the television. She was watching some talent show, and the guy on stage was juggling flaming bottles.

  “I ran into Mr. Estes and he told me Design Depot might be closing. I’ll be losing so much money. I don’t know how I’m going to do this,” he groaned, covering his face with his hands.

  “Mateo,” she said, pulling him into her arms. “I have a job now. If it means we both have to work more hours, we’re going to do that. We’re going to cut back on food expenses. I’ll even find a second job if I need to. You, though? You’ve done more than I could ever ask. So, don’t you stress yourself about this, okay? You hear me?”

  Mateo took her hand and laced his fingers through it, looking up into the woman’s sincere brown eyes. “I hear you,” he said.

  “Okay. Besides, I need to talk about something else.”

  “Here we go,” he said, smirking.

  Amira swatted his shoulder. “Don’t make me spank you, boy. Anyway. We hardly see each other anymore, and when we do, it’s all talk about money. I want to have nights like we did when it was you, me, and...” Amira let the sentence fall away. They never talked about Angel anymore, and honestly, Mateo didn’t mind. He didn’t like talking about him. It had been almost torture telling Arthur.

  “Let’s change that,” he suggested. “We’ll have days where it’s just you and me again. We’ll go out to eat during our lunch breaks or something. Like we used to do. How’s that sound?”

  Amira squeezed him tight, rubbing his upper back. “That sounds amazing, mijito. That sounds amazing.”

  19

  EXPENDABLE

  Hearing the same voicemail was starting to get on Mateo’s nerves.

  “Hey, this is Arthur. Leave a message and I’ll try to get back to you.”

  Over and over and over. He hadn’t heard the man’s actual voice in over a week, just the recorded sound of him telling callers that he’d get back to them. It was a lie, though. Mateo couldn’t count the number of times he’d called only to get no response. He wasn’t trying to get back to him. He was never going to call back.

  The thought left a bitter taste in Mateo’s mouth. He had tried to be understanding. It was insane to entertain the idea that Arthur was running around killing people, but what else did he have to work with? If it wasn’t that, he’d have no real grasp on why the man had gone silent.

  “Hey, this is Arthur, leave a message and I’ll try to get back to you.”

  Mateo ended the call and threw his phone at the pile of clothes in the corner of his room. If Arthur didn’t want to talk, he wouldn’t call anymore. He wasn’t a needy person—they’d gone days without speaking to one another before—but this was different. Mateo needed to talk to the man. He needed some kind of explanation. An explanation as to why he’d been shouted at and cast aside, banished from all forms of contact.

  Part of Mateo wanted to break into Arthur’s home and see just what was going on. He climbed out of bed without a secon
d thought and began tearing open drawers and looking inside of pencil holders for Arthur’s key. He wasn’t sure where he last had it, but it was still somewhere in his possession. If he could find it, he could see what was going on.

  Reality kicked back in and Mateo gave up his search. He closed the drawers and took a seat on his bed, cupping his face, his elbows pressing into his knees. If Arthur was some kind of hired assassin, he’d have changed the locks by now. He’d have moved those items from under the floor. Hell, for all Mateo knew, he was calling a phone that sat on the floor of a now-empty loft. The thought of Arthur skipping town without a goodbye made his stomach churn.

  Mateo couldn’t think things like that. He had to be positive. He rubbed his face a few times, standing when he heard his name called. He walked to his mother’s room and poked his head inside.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Could you get my pills for me?” Amira asked. Mateo nodded and headed to the kitchen, opening one of the top cabinets to grab the sleeping medication. She always told him that when these bad boys kicked in, she was out like a light. At this point, Mateo needed to have these pills pumped into his body through a tube. Anything to clear his mind and give him some kind of peace.

  He returned to their room and uncapped the bottle, shaking one little tablet out. He placed it in Amira’s palm and put the bottle on the nightstand. Before she could ask, he filled her glass with water. Mateo spotted his father asleep with a pen and a pad of paper in his hand. Curious, he wiggled the pad free and set the pen aside.

  “What’s this?” he asked his mother. Amira shrugged, her mouth full of water. Mateo skimmed over it, trying to make sense of all the questions. What is a color TV? What is Antarctica? Who is Michelle Obama? He turned the pad of paper towards his mother and she read it. “It’s just a bunch of questions. Doesn’t make sense.”

  Amira looked at the questions twice before she smiled. “He was playing Jeopardy.” Mateo read the paper again and laughed.