by Jack Harbon
He tossed it down onto the table and clicked off his father’s lamp. Sergio had started sleeping better, and he really didn’t want to wake him just to say goodnight. Mateo walked to his mother and kissed her on the cheek. “Goodnight, Mami. Sleep well.”
“You too,” she said, cupping his face. Mateo heard her lamp click off when he closed the bedroom door. Just to make sure that his siblings were all asleep as well, he cracked their door and snooped. The little ones were already snoring, and Tomas was reading a book by flashlight. The boys nodded at one another and Mateo left his brother to it.
It was quiet in the apartment. Mateo couldn’t stand it. All week long, that’s how things had been. Quiet. Silent. It was slowly driving him mad. He tossed a bag of popcorn in the microwave and leaned against the counter, waiting for it to finish.
As he removed a bowl from the cabinet, Mateo decided he was tired of the silence. He wanted noise. He emptied the bag and carried the bowl to the living room, opening his laptop when he was situated in bed. Giddiness swelled in his chest, and for a moment, he was hesitant. Could he really do this? Did he want to? He couldn’t give a definitive answer, and he decided that it didn’t matter. He was going to do this, not chicken out and spend the rest of the night munching on popcorn and waiting for Arthur to make him a priority again.
SweetDates.com.
Typing out the site felt dirty. It gave him a sense of sliminess that confused him. He shouldn’t have felt this way about the website. After all, he’d met Arthur there. Arthur. The man who took him to Vegas, and back in the hotel room, took him somewhere else completely. The man who could discuss a business plan from start to finish and make it sound like the sexiest thing in the world. He was damn near perfect. And he was nowhere to be found.
Mateo was tired of waiting. He wasn’t a spiteful person, but this felt like something he had to do. It gave him that momentary satisfaction that only revenge could. It was an addictive sin.
He’d found a way to stop the notifications on his phone, but he’d never deleted his account. When he logged in and glanced at the little message icon, he almost had a heart attack. There were over a hundred messages. Many were from the same people, bugging him, trying to get in contact and meet up with him. It was sexy, he had to admit. He’d never been this wanted before, and he liked the idea. There were still the users that lacked tact, who only wanted him for lackluster sex in the middle of the night, but even those now flattered him.
Kind of…
Why shouldn’t he enjoy feeling desired? Why did Arthur get to hold the top spot? Why was he the only one to succeed in putting a blush on Mateo’s face and making him feel special? These questions were what Mateo used to rationalize his actions as he opened one of the messages.
“It’s good to see that people are still reading. I know I’m not a sprite young man, but I would love to take you out to dinner and get to know each other a little bit more. If we don’t work out, no harm done. Let me know if you’re interested.
- Gregory”
Gregory was fifty-three, an anesthesiologist, and looking for someone to spoil. He wore his hair short, a sprinkle of grays through his brown locks, and he had a strong jaw with a thick beard. He was complete wank material, the ideal daddy for any self-respecting sugar baby. And that was what Mateo was, wasn’t he?
Arthur had made him feel special. Arthur had made himself out to be a boyfriend. Now that he’d dropped all contact, he’d made Mateo out to be expendable. What loyalty did Mateo have to this guy when there were plenty of other people that were willing to talk to him and not shut him out without so much as an explanation?
“Fuck it,” Mateo said, licking his lips.
“I know I’m completely late getting back to you, I’m so sorry. I kind of forgot that I’d even signed up for this site. But I’d love to go on a date. You seem like you know how to have fun, and I can’t say no to fun! What time works best for you? Let me know, I can’t wait to meet.
- Mateo”
He pressed send and let out a deep breath. He felt like he was blindfolded and being spun around, left to stumble in whatever direction he chose. At least in this direction, he was heading towards someone who knew how this thing went. He’d need to come up with new terms. No romantic feelings. That shit wasn’t going to fly. He wasn’t letting it happen again. He’d given his heart to one man and look where that had landed him.
The pile of clothing in the corner buzzed, and he crawled across the bed to pull his phone from it. Valerie.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Any word from him yet?” Instead of answering, Mateo just snorted. “Damn,” she mumbled.
“I’m not surprised. You know more than anyone else how guys are. Put out and they kick you out right after,” he said darkly. Valerie sighed.
“Don’t be like that.”
“Like what? Realistic?”
“Negative,” she said. “I know, it’s frustrating, but you can’t give up. Whatever it is, it’s obviously important. Would he have just disappeared completely for no reason? I mean, going MIA after getting some ass is basically fuckboy protocol. Arthur doesn’t seem like the type to do that.”
“Val, he’s completely shut me out. He won’t answer my calls, he ignored me when I went to his place, all of it. Why is he ignoring me?” All of that spite from moments before, the bitter front he’d put on, cracked, and for a moment, a flicker of Mateo’s pain was unmasked. “What did I do to deserve being shut out permanently?”
“I’m sorry, Matty,” she said softly. “We’re going to figure this out, okay?”
“How?”
“I...I don’t know. I have no clue. But we’re going to do this. I’m going to help you. Rob is going to help you. You have to trust me.”
Mateo nodded, and squeezed his eyes, refusing to cry. No, he told himself, you don’t cry over boys. You don’t cry over men, either. No crying. No crying.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you too. Tomorrow we’ll meet up and figure out a plan, okay?”
“Alright. I’ll see you then.” Mateo hung up the phone and tried to smile a little. Hope wasn’t lost. He had people supporting him, people standing behind him no matter what. If all of this went south, he found comfort in knowing that he would always have his friends.
He glanced at his computer and felt ill. Gregory didn’t deserve to be treated like this. Mateo knew deep in his heart that he wasn’t interested in the man. He was only angry at Arthur. Rather than leading him on, Mateo made his way to the account tab and deleted his profile. This had been a bad idea.
The act made him even more upset with Arthur. Even when he was being avoided like he was something unpleasant, Mateo still couldn’t quit him. It made him feel like a sap, a fly caught in a sticky web, waiting patiently to be devoured. He was pissed, hurt even, and yet here he was, still thinking of the other man’s feelings. How would he feel if he found out that Mateo had gone out with another man?
This wasn’t healthy. Mateo refused to become the person who did things like this just to hurt someone else.
Still feeling grimy from the website, he climbed into the shower and washed the guilt off. He changed into his sleeping clothes and set up his easel. He thought for a moment, imagining his previous painting. It was the one he’d done after visiting SweetDates for the first time. One big happy candy family with a sugar daddy front and center. That picture had been sweet, no pun intended.
Mateo dipped his brush into the paint and began creating the sister piece to that one. Thirty minutes later, he’d created a perfect, rotting, sugar-ruined tooth.
20
SANA, SANA
This was a last-ditch effort and Mateo knew it. He and Nicola weren’t close like she and Arthur were, but he hoped that he’d be able to coax some information out of her. As he walked home from work a few days later, he dialed her number, waiting patiently for her to answer. There was a moment of ringing before she picked up.
“If it
isn’t my favorite baby,” she said warmly. Just hearing her voice made Mateo feel that much better.
“Hey, Nicola. I meant to call you sooner, but life has just been… A lot, I’ll say that.”
“Everything okay?”
Mateo hesitated for a moment. “Not really, actually,” he said. He crossed the street and headed up to his apartment. His mother had taken the kids and his aunt Rosie out to the movies tonight. He was very thankful for that. “Have you heard from Arthur lately, by any chance?”
“I haven’t. It’s April, though, so...”
Mateo made a face and closed his front door. “It is April. What’s so special about that?”
“Um…” There was a pause on the other end of the line. Finally, Nicola said, “It’s not really my place to talk about it, but Arthur goes quiet this time of the year. It used to really scare me, and he never told me why he did it, but it usually happens in April and May.”
Mateo didn’t know what to think of this information. He wasn’t sure whether to be angry that Arthur hadn’t told him about this or concerned for the man. All he knew was that something was wrong, and Arthur wasn’t talking to him about it. “We haven’t done much talking since we got back from Vegas,” he said. “The last time I spoke with him, he kicked me out. That was two weeks ago. Well, almost three weeks, now.”
“What happened?”
Mateo cringed. He didn’t want to tell on Arthur. Not to his best friend. “Uh, I accidentally found some really personal items of his, and he told me to get out. It was really weird. And I’ve called him like a hundred times, but he’s ignoring all of my calls.”
“What kind of items?”
“Just some...stuff. I don’t even know what all of it was.”
“Ah,” she said. He could hear the skepticism in her voice, but she didn’t push the issue. “Well, I’m going to call him in a minute, and I’ll let you know if I hear from him, alright?”
“That would be amazing,” Mateo said. “Thank you.”
“It’s not a problem at all. You take care of yourself, darling.”
Mateo hung up the phone and put it down on the coffee table. He picked at his cuticles absently for a moment, lost in his own mind. He’d originally thought Arthur was avoiding him, but if he hadn’t even talked to his best friend, something was seriously wrong. Suddenly that thought of him skipping town and leaving his phone in the living room sounded much more feasible.
It also made him even more upset. He’d seen plenty of romantic dramas before. Wasn’t the love interest supposed to leave behind a token for the main character to remember him by? Mateo had nothing but a closet full of clothing to be sentimental about. It was an unfair trade-off.
Rather than dwelling on something he couldn’t change, he climbed into the shower to wash off a hard day’s work. It wasn’t every day that he got the living room to himself, and he flopped down on the sofa, relaxing into the cushions. For the next hour, he dulled his mind with the greatness of his favorite zombie television show. Seven headshots, two unnecessary character deaths, and three destroyed communities later, he realized he’d forgotten to tell his father he was home.
He muted the television and headed to his parents’ room. He smiled upon seeing the man fast asleep, his covers barely pulled up to his waist. Mateo leaned in close to pull the blanket up higher. He tucked it around his father and turned to the left to turn off the lamp.
When he saw the same sheet of paper from last night, he paused. This time, more words had been added. Sergio must have been watching Jeopardy and playing along again.
His stomach dropped the moment he grabbed the paper and began reading it.
“I’m sorry. Sorry to whoever finds me, and everyone I hurt doing this. I can’t do this anymore. All I do is hurt my family, and I don’t want to anymore. All I’ve ever wanted to do is protect you all, so I’m going to do that. No more hurt. No more watching me die. Forgive me. God, forgive me. I love you all more than anything else. I’ll always love you.”
“No,” Mateo whispered.
He dropped the note and shook his father hard. When there was no response, he shook harder, his eyes stinging. “No, wake up, Papa, wake up.” Mateo felt lightheaded, unstable, and he fell to his knees, his hands still trying to jar the man from his sleep. Sergio remained still, his skin chilling to the touch.
“Wake up!” Mateo screamed, hitting his father on the chest with his fist. Soon, his words melted into noises, sobs that rocked his entire body. His hands were balled up in Sergio’s shirt, squeezing hard enough to make his fingers ache, but he held tight, unable to let go.
He pressed his face against Sergio’s side. “Papa, wake up. Please,” he cried, his voice breaking. None of it helped. Mateo had never felt so alone before. He’d have traded anything just to hear one more rasping breath wrack Sergio’s chest, just one more snore rumble from his throat.
It was Angel all over again.
Flashes sped through Mateo’s mind, snippets of his mother’s screams and his father rushing into the bathroom. The red puddle that had collected beneath his brother’s wrist. The way his parents held each other to keep from falling apart entirely.
And the note. The pleading apology, the assertion of the sadness his parents refused to acknowledge. The hurt they silenced to keep up appearances of the perfect family. Mateo had been too young to understand Angel’s reasons, but he knew now.
There was a certain kind of emptiness in his older brother that he’d had no comprehension of. He was a boy, unaware of the chemical imbalance his brother struggled with his entire life. He’d never faulted Mateo for not understanding it, and as Mateo had grown older, that hollowness found its way to him. The only difference was that he’d had resources. People at school to talk to. People online. His friends.
Angel had no one.
Mateo had thought nothing would hurt as bad as that night. He was wrong.
Mateo knew he’d have to call someone, but the idea of getting up to walk seemed like climbing a mountain. He thought of his siblings. If he didn’t move now, they’d find him at their father’s side, begging for him to open his eyes again. He had to protect them from this. So, he took in a shallow breath and forced himself to stand. On the floor, he spotted his mother’s empty bottle of sleeping pills.
Mateo walked to the living room and dialed for an ambulance, and after that, his mother.
She arrived first. She burst through the door, wild eyes searching for her son. She found him clinging to the sofa. “Mateo,” she said, pulling him into her arms. “What happened?”
“He’s dead, Mami. Your pills.” She took in a sharp breath, squeezing her eyes shut.
“Que Dios te bendiga,” she whispered, blessing her son.
“He’s dead. He’s dead.” It was all Mateo could force out. It was the only thing that he could say, and he repeated it, breaking down once more in his mother’s arms. He held her like she’d die next, like he’d never held anyone before, sobbing. She remained wordless. After a minute, he stood up and began walking to Sergio’s bedroom.
“What are you doing?” She caught up with him and grabbed him.
“I have to cover him,” he said, trying to pull away from her.
“No, Mateo, you don’t need to. Come sit down.”
“No, let go,” he insisted, trying to shake her off. “I have to cover him before they see. They can’t see him. I have to. Let me go.” He dug his fingers under his mother’s palm, trying to pry her hand from his wrist.
“Baby, they’re with your tia. They won’t see.”
“I have to cover him,” he begged, staring at her with watery eyes. “They’ll see him, and I can’t let them. I have to protect them, Mami, please.” Her grip on his wrist was too strong. He tried shaking her off, yanking his hand back, both to no avail.
“No, Mateo,” she said, pulling him into her arms once more. “No.”
“They’ll see him, and it’ll be your fault,” he exclaimed, his face buried in her neck. �
��They’re gonna see him.”
Amira refused to let him go back into the room, and she held him close as the ambulance arrived to remove Sergio’s body. She spoke to the men and women, explaining that Mateo had been the one to find him, read the note he left, and call them.
When the coroner arrived, Mateo had curled into a ball on the sofa, his head in Amira’s lap. She ran her fingers through his hair languidly. He watched as they removed Sergio’s body from the bedroom. He met each of their gentle glances and sad gazes with a blank expression on his face.
This was how it was in movies, wasn’t it? Police officers mumbling under their breath, trying to make light of the situation. Mateo couldn’t be mad at them. Some people would do anything to avoid dealing with heavy situations.
The EMTs stood around the apartment, trying to avoid looking at the two of them in the corner of the living room as they dealt with the tragedy. Those people made him mad. He didn’t want their pity. He wanted them to go away. He wanted everyone to go away. He wanted silence, pure silence. Silence, and Amira’s touch.
After they’d all left, Mateo lost track of time. He knew his mother had slipped out from under him, but he wasn’t sure for how long. The only thing he was certain of was that the vase of marbles on the coffee table had approximately two hundred and fifty inside of it. The stack of magazines beside the vase had about three hundred pages between all of the issues.
Amira returned from the bathroom, her eyes red and puffy. She pressed a wet rag to her face and stared at her son across the room.
“Mateo?” she called out to him. He blinked but remained silent. Amira placed the rag on the counter and walked to the couch, squatting. She ran a hand over his cheek tenderly. “Mateo.” He was still, his eyes fixed on the table she was now in front of. “I called your tia and told her to watch the kids for a few days. I’m going over there tomorrow to talk to them and tell them. I don’t want you there, okay?”
Silence.
