by Jack Harbon
“I don’t want you to pretend to be okay for them. I want you to feel. No more smiling and pushing things down. Feel.” She sighed and kissed him on the forehead. “I love you, Mateo. You’re my big boy. My little muñeco, you hear me? And we’ll be okay. I know it doesn’t seem that way, but we’ll be okay. We’ll get through this too.” She pulled away from his ear and looked at him again, watching as a single tear ran across the bridge of his nose and fell to the cushion. Not even singing Sana, Sana would fix this.
“We’ll be okay,” she promised.
21
NO COMPLAINING, ONLY RESOLVING
It was the same pattern, over and over. A hug, a condolence, a look of sadness. Rinse, repeat. Mateo tried matching the sympathetic smiles, but he found it harder and harder with each passing attendee. He was tired of thanking people for coming. All he wanted to do was sit in the front of the church with his head down and wait for this to all be over. Instead, his mother wanted him up at the front, welcoming their various friends and family.
The moment Valerie and Rob stepped into the church, Mateo felt himself get emotional. These two people knew more about him than anyone else, yet the fact that they were witnessing him deal with such a tough moment almost made him ashamed.
Valerie said nothing, instead hugging him hard and burying her head in his shoulder. Rob joined them a moment later. Mateo fought back the urge to break down into tears, squeezing his eyes tight and focusing on the three ragged breath patterns coming from them.
When they recovered from the hug, Rob and Valerie took a seat near the front of the church. Mateo collected himself and followed suit, sitting down between his mother and aunt Mariana. He looked down at his hand as Amira took it in hers, then up at her reassuring face. He’d never been more thankful that she was his mother.
The priest began with a prayer. Mateo had never considered himself to be religious, but in the moment, he felt the overwhelming sense of love people always talked about. He longed for the fully-fledged acceptance of an afterlife. Somewhere he’d be able to see his father once more. Maybe there was. Maybe one day he’d be surrounded by his family and friends and nobody else. That was his ideal version of Heaven.
There was a song shortly after. In all of the funerals he’d been to before, he’d wondered why singing was so important. But now, with tears streaming down his face, he sang, and for a moment it felt better. It felt like his pain wasn’t something unique. Everyone in the room felt it to some degree, and hearing all of the voices together made him feel less alone. One of Mateo’s uncles stood and walked to the pulpit, clearing his throat. Out of all the things that happened at these ceremonies, this had to be Mateo’s favorite. There was something beautiful about what every person came up to say.
Before he knew it, it was his turn. He’d thought about it all last night, and while he figured it might be better to scribble down a few notes, he reminded himself that this wasn’t a valedictorian speech. This was his father’s funeral. Mateo crossed the room and stood behind the wooden structure, gripping it tightly on both sides. He looked out across the sea of black, silent for a long time. He could see the wetness on Valerie’s cheeks. The sadness etched into Victor’s little face. Though his mother wore sunglasses, he knew she’d been crying as well. After what felt like hours, he opened his mouth.
“My dad is dead.” He paused to take a shaky breath. “My dad is dead. I never thought I’d be able to say that, but I can. He’s gone. And I’m so mad. I’m not mad at him, though. I’m mad about this...” he waved his hand around, “this whole situation. I’m mad that he was sick. That he was taken from us so soon. It’s not fair, but I have to remind myself that I’m not special. None of us are. Everybody dies. What’s special—what’s worth remembering—is how our loved ones have affected us.
“My dad was the first person to tell me that it was okay to be me. He told me that if I wanted to paint instead of play sports, I wasn’t weird. He was the first person to pick me up when I fell off my bike. When I broke my ankle, he sat with me in the hospital. He was the most selfless, inspirational person I’ve ever known, and ever will.” Mateo’s voice faltered for a moment, and he tilted his head back, a hand on his face to keep the tears from falling.
“I don’t know what I’m doing right now, because I didn’t plan for this. He wouldn’t have wanted me to. He’d have wanted me to just be honest.” He swiped his eyes and looked back over the crowd. “Sergio was someone none of us deserved. He didn’t have to waste his time on us, but that never stopped him. He took care of his business. Took care of his family. He taught me that if I wanted something, I couldn’t let anyone or anything stop me from getting it. He taught me to always approach things with an open heart, because the world is too cold for anything else. He was the best father I could have ever asked for—just like there’s no one on the same level as my mother—and I’m so thankful that God blessed me with him in my life. We might not have always had what we wanted, but at the end of the day, my dad was everything I needed.”
The last words came out in a sob, and he excused himself before anything else escaped. He passed his family and friends and locked himself in the bathroom, his back against the door and his head in between his knees.
“No crying,” he sobbed. “No crying, no crying.”
He knew Sergio wouldn’t want him crying. He’d want him smiling and remembering the times they’d been happy. He caught his breath and stood, forcing himself towards the sink. He placed a few wet paper towels on his eyes and worked on his breathing. He didn’t want his siblings seeing him cry. He knew that’s what Amira had encouraged, but he couldn’t let himself. Sergio was always their rock, and now it was Mateo’s turn. When he was calmer, he tossed the wet towels and dried his face. He took a long, hard look in the mirror. He could see Sergio’s features in his own, and for a moment, the tiniest of smiles formed.
“No complaining, only resolving.”
Mateo left the bathroom and returned to the pews, taking a seat next to his mother. “Are you okay?” she asked him quietly.
“I’ll be okay.”
Amira took his hand again, lacing her fingers between his. The rest of the ceremony was as to be expected. More singing, more memories shared, and finally, the viewing of the body and burial. Mateo had an arm around both Rob and Valerie as they stepped up to see his father. Despite the waxy complexion, he looked the same as when Mateo had found him. Though tears threatened to spring from his eyes, he couldn’t help but laugh when he saw that his father had wanted his last outfit to be his favorite comfy t-shirt and jeans.
After passing his body, the three of them shared a long hug, heads pressed together. “I love you guys,” Mateo said finally.
“I love you too,” Valerie whispered.
Rob cracked a smile. “Hashtag same.”
The two of them stood behind him as Mateo watched Sergio’s casket being lowered into the grave. This was the end. This was what made it all final. Sergio’s closest family members all threw in a handful of dirt, watching it cover a little bit more of his casket with each toss. Amira took her children aside and looked at each of them for a moment.
“I know Papa isn’t here with us anymore, but I want you all to know that he’s right here.” She placed a hand over her heart. “He loved you more than anything else on this earth, and he never stopped.” Salome sniffed hard, and Mateo picked her up, rubbing her back as she whimpered.
“It’s okay, nena. It’s okay. We’ll be okay.”
Mateo and Amira shared a look.
*
That night, Mateo crawled into bed and lay staring at his ceiling for a minute. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. All he wanted to do was sleep, but he knew he’d have to call into work or leave a message for his manager. He couldn’t drag himself to the mall tomorrow. He just needed one more day before he felt like he was able to deal with everything and get back into the swing of life. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, pressing the home button a few tim
es.
When the screen didn’t light up, he sighed and crawled across the bed to grab his charger. He plugged it in and waited impatiently for it to turn on. He drummed his fingers against his knee. It took a while for it to load, and he let out an exasperated sigh. Rather than sitting around, he walked to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.
Amira had just finished putting the kids to bed when she turned to find Mateo. “Hi. What are you doing?”
“I’m just about to go to bed. I’ve been tired all day.”
“I know. Thank you for being strong today. Even if you completely disobeyed me.” She smiled softly and rubbed his shoulder.
“Can I ask something?”
“Of course.”
“You knew what he was going to do, right?” Mateo had this gut feeling that Amira knew he was going to swallow her pills. She hadn’t seemed nearly as surprised as him, and he suspected that her initial reaction was because he’d been vague about something happening at home. Had he told her that Sergio committed suicide, she might have arrived at the apartment much calmer.
“I didn’t know when he was going to do it, or if he was even going to. Me and your Papa talked about it often. He never said if he was really going to do it, but that if he did, he would let me know so that I could find him.” Amira wrung her hands together, looking away from him. “I’m sorry you had to be the one to see him like that.”
Hearing it confirmed from his mother gave him mixed feelings. On one hand, he liked that his father hadn’t been alone in his decision. Mateo knew how bad being alone could hurt. On the other end of the spectrum, he wished his mother would have told him. At least now he could put aside the constant what ifs. He could stop thinking that if he’d just gone to see Sergio sooner, he’d be alive. His father had wanted this, and he would have probably tried again had Mateo stopped him the first time.
“Thank you for telling me the truth,” he said finally. He wrapped his arms around Amira for a long hug. When they parted, she kissed his forehead.
“Go get some sleep. If you need anything, I’ll be awake.” Mateo nodded and grabbed his water, returning to the living room. He lowered the lighting, flopping back down onto his mattress. Thankfully his phone had fully loaded up. He typed in his password and his eyes widened when his phone buzzed nonstop.
He’d left it alone for the past few days, unable to talk to anyone. As a result, he had plenty of missed calls and texts. Was this what Arthur’s phone looked like? Mateo quickly sorted through all of his text messages and was now in a grumpy mood. He dropped his phone onto the nightstand and rolled over, pulling the covers over his head. Thirty-seven new text messages and not a single one from the person he wanted to talk to the most.
22
I DON’T BELIEVE YOU
It had been a tough decision, but leaving their old apartment made sense. There were far too many memories attached to the place. Too many sleepless nights stressing over bills, or arguments with Sergio during one of his belligerent states. With the money still sitting in Mateo’s bank account, he figured this was the most logical thing to use it for.
It took two weeks to get the apartment packed up. Salome threw a fit when she first found out about their move, but when Mateo showed her pictures of the new apartment he and his mother had been approved for, she seemed to calm down. The back patio was fenced in, which gave her plenty of space to play outside. That certainly sweetened the deal for her.
Mateo’s incentive was his own bedroom. For nearly a year and a half, he’d spent every evening on that lumpy old pullout couch, and the prospect of having his own room with his own space was far too great to turn down. Besides, he wasn’t going to use the money on anything else anytime soon.
He and Amira agreed that they’d figure out rent, too. It was nearly twice what they’d paid at the old place, but Amira had been promoted shortly after the funeral, and now that they didn’t have to pay for a hospital to keep Sergio safe in, there was a lot less on their plates.
Mateo grabbed the roll of tape from the sofa and tore off a long piece, slapping it down on the top of his last art supplies box. He uncapped a sharpie with his teeth and quickly scribbled his name on the box so that no one else took it to their room when they unloaded the truck.
Amira passed through the living room with a handful of boxes, glancing down at him. “That the last of your stuff?” she asked.
“Mhm!” He sat back on his haunches and looked around at everything packed up and ready to go. “I didn’t think I had all this stuff considering how small the living room is.”
“Yeah, well, don’t forget to clean out the closet, too. You’ve got all the things Valerie bought you stuffed in there.” She headed down to the truck with the boxes in her hand after that.
Mateo chewed on his bottom lip and glanced at the closet in the hallway leading to her bedroom. He’d been avoiding that place for weeks now. Everything inside of it reminded him of what he had with Arthur. It was a bruise he didn’t want to press down on.
He would deal with that when there was nothing else left to take care of. Mateo stood up and brushed the dust from his knees before walking into the kitchen to grab a few bags from the ever-growing pile of garbage. Hefting two over his shoulders, he headed downstairs to the dumpster, where he tossed them over with a loud clang in the metal bin.
His phone vibrated in his pocket and he dug inside, pulling it out. As he removed it, something metal fell to the sidewalk and bounced on the cement. He made note of the low battery warning on his phone and then bent down to pick up what he’d dropped. He turned the key around in his hand for a moment, unsure what it went to. Had it fallen off of his keychain?
Arthur’s place.
He couldn’t help but smile. He’d been looking for the damn thing for weeks now, desperate to figure out where he’d left it. Before, he’d planned on bursting through the doors and finally speaking to Arthur. Now he had something else in mind. He wasn’t going to let Arthur treat him this way, ignoring him without giving him an explanation. It was his turn to yell, to throw Arthur out, and he knew exactly how to do it. Mateo hurried home, storming through the living room door. Amira jumped and held a hand over her chest as she watched him make a beeline for the closet.
“What’s wrong?” she exclaimed.
“I’m inspired, Mami,” he said. Amira sighed and sat back in her seat.
In the hall, Mateo grabbed one of the suitcases and flipped it over, emptying out all the contents. He sorted through his belongings and tossed the rest back into the luggage, stuffing clothes from his closet inside as well. He was thorough, collecting everything Arthur had given him. He filled all of his suitcases and dragged them to the car downstairs. On his way down, he swiped the car keys from the counter.
In half an hour, Mateo had cleaned Arthur from his life. While he may have still been moving into an apartment funded by Arthur, he and his mother would soon start paying those bills. It was more his place than anyone else’s.
“I’ll be home in a bit. Love you,” he called over his shoulder.
He hopped into the car and turned Beyoncé on. The rock and roll song only encouraged him to go through with this plan. By the time he pulled up to Arthur’s building, he was practically shouting the words with her. He cut off the car and stepped outside, turning to look at all of the clothing and gifts. Had he been more dramatic and careless about the car, he’d have lit a match and burned everything a la Waiting to Exhale.
Instead, he reached in and grabbed a handful of Arthur’s things, dragging them past the doorman and up to Arthur’s penthouse. He unlocked the door and stopped dead in his tracks.
The man’s once perfect home was now littered with trash. Clementine looked up at him, surprised to see his face, but remained seated, looking around at the mess with him. Beer bottles lay on the floor, paper plates were piled on the table, and clothing draped on furniture like he’d discarded it the moment he got home, tossing the items wherever.
Whatever had happe
ned to Arthur, it was bad. This was the polar opposite of everything he’d found attractive about the man. It looked more like a crime scene than the penthouse he and Arthur had shared their first kiss in.
He shook himself out of it and tossed the suitcase on the ground. It fit right in with the rest of the dirty backdrop. He stormed back downstairs, a little bit of weight off his shoulders. He grabbed more from the car and looked up just as a familiar car approached. Arthur stepped out from the backseat and Mateo froze. He could see that the man was drunk, his balance uneasy. He was scruffy, the beard Mateo had come to love overgrown and shaggy.
“Mateo,” he said softly, confusion on his face. “What are you doing here?”
Mateo regained his composure and tossed his items on the ground. “I’m throwing you out, Arthur. Hope you don’t mind.” Arthur stepped towards Mateo, a hand outstretched, but he pushed him aside and grabbed another handful of shirts.
“Please, stop,” Arthur pleaded.
“Why? Why do you get to be the only one to push people away, Arthur?” Mateo turned to face him, shoving him back as he stepped closer again. “Why can’t I throw you away like trash, the same way you did to me? How come I’m the only one still trying to make this fucking relationship work?” Before Arthur could answer, Mateo tossed the suit he’d worn to the lounge in his face. He was barely able to lift the second suitcase, but he managed to toss it at the older man’s feet.
“Why?” he exclaimed, unbothered by the uncomfortable shifting of the doorman and people walking by. “You didn’t answer my calls. You didn’t answer me when I knocked on the door. You left me hanging for over four weeks, Arthur. Thirty-two days. I thought we had something special, that maybe—I don’t know—you were really feeling something for me. But apparently I was just something for you to fuck in the meantime.” Mateo didn’t realize he was crying until he couldn’t see the items he was grabbing from the car. He swiped his eyes and spun around sharply.
