Mateo leads the way into his building. “If there’s nothing else you want to do, Roof, I thought we could visit my dad again.”
“You just call me ‘Roof’？”
Mateo nods, and his face scrunches up like he’s told a bad joke. “Thought I would try it out. That okay?”
“Definitely okay,” I say. “That’s a good plan, too. I’m cool with resting for a bit before making that run.” Part of me can’t help but wonder if Mateo is bringing me home so we can have sex, but it’s probably safe to assume sex isn’t on the brain for him.
Mateo is about to press the elevator button until he remembers we’re not about that, especially not this late in the game. He opens the stairwell door and cautiously goes up. The silence is mad heavy between us, step by step. Wish I could challenge him to a race to his apartment, like he imagined for us at Jones Beach, but that’s a surefire way to never actually reach the apartment.
“I miss . . .” Mateo stops on the third floor. I think he’s about to bring up his dad, maybe Lidia. “I miss when I was so young I didn’t know to be afraid of death. I even miss yesterday when I was paranoid and not actually dying.”
I hug him because that says everything when I actually don’t have anything to say. He squeezes me back before we go up the last flight of steps.
Mateo unlocks his front door. “I can’t believe I’m bringing a boy home for the first time and there’s no one here for you to meet.”
How wild would it be if we go in and his dad is on the couch, waiting for him?
We go inside and no one is here except us.
Hope not.
I tour the living room. Not gonna front, I got myself a little nervous, like some old family-friend-turned-enemy is about to pop out because they figured the place was vulnerable with Mateo’s dad in a coma. Everything seems good. I look at Mateo’s class photos. There’s a bunch of photos of him without glasses.
“When’d you have to get glasses?” I ask.
“Fourth grade. I was only teased for about a week, so I was lucky.” Mateo stares at his senior photo, cap and gown, and it’s like he’s looking at a mirror and finding some sci-fi alternate-universe version of himself. I should capture it on camera because it’s dope, but the look on his face only makes me wanna hug him again. “I bet I disappointed my dad by signing up for online classes. He was so proud of me when I graduated, and I’m sure he was hoping I would change my mind, get off the internet, and have the typical college experience.”
“You’ll get to tell him everything you’ve done,” I say. We won’t hang around here long. It’ll mean a lot to Mateo if we see his dad again.
Mateo nods. “Follow me.”
We go down a short hall and into his room.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding from me,” I say. There are books all over the floor, like someone tried robbing the place. Mateo doesn’t seem freaked by it.
“I wasn’t hiding from you.” Mateo crouches and puts the books into piles. “I had a panic attack earlier. I don’t want my dad knowing I was scared when he comes home. I want him to believe I was brave all the way through.”
I get down on my knees and pick up a book. “Is there a system here?”
“Not anymore,” Mateo says.
We put the books back on his shelves and pick up some little trinkets off the floor.
“I don’t like the idea of you being scared either.”
“It wasn’t that bad. Don’t worry about old me.”
I look around his room. There’s an Xbox Infinity, a piano, some speakers, a map I pick up off the floor for him. I’m flattening it out with my fist, thinking about all the dope places Mateo and I have been together, when I spot a Luigi hat on the floor between his dresser and bed. I grab the hat and he grins as I put it on his head.
“There’s the guy who hit me up this morning,” I say.
“Luigi?” Mateo asks.
I laugh and pull out my phone. He doesn’t smile for the camera, he’s legit just smiling at me. I haven’t felt this good about myself since Aimee.
“Photo-shoot time. Go jump on your bed or something.”
Mateo rushes to the bed and leaps, falling face-first. He gets up and jumps and jumps, turning to the window quickly as if some freak bounce accident will launch him out there like a catapult.
I don’t stop taking photos of this awesome, unrecognizable Mateo.
MATEO
7:34 p.m.