Here Lies Mateo: He Lived for Everyone.
I hit Submit.
There’s no going back. Yeah, I can edit, but that’s not how promises work, and living for everyone is a promise to the world.
I know it’s early in the day, but my chest squeezes because it’s also getting late, for a Decker, at least. I can’t do this alone, the leaving part. I’m really not dragging Lidia into my End Day. Once I get out of here—not if—I’ll go see Lidia and Penny, but I’m not telling Lidia. I don’t want her to consider me dead before I am, or ever bring her any sadness. Maybe I’ll send her a postcard explaining everything while I’m out living.
What I need is a coach who can double as a friend for me, or a friend who can serve as a coach for me. And that’s what this popular app often promoted on CountDowners provides.
The Last Friend app is designed for lonely Deckers and for any good soul who wants to keep a Decker company in their final hours. This isn’t to be confused with Necro, which is intended for anyone who wants a one-night stand with a Decker—the ultimate no-strings-attached app. I’ve always been so disturbed by Necro, and not just because sex makes me nervous. But no, the Last Friend app was created so people can feel worthy and loved before they die. There are no user charges, unlike Necro, which goes for $7.99 a day, which disturbs me because I can’t help but feel as if a human is worth more than eight bucks.
Anyway, just like any potential new friendship, the relationships born from the Last Friend app can be pretty hit-or-miss. I was once following this CountDowners feed where this Decker met a Last Friend, and she was slow about updating, sometimes for hours, to the point where viewers in the chat room assumed she’d died. She was actually very much alive, just living her last day right, and after she died her Last Friend wrote a brief eulogy that taught me more about the girl than I’d learned in any of her updates. But it’s not always sweet like that. A few months ago this Decker with a sad life unwittingly befriended the infamous Last Friend serial killer, and that was so tragic to read about, and one of the many reasons I struggle with trusting this world.
I think engaging with a Last Friend could do me some good. Then again, I don’t know if it’s sadder to die alone or in the company of someone who not only doesn’t mean anything to you, but also probably doesn’t care much for you either.
Time is wasting.
I have to take a shot and find the same bravery hundreds of thousands of Deckers before me have found. I check my bank account online, and what remains from my college funds has been automatically deposited into my account, which is only about two thousand dollars, but it’s more than enough money to get through the day. I can visit the World Travel Arena downtown, where Deckers and guests can experience the cultures and environments of different countries and cities.
I download the Last Friend app on my phone. It’s the fastest download ever, like it’s some sentient being who understands the whole point of its existence is that time is running out for someone. The app has a blue interface with an animation of a gray clock as two silhouettes approach each other and high five. LAST FRIEND zooms into the center and a menu drops down.
Dying Today Not Dying Today I click Dying Today. A message pops up: We here at Last Friend Inc. are collectively sorry for this loss of you. Our deepest sympathies extend to those who love you and those who will never meet you. We hope you find a new friend of value to spend your final hours with today. Please fill out the profile for best results.
Deeply sorry to lose you,
Last Friend Inc.
A blank profile pops up and I fill it out.
Name: Mateo Torrez
Age: 18
Gender: Male Height: 5’10”
Weight: 164 lbs.
Ethnicity: Puerto Rican
Orientation: <skip> Job: <skip>
Interests: Music; Wandering Favorite Movies TV Shows Books: Timberwolves by Gabriel Reeds; “Plaid Is the New Black”; the Scorpius Hawthorne series Who You Were in Life: I’m an only child and I’ve only ever really had my dad. But my dad has been in a coma for two weeks and will probably wake up after I’m gone. I want to make him proud and break out. I can’t go on being the kid who keeps his head low, because all that did was rob me of being out there with you all—maybe I could’ve met some of you sooner.
Bucket List: I want to go to the hospital and say goodbye to my dad. And then my best friend, but I don’t want to tell her I’m dying. After that, I don’t know. I want to make a difference for others and find a different Mateo while I’m at it.
Final Thoughts: I’m going for it.
I submit my answers. The app prompts me to upload a photo. I scroll through my phone’s album and there are a lot of photos of Penny and screenshots of songs I’d recommend to Lidia. There are others of me out in the living room with Dad. There’s my junior year photo, which is lame. I stumble on one I took of myself wearing the Luigi hat I won in June for entering this Mario Kart contest online. I was supposed to send the contest host my picture to be featured on the website, but I didn’t think the boy-goofing-around-in-the-Luigi-hat was very me so I never submitted it.
But I was wrong, go figure. This is exactly the person I always wanted to be—loose, fun, carefree. No one will look at this photo and think it was out of character, because none of these people know me, and their only expectations of me are to be the person I’m presenting myself as in my profile.
I upload the photo and a final message pops up: Be well, Mateo.
RUFUS
1:59 a.m.
My foster parents are waiting downstairs. They tried rushing in here the second they found out, but Malcolm played bodyguard because he knew I still needed a minute. I change into my cycling gear—my gym tights with blue basketball shorts over them so my package isn’t poking out there like Spider-Man’s, and my favorite gray fleece—because there’s no other way I can imagine getting around this city on my End Day except on my bike. I grab my helmet because safety first. I take one last look at the room. I don’t break down or nothing like that, seriously, even as I remember playing catch with my boys. I leave the light on as I step out and keep the door open so Malcolm and Tagoe don’t get weird about going back in.
Malcolm gives me a little smile. His playing-it-cool game is weak ’cause I know he’s been losing his head, they all are. I would too if the cards were reversed.
“You actually got Francis awake?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
It’s possible I’m gonna die at the hands of my foster father; if you’re not his alarm clock, you shouldn’t wake him up.
I follow Malcolm downstairs. Tagoe, Jenn Lori, and Francis are there, but they don’t say anything. The first thing I wanna ask is if anyone has heard from Aimee, like if her aunt is holding her up, but that’s not right.
I really hope she didn’t change her mind about wanting to see me.