by Jack Harbon
Mateo was cut short when the man swung, slamming into his shoulder. He cried out in pain. Before Sergio could swing again, Amira rushed forward and yanked the bat from him. She tossed it to the side and pulled him away from Mateo.
“Get off,” he yelled, shoving her backwards. Amira stumbled and crashed into Mateo’s easel, her elbow busting through the center of his painting. She collapsed on the ground, unsteady on her feet. Mateo had finally regained himself, and as Sergio moved forward towards his wife, he grabbed his father’s shoulder and pinched hard. The man shuddered and gave a small whimper, the pain of the pressure point immediately weakening him. He moved to the couch to take a seat and rub the injury.
Huffing, Mateo helped his mother up and looked back at his father. The man’s eyes were downcast as he kneaded and massaged his shoulder.
“Are you okay?” Mateo asked his mother. She nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes. He knew she was only putting on a brave face. This was worse than the last time Sergio had forgotten who everyone was. Worse than the time he’d gotten out of bed and tried to make a run for the door. Never had he been this violent or held this much animosity towards them.
“I’ll clean this up,” she said, looking at the mess on the ground. “You get him back to bed.”
Mateo nodded and stepped towards his father. The man met his eyes and it was an instant recognition. It was as if Sergio had been sleepwalking and awoke in the middle of the street. His eyes wildly took in everything: the ruined paintings, Mateo clutching his shoulder, and the baseball bat on the floor.
“What did I do?” he whispered. Mateo shook his head. He didn’t want to get into it right now. Rather than answering, he helped Sergio up and brought him back to his bedroom. Silently, he tucked the man in and ran his hand over his forehead.
“Sleep,” he said simply. He turned and left the room. As much as he loved his father, he couldn’t be around him at the moment. An overwhelming feeling of being trapped shook him up. He clenched his fists to keep them from trembling. It wasn’t Sergio’s fault that his memory was slowly deteriorating, but at the same time, Mateo had no idea who to be upset with if not his father. He was the one who’d hit him with the bat.
He opened the front door and stepped outside, making his way to the trash can. On any given day there were empty bottles of beer next to the metallic bin. Without a second thought he lifted one up and mustered up all his strength to throw it down on the concrete. The glass shattered loudly. Like a machine, he had another in his hands in seconds. As he threw it on the ground, he screamed,
“Fuck!”
His vision was blinded by his tears and he was forced to stop smashing the bottles. He stood with his head down for a moment, still as a statue. To his left he heard a front door open and watched as a wary-looking woman poked her head out. He kicked the glass one last time before he turned and left his mess on the ground. Mateo swiped his tears away, pausing when he spotted the one-inch slice across his palm. In the midst of his anger he must have cut himself on a chunk of glass.
He washed it up in the bathroom and bandaged the wound properly. It didn’t hurt. Nothing hurt when he felt this numb. Once the puffiness of his eyes went down, he went to the second bedroom and told his siblings it was okay to come out. Victor tentatively took up his reading and Salome picked up her toys once more. Only Tomas stood still, his eyes locked on Mateo.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine, Tomas. Don’t worry about me. Are you?”
“I guess.”
“I’m sorry,” Mateo said softly. Tomas shrugged and began turning around. Mateo stuck his hand out to stop him. “We’re gonna be fine, okay?”
“He’s dying, Mateo. We’re not gonna be fine.”
He slipped out of his older brother’s grip and picked his headphones up from the ground. He plugged them into his phone and sat down on his air mattress. Mateo sighed and left the room. Tomas was right. Sergio was dying and there was nothing they could do to stop it. Each day he sat in his bed, his memory stepped one foot further from his grasp. Mateo knew how this would end. He was sure everyone knew.
Sergio would die and they’d be left with nothing.
Mateo needed to escape. Every thought in his mind told him to get away, to flee the scene of his broken heart, and he paused only to change clothes before heading out the door. With his headphones in, he turned on the loudest music he could manage. Drowning it out was the one thing that helped.
He took off running, every muscle in his body screaming at once. He wasn’t built for this, but the burn provided a much needed distraction from taking on the world. His shoulder hurt especially, but still he pumped his arms, trying to expend his body until he’d managed to run away from all of his problems.
Mateo wasn’t a parent. He was still just a kid himself in the eyes of everyone at work. It wasn’t his job to look after three children. It wasn’t his job to keep food on the table. But of course, nobody saw it that way. He was the oldest, and that meant that these tasks were his job. He hadn’t been raised any other way but to assume all of the responsibility, even if he wanted to do anything but.
And what would he look like complaining about this? The ungrateful child that never once stopped to thank his mother for all the work she did raising him and his older brother Angel before he’d passed away. She’d busted her ass without so much as an acknowledgement from him, and here he was, complaining that he had to help out around the house more.
He hated this. He hated feeling trapped, like even voicing his exhaustion was a slap in the face of his parents’ sacrifices. Like he had no right to be tired or take a day off. Just the thought submerged him in a guilt he doubted he could ever scrub free from his mind.
But that was what he wanted more than anything. A chance to escape. A moment of downtime, where he could just be himself and not have to take on every role that his father had left unoccupied. Another New Year’s Eve party to quell the anxiety vibrating—rattling—bouncing from wall to wall inside of his head.
Breathless, he doubled over and let his head hang. The latest song to top the charts practically blew out his eardrums. When he was no longer gasping for breath, Mateo pulled out his phone and dialed Arthur’s number. Dinner with Arthur had been something special. He only thought fondly of his family when he was with the man. More than anything, he needed that freedom, no matter how temporarily.
“Hey, you,” Arthur answered. It was unreal, the sense of calm Arthur gave him with only two words. Mateo found himself feeling better already.
“Hi.”
“Were your ears burning? I was just talking about you with my friend Nicola.”
Mateo tilted his head to the left. “Oh yeah? What were you saying?”
“Well, she actually mentioned that she and her friend were going on a date soon. She suggested we meet up and maybe head to a karaoke bar. If you’re not into that, I’ll let her know and maybe we can come up with something else to—”
Mateo shook his head and said, “No, karaoke sounds perfect.” Anything sounded good. “When were you thinking?”
“How does this weekend sound?”
“Sounds like I can do that,” he replied, biting back a smile.
“Then it’s a date,” Arthur said. “A double date.”
6
DRINKING AND SINGING
Mateo hadn’t said a word all day—and his silence was starting to get on his siblings’ nerves. Salome wanted to try and be quiet with him, but Victor decided to go with the opposite. All day long, he’d been trying to get his older brother to say something, tricking him into breaking his sudden vow of silence.
Nothing seemed to be working, and as seven o’clock drew nearer, Victor grew desperate. At one point, he even called Amira into the living room to make Mateo speak. He cracked a smile when she grilled him, but her questioning didn’t last very long.
“I don’t have time for this,” she said, throwing her hands in the air and returning to the kitchen t
o finish dinner. “Mateo, are you eating with us or not?”
He shook his head when she turned to see his answer.
“You going out with your friends?”
He nodded.
It had started out a joke between him and Valerie, seeing if he could keep quiet so as not to ruin his vocals for karaoke night. She’d been kidding, but Mateo took it seriously. He wanted to impress not only Arthur but the two guests that would be joining them. Karaoke wasn’t his strong suit, but damn if he wasn’t committed to the job of performing at the bar.
Mateo washed up in the shower and changed into a solid gray t-shirt and a pair of distressed jeans, opting for his favorite pair of worn-in Converse rather than anything particularly fancy. This bar served cheap booze and burgers, which was quite a step away from filet mignon and a bottle of 1992 Lafite Rothschild. He could definitely manage something like this.
Arthur sent him a text when he was at the corner, and Mateo kissed his mother on the cheek, ruffling Victor’s hair on the way out. “Have fun,” he said, grinning at his brother when his mouth fell open.
It was a bit of a walk to get to where he’d instructed Arthur to meet him, but he didn’t want the man seeing just where it was that he lived. Maybe that would come down the line, but as it were, Arthur might pull up in a nice car and end up getting jumped. This neighborhood didn’t play nice when it came to wealthy people trouncing through. If anything, Arthur was more likely to use the place as a photo op than actually spend time down here.
He easily spotted the man’s black BMW underneath the streetlight and he started for the passenger’s door when the back window rolled down. Arthur sat in the backseat, gesturing for Mateo to join him. Once safely buckled up and ready to go, Arthur’s driver pulled away from the curb.
“You look cute today,” Arthur said, looking him up and down. “You should wear stuff like this more often.”
Mateo made a face. Everything he had on probably cost less than what it would take to fill up the gas tank in Arthur’s ride. “You’re just being nice. But thank you. You look good too.”
In his slacks and casual dress shirt, Arthur looked as if he’d been out of work for a few hours and hadn’t fully changed out of his business attire. It was a sexy look on him, and Mateo almost wished that a few more buttons on his shirt were undone.
“I can guarantee you, no matter how good we think the other looks, neither of us will look good compared to Nicola.”
The statement only made Mateo more curious. He’d been able to find plenty of information on Arthur and the businesses he ran, but when it came to Nicola, he only had so many resources. None of his searches had pulled up a picture of who this elusive woman was, which only made him all the more eager to meet her. When the driver stopped outside of their destination, Mateo could just barely make out the couple waiting near the door for them.
They climbed out, and as he and Arthur approached, the woman and her date turned to greet them. Mateo was immediately taken by this glorious woman and her utter perfection. Dark brown in complexion with round lips and narrow feline-like eyes, she stood nearly six feet tall, a simple red cocktail dress practically shining on her. It hugged her form in the way only a well-tailored garment could.
Mateo looked like a potato in comparison, and frankly, he wasn’t all that upset by it. Her date was just as attractive, with a dangerously sharp jawline, clear pale skin, and a wolfish grin that made Mateo only slightly wary.
“There she is,” Arthur said, opening his arms for Nicola to step into. They exchanged cheek kisses, then Arthur turned to her date to shake his hand. “Mateo, this is Lincoln, and this is—”
She cut him off, extending a regal hand toward him. “I’m Nicola, Arthur’s oldest and prettiest friend,” she said with a playful gleam in her eye. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mateo. Arthur here has talked about you nonstop.”
Mateo cocked an eyebrow in the man’s direction, then said, “He also told me how stunning you were, but I don’t think words could ever do you justice.”
Her eyes went wide to match her smile. “My, aren’t you charming? Careful now, Art. I just might have to take on another baby.”
When Lincoln cleared his throat, Mateo turned to him. “It’s nice to meet you too.” They exchanged handshakes, and Mateo surprised himself with how firm his own shake was. Clearly nerves were getting to him, but not in the way he would’ve predicted. He actually seemed to be doing not terrible at this.
Inside the bar, they were seated in a private booth. A waitress returned with food and drink menus, but before she could turn to give them a moment, Nicola handed hers back and said, “We’ll start off with a bottle of your best wine, thank you.”
“Or course, ma’am,” she said, hurrying off to retrieve a bottle.
Arthur gave the woman a pointed look, and Mateo couldn’t help but snicker. “What?” she asked innocently. “I’m only interested in drinking and singing!”
“If you’re singing, we’ll need something stronger than wine to get through it,” Arthur retorted.
“In the kindest way I can put this, Arthur… Kiss my ass.”
“And what a beautiful ass to kiss,” Lincoln said, leaning in to press his lips against her shoulder. She cupped his face in her hand and smiled, looking up when the waitress returned with a bottle and four glasses. She made sure to look at Mateo and Lincoln’s IDs before she did anything else. After that, she took their orders—three burgers and a few baskets of fries.
“I’m gonna go first,” Lincoln said, grabbing the remote and scrolling through the options on the television directly across from their table. Up front, there was a cart full of microphones, as well as various CD cases and the machine itself.
“Don’t embarrass me now, baby,” Nicola smiled, patting Lincoln’s behind as he rose from his seat and moved to the front of the room.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, winking at her. He settled on a classic Queen song, which Mateo immediately smiled at. He’d attempted to sing this one all on his own in the shower plenty of times, and by the end of the nearly six-minute masterpiece, he was always left breathless and hoarse in the throat.
Lincoln surprised Mateo by hitting every falsetto note with perfection. Even when all the Galileo lines came out, he nailed them. With such an animated performance required to make the song work, Lincoln didn’t shy away, putting his heart and soul into it.
By the time he made it to the end, Mateo and Arthur both stood to give him his applause. Nicola jumped up and pulled him into a hug. “That was wonderful! My turn, my turn.” She pecked him on the cheek, finished off the last of her wine, and switched CDs to one full of ‘90s tracks.
Mateo bit into his burger and watched her decide. Arthur leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Don’t laugh.”
He started to ask what Arthur meant when Nicola suddenly announced that she’d tell him what she wanted, what she really, really wanted. He covered his mouth with his hand, fighting back laughter. As stunning and poised as Nicola was, Arthur hadn’t been joking about her vocal abilities. He was doubtful she’d be able to locate a note with the exact GPS coordinates.
Strangely enough, though, it didn’t matter what she sounded like. At least not to her. She put her all into the song, and despite being off-pitch the whole time, the fact that she didn’t care what she sounded like made it even better. She still looked better than everyone in the bar, even if she sounded like a cat in heat, and her allure only skyrocketed with her—albeit unfounded—confidence.
When she finished her song, she was treated to the three of them whooping and cheering her on. This all served to make Mateo feel more comfortable in the fact that he didn’t consider himself a strong singer. All he needed was to put his best foot forward and everyone would have fun.
All that flew out the window as he made his way to the machine. The burger in his stomach churned, and he felt all eyes on him as he took the microphone in his hand. Nervously, he flipped through CDs for what must’ve been
a few minutes at the very least. Arthur was at his side.
“You okay? You don’t have to do anything if you’re scared.”
Mateo shook his head. “I’m not scared, I’m just…” He glanced back at Lincoln and Nicola as they sipped from their glasses and chatted. “I’m scared,” he finally admitted.
Arthur’s expression softened and he placed a hand on Mateo’s hip. It was an innocent enough gesture, but it made Mateo’s heart thud twice as hard in his chest. “We can do something together if that would make you more comfortable.”
He thought it over. “Yeah. Yeah, that could be cool.”
“Perfect. Just name the song and we can do it.”
With more confidence in himself, Mateo settled on an ‘80s karaoke CD and put it in the machine. He flipped through tracks until he found one that put a smile on his face. He knew this song like he knew the back of his hand. He’d sang it drunk off his ass at so many of Valerie’s parties that it was practically tradition.
Arthur nodded in approval. “‘Take Me Home Tonight.’ One of the greatest songs of the decade.”
“Nuh-uh,” Mateo said. “Not one of. The greatest.”
A smirk crossed Arthur’s face as he said, “Let’s do it.”
As the dramatic intro began playing, Mateo tightened his grip on the microphone and prepared himself. When it was time to sing, he didn’t hesitate. Arthur did backing vocals perfectly, and when it got to the chorus, they both sang together, encouraged by Nicola’s cheering.
The bridge was where Mateo always lost his shit. The combination of the growling lyrics and the blaring saxophone stole any bit of sense he had, and this time was no different. Even Arthur seemed surprised, laughing when they both joined together for the chorus again. They sang until the very end, and when they were finished, Arthur pulled Mateo into his arms for a long hug.
“You did great,” he said, nuzzling against his ear.
“We did great,” Mateo corrected. They parted and Mateo hurried back to his seat in embarrassment, thankful that he hadn’t been up there performing alone. He was even more grateful to be able to eat again. As more drinks were poured, their performances become sloppier, but that only made it even better. There was a freedom in belting out lyrics and not caring who heard or what they thought.