Fast-forward five years when Death-Cast came into the picture and suddenly everyone was awake at their own funerals. Having the chance to say goodbye before you die is an incredible opportunity, but isn’t that time better spent actually living? Maybe I would feel differently if I could count on people showing up to my funeral. If I had more friends than I do fingers.
The number one person I’ll miss the most is Future Mateo, who maybe loosened up and lived.
I’m trying to stay shut ‘cause I don’t wanna take my problems out on some guy doing his job, even though I have no idea why the hell anyone applies for this position in the first place. Let’s pretend I got a future for a second, entertain me—in no universe am I ever waking up and saying, “I think I’ll get a twelve-to-three shift where I do nothing but tell people their lives are over.” But Victor and others did.
“You want me to get off my throne and get real with you? Okay. An hour ago I got off the phone with a woman who cried over how she won’t be a mother anymore after her four-year-old daughter dies today. [...] And then I had to put in a request to the Youth Department to dispatch a cop just in case the mother is responsible, which believe it or not, is not the most disgusting thing I’ve done for this job.”
I don’t wanna think about any of that, I just wanna get to Aimee and say goodbye to the Plutos as the friend they know I am, not the monster I was tonight.
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.
Rufus E. (3:19 a.m.): Hey, Mateo. Nice hat.
He not only responded, but he likes my Luigi hat from my profile picture. He’s already connecting to the person I want to become.
But I wasn’t honest with Rufus because, on a deep level, I do believe partying on the train is my kind of scene. It’s just that the fear of disappointing others or making a fool of myself always wins.
“I think we made his day by not pretending he’s invisible.”
This is Penny’s beginning. And one day she’ll find herself on the terrible end of a Death-Cast call and it sucks how we’re all being raised to die. Yes, we live, or we’re given the chance to, at least, but sometimes living is hard and complicated because of fear.
I believe him. He’s not monstrous. Monsters don’t come to your home to help you live; they trap you in your bed and eat you alive. “People make mistakes,” I say.
“And my friends are the ones being punished,” Rufus says. “Their last memory of me will be running out the back door from my own funeral because the cops were coming for me. I left them behind... I’ve spent the last four months feeling abandoned by my family dying, and in a split second I did the same damn thing to my new family.”
I don’t know if he’s playing it off like he doesn’t know this from my Last Friend profile or if he’s impacted by this piece of history between me and my sister or if he overlooked this on my profile and is some ass who cares about who other people kiss. I hope not. We’re friends now, hands down, and it’s not forced. I met this kid a few years ago because some creative designer somewhere developed an app to forge connections. I’d hate to disconnect.
“I think we’re already dead, dude. Not everyone, just Deckers. The whole Death-Cast thing seems too fantasy to be true. Knowing when our last day is going down so we can live it right: Straight-up fantasy. The first afterlife kicks off when Death-Cast tells us to live out our day knowing it’s our last; that way we’ll take full advantage of it, thinking we’re still alive. Then we enter the next and final afterlife without any regrets.”
Twelve hours ago I received the phone call telling me I’m going to die today. In my own Mateo way, I’ve said tons of goodbyes already [...] but the most important goodbye is the one I said to Past Mateo, who I left behind at home when my Last Friend accompanied me into a world that has it out for us. Rufus has done so much for me and I’m here to help him confront any demons following him [...]
I buy the mystery book and the postcards, thank Joel for his help, and we leave. Rufus said the key to his relationships was speaking up. I can do this with the postcards, but I have to use my voice, too.
Deirdre reaches deep within herself, far past the place where lies and hopelessness come easily, and even beneath the very honest truth where she’s okay with the impacting the relief that comes with flying off this roof. She sees two boys living and this makes her feel less dead inside.
Intent may not be enough to cause her to actually die, she knows this from the countless other mornings when she’s woken up to ugliness, but when faced with the chance to prove Death-Cast wrong, Deirdre makes the right decision and lives.
“Welcome to the World Travel Arena. Sorry to lose you three.”
“I’m not dying,” Lidia corrects.
“Oh. Cost for guests is going to be one hundred dollars,” the teller says. He looks at me and Rufus. “Suggested donation is one dollar for Deckers.”
I pay for all our tickets, donating an extra couple hundred dollars in the hope that the arena remains open for many, many years.
Graham is always on Andrade’s mind, and today is no exception, with these foster kids in the holding cell who are acting out because their brother is a Decker. You don’t need matching DNA for someone to be your brother, Andrade knows this. And you definitely don’t need the same blood to lose a part of yourself when someone dies.
Andrade is doing his damn best to get that snuff channel terminated by the end of the year. No way in hell he can share a beer with Graham in heaven without getting this job done. Andrade wants to focus on his real work, not babysitting. That’s why he has their foster parents signing release forms this very second. Let them go home with firm warnings so they can sleep.
And grieve.
Maybe even find their friend if he’s still alive.
“I know there’s no time to waste, but I had to be sure you are who I thought you were. The best thing about dying is your friendship.” I never thought I would find someone I could say words like this to.
“What would’ve made you happy?” Delilah asks.
Love comes to mind, immediately, and it surprises him like a lightning bolt on a day with clear forecasts. Howie never felt lonely, because he could go online at any moment and find himself flooded with messages. But affection from millions and intimacy from that one special person are completely different beasts.
Death-Cast did not call this gang of boys today, and they’re living as if this means their lives can’t be over while they’re alive. They run through the streets, not caring about traffic, as if they’re invincible against speeding cars and completely untouchable by the law.
“What am I going to do without you?”
This loaded question is the reason I didn’t want anyone to know I was dying. There are questions I can’t answer. I cannot tell you how you will survive without me. I cannot tell you how to mourn me. I cannot convince you to not feel guilty if you forget the anniversary of my death, or if you realize days or weeks or months have gone by without thinking about me.
I just want you to live.
You may be born into a family, but you walk into friendships. Some you’ll discover you should put behind you. Others are worth every risk.
“I always wanted to stumble into someone like you and it sucks that I had to find you through a stupid app.”
“I like the Last Friend app. [...] I think the app puts you out there more than anything else. For me, it meant admitting I was lonely and wanted to connect with someone.”
