I walk in, and it smells like milk and clean clothes. There’s a laundry basket right by the door, clothes spilling out. Empty formula bottles are also on the floor. And inside the playpen is Penny, who doesn’t have her Colombian mother’s light brown skin tone, but is instead very pale like Christian was, except right now she’s red from screaming. Lidia is in the kitchen, warming up a bottle in a cup of hot water.
“You are a godsend,” Lidia says. “I would hug you, but I haven’t brushed my teeth since Sunday.”
“You should go do that.”
“Hey, nice shirt!” Lidia fastens a top onto the bottle and tosses it to me, right when Penny screams louder. “Just give it to her. She gets pissed if she doesn’t hold her own bottle.” Lidia ties her messy hair back with a rubber band and speed-walks toward the bathroom. “Oh my god, I get to pee by myself. I can’t wait.”
I kneel before Penny and offer her the bottle. She has attitude in her dark brown eyes, but when she grabs the bottle from me and sits back down on a stuffed bear, she smiles and flashes me her four baby teeth before getting to work on her bottle. All the baby books say Penny should be done with formula already, but Penny resists the real stuff. We have that in common.
Lidia comes out of the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging from her mouth as she puts batteries into a plastic toy butterfly. She’s asking me something, but toothpaste-y saliva drips down her chin, and she rushes to the kitchen sink and spits. “Sorry. Gross. Do you want some breakfast? You’re so damn skinny. Gross, I sound like your mother.” She shakes her head. “Oh god, you know what I mean. I sound like I’m mothering you.”
“No worries, Lidia. And I ate already, but thanks.” I poke Penny’s feet while she drinks, and she lowers her bottle to laugh. There’s some gibberish I’m sure makes perfect sense to her, and then she returns to her bottle.
“Guess who got the alert?” Lidia asks, waving her phone.
I freeze while holding Penny’s foot. There’s no way Lidia knows I’m dying and there’s no way she’d be this casual about letting me know she is. “Who?”
“Howie Maldonado!” Lidia checks her phone. “His fans are devastated.”
“I’m sure.” I share an End Day with my favorite fictional villain. I don’t know what to make of that.
“How’s your dad doing?” Lidia asks.
“Stable. I keep hoping for one of those TV miracles where he hears my voice and snaps awake, but that obviously didn’t happen. Nothing we can do but wait.” It’s crunching my insides talking about this. I sit beside the playpen and pick up some stuffed animals—a smiling sheep, a yellow owl—and bounce them toward Penny before tickling her. I’ll never have any moments like this with my own kids.
“I’m sorry to hear that. He’ll pull through. Your dad is badass. I keep telling myself he’s just taking a nap from all that badass-ness.”
“Probably. Penny’s done with her bottle. I can burp her.”
“Godsend, Mateo. Godsend.”
I wipe Penny’s face clean, pick her up, and pat her back until I get that burp and laugh out of her. I do my signature Dinosaur Walk, where I stomp around like a T. rex with Penny in my arms, which always seems to relax her. Lidia walks over and turns on the TV.
“Yes, it’s six-thirty. Time for cartoons, aka the only time I have to clean up the previous day’s messes before it all goes to hell again.” Lidia smiles at Penny, slides toward us, and kisses her on the nose. “What Mommy meant to say is what a treasure her little Penny is.” Under her breath and behind a smile she adds, “A treasure that leaves nothing buried around.”
I laugh and put Penny down. Lidia gives Penny the plastic butterfly and collects clothes from the floor. “What can I do to help?” I say.
“You can never change, for starters. Then you can throw all her toys back in the chest, but leave the sheep alone or she’ll freak out. And in return I will love you forever and ever. I’m going to put her clothes in her drawers. Give me a minute or ten.” Lidia leaves with the laundry basket.
“Take your time.”
“Godsend!”
I love Lidia in all her forms. Before Penny, she wanted to graduate high school with top honors and go to college to pursue politics and architecture and music history. She wanted to travel to Buenos Aires and Spain, Germany and Colombia, but then she met Christian and got pregnant and found happiness in her new world.
Lidia used to be the girl who got her hair straightened after school every Thursday, was always glowing without makeup, and loved photo-bombing strangers’ photos with goofy faces. Now her hair is what she calls “somewhat cute, somewhat lion’s mane,” and she will never approve any photo to go up online because she thinks she looks too burned out. I think my best friend glows even brighter than before because she’s been through a change, an evolution that many can’t handle. And she’s done it solo.
When I’m done throwing all the toys back into their chest, I sit down with Penny on the floor, watching as she blows raspberries whenever the cartoon characters ask her questions. 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.
“Penny, I hope you figure out how to become immortal so you can rule this place for as long as you like.”
Here’s my vision of Utopia: a world without violence and tragedies, where everyone lives forever, or until they’ve led fulfilling and happy lives and decide themselves that they want to check out whatever’s next for us.
Penny responds with gibberish.
Lidia comes out of the other room. “Why are you wishing Penny immortality and world domination while she’s learning how to say ‘one’ in Spanish?”
“Because I want her to live forever, obviously.” I smile. “And make minions of everyone else.”
Lidia’s eyebrows rise. She leans over, picks up Penny, and holds her out to me. “Penny for your thoughts?” We both cringe. “That is never going to be funny, is it? I just keep going for it, hoping that the next time will be it, but no.”
“Maybe next time,” I say.
“Honestly, you don’t even have to give me your thoughts. If you want Penny you can have her for free.” She flips Penny around and kisses her eyes and tickles her armpit. “Mommy meant to say that you’re priceless, little Penny.” Then she mutters, “The priciest priceless little Penny ever.” She sets Penny back down in front of the TV and continues cleaning.
The relationship I have with Lidia isn’t the kind you see in movies or maybe have with your own friends. We love each other to death, but we don’t go around talking about it. It’s understood between us. And words can sometimes be awkward, even when you’ve known someone for eight years. But today I have to say more.