Frankie can hear Gloria’s keys jingling as she climbs the stairs slowly, like usual, as if she’s walking up some steep mountain. He will punch a wall if she ever complains about the elevator not working again. He’ll also punch a wall, maybe even Gloria herself, if she doesn’t have a good answer as to who was hanging around his son today.

Then he hears the man’s voice. It’s Rolando.

Why are they together?

If she’s having an affair, so help them . . .

Hell, Frankie has cheated on Gloria a few times with the broad on the third floor, but that was different. Gloria has no idea, and Frankie would never flaunt that in her face. But bringing Rolando into his home? As if Frankie hasn’t voiced a thousand times to Gloria that he doesn’t fully trust Rolando only has friendship on the brain?

For the first time since this morning, Frankie is very tempted to slam the door shut—right in Rolando’s face.

Valentino

6:27 p.m.

Why walk toward your own death when you can drive?

Floyd is driving us down the FDR, a ten-minute journey between his house and my building. But there’s a catch: I’m alone in the backseat of the van as Orion sits shotgun. It’s a safety decision and one I chose to respect when I got in the car and accepted this generous offer.

Transportation is really tricky on an End Day.

Orion and I tried leaving for the subway, but his family wouldn’t allow us. There were too many risks between here and the station, and then the train ride itself presented its own dangers. I thought we could take a taxi, but his guardians didn’t trust any drivers, especially since just last week Floyd had to provide medical attention to a cabbie who was responsible for the accident. What if fate was cruel enough to put that man behind the wheel again with us in the backseat? Floyd volunteered to drive but refused to let Dayana, Dalma, and Dahlia get in the car too. He tried suggesting there wasn’t enough space for all of us, but it’s a van. Everyone could fit. I just know he doesn’t want to risk their lives. I’m sure he wishes Orion were in Dayana’s car with the girls, but the best he could do was suggest Orion sit up front with him to help navigate a freeway that has been a pretty straight shot.

I’m not upset. I want Orion close to the airbags. The best protection I have back here are comforters and bedding and pillows that Dayana has given me to leave behind for Scarlett. Now Scarlett won’t have to sleep under my clothes like I did with Orion.

I love that memory. The first time I shared a bed with a boy.