It's been a long, sleepless night. But having Mateo here has made it easier. It's a little past dawn. We're playing cards.

"You didn't have to miss the movie on my account," I say, putting down an ace.

"I didn't feel right going without you," he replies, shrugging. "We Latinos have to stick together, no?"

I roll my eyes, but I'm smiling.

"Are you hungry?" he goes on, winning the card ward four times in a row.

"I don't really feel like eating too much," I reply honestly.

"Okay . . . how 'bout a pudding? You should have at least a little something."

I offer a tired smile and nod. Mateo smiles in return, leans forward to kiss my cheek. And then he's walking, or rather strutting, away with a huge grin on his face. The butterflies in my stomach spring to life. But then I realize it's more than butterflies.

My stomach begins to gurgle, and not in a good way. Not because I'm hungry. I feel my eyes roll into the back of my head as I lean over towards the can at my bedside.

"Oh goodness."

I spit and wipe my chin as I look up at the nurse coming to my aid. She ties my hair back, adjusts my IV drip. Pours me a little water to wash out my mouth. Mateo returns as I am being handed a paper cup with my meds in it.

"You look pale," he says with concern as he sits on the edge of my bed.

"She was a little sick just now," the nurse replies for me. "That's all."

His smile becomes sad, but it doesn't fade from his face. Nurse finishes whatever she's doing, and tells me the doctor will be coming to check on me soon. And then she leaves the room.

"Day ruined," I mumble, sighing as I close my eyes.

"Porque dices eso?" he asks, and I open my eyes when I feel him holding my hand.

"Because we were having a good time," I reply softly. "Now I'm all gross and sicker than normal . . ."

Tears well in my eyes. I blink them, trying to stay the emotions, but they fall anyways.

"Sorry," I whisper, turning over to hide my face.

"What are you sorry for?"

His voice is soft, and very close to my ear. But I stay still. The bed shifts and I know Mateo has moved next to me.

"Andrea," he says, his Spanish accent more prominent than usual. "Mirame."

I sniffle and roll over to look at him. He's so near to me, I almost bump my forehead into his nose.

"You don't need to hide from me," he says in the kindest, most gentlest voice I've ever heard. "I know that things are tough right now. But I'm here because I want to be, and I want to be one of the people you can talk to."

I nod, but can't bring myself to saying anything. I've wanted to hear him say something like that. Okay, not that-that, but it was close enough.

He touches my cheek with his knuckle. Offering me a soft smile.

"Sometimes," he goes on, bringing my hand to his chest. "We just need to let go. Let it out. Not hold it in. I am sure you do when you're alone, but you don't need to hide it from me."

I nod again. This time, I snuggle closer, letting my head fall into Mateo's chest. His arms wrap around me. His scent envelopes me and the sleep that escaped me in the night comes knocking on my brain.

***

"I think it is safe to send you home."

Those were the doctor's words. What scared me about that phrase was the word "safe". What? As if the house I call home isn't "safe" enough for me?

Mrs. Gonzalez picks me up to drive me home. I'm sitting in the front seat. I have my cap pulled down over my ears.

"Mateo was nice to stay with you during the night," the woman says appreciatively. "With every thing he will have in the coming week, it was sweet for him to check on you."

"What does he have this week?" I ask in a low voice.

"Well, since he will be aging out of foster care and into a semi-solo situation. He is going to be looking at apartments. Pre-paid living, but he will need to maintain good grades and a steady job. But he's smart. He can handle anything."

My heart drops into my stomach. I knew he would be aging out, but I didn't realize it would happen so soon. It's only the middle of the summer.

*

We arrive at the house and the first thing I do is hurry to my room to change. The clothes I'm wearing are what I had on when I passed out. Myrtle is in our shared room. She looks freshly showered. And there's something different about her today. It's like she's . . . glowing.

"Aren't we jolly today," I say with a smirk. "What's with you?"

"Nothing," she replies, laughing as she subconsciously tucks a stray hair behind her ear. "It's just a good day, I guess. I'm going to work. Maddox is driving and I will be back around six. Would you like me to bring anything back?"

"Ah, well . . ." I trail off and shrug. "I don't really need anything. But I'm always open to chocolate."

I say the last word in full Spanish. Myrtle winks as she gathers her wallet and backpack.

"I'll be back later," she tells me again before leaving.