Chapter 5 - THE VICTIM
The person Mateo hit was named Daniel Price.
He was sixty-one, a retired school custodian, walking home from the corner store with a canvas grocery bag and a carton of eggs.
He survived.
I need to say that first.
Because for eight minutes in my parents’ driveway, I did not know.
For eight minutes, the only thing between my family and the unknown condition of a stranger was Mateo’s arrogance and my recording.
Daniel was found by a neighbor who heard the impact and looked out after the truck sped away. He was conscious when paramedics arrived. Frightened. Hurt. Asking if the driver had stopped.
The driver had not.
The driver had come home.
The driver’s parents had cleaned glass from the driveway and told his sister to say she was behind the wheel.
When Officer Harris told me Daniel was alive, something in my chest loosened.
Not relief enough to forgive.
Just enough to keep standing.
Mateo began talking the moment he realized silence might not save him.
He said Daniel came out of nowhere.
Then he said he thought he hit a trash bin.
Then he said Dad told him to come home.
Dad shouted:
“I told you to call me!”
That was interesting.
Not:
I told you to call 911.
Not:
I told you to stop.
Call me.
The officer’s head turned.
Dad realized his mistake instantly.
Mom started crying.
“I can’t lose my son.”
I looked at her.
The sentence hit me harder than I expected.
Not because she loved Mateo.
Because Daniel Price was somebody’s son too.
Because I was her daughter, and she had been ready to lose me into a lie.
“You were willing to lose me,” I said quietly.
Mom’s mouth opened.
No answer came.
Mateo glared at me while an officer secured him near the cruiser.
“You’re really doing this?”
“No,” I said. “You did this.”
He laughed bitterly.
“You always wanted me to look bad.”
I looked at my ruined truck.
May you like
Then down the street where ambulance lights still flickered faintly against the darkening sky.
“No, Mateo. You just finally did it where witnesses could see.”
