Page 137 of Resurrection
"It’s all good, Mrs. Medina," I counter. "I don’t want to intrude."
"What nonsense. You’re not intruding." She pulls me to the front of the room, where Naomi’s talking to some of her cousins.
"You two forgot your son," Letty tells my parents as she nudges me toward the circle of people gathered next to her.
"Tyler?" one of them says, extending a hand for a shake.
"Long time no see," the other one adds.
"We heard you were in town."
"Weren’t you at the funeral?"
"And the talent show?"
They shoot questions at me like tennis balls while Naomi watches. Today, her eyes are sad and tired, and she’s avoiding holding my hand in public. We haven’t really told anyone what’s been happening between us yet, and doing it here and now would be disrespectful to her father’s memory. It’s his day, the celebration of his life.
Letty sits me beside her, beside family. Beside an empty chair that apparently belongs to Adri. He shows up moments later and gives me a death stare, then settles next to me. I want to run, leave the building this second, but that would probably only make it worse.
The silence between him and me is loaded, a time bomb waiting for the right fuse. Then, during his aunt’s speech, when she pauses to collect her thoughts and flip the page she’s using to read her notes, he hisses, "Be grateful my mother is here. Otherwise, you’d be dead meat, Brady."
He’s quiet again as the stories roll out while the laughter and tears blend together. It’s a harmony of belonging, but I can’t focus on the words, only on the unspoken language of everyone’s faces, how they reflect years and years of history.
I don’t know why I feel so emotional. Death is inevitable in this life. I’m grown up enough to know Jose would eventually be gone. When he didn’t gain consciousness two years ago after the stroke, it was obvious that he wasbarely holding on. Still, there’s a tightness in my chest, dark and uncomfortable. Naomi’s at the end of the row, one chair over. Her expression is solemn and a little withdrawn when I glance at her. She turns her face to me as if she senses my gaze on her.
Adri clears his throat.
I look away.
It takes forever for the service to end. I’m on edge, on fire, on the verge of walking out before anyone sees me like this.
Letty keeps me near, her arm light on my back as she talks to relatives, neighbors, even a couple I’ve never met but remember seeing with Naomi at the talent show. They all look at me with a mix of curiosity and recognition, piecing together my place in this narrative, which makes me wonder again if I truly belong here.
I ask where the restroom is and excuse myself.
In the hallway, Adri catches up with me. There’s fire of our unfinished business in his eyes. We face off, a decade and more of tension compressed into the narrow space.
"What game are you playing with my sister?" Adri’s voice is low, lethal.
I see no point in denying anything. "It's not a game."
He steps closer. "Then what the hell is it, Brady? You got bored of the road, decided to screw with her head again?"
The words sting, even though I saw them coming. But I stand my ground, refusing to let him see the uncertainty gnawing at me. "You don’t get it. You never did, you selfish asshole."
"I get enough to know your pattern. Show up, act like you care, then leave. The sooner you cut the crap, the less it’ll hurt."
The accusation rips through me, tearing open the doubts I’m trying to ignore. But this time, it’s different. This time, I know what I want. I stare him down, a dare, a challenge. "It won’t be like that."
"You think because you stuck around for a few weeks that makes you different?"
"I think because I love her it does." The confession explodes from me, raw and unchecked.
Adri’s jaw tightens, and I see the hit land, see the history he holds like a shield. "You love yourself, Brady. That’s it."
I’m about to fire back, about to throw everything I’ve been keeping in me all these years at him, when Naomi appears. She’s between us in an instant.
"Out of all places, you choose to do this in a church?" she snaps. "Stop it." Her eyes pin us both. She’s angry, but it’s more than that. She’s afraid too. "This isn’t the time. Or the place."
