Page 56 of Resurrection
"It’s an all-cookie diet," I mumble through a mouthful. But I don’t taste anything, not really. I run my hand through my hair, feel the chaos inside me grow.
Mom’s eyes follow me as I make another lap. "You look like you’ve got something on your mind," she says, wiping flour from her hands. "What's troubling you, son?"
She pulls out a chair, and it feels more like an order than an invitation.
I sit down, the weight of everything is really starting to bother me. "Something like that," I admit. I hesitate, staring at the cookie in my hand, then give in. "It’s Naomi."
Her expression softens with understanding, not surprise. "Want to tell me what happened?"
"I can’t let it go," I finally confess. "I thought I had. I thought…"
It spills out before I can stop it, the whole mess of the parking lot and the years between us and the way her kiss was everything and was nothing like I imagined it’d be.
Mom listens, nodding, her silence saying all the right things.
"Tyler," she interrupts gently. "Maybe you’re not supposed to let go."
I stare at her, trying to understand. "It was a long time ago, Mom."
She gives me a smile, the kind that knows more than it lets on. "Not that long." She looks around as if the house itself is chiming in. "Maybe it’s meant to be that way, after all these years, both Naomi and you are back home to finish what you started."
I tip my chin, not trusting myself to speak, and turn to the window in the direction of Sageview Ridge. Somewhere out there, just a quick drive away, sits the Medina house, where I left my heart seventeen years ago, and I think I need to do my best to get it back.
Before this void inside my chest ruins me.
16NAOMI
The kitchen is too quiet.
And the shiny surfaces of the stainless steel counters stare back at me, judging.
"I think we need to order two more," Sonia's voice cuts through my thoughts, and her fingers snap like a drill sergeant in front of my face, demanding my attention. "Earth to Chef Medina."
I blink, dragging myself back from wherever I just was. "Hmm?"
She rolls her eyes and flicks my arm. "Are you gonna make me work for it, or are you gonna tell me why you're not yourself lately?"
"What do you mean?" I mumble, reaching for a ladle that doesn’t need reaching for. The silence between lunch and dinner has never felt this loud.
Sonia gives me a look, one that says I'm not fooling her.
"I'm serious, Naomi. You're like a zombie on autopilot these past few weeks." She leans in closer, her eyes probing. I feel myself starting to unravel under her gaze. I try to shrug it off, but it sticks to me like sauce on white.
It’s hard to let go of old habits, especially the ones that call for secrecy. And even though Sonia and I have been friends ever since my return to Sageview Ridge, I still have a hard time telling her certain things, the ones I want to bury.
Not Sonia’s fault. She’s been nothing but kind and understanding.
"It’s nothing really." The ladle spins in my hand like a security blanket. "Just one of those months," I lie.
Sonia snorts, unfazed, and takes a step back, crossing her arms.
"Fine. Keep your secrets." She pouts, but the sparkle in her eyes means she’s not letting this go.
I stand there, my arms heavy, wishing for a sudden phone call, an unexpected ingredient delivery, or a small earthquake. Anything to save me from this conversation.
"I can’t understand why you don’t talk to anyone," she whispers, her expression thoughtful. "We all knew about your dad, that he was sick, and we know about your brother and his troubles. We’re here to support you. You don’t have to try to be perfect all the time."
Sonia hardly ever gets serious. She’s bubbly and loud and extroverted. Customers and the crew love her for her positivity. I’m lacking in that department. I can cook, but I don’t have people skills. At least, not the ones that count in order to make it.
