Page 76 of Resurrection
"Because that girl likes you, Tyler. Your dad and I aren’t blind."
"No shit," I murmured under my breath.
"Language." Dad slapped his palm on the table.
"Sorry," I apologized.
"The time’s coming fast," Mom continued. "We want to make sure you’re making the right choices. We’ve never stopped you from your interest in music. But what if it doesn’t work out? You need to have a plan B. And having education or some sort of skill beyond working on a food truck is useful."
"I’m going to LA." Right there and then, it felt like they didn’t want me to succeed, like they didn’t want me to be in the band and play on stage. It felt like the deepest betrayal.
"What are you two going to do?" Mom pressed.
"Who?" I was playing dumb, knowing she meant Naomi. I had no idea why they were so interested in my relationship with her. They’d left me alone all throughout high school.
"You know who." Dad gestured with his fork toward the Medina house outside our window.
"She might come with," I blurted out. Not because I wanted this conversation, but because I wanted to show them that someone was on my side, that someone wanted my dream to come true.
Perhaps that was a mistake.
"Is that so?" Dad hummed, chewing on his veggies.
"Not everyone wants me to fail, Dad!" I snapped like any seventeen-year-old with too much ambition and testosterone would.
"That’s not what we’re saying," Mom immediately butted in. "But did you two just entertain the idea or actually consider doing this? Because last time I spoke to Letty, Naomi had applied to UC Riverside."
I knew that. Unlike me, she had a plan B. But it was mostly to get her parents off her back.
"We’re not sure," I said flatly, tired of this interrogation. "We just talked about things is all."
My folks were quiet then. I watched them, waiting for the next question that would tie this meal together like a big, heavy rock around my neck.
Dad didn’t leave me hanging. "Do you understand what you're doing?"
"We both do," I replied.
Mom poured me some more milk. "You’re awfully young to make such decisions for the two of you."
"Old enough. And I'm not the one making them. We are discussing it together."
"I’d say you’re moving pretty fast," Dad croaked.
I put my fork down since I wasn’t going to get much use out of it. "We’re not moving that fast. Can I please be excused now? I gotta practice before the gig."
"Sure." Dad nodded.
"Naomi’s a good girl," Mom added. "Don’t do anything you’ll regret later."
That evening, I left the kitchen alive, but barely.
Naomi was a good girl, all right.
Too good for me, and my parents knew it. I knew it too, but I wanted her for myself. Not because she was a nice addition to my life but because she was the muse for every sappy tune I’d written in the past couple of years. Because I needed her like I needed fresh air in that dusty small town.
I didn’t know how long I’d last before my parents extracted the truth out of me with their combined forces of potatoes and persuasion. I only hoped I could survive the next four months. The garage wasn’t much of an escape since Dad could come in anytime, but it was my escape, and that worked fine.
After a couple of hours of practicing on my guitar, I snuck back into the house to grab some water. It was getting late, the lights were out, and I hoped my folks were asleep.
