Page 67 of Resurrection
I raise both hands in the air in surrender. "I promise I will be a good boy."
She laughs but bites it back almost immediately.
"Busy night," I manage to say. All the words I had in my head, all the stuff I’ve rehearsed all evening are gone. Vanished. I’m nothing under her scrutiny.
"Every night is a busy night," she replies, like I'm stupid for even saying something so obvious.
The noise swells around us, like the restaurant knows this is the most awkward moment of my life and wants to make sure everyone sees it. Her staff pretends they aren't watching, all except the bartender, who's made it his mission to glare a hole through my head. So we simply exist, leaning against opposite sides of the bar, miles between us, even with just a counter in the way. She’s standing and I’m sitting, and I like it this way, this angle where, for once, she’s the one in the position of power.
"Tyler, I really don’t have time to play games," Naomi finally says, her voice tired. "What is it that you want?"
"So I was thinking I’ll probably be in town for a while…"
"Keep lying to yourself, Ty."
"No, I mean it." I don’t know if I do, but if I don’t latch onto something here, to some sort of project or commitment, then I will be gone. It’s like I’m trying to find an excuse to refuse Vortex’s offer. "I want to help. With the volunteering at the community center. I’m not used to doing nothing. I think it will be good."
"Huh?" She tilts her head slightly and crosses her arms on her chest, observing me for a second. "Is that why last time you came to see me at the community center you hid underneath your car?"
"No…well…last time I was a bit out of sorts."
"Ty, volunteering isn’t some easy hobby. You have to put in some work with those teens. Not all of them come from good families like we do. Asher’s from an abusive household. Miranda suffers from bipolar disorder. They’re not toys. They’re human beings. Saying the wrong thing can set them off. You’re a very public person, and they all idolize you, but if you promise something and then don’t follow through, it’s hurts them more than you know."
She pauses and waits as if allowing me to let her words sink in.
I shift on the stool, the leather squeaking a little. "I understand."
"Do you?"
"I know you hate my guts, but I’m telling the truth. This is the first time in a long time that I’ve had a break. I want to do something meaningful while I’m here." I don’t tell her that the idea of meaningful for me is to thaw her frozen heart. Everything else is just the cherry on top.
Naomi holds my gaze a beat longer, searching for something. A way to let me down easy? Maybe. A way to believe I'm serious? I hope so.
Finally, she exhales and rattles off, "Community center. Tuesdays and Thursdays at four. I’ll send you the video materials you need to watch before you start."
"I’ll be there."
She turns to leave, but there's a pause in her step, a second of hesitation that says she's not sure she's doing the right thing. She doesn't turn back, just heads into the madness of the kitchen.
I'm still sitting there with my empty glass. I have no clue if this is the correct choice, sticking around instead of hitting the road. But it feels like something, and that's more than I've felt in a long time.
19NAOMI
I don’t actually expectTyler to show up at the community center, but for the first time in my life, he proves me wrong.
He arrives when the chaos is at its peak. Kids run wild between rows of chairs, two boys have decided the microphone stands are lightsabers, and someone left a pizza on the stage. Phoenix Down, who just arrived for their rehearsal session, barely notice the noise, too busy debating what song they'll play for the talent show in place of the Paramore cover they’ve been rehearsing all this time. Due to some technical difficulties—as they stated during our last meeting—they can’t perform it anymore.
The previous group is finally winding down and starts to leave, their parents waving at me from the door before escorting their children out.
The room vibrates with occasional guitar riffs, high-pitched laughs, and Jamie yelling, "Help, please!"
I have a pen between my teeth and I'm trying to fix my hair falling out of its bun when I spot Tyler entering. He looks around, taking in the insanity, and smiles. Just a little. "Need a hand?"
"Need to move the chairs out of the way," I say, trying not to drop my clipboard as I point to the far corner.
He salutes, then heads into the chaos, where the teenagers immediately recognize him, and rush toward him like it’s like a scene from a zombie apocalypse movie.
It's not every day a real-life rockstar shows up at the community center of our tiny desert town, even if he's only here to move chairs.
