Page 3 of Resurrection
"Jose is being taken off life support soon," she says, her voice solemn. "You should come say goodbye."
Her words reach inside, grabbing something vital, then twisting. An image of the desert fills my mind. Blue skies and palm trees from a lifetime ago. It’s like an imaginary map, one that’s been calling me back since I left.
"When?" I ask. The noise of the event is suddenly pressing in like it might crush me. Laughter and music and the clink of glasses, all of it too much and too little.
"Next week," my mother supplies.
Memories hit like waves all at once. The Medinas’ kitchen filled with the smell of spices. Naomi’s voice blending with her brother’s as they tease each other over cards. Their mother, Letty, constantly trying to feed me. Her husband, Jose, telling local stories about mythical creatures that don’t exist.
"I don’t know," I admit, hesitating for a split second as my heart does that annoying flutter thing it always seems to do when that family is mentioned. Funny how the prospect of facing Sageview Ridge shakes me more than any gig crowd ever could. "Yeah, okay," I finally muster up a response through the phone like I’m biting into a lemon. "I’ll do my best to be there before next week."
"Your father will be happy to see you. He misses you. I miss you too."
Her words feel like a reprimand. I don’t visit often. And when I do, it’s brief. And I think my parents despise me for this distance I’ve created between us.
But maybe facing Naomi Medina is inevitable.
Maybe it’s time we have this conversation.
1NAOMI
"Chef’s special night?"Rico asks from behind the folding table that’s heaped with purple eggplants.
"You know it, my friend. Saturdays are always best," I supply, grabbing one of the vegetables and giving it a gentle squeeze.
"Perfect for that veggie stew you make," Rico says.
"Ratatouille." French dish. Not overly popular with the folks in this California desert town.
"Ah, you’re the one who went to that fancy cooking school. I don’t know them names." Rico chuckles lightheartedly.
"I’ll have three pounds."
"Sure thing." He starts hustling as I pull out my credit card from the back pocket of my jeans.
As always, the market is crowded. People are eager to be here while the spring weather allows it. During the summer, when the heatwaves hit one after another, it’s hell being outside. But even now, the hot wind occasionally lifts dust into the air, as if reminding us all that we’re at the nature's mercy in this tiny town at the bottom of the San Jacinto mountains.
"Ready to go." Rico finishes packing my eggplants and carefully places them in my wagon cart.
"Thank you." I pay and move on to the next stall to check out some of the herbs from the Morrow farm.
Soon, my cart is filled with crisp lettuce, several kinds of tomatoes, fresh basil and parsley, and other items I need for tonight’s special at Oasis.
"Naomi, honey, is that you?" a familiar voice calls my name as I reach the end of the aisle.
I turn to the sound and see the plump sales lady who always gave me free samples of her dried fruits when I was a teenager.
I wave a hand. "In the flesh. Still a sucker for fresh produce, as you can see, Mrs. Kovacs."
"Well, I’ll be darned." She beams, shaking her head in disbelief. "I heard you were back a while ago."
"Five years."
"That new place at the casino is yours?"
"Oasis. Yes."
"New York not to your liking?"
