Chapter Text
5 Years Later
When Oscar saw a deputy patrol car pull up to his driveway, he can’t shake the sinking feeling in the pit of his gut. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t had a run in with the law in five years, or he’d formed a new identity in Bakersfield as Oscar Diaz, a family man and stay-at-home dad with an ambitious lawyer for a wife. When that deputy came strolling to the front door, Oscar’s teardrop tattoo burns like a scarlet letter and every negative memory in his past comes full force.
His heart rate skyrockets when the polite knocking echoes through the paper-thin walls. Sliding off his dish gloves, he opens the door.
“Oscar Diaz?” The deputy asks. She’s a stocky and short little thing, her hat comically larger than her head.
“Who’s asking?” Oscar asks cautiously.
The short woman takes off her hat and places it over her heart.
“I regret to inform you that your brother, Cesar Diaz, has been found deceased…”
White noise rings through his ears. He can barely feel himself breathe, his palms are shaky and his stomach is tearing itself apart.
“Excuse me?” He chokes out. The short deputy’s expression softens.
“Let’s go inside.”
~~~
Through the white noise, Oscar pieces together what’d transpired: Cesar was shot in the back of his head and dumped in the same forest Cuchillos was buried in all those years ago. He’d been dead for roughly two weeks and had to be identified by his dental records.
The deputy is asking questions and clasping a hand on his shoulder in a gesture meant to be comforting, but it only sets him on edge.
“When’s the last time you talked to your brother?”
Cassandra screams in terror as Oscar slams Cesar against the wall, his hand wrapped around his throat.
Oscar gets in Cesar’s face, Spooky finally poking through after all these years,
“You come near this house, or I see you anywhere near my wife or my kids...I will fucking kill you.” He hisses in Cesar’s face, before throwing him against the table.
“Get your shit and go. You are done!”
“Three years ago.” Oscar answers, fumbling for the pack of Marlboro’s hidden in between the couch cushions. He lights up.
“I again apologize for bringing you this tragic news...”
“Are we done here?” Oscar snaps. He takes a shaky breath and rubs his temples.
“I got to coordinate...his funeral arrangements. And make some phone calls.”
The deputy nods.
“I understand. I offer my condolences, Mr. Diaz.”
“It won’t bring him back, so don’t.”
She’s gone after that. He watches through his kitchen window the police car driving down the street and collapses over the sink, letting out the scream he held in for so long.
~~~
“You sure you’re gonna be okay?” Cassandra asks for the fifth time. Oscar is zipping up the last of his suitcases.
“I’ll be fine, Sandra. Promise.” He reassures her.
“Sure you don’t want me to come with you to pay my respects?”
“No. You got to make your Chicago trip, no exceptions. This is something I have to do alone.”
Cassandra frowns.
“Call me when you get there.” She says.
“You have my word.” He replies. His father comes into the room, his four-year-old son Carlos held in his arms.
“All set?” He asks Oscar.
“Yeah, Pop.” He says. He looks at his son and swallows the knot in his throat.
He looks just like Cesar when he was little, down to the dimple in his left cheek.
“I love you, Carlito.” He tells his son, kissing his forehead.
He walks into the pink and frilly bedroom where his daughter lies sleeping in her crib.
“I’ll be home soon, baby girl. I promise.” He whispers, kissing his fingertips and pressing it on her sleeping head.
He walks out of the house, suitcases in his hands before his family can see the tears fall.
~~~
Freeridge looks so much different than what he remembered. Liquor stores are replaced with expensive coffee shops and restaurants, the diversity of people almost completely bleached out. His old neighborhood is the only section untouched by time, save for a few foreclosed homes and the old ladies chatting amongst themselves on the front porch gone.
He pulls up to his old house and can’t stop the butterflies in his stomach.
His old home is now a vibrant blue, with a flower garden in the front lawn where nothing grew before. Black kids are playing in the driveway while their father is in the open garage, working on his car.
The front door swings open, and it’s a plump black woman with wide hips and a yellow sundress, holding a tray of ice cold drinks that obscure her face.
“Who wants lemonade?” She asks, poking her head out from the drinks. Oscar sees the babydoll face, warm brown eyes, and his mouth goes dry.
“Cleo?” He calls out.The woman pauses and looks around.
“Cleo.” He calls again. The woman sees him and freezes. Setting down the tray, she walks towards his car, anxiety written on her face.
“Oscar?” She asks.
“It’s been a while.” He says.
Cleo looks away, her gold hoop earrings catching the sun’s glare. Her braids are replaced with ginger hair slicked down into a ponytail with wild curls that fall down her back.
“You look good.” Oscar offers.
“You do too.” She replies coldly, still not looking at him. Oscar nods his head.
“I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah, see you around.” Cleo breathes out, giving him a thin smile. She backs away, her manicured nails making a soft scratching noise when they retreat from the window.
She tends to the kids, her back towards him. One of the kids, a little black girl with afro puffs and copper skin, is drawing on the sidewalk.
She’s got his Santos rosary wrapped around her neck.
~~~
“I heard about it on the local news.” Ruby says, flipping through the catalog.
The funeral home is awfully cold and it smells of embalming fluid and death; Oscar feels his superstitions creep upon him. Ruby, dressed in black with skull jewelry and a dangling cross in one ear, isn’t fazed; he’s flipping through catalogs and directing grieving patrons to their respective destinations without batting an eye.
“I’d recommend cremation. Less pricey and I can cut a deal and get you a nice urn for 40% off.” Ruby deadpans, pointing to an urn with his black manicured finger.
“I was going to...cremate and spread his ashes...over the beach we used to go to together.” Oscar says. Ruby hums.
“Sentimental. I like it.” Ruby adds.
“Are you always this cold-hearted? That’s your best friend and my brother we’re talking about.”
“Cesar and I haven’t spoken to each other in five years and we cut ties the second Monse moved away.” Ruby looks up, his fingers digging into the brochure and his jawbones popping out.
“And after what he did to me? To our crew?” His voice hits an octave and his body shakes. Ruby pauses, takes a deep breath, and regains composure.
“What are you talking about…?” Oscar prods.
“It’s in the past, now. No point in bringing it up.”
“Tell me.”
“Ask Jamal.” Ruby grits out, flipping a page so hard the laminated page tears out.