Leaving the House Where We Grew Up

Tenacity

"Dude?"

"Yeah?"

"Debbie, to check stand one. Debbie, check stand one," blared the infernal store intercom.

"Dude!"

"Yeah, Jon, what is it?"

"Can you take my Thursday shift?" Jon asked, arriving a bit winded from trying to catch up with Dipper, but never making up the necessary ground. Standing tall, he leaned against the shelf stocked with prune juice and baby food, attempting to provide a mystique of being calm and in control.

Trying to contain his laughter, Dipper entreated his co-worker.

"Hours?"

"Three to ten," Jon replied in an apologetic tone, practically begging someone a decade his junior for a favor.

Dipper sighed heavily, knowing that he had planned to spend that afternoon getting up to no good with Mabel around the house once school was out for the day. Thursdays were usually the prime day of the week where they could expect to have the most alone time in that regard. Their dad would put in longer hours so that he could get off earlier the following day and start the weekend before the traffic between San Jose and the hills of Piedmont could thwart him. Additionally, it was only one of two where their mom would put in a full day at the school district offices, where she worked part-time to provide some supplemental income for her busy family. As such, it had come to be the twins' most cherished day of the seven.

On the other hand, he also knew that putting in a bit of extra time when possible meant additional coin in his pocket, which he could then spend on his lady. He had been wanting to take Mabel out to a nice dinner again, reminiscent of their excursion to Fisherman's Wharf. However, this time, they'd dress up and pick somewhere fancier.

'Steak? Steak's fancy, right?' Dipper though, spacing out for a moment, as he often found himself doing with greater frequently as he and Mabel grew closer. Looking up and seeing an impatient look on Jon's face, he nodded in acceptance.

"Dude, my friend, I owe you for this."

"Yeah, yeah. No worries," the teen assured his quirky comrade, who was already tearing down the aisle towards the front desk to initiate the schedule change before Dipper had a chance to reconsider.

On Dipper's first day on the job, he had been fortunate enough to meet Jon in the break room. Having just completed a full morning of new employee training, Dipper felt a bit overwhelmed by the time he took a seat at the communal lunch table, hidden away upstairs. Down at the other end, he spotted a heavyset gentleman, who had about eight inches of height on him, in a dead slumber, face flat on the scuffed surface, and wearing sunglasses. Inches away from his cranium was a cell phone, inexplicably blaring Sugar Ray's Every Morning on repeat.

A couple of the other established employees who had been taking their breaks at the same time could only laugh and shake their heads, making it very evident that this was not a unique occurrence. Cautiously at first, not wanting to overstep the expected boundaries of a new hire, Dipper quietly joined in the chuckling upon the sixth time the line "Shut the door, baby/Don't say a word" was sung, the behemoth sleeping soundly through it all.

Nearing the end of Dipper's break, Jon came to, cleared his throat, and adjusted his sunglasses. Without missing another beat or pausing the Sugar Ray jam session, he looked over to the greenhorn and cordially introduced himself. Dipper, after providing his background, leaned that Jon was twenty-seven, lived at home, worshipped Mark McGrath ('Never would have guessed,' Dipper though at hearing it), and was certainly a stoner. In short, a lovable goofball that people enjoyed having around, even if he wasn't the best employee.