Reno and Weisz

chapter 8: reno opens up

chapter 8: reno opens up

~reno~

       Surprisingly, Dad hasn't made any effort to tease me about finally having a friend whenever he comes into the diner. In fact, he just acts like he's a regular customer, just like his friends. No doubt Joe has told him that the new worker is who I'm constantly being seen with, but there has to be a reason why Dad hasn't done anything.

       I hope it's because he realizes teenagers don't always like to be teased, but something is telling me there's another reason to it.

       Weisz and I are on closing today, which might actually be my favourite shift. It's the chillest of all shifts, having only a minimal amount of customers. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love the patrons we get, but it's nice for it to be very slowed down. I don't have to rush around the diner as I give orders and check to see if everyone's doing okay.

       Even when I have homework, I have the time to do it during my shift because of how slow the shift is. Even Weisz is able to do his homework, also not having to rush around the diner. Now that I have someone my age working with me, someone who's even in a few of my classes, we can work on our homework together.

       I can normally do my homework by myself with no problems, but it's also easier doing it with someone else. We can bounce ideas off of each other, which causes us to finish the homework faster.

       Fifteen minutes until closing and the diner is completely bare. No customers at all. No one ever comes in this late, so Weisz and I start to clean up. Seeing as I'm the one that's training him, I can give him whatever task I want. Part of me wants to give him my least favourite task, but he might hate it too, so I'd rather not.

       So I just give him the task of cleaning all the tables while I do the very annoying task of sweeping and mopping the floor, waiting until Weisz is done at a table before I begin there. 

       I start to get a bit sweaty, so I pull my sleeves up to my biceps to give my skin a bit of breathing room. Moments later, Weisz says, "That's a cool tattoo."

       I look down at my arm, remembering that I have a tattoo there. I don't know why I forget about it. It's literally inked on my skin, so I see it whenever my arms are visible. The full tattoo isn't visible since it goes up to my shoulder, but most of it is.

       "You can't even see all of it," I say.

       "Well, from what I do see, it does look cool," Weisz says. "What flower is it?"

       I don't reply, knowing part of me will want to go into detail about why I chose this specific flower. It's not exactly a difficult subject for me to talk about, but I do get emotional from time to time just thinking about it. Thinking about how I lost something I barely had. 

       Weisz doesn't push me into an answer. He just continues to clean the table, as if the conversation didn't happen to begin with. It's probably why I like being friends with him so much. He respects everyone's boundaries as best as he can.

       The two of us continue to clean and soon enough, it's officially time for us to clock out and close the diner. The cook left a few minutes ago, but left us with some leftover onion rings, knowing well enough I gladly take the leftovers instead of throwing them out.

       Weisz likes the onion rings as much as I do, so the two of us take the onion rings outside of the diner once we're clocked out, sitting on the curb to share the onion rings. It's peaceful. No cars driving by, no loud people, just the comfort of each other.

       "My grandma thinks I'm in my rebellious teenager phase just because I work at the diner," Weisz says.

       I sigh. "What is up with everyone's childish perceptive of the diner? It's just a place to eat, not some insane hangout for criminals."

       "I don't know," Weisz says. "My grandma has lived here for a while so it's no surprise she thinks that about the diner, too. It's why my family moved here. She can't live on her own anymore, but she doesn't want to go to a retirement home. It took a lot of time for my dad to even convince her to let us move down here so she can live with us."

       "How do you like it here?" I ask.

       "It's great," Weisz says. "Obviously, I miss things from my hometown, but I think if I had a choice to go back or stay here, I would stay here. What about you? Have you ever lived anywhere else?"

       I shake my head. "I've lived here my whole life. My dad has too, in fact. He was born here, grew up here, and wants to raise me here. I don't know if I'll stay here when I'm older, though. I love it here, but I also want to see the world."

       "Me too," Weisz says. "See the world, that is. I've always wanted to go backpacking."

       I smile at Weisz. Just the fact that he was an aspiration I also have makes me feel happy, for some reason. "Yeah, same here."

       We finish eating the onion rings but inside of getting up to head home, we both stay here to continue the conversation. I stretch my legs out, leaning back but staying propped up by my arms. 

       My sleeves are still rolled up, so Weisz takes his time to look at my tattoo before saying, "When did you get it done?" he asks.

       "On my sixteenth birthday," I say. 

       "Can I see all of it?" Weisz asks softly. "I mean, only if you're okay with it. You don't have to if you don't want to."

       Honestly, part of me does want to talk to Weisz about the meaning behind my tattoo. The only person I really talk to about it is Dad, but it would be nice to have someone else to talk to about it. So I sit up before I roll up the rest of my sleeve, allowing Weisz to see all of it.

       "It's really cool," Weisz says, gently running his fingers across the outline of my tattoo. 

       "It's a hibiscus," I say. "It was my mom's favourite flower. She... She died. The day after I was born so I never got to know her. I don't really have anything to remember her by since I was a day old, so I got this."

       "Oh," Weisz says. "I'm sorry."

       "It's okay," I say. "Well, sometimes it is. Other times... I wonder what it would be like if she were still alive, but it was unlikely it was going to happen anyway. She got sick. Very sick when she was pregnant with me. The doctors said it was highly unlikely that the both of us would survive, but my dad would always tell me that she kept fighting until the day I was born. Before she died, she told him that she at least wanted me to live a full life."

       "She sounds like she was an amazing person."

       "From all the stories my dad has told me about her, she was."

       "I think she would be proud of the person you are today," Weisz says in a soft voice.

       I can't help but smile at Weisz. I'm only feeling a tiny bit emotional, but I'm also feeling very grateful that I decided to talk to Weisz about my mom. There's comfort in talking to him. "Thanks," I say, my voice as soft as his. I stand up and stretch before I pick up the container the onion rings were in. "We should probably be heading home. It's getting late."

       "Yeah." Weisz stands up as well. "I'll see you tomorrow. Wait, no, tomorrow's the weekend. I'll see you... Monday, I guess?"

       I nod. "Yeah. See you Monday."

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i love these two so much, they're so soft with each other :((((

(anyway i finally watched no way home and i'm sobbing thanks)