Page 24 of Glass Half Full
We walk in silence for a few moments. I can see the bar’s sign coming into view up ahead.
“Shit, this conversation took a turn for the depressing,” I try to joke.
Renee just shakes her head. “Not every conversation has to be easy. There’s this...This thing someone told me once. He said, ‘I don’t want your small talk. I want your words.’”
I swear it’s like someone slams a load of bricks into my chest.
She remembered.
I used to drill that into the kids at my workshops, hoping it would stick, hoping I could teach them they had words worth saying, words people should take the time to hear. That’s what saves you when the world feels like it’s doing its best to block you out.
“Why are you doing this job, Dylan? Really?”
We’ve stopped moving again, but this time instead of picking the pace back up, we step to the edge of the sidewalk and lean against the window of an empty cafe.
“I just...” I close my eyes. I find the words. “I can’t let anyone down. Not again.”
She doesn’t say anything. Why would she? Everything about this is inappropriate. I shouldn’t be confiding in her.
I’m about to stammer out an apology when she speaks.
“I’m trying to decide if keeping this job makes you stronger or weaker, but the truth is, I don’t know.” She stares across the street, eyes fixed on something I’m sure no one but her can see. “I want to tell you that doing something just because you’re scared of what people will think if you don’t is a terrible idea, but...but who the hell am I to say anything about that?”
She smiles, but it’s not the one I like. It’s not the one that feels like it’s lighting me up.
“What do you mean?”
“I...” More pain that I ever thought she could hold flashes across her face before it’s gone, so fast I can’t even be sure what I saw. “It doesn’t matter. Maybe you’re stronger for staying. Maybe I just gave up too soon.”
“Renee...”
This is the moment I would reach for her. In some alternate universe, we stand on this shadowed sidewalk, and I pull her into my arms.
Here and now, we jump away from each other, suddenly aware of how many lines we’ve just crossed.
“I’m sorry. It’s been a ...weird night.” Renee runs her hands up and down her arms, looking anywhere but at me. “I shouldn’t have said all that.”
I want to reassure her, thank her, tell her just how bad I want to stand here talking to her all night, but she’s right.
“I’m the one who shouldn’t have said things. I...I’m your manager.” I know I must be imagining things, but I swear the statement makes her wince. “It was unprofessional of me. I apologize. If you want to head out now, I can punch you out. I appreciate you staying late.”
“Yeah.” Her voice sounds hollow. “You’re welcome.”
I watch her for as long as I dare as she makes her way up to the metro station.
Seven
Renee
DICTION: A writer’s unique choice of specific words and phrases within a literary work
“Tahseen, my life is a mess.”
My best friend nudges my foot with hers where we’re lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling while Chance the Rapper plays from my phone. It’s our default hanging out spot whenever we’re at my house. We spent a lot of time at my house this summer. Venturing into the outside world is still a newfound skill of mine.
“A mess? Girl, your life is looking up! You did a sunrise yoga class today. You work at a cool bar you love and are really good at your job—and don’t say you’re not because I know you are.”
“How do you know that? You’ve never seen me working, and you don’t drink.”
