Page 89 of Reno

I didn’t know how to respond. We hadn’t discussed the “L” word. I knew how I felt but had no idea what the depth of Reno’s feelings were. I knew how he acted, but he did a poor job of sharing how he felt.

“It sure is,” Reno replied with a smile.

He hadn’t told me he loved me, but he came as close as he could without saying it. For the time being, it would suffice. I decided to let him know how I felt, just in case there was any confusion.

“Yes,” I said, shifting my gaze from George to Reno. “It sure is.”

34

Reno

Goose, Ally, Cash, and I were seated at Abby’s Place, the diner George owned—and where Carma went to work. The place, as always, was packed from wall to wall with people hoping to sample George’s famous pancakes.

“I’m getting the whole wheat ones,” Cash said. “Ghost sang their praises.”

“I’ll try ‘em,” I said.

“If you want to try something, try the eggs Benedict,” Ally said. “It’s out of this world.”

“I’ll be trying everything on the menu,” I said with a laugh. “I give her a ride here from Chula Vista every morning and take her home every night.”

“Short stack with a ham slice for me,” Goose said. “Get the same thing every time.”

I knew Ghost spent most of his waking hours in the diner before his death. I glanced around, wondering if it was possible that his spirit managed to linger. I struggled not with God, but with the concept of life after death, be it a spirit or by some means of reincarnation.

I hoped he was watching over us, and that he was enjoying seeing us at his favorite restaurant as much as I enjoyed my memories of him. I missed him dearly, and the memories he left behind were all I had to hold on to.

“Do you think Ghost is looking down on us right now?” I asked.

“Definitely,” Goose said.

I looked at Cash.

“Not sure. Like thinking he is, though.”

“I think he is,” Ally said. “I believe in the heaven and hell where people sit on golden thrones or burn in eternal fire. He’s on a throne right now eating a short stack slathered in syrup.”

“He wouldn’t eat a short stack slathered in syrup,” I said. “He’s too health conscious.”

“There’s no such thing as calories in heaven,” she said. “You can eat whatever you want.”

“You think so?” I asked.

“That’s my opinion,” she replied. “My dad’s up there with a cigarette dangling from his lip and glass of bourbon in his hand. There are no repercussions up there. It’s heaven.”

I realized no one knew for sure, but Ally and I shared the same opinion. That there was a heaven and a hell, one being good and the other bad. It was a way, I decided, for us to live with the consequences of our life’s decisions.

Those of us that made good decisions throughout life were blessed with a heavenly place after our death, and those who made bad decisions were forced to live their afterlife in the equivalent of the hell they created during their living years.

Carma came to the table. “Holy cow, this place is a mad house.”

“Too much for you?” I asked.

“No,” she replied. “I love it. It’s great.”

She glanced at each of us. “Coffee and water?”

Each of us nodded.