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“I’ve got it under control!” I say, though I am not at all sure that’s true. “I wanted to surprise everyone by redecorating the pub in time for the music tonight.”
When Ollie finally turns to face me, he looks as if he’s about to have a stroke. “You thought you could spontaneously redecorate this entire pub overnight by yourself?”
A nervous laugh escapes me. “Well, when you put it that way it sounds ridiculous.”
Ollie curses under his breath. “I dunno who is gonna kill me first, you or Jack.”
“I’m sorry, I just... overestimated what I could get done.”
“I’ll say,” Ollie mutters.
“I’m so, so sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to make today morestressful. Really, it’s stressful enough with the band playing for the first time tonight. Believe me, I know. And you’ve got enough on your plate with cooking. Pun not intended, really, I’m not trying to make this a joke, and—”
“Raine,” Ollie says, his voice stern enough that I snap my mouth shut.
I’m sure I’m about to be fired. I’ll lose this job, and after all this I’ll have to go back home to Boston anyway because I haven’t even replaced my guitar yet.
He looks at me for a moment, then sighs. “Let me make a few calls. See if anyone can come by and help.”
“Oh.” I’m unable to say anything else because I don’t know what I feel. Ashamed. And relieved. And I feel like an absolute turd. I drop my eyes to the floor and almost start crying when I realize I’ve shown up to work without shoes again.You just don’t think, Raine.
“I’m sorry,” I finally manage. “I didn’t mean to make everything more difficult.”
“I know you didn’t,” he says. He pulls out his phone with a sigh. “Why don’t you get started fixing this fecking mess, while I go and call for backup.”
“Okay.” My emotional state goes fromOh crap, this was embarrassingtoThis was the worst idea I’ve ever had and now everyone will secretly hate me.
Nina is the first to arrive. As soon as she walks through the door, she turns to me and says, “Well, you’re certainly ambitious, I’ll give you that.”
Róisín shows up next, closely followed by Aoife and one of her sons. Ollie disappears into the kitchen, while the rest of us dart around the pub at Nina’s bidding. Nina put on her “Cleaning like a Bad Bitch” playlist, and despite the screwup, everyone seems to be having fun, even Aoife’s son, who looks like someone who never willingly wakes up before noon.
Fifteen minutes before we’re supposed to open, Ollie emerges from the kitchen and scans the room. He crosses the pub to where I’ve been attempting to hang one of Jack’s larger paintings for the last five minutes. I thought it looked straight three minutes ago, but Nina insists it isn’t. Finally, when I’m sure I can’t hold on to it any longer, Nina shouts, “There! Don’t move!” and I step back before I can accidentally nudge it the wrong way.
Ollie slings his arm around Nina’s shoulders. “Nice work, kitten. How much longer do you think you’ll need?”
Nina looks around the pub and winces. Róisín has most of their side of the pub decorated. Aoife and her son are across the room, hanging string lights over the entryway to the game room, which we haven’t even touched and is currently littered with books, because what is better than a game room that is also a library? Especially when the owner is such a bibliophile.
“We need another hour or two,” she says. “At least.”
Ollie sighs. “Well, we ought to delay opening, then, yeah?”
Nina shrugs. “At least until we get the main room put together. We can work on the side rooms while customers are here.”
Ollie turns to me. “Why don’t you make a post to let everyone know we’ll be opening late today?” he says.
It takes everything in me not to cry in frustration in front of Nina and Ollie. I nod and take a seat at the nearest table, grateful for an excuse to keep my head down.
I stare at my phone, but the tears blur my vision so that I can’t even do this small task Ollie has asked of me. I’m over it. All the little costs of having ADHD that add up in the long run. Lost customers. Overdue bills. Replacement phone chargers. Time spent looking for things. The way it makes me feel, like a child. As if everyone else is a real adult and I’m just pretending. The frustration that I can’t do the simple, everyday things that most people can. Like laundry, and making phone calls, and remembering to take out something from thefreezer for dinner. It’s the missed deadlines for opportunities I could’ve had. The broken relationships. How people think I’m lazy and selfish. How they think I don’t care. HowIthink I’m lazy and selfish, even though IknowI care.
I hear someone take the seat across from me.
“What’s wrong?” Nina says.
“Nothing,” I say, refusing to look up at her.
“Clearly not nothing,” Nina says. “You look like you’re being cyberbullied by your phone or something.”
I wipe at my tears with the sleeve of my hoodie before looking up at Nina.
