Page 70 of Since We're Here
This morning, when we finished with some sexy shenanigans, Patrick asked when I was going to come clean to my sisters. I mumbled something noncommittal and stuck my tongue in his mouth to avoid the question.
But it’s a good one. When will I tell them the truth? The whole truth?
I pull the chairs from on top of the tables. It’s gotta be before the road trip. In two weeks, I’m supposed to head back to New Jersey—at least according to my plane ticket and the story I’ve told them.
So I guess it’ll be when I get back to Jersey.
But to leave this place in two weeks? I scrunch my face at the thought. It’s too soon. Two weeks until the little life I’ve made for myself here disappears.
By the time I’m done with the chairs, the door swings open and Saoirse steps in for a quick chat before work. After she leaves, I pause for a moment, appreciating how I fit in here. I should feel out of place. A tourist in Dingle managing a pub with an American accent that everyone comments on. Someone who’s always inappropriately dressed.
But as much as I don’t fit in, I still feel like I belong. Like I’m needed. And wanted.
The buzz of my phone pulls me out of my daydream. It’s from a bartender I trained a few days ago who’s supposed to show up later this afternoon.
Jax
Sorry to do this to you, Maddie, but I’m not coming back to O’Brien’s
Me
Oh no, why?
Jax
Going traveling with my girlfriend instead
Me
Text Patrick, please. He’s your actual boss, not me
Jax
Can you do it
Shit.
I screenshot the message and send it to Patrick, cringing. He responds with a single expletive.
I’ve been trying so hard to keep the pub stuff off his plate as I know he wants to focus on the brewery. The other managers have stepped up as well, but we’re still short-staffed. I had a feeling that Jax might not stick around. After working in restaurants for years, I’ve gotten a sense for when workers are a flight risk.
It’s not until O’Brien’s is officially open that I realize there’s an inventory problem. We’re short on everything in cans and bottles besides New Dingle and Slea Head.
As in there’s nothing else in the cases, and nothing in the basement.Oh, crap.
There should be Magners Irish Cider, Heineken, Budweiser, Porterhouse Temple Lager, and Harp.
How did I not notice us running so low? I had the last two days off, but still. I rack my brain and remember grabbing a case from the basement and writing a message to Patrick on a Post-it note. Did I not put it in the office?
I text him again.
Me
Sorry to do this to you, but it looks like we’re short a ton of can and bottle inventory
I snap a picture of the mostly empty refrigerators and send it to him.
Me
