“I think ye should call in sick,” she protests, “what about your foot?”
“It’s a teaching day, not a catering one, thank god,” I’m already limping to my bedroom. “I can sit down the entire time. Thank you for breakfast!”
It is, apparently, possible to paytoomuch attention to your surroundings. It’s a miracle I make it to the school without getting run over by a bus or knocked senseless by a delivery bike. Checking behind me every six seconds means I walked into a puzzled businessman and a block later, the corner of an office building.
I know who I’m looking for. That enormously tall, extremely fine-looking man.
Why would he be following ye, ye eejit?
Why was he following me last night, ye numpty?
Grand. I’m arguing with myself. That just screams of emotional stability.
I’m walking down the hall to my classroom when my phone rings. It’s Kevin, my catering boss.
“Hey there Arabella…” he’s clearing his throat. That’s never good. “Look, so… I’m gonna have to let ye go.”
“What? Why?”
“Uh, well, bookings have slowed down, so I dinnae need as many servers, and…”
The fury hits me hard, but I swallow it down. “Is this about last night? Did Mrs. MacGregor demand that you fire me?”
“Look, ye know how it is. She’s a very important client and she was upset about your lack of professionalism-”
“Wait. Hold up, Kevin. Professionalism?” I look around the hall, trying to keep my voice low. “There’s Marcella, who ‘accidentally’ grabs a hot guy’s crotch at nearly every party. And- and Jonah, he dropped a steak knife on that poor woman’s hand at the Wetlands Gala. The guest last night wasn’t upset, he even helped me pick up the glasses! I’ve never missed a day of work! I’m always on time!”
I feel like my case is strong, but he’s not listening. “Ye must understand that she’s a very important client. She hires us all the time, and if she starts complaining to her friends, it could be a real problem.”
“I need this job.” It bursts out, raw, and embarrassing but I’m not above begging.
“I’m sorry,” he says, “your job performance was unsatisfactory and this isn’t negotiable, I’m sorry. I’ll have your final check for ye when ye drop off your uniforms.”
Ending the call, I limp into the nearest empty classroom, stifling my sobs. I canna get a higher position with better pay here at the school without the full postgraduate teacher’s certification. And I canna afford the postgraduate tuition to get the degree without a second job.
Calling Meera, I search the classroom for some tissues.
“I got fired from my catering job.”
“What the hell?” she snaps. “Why?”
“Kevin told me it was due to spilling a tray of champagne on a guest last night,” I say, forcing my voice not to wobble. No crying.
“One accident? One and that’s all it takes for him to fire a reliable employee?” She snorts loudly. “I’ve seen those clumsy sods you work with waiting tables before. They’ve all dropped a tray or two!”
“Kevin wouldn’t say it, but I think the hostess, Mrs. MacGregor, was put off by my hearing disability,” I admit. “She dinnae want me there.”
“That’s just plain bullshite!” I love Meera for her ability to be fully outraged on the behalf of her friends. It’s deeply comforting.
“I’m used to the overreactions I sometimes get when people realize I’m nearly deaf,” I say, “but they usually give it a few minutes and see I handle everything just fine.”
“Oh, goodness, like this is surely the most shocking thingimaginableand when did people with disabilities really just go gallivanting around in polite society?” I love her sarcasm, too. “Ye must sue Kevin! This is ridiculous!”
“Aye, that,” I sigh. “Mrs. MacGregor definitely took it to the next level last night, shouting in my face and exaggerating her speech, like I’m stupid and not hard of hearing.” I find the tissues and dab at the tears leaking out of my treacherous eyes. “I’m not really mad at Kevin - okay I am, the weak-willed bastard - but I see his point. That woman’s a vengeful cow and he dinnae want to risk his business.”
“It’s still wrong!”
“Thanks for letting me whine a wee bit. It will all work out.”
