Page 86 of Gin and Bear It

Her eagerness is cute enough to override my self-consciousness. And I don’t think it sounds bad, even though I just started writing. I unplug my headphones and hit play on the last sample I recorded. She bobs her head to the short beat.

“That sounds really cool. Like something you’d dance to,” she says, her eyes bright and excited. Having her excited for me only makes me want to do more.

“Yeah?” My music was never the kind that people danced to, but maybe this would be the first. My alarm to wake up for work goes off and I sigh. “I’ll have to work on it later, I guess.”

The song doesn’t leave my head all day. I almost wish the idea had come to me when I was in sales—having something cool to focus on would have saved my sanity. But the marketing department is actually interesting and exciting, so the song is battling with things I want to pay attention to.

Part of the marketing team’s duties is event planning, but not making the events seem like a corporate shill fest. I can get behind that. At least once I get this song out of me. For now, I just pay attention quietly, taking a few notes on what they’re planning.

I head home and immediately go to my bass. Or at least I try to, because both Pip and CC herd me into the kitchen to be fed. Once they’ve been sated, I work on the song. The bass line finally clicks, so I move on to the drums. I’m not nearly as good with percussion as I am with guitar or bass, so I send over what I have to Dylan.

I get up and stretch, then say hi to Jada when she comes home.

I kiss her forehead, and we both freeze. I’ve never done that before. I’ve had the impulse, sure, but I’ve been able to contain myself.

Jada moves first, going to the cat food cabinet that CC is sitting under.

“I fed them already,” I say. CC glares at me, his tail twitching. “He’s just pretending he hasn’t eaten.”

“CC!” Jada sighs and slowly puts her finger out for him to sniff. He hasn’t attached himself to her the way he has with me, but he’s slowly warming up to her. He butts his cheek against her fingers and hops down from the counter.

We shift back into our normal dynamic, like the kiss didn’t even happen. I prep dinner for both of us—just pasta with Italian sausage—and we eat while watching some true crime show she likes. It doesn’t require a lot of attention, so we chat about her friend from grad school who has a party coming up this weekend, and her cousin’s wedding in three weeks.

After a while, my song calls to me again and I get out my guitar and my bass. Jada clears our bowls and goes into the kitchen. I lock into my work almost immediately, taking the voice note of a beat that Dylan sent back. My music production software has a drum kit, so I recreate it there, then tool around with it some more.

I’m not sure how long I’m working before Jada appears in front of me. She looks slightly amused, like she’s been trying to get my attention.

“Were you standing there for a while?” I ask, pulling my headphones off.

“Just a little bit.”

“Sorry.” I run my fingers through my hair. “What’s up?”

“Do you mind working in the kitchen?” Jada asks, arms crossed like she’s giving herself a hug. “I’m kind of unmotivated and it helps me to body double. It’s totally fine if you can’t with your instruments.”

“Body double?”

“Basically sitting with someone else to help motivate me into actually working.” She sighs. “My brain’s not wanting to function and it’s the best way for me to get work done. If not, it’s fine.”

“Sure, it’s no problem.” Sometimes changing the scenery can help me get over hurdles, too.

I move into the kitchen and set up my stuff. Jada’s taken up one side of the table with her laptop and some papers. Pip and CC are snuggled up in another one of the cat trees that are in every room. They’re so close together that I can’t tell where one cat ends and the other begins.

“Are you stuck on something?” I ask, putting one headphone over my ear, but leaving the one closest to her off.

“Kind of. Just some logistical stuff with the soft launch. I have to decide on some boring shit like tablecloths and compare vendors,” she says. “And my meds usually wear off this late in the day, so my brain isn’t at its best. Body doubling is how I managed to skirt by in high school with great grades without even realizing I had ADHD—I was always able to study with Jeremiah or Waylon, and they stay on task all the time.”

She mentioned her ADHD when I first moved in, but she’s never spoken much about it directly. But I see evidence of it—the way things are organized in a specific way, her virtual assistant’s reminders, the tricks she does to get herself to tidy up, the medicine in the bathroom. I’m not living in her head, but it looks like she has it under control.

“When did you get diagnosed?” I ask.

“After my first semester in college. Since Jeremiah, Waylon, and I were in honors classes together all through high school, it was easy to study together. But then we had different schedules and friend groups for the first time and I fell apart. Like, I almost flunked out,” she says. “Malcolm—my brother-in-law—is a pediatrician and referred me to his colleague who dealt with ADHD in young adults. Everything about me suddenly made a whole lot of sense.”

I nod. “That must have been a relief.”

“Yeah. I thought I’d suddenly lost the one thing I was super confident in with school. It was terrifying, honestly. Half my identity at that point was being a good student.” She twirls a pen between her fingers. “But the medicine helps, and there was a support group through the university for students dealing with ADHD. I’ve built up strategies over the years that work, and I know when I need to switch things up. Everything constantly shifts but I’m used to that by now.”

She sips her tea, looking at me like she’s thinking. I let her work it out, and eventually she says, “Thank you.”