Chapter 14 - That's creepy, dude (1)

'Cause anywhere with you feels right

Anywhere with you feels like

Paris in the rain

We don't need a fancy town

Or bottles that we can't pronounce

'Cause anywhere, babe

Is like Paris in the rain

— Lauv, Paris in the Rain

A U T U M N

Judging from how Phraser was, I thought he would drag me to a fancy place where the drinks were as expensive as the food. My first guess was hotel bars or fancy pubs, maybe like those kinds that I've seen in Gossip Girl. A fancy place where Blair Waldorf would go without cringing or scrunching her nose.

But he surprised me when he pulled up the car to the curb and led me to an Irish pub. The building looked hundreds of years old. I looked up and read the name 'McSorley's Old Ale House established 1854' which confirmed my early guess about the pub being old.

He held the door opened for me and I stepped inside the pub. The interior looked busy with portraits and posters were everywhere, leaving almost no empty space on the wall. There were paraphernalia and stovepipe that looked like they were from World War II placer on the side of the room. Sawdust was on the floor with people's foot-trace here and there. I was surprised and utterly speechless.

"Why are you standing there? Let's get a drink." Phraser led me to the bar and we took a seat. "What do you want to drink? Dark or light?"

"Which one would you recommend?" I asked him since I've never been here or tasted Irish ale before.

He suppressed his lips as he gave it a thought. "I usually drink the dark ale but it tastes bitter than the light one." He shrugged. "It's a matter of preference, really. Do you like your beer tastes bitter or not?"

"I'd take the light one then."

Phraser called the bartender and said, "One light, one dark." He paused then added, "Could you get me a turkey sandwich too, please? Thank you."

I glanced at the old cupboard in front of me. A wooden plate hung on top of the cupboard with the words 'be good or be gone' carved on its surface.

"Have you been here before?" asked Phraser, probably noticing how I have been observing the interior of the pub.

I shook my head. "Nope. This is my first time." I shifted in my seat and faced him. "I honestly thought you'd bring me to a fancy and ridiculously expensive place."

A little frown appeared on his forehead. "Why?"

"I don't know." I gave a shrug. "You just don't strike me as a guy who'd be drinking in a bar."

Phraser rolled his eyes. "I prefer good stuff than a fancy place."

The server came carrying four mugs in his hands. He put the mugs on the table. Phrased grabbed two mugs filled with lighter-colored content and placed them in front of me. "They served in half pints." He answered my unspoken question.

I raised the mug to my lips and took a sip. I was expecting something dreadful yet it tasted so nice. Crisper and very refreshing. I looked up and noticed Phraser was watching me as if he was waiting for my reaction. "It's good," I commented.

That brought a smile to his face. "I know." He raised his mug and took a long drink. "I prefer the dark ale, though."

"Does it taste better?" I leaned in and tried to smell the darker liquid in his glass.

He nodded. "I wouldn't say better but I liked my beer a little bitter." He held the mug in front of me and added, "try it."

I held the side of the mug and took a drink. McSorley's dark ale was deep, caramelly, and smoky. "Now I know why you can't pick one side." Both beers had their own taste. Almost like we couldn't compare sugar and salt because they had different tastes.

"You can order either or both if you like since they served in two mugs." He paused then put one hand on the light ale that I haven't drink and the other had on his dark ale. "Or we can swap." He swapped the mugs so each of us had one dark and one light.

I laughed. "Smart." I pointed at the floor where sawdust covering the floor and looked up to meet his eyes. "So what's the story there?"

"That's one of their traditions." Phraser leaned forward on the counter. "Back in the days when the customers were chewing tobacco, spit would go flying, and the sawdust would absorb it along with any beer spills. It also makes sliding a large box of beer across the floor so much easier." He explained as if he has been one of the workers sliding the boxes around and I couldn't help but giggle.

His turkey sandwich arrived and Phraser ate as if he on death row, and this was his last meal. "Hey, slow down. You're gonna choke yourself."

"Sorry." His cheeks slightly reddened. "I haven't had my dinner."

I raised one brow. "Why?" I remembered seeing him this afternoon in the cafeteria and he ate his meal like a normal person, different from how he was eating now. Tonight he didn't eat with the effortless grace that he usually had.

Phrased swallowed and answered, "I had to pick up my grandma from the airport. I dropped her at home and took off but then as I was roaming the road, searching for a place to eat, I saw a lonely girl walking alone on the sidewalk."

I rolled my eyes. "I wasn't lonely." I remembered the words he said and asked, "did you just say that you dropped your grandma at home then left her there?" He was in the middle of chewing so he answered me with a nod. "Why? Don't you miss her?"

"Not really since I saw her two months ago." He shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, I love my grandma dearly but sometimes she can be so..." he paused to find a suitable word to describe and at last, he found one. "Difficult."

"What do you mean?"

He finished off his sandwich and pushed the plate away. "She's really old-fashioned so she complains about everything."

"That's because she cares about you."

Phraser shook his head. "Nah." He took a drink and set the mug back on the table. "One time she dragged my--" he paused and cleared his throat, "--friend out of the house and she didn't even let her put her clothes on. She just dragged and threw her out."

I tried not to laugh over his misery but it was too funny. In my head, I could imagine his grandmother caught a naked girl on his bed and told her to go home. "I like your grandma."

"Why?" He asked as he raised his beer. "Do you like her cos she ruined my fun?" He took a drink then added, "or do you like her because she kicked other girls out of bed?" A mischievous smile played on his lips.

I gulped and reached for the mug to cover my nervousness. "Well, I like your grandma more if she kicked your ass too."

"How did you find this place?" I asked him truthfully.

Phraser raised one brow and stared at me with a surprised look on his face. "Are you taking the piss?"

I scowled. "What?"

"My family is Irish and this is one of the best Irish pubs in New York City." He shook his head in disbelief. "Plenty of famous people have walked through those doors." He pointed at the front door of the pub and continued, "people like Teddy Roosevelt, Woody Guthrie, John Lennon, Babe Ruth, Hunter S. Thompson, and even Harry Houdini. E.E. Cummings even wrote a poem about this pub."

I narrowed my eyes and looked at him as if he was joking. "I don't believe you."

Phraser shrugged. "Well, google it."

I pulled out my phone and typed the pub's name on the Google search bar. He was right. The pub was truly famous and all the rest of his words were facts.

"You're lucky you come here in 2018. This used to be a men-only pub," said Phraser as he signaled the barman. "Read their history. Women were not allowed into McSorley's until 1970 when a city ordinance banned discrimination against women in public places." He turned to face me and asked, "Do you want more beer or are you done?"

"Get me one more dark ale, please."

He informed our order to the barman. In a few minutes, he brought four more mugs and placed them in front of us. I took a long drink and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand unladylike. I let the fluid of alcohol calm my nerves and tone down the tension I was having on the back of my neck.

I had to admit, there was something about Phraser that made it easy to be around him, especially when he was being friendly.

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