“Don’t I even get to look at a menu?” she asked.
“Maybe later. If you really hate everything. But honestly, I can’t see that happening,” Bonnie said reassuringly.
“But he doesn’t even know what I want to drink,” Penny persisted.
“Oh, that’ll be a Guinness. Guinness and oysters is a thing. If you’re trying one, you should be trying the other.”
“Bonnie!”
“Hush, you’re having an authentic Irish experience with authentic Irish people. You should be so lucky.”
It was only in that moment that Penny noticed Bonnie wasn’t speaking in her usual American tone. She was developing a discernible Irish accent. And it suited her.
Bonnie shrugged as if she could read her thoughts. “When I stay long enough, it comes back a bit. I mean, I was six when I left. I did have the full accent at one point. But when you’re constantly surrounded by Americans, well, it went away.”
“It’s funny. I mean, I guess it’s something I always knew about you but didn’t pay much attention to. Then, seeing you here… you really do belong.”
This produced a genuine smile. “Thanks. That’s nice to hear.”
Finn came out managing three pints of Guinness in his large hands. “Here we are now, lads. Food is ordered.”
Bonnie’s eyebrows lifted with excitement as she reached for a pint. “Sláinte.”
“Sláinte,” Finn repeated.
They both turned to Penny, who was still eyeing her drink warily.
“Come on. It’s not going to bite you,” Bonnie encouraged. “And it would be rude not to drink it after he bought it for you. Especially with us trying to toast your health and all.”
“Is that what that means?” Penny asked.
“Stop stalling,” Bonnie insisted.
“Fine.” Penny lifted her drink. “Sláinte.”
As the other two took hearty gulps of the now settled stout, Penny took a tentative sip. She could feel the silky white foam on the top clinging to her lip as she let the black liquid touch her tongue and fill her mouth. She held it there for a moment, deciding if it was something she wanted to swallow, allowing the different taste sensations to play out. It was cold, and while bitter, not overwhelmingly so. There was a hint of coffee or chocolate to it. It was also much smoother than she had anticipated.
She finally lowered the glass to find two pairs of expectant eyes staring at her.
“Well?”
Penny reflected on her answer. “I mean, I couldn’t drink it for the night. But it’s actually not half bad.”
Finn rolled his eyes. “Not half bad says the American.”
“It’ll grow on her,” Bonnie said defensively. “She doesn’t even usually drink beer. She’s trying.”
“All right,” Finn responded, sounding properly rebuffed.
“Just down there is where we used to go to the funfair as kids,” Bonnie pointed off to the left.
“The what?” Penny asked. It was hard to keep up with all the new things she was experiencing. Each had its own sensations she was trying to absorb. The smell of the sea, the sound of the seagulls, the taste of the Guinness, the bright sails out on the water. She couldn’t help feeling rushed from one to the next.
“The merries. You know, like a really small carnival. Rides, games, a place for our parents to send us while they had a drink and tried to relax.”
“I’m sure we cost them a fortune,” Finn added, sharing in the memories. “But it kept us busy.”
“Then we’d come back for Taytos and Cokes, happy out.” Bonnie’s eyes took on a faraway look, her face falling slack.
