Moving On - 13. Chapter 13

I was sitting down on a marble block at Place-d’Armes staring at the Notre-Dame Cathedral, taking some photos of the 19th century neo-gothic church. Next to the church is the Vieux Séminaire (Old Seminary), and according to the little tourist guidebook I picked up from a tourist office at Place Jacques-Cartier, the Vieux Séminaire is the oldest building in the Vieux Port, built in 1684. The two-story building was shaped like a U with the wings pointing to the street, rue Notre-Dame, and it was made from rough-cut fieldstones. The guide also pointed out that the outdoor clock high over the front doors was supposedly the oldest running clock in North America, dating around 1702. A matching stone wall surrounds the seminary. It’s a pity it’s closed to the public just because the Notre-Dame cathedral’s priests are still living there.

Ben and Adrien came out of a little shop across the narrow street. All the streets are usually narrow in the Vieux Port, as the forefathers never envisioned we would have needed wider streets to handle cars. Most of the streets only allow one-way traffic with barely enough room to park on the side. So, the streets are usually two and half or three and half cars wide. The streets weren’t very crowded now because it wasn’t tourist season and it was too cold for people to be outside forever. My face was already feeling numb, but I took out my scarf from my book bag and it helped a lot to guard it from the wind.

Ben handed me a bottle of water that he’d just bought from the little shop for me. It is interesting to me to see that in Canada, every single word on every product is always written in French and English. And that made it quite easy for me to learn some new words. Hmmm, water would be ‘eau’, sounds easy to say.

“Ee-oh…” I said to Ben.

“What?” Ben looked at me in confusion.

“Ee-oh…” I pointed at the word ‘eau’ on the bottle.

“Oh, water…well, like the ‘o’sound in ‘moe’,” Ben explained.

“Oh…”

“Yep, like that. ‘Eau’ is the same as saying ‘oh’. It exactly rhymes,” Ben grinned, “Easy, eh?”

“Yeah…simple,” I took another gulp of water before putting it in my book bag or otherwise it would freeze.

“C’mon, just a couple more spots to show you and we’ll go get some lunch at the mall,” Adrien got up to start walking,

We walked back to Place Jacques-Cartier and Adrien showed me a big neo-classic 19th century building with a silver dome that used to be a market, but now is little shops for Québécois crafts and artworks. Again, some photos, I just couldn’t resist. Then we walked back to cobble stoned rue St-Paul, again feeling like in Europe, checking out buildings mostly from the 19th century with occasional 18th century buildings in between. Ben explained that the Vieux Port grew so much as a commercial center in the 19th century, so the 18th century buildings were mostly transformed to 19th century design. Then Adrien told me you could tell the age of the building by the stones. If they’re smooth cut, they’re 19th century and after. If they’re rough cut, they’re from the 18th century, mostly from the days when the French ruled the city until they lost it in 1760, a year after the fall of Quebec City to the British. Surprisingly, according to the guide, even though the city was founded in 1642, there were only two surviving 17th century buildings at the Vieux Port. One was the Vieux Séminaire that I had already looked at and the other would be the old hospital, Hôpital Général. And it was right in front of me after ten minutes of walking on the street.

“Not bad…not bad…very similar to the Vieux Séminaire except it’s like L, not U-shaped,” I commented about the fieldstone building, “Can we go in?”

“No…the nuns still live there,” Ben said like it was too obvious.

“Shit…do all of the religious nuts keep all of the oldest buildings in the city closed to everyone?” I groaned.

“Well, there is one house further west that is the oldest of all in the city and is still open for tours. No nuns or priests there,” Ben winked his eyes.

“Good…you better take me there sometime,” I kissed him on the cheek behind Adrien’s back. I don’t know if it was the cold wind or the kiss that made his cheeks a little bit red.

We walked down a paved street to a modern building with a small tower. Behind it is a small park with an obelisk monument in the middle. I looked closely at the inscriptions.

« Le XVIII mai MDCXLII. Près de cet obélisque entre le fleuve et la rivière qui coule sous la rue des Commissaires à l’endroit appelle Place Royale par Champlain, le XXVIII mai MDCXI. Paul de Chomedey de Maisonneuve jeta les fondements de la ville de Montréal. Il érigea les premières habitations, le port, la chapelle, le cimetière qu’il renferma dans une enceinte de pieux. »

“What does it say?” I asked Ben and Adrien.

“Oh…ahem…May 18th, 1642. Close to this obelisk between the river and the creek that used to run under the street of ‘Commissaries’ at the spot called ‘Royal Place’ by Champlain, May 28th, 1611. Paul de Chomedey de Maisonneuve threw the foundations of the city of Montreal. He erected the first buildings, the port, the chapelle, the cemetery that he surrounded by wooden walls,” Ben translated.

“So basically, that’s where the city was founded and first settled. Right here,” Adrien summed up.

“Thanks…” and I took a photo of the place and we kept walking. It was time to get to the metro station before we froze our asses off. We walked along the riverside street where we could see the ice-choked St. Lawrence River a little further beyond the quays of the port that have been converted mostly into parks and a dropping point for cruise ships.

We were back up Place Jacques-Cartier, taking some photos of the city hall and the old building across the street from the city hall. That building used to house Montreal governors during the French regime since it was built in 1705. Adrien had been right so far, still a rough fieldstone building, indicating its age was back to the old French days. We walked between the city hall and a 19th century courthouse, past the remains of the city walls. We were walking a little fast to the metro station because the wind was so fucking strong in the open field, and with the cold, it made it feels like –30F. That was enough to make my balls shrink into BB gun bullets.

We got in the Champ-de-Mars station heading back to McGill to the same mall that I had already seen. Ben told me there was a food court one floor down from the mall entrance doors from the station, and told me I had to try one of Quebec’s most famous foods ever. I hope it wasn’t pig-feet soup…err…‘soupe aux pattes de cochon’… that the guidebook mentioned, because that is just so fucking disgusting. Ben dismissed that since he finds it gross as well and told me that no one sane enough really eats that anyway.

“Ok, why am I looking at the hotdogs, hamburgers, and fries stand?” I asked as I looked at a place at the food court called ‘Frank Supreme’.

“To get some poutine,” Ben answered.

“Puh-what?”

“Poutine, Quebec’s best dish ever. Go…order a regular one…” Ben pushed me softly towards the college aged girl next to the cash register, filling up the ketchup bottle.

“Erm, you first!” I pushed Ben.

“Ok…ok…ok…” he went to the young lady who noticed Ben coming up. I followed him behind.

“Oui?” the lady asked.

“Eh ben, une poutine régulière,” Ben ordered.

“Ok…et voudriez-vous de la boisson avec ça?” (Would you like something to drink with that?) the lady pressed some buttons on the cash register.

“Ouais…un Pepsi,” Ben completed and paid for his order.

“Go on, your turn,” Ben stood next to me. The lady looked at me and smiled.

“Et vous, monsieur?” she said politely.

“Euhh…” I stared at the menu… “Une poutine regular avec…du Pepsi?”

“Bien sûr,” (Of course) she punched my order into the cash register, “Hmmm, quatre dollars et cinquante-cinq sous,” (four dollars and fifty-five cents) she said. I took out my wallet, looking for a five… Was it the green one? No, that was a twenty. Red? No, a fifty. Ah, the blue ones. I tendered the cash and she gave me some change.

I waited next to Ben as the guy in a white cook’s outfit put some fries into two plastic plates; put some cheese curds on top, and then gravy. He gave it to us while the lady got our Pepsi. We looked around the tables for Adrien, who was supposed to get himself some sushi, and saw he was sitting not too far from where we got our lunch.

“Excellent, Steph’s first poutine. It’s gonna be fattening and all heaven,” Adrien remarked, grinning.

“Indeed it is…” I stared at the contents of poutine. Oh, what the hell…I took the fork to eat some. Warm and nice in my mouth.

“So?” Ben asked, staring at me next to Adrien.

“Pretty much like I would expect from fries covered with cheese and gravy. It’s good,” I took another bite. Ben and Adrien looked absolutely pleased that I enjoyed it.

“Good…or otherwise you’d be committing a sin to Mother Quebec,” Ben took a big bite of poutine, “Crisse…ça fait longtemps que j’en mangeais…” (Fuck, it’s been ages since I ate some) he hmmm-ed at the taste. Adrien’s cellphone rang.

“Allô? Oui, c’est moi, Adrien. Qui c’est?” (Hello? Yes, it’s me, Adrien. Who is this?) Adrien looked a little confused, “Ouaisss? OH, c’est toi! Ouais, je me souviens de toi dans l’autobus,” (Yeahhh? OH, it’s you! Yeah, I remember you in the bus) Adrien blushed a little, and Ben was pretending he was still eating, but he was really listening to him.

“Attends, s’il te plaît…” (Wait, please…) Adrien put the phone against his coat, “Voyons donc, pas de tes affaires, tabarnak!” (C’mon, none of your business, goddammit) Adrien caught Ben listening, and walked twenty feet away from us.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing…it made me curious that’s all. Look at him, all smiling,” Ben pointed to his brother who was talking out of earshot, grinning like some goofball, “Look at him. All smiling. Telling me to mind my damn business. It means there is a girl on the other end. I’ll squeeze him for some info when he’s done. It has to be good,” Ben smirked and winked before going back to eating his poutine with one of his eyes on Adrien, who was still chatting on the phone. After a few minutes, Adrien came back, sat down and went back to his sushi. Ben started to open his mouth but Adrien saw that coming.

“Ta yeule…” (Shut up…) Adrien shot out of his mouth, still focusing on his sushi. Ben closed his mouth for a few seconds, smirking and went to say something once more, but Adrien caught him again.

“Je te niaise pas même…” (I’m not even joking…) Adrien pointed his chopsticks at Ben’s mouth.

“C’était qui?” (Who was it?) Ben defied him.

“Personne.” (No one) Adrien flatly answered back.

“C’était qui?” Ben repeated, but Adrien ignored him, “C’était qui?” Ben asked again, “C’était qui?” Ben repeated. Adrien leaned back his chair, almost wanting to scream to the gods for cursing him by having Ben as a brother.

“Ok…coudonc! C’était Rebecka…” (Ok, jesus! It was Rebecka…) Adrien’s face glowed a little as he blushed.

“Qui?” (Who?) Ben appeared a little confused at the name.

“Could you fill me in? My French isn’t good enough yet…” I shyly told them, “Rebecka?”

“Yeah…the Swede girl we met in the bus,” Adrien continued in low voice.

“And? And? And? What about her?” Ben pushed him.

“I have a date with her tonight…” Adrien lowered his voice to a mere whisper, blushing a little more.

“Ewwwww!” Ben looked disgusted.

“What?” Adrien’s voice returned to normal, “Is she bad?”

“Ugh…” Ben stared at Adrien, “Beh…it’s so gross, Steph…to have a breeder for a brother,” Ben went into fits of suppressed laughter.

“Oh god…” Adrien rolled his eyes, “Without the breeders, you gays wouldn’t even be born.”

“I know but how the hell can you put that thing in…” Ben made a bad fake grossed out look on his face. I started to laugh with him as Adrien smiled at Ben’s silliness.

“I don’t even know how you can put your stick in the hole used for shitting,” Adrien shot back. Ben was left speechless, giggling and pondering what to say.

“Because it’s natural!” Ben smiled as if it was so obvious before giggling like a drag queen.

“You’re useless, do you know that? Especially for breeding, I can’t imagine you getting pregnant and giving birth out of your penis,” Adrien smiled, sticking to the facts.

“I can breed,” Ben nodded, again saying it like it was so obvious, “If I knock up a girl, she will get pregnant unless my sperms are flawed,” Ben pressed his finger on Adrien’s nose, and Adrien pushed it off.

“Ok…ok…ok…you made your point. You can breed if you do a girl…but I would never imagine you doing that,” Adrien rolled his eyes before putting his last piece of sushi in his mouth.

“I would if you pay me $100,” Ben retorted.

“Seriously?” Adrien looked at him all surprised.

“No. That’d be using her anyway. You should know better,” Ben stuck his tongue out. Adrien looked up at the ceiling, again cursing the gods.

“I love it when you guys argue. I wish I had a brother,” I commented at both of them.

“You don’t even wanna wish you’d get one. It’s hard enough to have him plus a mischievous twelve-year old,” Adrien pointed his finger at me, “Good thing Ben won’t make any little Bens with you or whoever he will be with as long as he remains as a boy screwdriver.” Ben just spat out his Pepsi at the last word.

“Jesus, enough with calling me that!” Ben groaned.

“Well…it’s true. Right, Steph?” Adrien smirked at me. Ben’s eyes widened open.

“Erm…what?” I asked, a little confused at what he was implying.

“Didn’t you guys…well…you know…” Adrien signalled by showing me the straw going up and down the hole in the lid cover of the his drink. Ben kicked him at his feet under the table.

“Erm…no…” I blushed slightly.

“Oh…sorry,” Adrien apologized and then started to smirk for no reason. Ben caught it.

“What?” I asked Adrien as Ben looked at him suspiciously.

“Nothing. It just reminded me of how I caught Ben,” Adrien answered. Once again, Ben’s eyes widened and proceeded to kick him again at his feet.

“Don’t…” Ben started, but Adrien brushed him off.

“Oh c’mon, it won’t hurt telling him this,” Adrien smiling evilly, “Well, that’s how I found out that Ben’s gay. He was fourteen. I was coming back from school and Ben was sick and had a day off alone at home. Well, when I came in…I heard some noises and some panting from Ben’s room. I thought Ben was puking, so I went to get some ginger tea from the stovetop to settle his stomach when he stopped.”

“Adriennn…” Ben said in a threatening voice, glaring at him with daggers shooting out of his eyes to stab him mentally.

“Well, I was wrong,” Adrien ignored him, and I nodded to let him continue, “Once I opened the door, I caught Ben all naked doing some boy the same age in his bed. He was on his knees, with his hips moving kinda in circles like getting the screw into the…well…you know,” Adrien showed me his drink, twirling the straw around down the lid cover hole.

“Whoa…whoa…whoa…” Ben raised his voice, blushing furiously and a few people around him stared at him, “Enough description…” Ben hissed. Adrien appeared quite amused and satisfied with how well he got his brother in an embarrassing position in front of me.

“Anyway, that’s how I found out. Sick my ass…he looked so well doing that boy that was his classmate. He freaked so much thinking I would tell our parents on him, but I told him it’s a secret between us…well, till now… I was cool about it from the beginning, just wished I didn’t have to find out like that,” Adrien slurped noisily at the last remaining drops of his drink.

“So that’s where the boy screwdriver name came from,” I grinned at Ben, “It fits you…”

“Fuck you,” Ben gave me the finger, before turning his face into a smile and getting rid of the blush off his cheeks.

“So, wanna check out the stores?” Adrien suggested, “I don’t have to go till 5.”

“Yeah…let’s see what you have here,” I picked up my backpack, all set to go.

I walked around the same floor as the food court. In Centre Eaton, the food court is on the bottom floor and above me are four more floors. The mall’s roof is made of glass high up to let sunlight in. I walked around, seeing familiar clothing stores I have back in Pennsylvania, the Gap and Old Navy, but the rest are stores I never heard of, like the West Coast, Levis Jeans store, Garage, Bleu Marine, and so on. They were all right, but nothing interesting to check out. So I went to the tunnel level of the mall to use the tunnel to reach the next mall called the Complexe des Ailes de la Mode. It was full of fashion brand clothes, and expensive as hell like Lacoste and Tommy Hilfiger. The mall also had a bookstore called the Archambault, so I went inside to check it out.

“Yeah, almost all of the books, CDs, and DVDs are in French here,” Ben pointed out.

“No kidding…” I looked at the French language books in all formats and categories. I picked one off the shelf at random, reading without having a clue what it was saying, and it was just to see how French is written out. Something about the US.

“Don’t read that crap,” Ben took it out of my hand and put it back, “Some cheap translation of Michael Moore. He’s full of shit.”

“Oh…I looked at the title. Yeah, I agree…”

“If you want something, I’ll get you some good ones,” Ben took me to the section where the dictionaries and grammar books are.

“Here, a good French grammar book. Anddd…an English-French dictionary. It’s really useful,” Ben piled the book in my arms. He walked to another section, the children one.

“Erm, I’m no kid you know…”

“With the French level you’re at, it’s better to take some kid books to make reading easier for you,” Ben pulled out a paperback, “Ah, le Petit Prince… One of the best children books in the French language. Anddd…” Ben pulled out another small paperback, “Harry Potter à l’École des Sorciers. The first Harry Potter book.”

“Thanks…” I looked inside, “Looks neat enough…” I grinned.

“I’ll buy them for you. I got a student ID card. They give 15% off for students,” Ben took the books and asked me for couple of twenties. He walked to the cashier where he showed his ID before the young girl scanned the books. It cost me about $35, but as far as where my French level is, it was well worth the money.

I walked out of the store with a bag full of books and found Adrien waiting for us, smiling that I found something after an hour of shopping. We walked through Centre Eaton again, but just to go to another tunnel to the next mall, Place Montréal Trust. I found an English language bookstore there, Indigo, but it didn’t interest me much since most of the books are pretty much similar to those I can find in the States except for a few Canadian ones.

“I have to say, it’s impressive to see a major city that still has those malls downtown instead of always outside the center,” I remarked to Ben and Adrien, “And it’s a good use of space putting shops in underground tunnels.”

“You gotta check out Simons!” Ben pulled me to an entrance of a store with escalators leading up to take us out from the underground tunnels. The store is pretty much like a department store, but much newer and cleaner than the ones I see back in Pennsylvania. And the clothes were much better looking, especially for young people, which most department stores don’t really do a good job in. I could find familiar brands here, like Diesel and Energie. Sadly, a lot of them were a little to out of my price range, even putting the currency conversion into factor so I won’t confuse myself with the ‘higher’ illusion of the Canadian dollar. I just learnt there is a 13.5% sales tax in Quebec, which is twice as high compared to the 6% I am used to in Pennsylvania. The problem is, in Pennsylvania, the clothes are exempted from the sales tax while in Quebec, they aren’t. So I must be careful so I don’t spend too much on clothes alone. So, in Montreal, the clothes are considered a little expensive to what I've been used to all of my life.

“I wanna try this ‘Projek Raw’ jeans out,” I took a pair of jeans and looked for a fitting room, “Erm…how you say ‘fitting room’ in French?”

“Salle d’essayage,” Ben pointed at one not too far from the men jeans and pants section.

“Bonjour, que puis-je faire pour vous aider?” (Hello, what can I do to help you?) A young man in a suit and tie greeted me behind the cashier’s counter near the fitting room. Actually, it’s a little odd to find employees at Simons all dressed up… men in suit and tie and women in trendy dress. They looked really good though.

“One pair of jeans to try out…” I said in English, knowing I couldn’t think of it in French quickly enough. Good thing my French class prepared me for the situations with ordering foods and shopping, so I was able to understand some key words, but answering was another thing that takes time for me to do in a timely manner.

“No problem!” The guy replied in English, taking my jeans, and grabbing a sign with a big ‘1’ on it to hang next to the curtain. He’s hot…being Latino with jet-black hair all spiked up. He unlocked the low swing door, pulled a curtain, and put the jeans on the chair.

“If you need something better, just let me know!” he smiled warmly before pulling the curtain for me. Ok…a small well-lit fitting room with a big mirror. Hmmm, what is that red bump on my face? I moved closer…

“Ugh, a small zit… Ok, time to come out buddy…” I whispered at myself. I could tell the strong lights are showing I need to clean my pores better. So I squeezed to get the gunk out so it could go away faster.

I took off my shoes and jeans, and then stopped to observe my legs. Heh, it’s really no fair, Ben’s legs are almost smooth while mine are already hairy all over…though not too much. Funny I always spend too much time in fitting rooms observing my own body more than the clothes I want to try on. Ok, shut up and put the jeans on.

“Hmmm, one size too big…” I pulled the curtain for Ben and Adrien to see.

“Hmmm, it hugs that fine ass ok, but could be better. Get it smaller,” Ben suggested. Adrien nodded in agreement.

“Could you get me a 29 or even a 28 instead of 30?” I asked the Latino.

“Eh, sorry, those kinds of jeans only come in 30 and up,” he seemed apologetic.

“Oh, never mind…thanks,” I smiled and went back in the fitting room to change back. I wouldn’t buy them now in case I found better ones somewhere else.

Adrien told me he had to meet Rebecka at McGill. So we followed him because we wanted to see her as well, but I knew Ben had other reasons… to try to get some revenge on Adrien over what he had said to me back in the food court.

We sat down on the steps to a shop within McGill station, listening to the trains rumbling by and turnstiles clunking very noisily as students and workers commute home. We waited patiently as people came out in mass through the turnstiles at each train’s passing. It wasn’t till 5:15 that Rebecka finally showed up.

“Salut Adrien!” she shook his hand and both of them kissed each other on the cheek.

“They just met and they’re kissing?” I whispered to Ben.

“It’s a cultural to do that actually, to greet each other like that, even among people who've just met. You do it between a boy and a girl or between a girl and a girl, never between a boy and a boy, except some gays ones. You kiss on one cheek, let’s say the left one, at the same time as the other person kisses your right cheek, and then move to the other cheek, kissing the right one while the person kisses the left one,” Ben carefully explained.

“Wow, I never knew that… Well, I do know the French people do that according to my French class, but I didn’t think they'd do that anywhere in North America,” I said in an impressed voice.

“Oh, le frère et son ami! Salut!” (Oh, the brother and his friend! Hi!) Rebecka proceeded with the kissing-on-cheek ritual with Ben.

“Hey Rebecka. Moi, c’est Ben et voici Steph,” (I’m Ben and here’s Steph) Ben introduced us.

“Hey Steph!” she smiled warmly at me and went to do the kissing thing with me. I bumped her cheek a little too hard. She giggled and tried to back away.

“Y’est Américain, donc y’est pas habitué à ça,” (He’s American, so he’s not used to it.)

“Oh, sorry, I almost forgot,” Rebecka blushed a little. She looks quite Nordic with medium brown hair, pale-white skin, almost supermodel skinny and tall, and blue eyes.

“Eh, shall we go eat?” Adrien told Rebecka.

“Yep, all set. Nice seeing you guys,” she waved bye.

“Call me when you get home and don’t ignore your phone if it ever rings,” Adrien told Ben.

“Yeah yeah yeah, mon maître,” (…my master)

“I’m serious or I’ll tell M’man and she’ll straighten you out before you even know what’s coming at you,” Adrien warned before leaving.

“And you’ll see what I have planned for you this evening,” Ben winked, “And I even forgot to think of a revenge to embarrass him in front of her. Shit…next time I’ll be ready,” he smirked like an imp.

“What did you plan?” I asked him, feeling a little happy we would have some time alone together.

“You’ll see. We’ll be swimming in sins,” Ben winked his eyes.

We decided to go to a magazine store full of French and English language materials to kill some time before its decent enough to eat. Then we sat at Second Cup café on Ste. Catherine for a small cup of coffee. As it was getting closer to six o’clock, we finished up our coffee and went out to wherever Ben was going to take me to eat.

“It won’t be far, right?” I walked on the lightly snowed-covered sidewalks along Ste. Catherine, passing by shops already in the process of closing. It was already dark and snow flurries were falling, dusting everything in their path. Ben took me two more blocks before turning into a street called rue Crescent, which seemed to be filled mostly with bars and pubs.

“Ben? How old can you drink here?” I asked curiously.

“Well, eighteen, but we look old enough to be convincing. They rarely check anyone not obviously too young,” Ben answered.

“But what if we get caught?”

“Oh, they’ll just kick us out. That’s the worst they can do, and we can just go to another pub and try again,” Ben shrugged, “Here we are, supposedly the best Irish pub in the city, Hurley’s.”

“Cool, I always wanted to try some Guinness,” I smiled before going inside a Victorian stone building. Inside was quite warm with a few fireplaces, tables, chairs, and bars. The interior was mostly wood with hardly any stones or plaster. We took our coats off and picked a table. In a few minutes, a waitress greeted us with the menus and asked if we wanted anything to drink.

“Guinness,” I nervously ordered, mentally crossing my finger in my mind.

“Sure, and you?”

“The same,” Ben replied.

“Say, do I know you from somewhere?” the waitress put her mind into thinking, “Oh! Now I do, you were in my biology class last year as my lab partner one time.”

“Yeah, now I remember you… You’re Marie,” Ben started feeling nervous.

“But wait, you’re not even of age, Benoît. How old are you?” she asked us.

“Seventeen…” Seeing that my cover was blown anyway being associated with Ben.

“And Benoît is just as old as me. I shouldn’t give you drinks, ah no…” she shook her head.

“But wait, you’re just as old as me and you’re working a pub serving the booze,” Ben smirked at her, knowing he probably had her good.

“Well, heh…you got me there, you little bastard. I’m being paid under the table and I lied about my age,” she blushed a little, “Ok, don’t tell anyone and I’ll pretend I never knew your age and thought you’re 18, ok?” she smiled.

“I’ll give you some extra tips for that. Merci, Marie,” Ben smiled.

“De rien, Benoît,” (You’re welcome) she left to get our drink orders.

“God, that was close…” I sighed heavily.

“Yeah, but again, the worst thing she could do is kick us out…which she wasn’t even considering. Only considering denying us the drinks. Quebec tends to be quite liberal when it comes to teenage drinking compared to the rest of Canada and the States. Pretty much like Europe, I think,” Ben calmly answered.

“I couldn’t believe I’m buying my first drink…. Illegally though but still, a first,” I said with pride.

Marie came with our drinks and told us we have to pay for them up front.

“Eight dollars per beer? Shit Marie…” Ben groaned as he took out a twenty out of his wallet, “I’m paying for both.”

“Well, you missed the happy hour an hour ago when it was four dollars per Guinness,” Marie said, sounding apologetic.

“But…” I started to say.

“Hey, I told you, I’m doing the planning here, so I pay as well,” Ben said a little seductively, which caught Marie’s attention.

“Oh god, a date… I should’ve known,” she rolled her eyes, “Ready to order the food?”

So Ben ordered an Irish Green pasta, which was just bow-tie pasta in pesto sauce, with garlic bread and Irish vegetable lamb stew. And as for me, I decided to have the salmon covered with goat cheese sauce with potatoes and carrots. For an appetizer, we decided to share a plate of nachos covered with cheese, baked beans, black olives, and jalapeño peppers. Marie managed to write all of that down and repeated the order to confirm.

Ben and I just talked about some things I have observed so far in Montreal, particularly the cultural differences until I kept on catching Ben staring off over my shoulder. I turned around to look at what he was looking at. A few empty tables away in another room, I noticed a guy with pale-skin and dark brown hair sitting at a table with another guy sitting next to him, a little close. Looking cute though, but I turned to see Ben, who appeared a little nervous that I was trying to figure this out.

“Sorry, he looked familiar to someone I know,” Ben brushed it off and went back to the subject we were talking about. So I decided to let that go until, a few minutes later, Ben took another glance over my shoulder, hoping I wouldn’t notice this time, but I wasn’t fooled easily. I looked over, seeing the guy again with his hand under the table on his ‘friend’s’ leg.

“Explain…now…” I told Ben.

“Well, I know him. And he knows I’m here. I could see him looking at me, smiling and wiggling his eyebrows,” Ben started to smile, “Bastard…he’s doing it again on purpose.” He got up and started to walk towards him.

“Erm, Ben…maybe you should sit here and explain to me some more,” I was starting to think it could be his ex who happened to be here by coincidence to ruin Ben’s night with me. I got up to follow him, so I could stand next to him in case he needed any defence or help. Ben stood in front of the guy, and his supposed date. He smiled at Ben, looking all pleased to see him.

“Ah, quelle surprise, Ben,” (What a surprise) he said with a voice sounding between a male and a female one, though not girlish or queenie.

“Que fais-tu ici?” (What are you doing here?) Ben asked him, keeping his face neutral.