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The waitress only handed me a menu and said, “I’ll give you a few minutes to check it out, but if Mikal hasn’t told you yet, tonight we have a short rib shepherd’s pie that is a…maz…ing.”
“That sounds good to me, I’ll have that,” I said, not even opening the menu.
“Should I make that two?” she asked Mikal.
He nodded and said, “With a twenty ounce from the tap.”
She turned to me and asked, “And for you?”
“A glass of Riesling.” When she left I added, “So much for having a burger and fries, but that sounded so tempting.”
“Wait till you taste the food. The owner used to be a chef in a five-star restaurant in Chicago. But his parents were elderly and he wanted to be close to them. He found this little hole in the wall around five years ago. Now he can continue with his passion and still be close to the ones who need him,” he said.
“That’s beautiful.” This is the type of place I enjoy. There was so much meaning and love behind it and I knew it was going to be reflected in the food. “How did you find this place?” I asked.
“I don’t live very far from here. When it opened, I decided to give the food a shot. I’ve been coming back since.”
“Explains why she didn’t need to give you a menu,” I grinned.
“I think they added a few items based on some of my requests.”
“Really? Like what?”
“The Illusionist. It’s a portobello mushroom seasoned so well that you’d think you’re eating the juiciest burger in your life.”
My mouth watered. “Why didn’t you tell me that before I ordered the shepherd’s pie?”
“You can have that next time we come. That is if you would like to go out with me again,” he said.
The night was still early, but I already knew that I wanted to see him again. “I’d like that.” And not just for the food.
The waitress delivered our food, and we spent the next hour sitting there chatting all about our favorite things, from food to music to movies. We had so much in common that it was refreshing and scary all at the same time. Nothing about this date felt uncomfortable. It was like sitting with someone I’ve known for a long time.
The waitress came over and said, “If you don’t want to scare your date off for good, you better get her out of here. You know who just walked in and it’s not going to be pretty.”
Was she talking about one of Mikal’s exes or something? I looked around and didn’t see anyone worrisome.
“Damn it. If I could sing, I’d grab that microphone and monopolize it all night,” Mikal said.
“Mikal, what are you talking about?” I asked.
“There is a guy who comes in every night, usually much later, and tortures us with his tone,” he grumbled.
“You mean they have karaoke here?” I asked. He nodded and pointed to the far right of the pub.
“I’d love to sing if you don’t mind,” I said.
I wasn’t sure who was more surprised, Mikal or the waitress. She said, “Anything is better than him. Come with me.”
I looked at Mikal and asked, “I think I’ll sing something from Led Zeppelin if that is okay with you.”
Mikal asked, “Stairway to Heaven?”
“You got it,” I said and followed the waitress to the mic.
I have no idea what came over me, but one song turned into two and before I knew it, I had the microphone so long the other guy gave up and left. Everyone in the pub walked over and thanked me.
When I returned to the table, I was worried that Mikal might have felt as though I abandoned him. Instead he looked impressed.
