“Of course, Your Highness. We’ve been expecting you. Come.”
The pub is a dingy little place. No frills. But I sense it’s a popular local spot. It looks like any typical sports dive bar in America, except there are soccer jerseys on the walls, and autographed posters and balls. The patrons are gathered around the giant LED screen where players dressed in white are running across a green field. Their heads wheel around as they see us take one of the seats near the TV. The whispers begin almost immediately. I’m waiting for one of them to mention how they saw my tits on The Royal Exposé this morning.
“Um, I thought Manchester United was your team.”
The little marquee says Kirkenhaum Knights, and the players are dressed in white with dark blue accents. The bar cheers when the goalie fields a ball aimed at the top of the goal. The noise almost drowns me out, and Liam looks around panicked.
“Keep your voice down. In private I support Manchester United.”
“Okay, okay. Whatever.”
Bored, I watch the people at the bar as our waiter sets two pints of beer on the wooden table. Liam orders a steak-and-ale pie for himself, and not wanting to miss anything, I ask for the same thing.
“Fuck yes, Keep!” Liam explodes, bashing his fist against the table after another save. “Get those fuckers out of there!”
The bar roars in approval of their prince.
Liam’s behavior becomes more and more belligerent as he drains the glass of beer. Frankly, I don’t really give a shit. The steak-and-ale pie is fantastic, and I’m content to eat it in peace. If only he’d stop screaming at the TV.
“Get the fucking ball! What are you doing? No!”
My fork clatters loudly on the bowl. “Okay, you know they can’t actually hear you through the TV, right?”
“It’s the championships, Daisy,” he says, turning back toward the TV. A deep scowl darkens his face. “Oh, piss off, Ref!”
My eyes unfocus as I stare at the screen, trying in vain to get into the game. I can’t. I’m so bored.
Liam nearly upends the table as his team, I think, scores. The rest of the bar stands with him, clapping as he lets out an earsplitting whistle. Finally, halftime kicks in and commercials take over the screen. Liam sits back, slightly resembling his usual self.
“Didn’t you play sports as a kid?” he asks.
“Some. I never really liked soccer though.”
The color drains from Liam’s face, his fingers whitening on his glass.
“What? I’m the devil for not liking soccer? Well, sorry. I don’t.”
Chairs creak as the patrons twist around to stare at me. It’s alarming to see the angry looks hurled my way. Liam closes his mouth and turns away from me. Heat stings my cheeks.
“What?”
“Don’t ever, ever use that word.”
“What word?”
“You know what word, dammit!”
“Soccer?”
His eyes widen into saucers. “I told you to stop!”
“What’s so horrible about it?”
“That is not the word we use. The proper word is football. Football, Daisy.”
“You look like the flesh is about to melt from your face.”
“It literally will if you say that word one more bloody time!”
My face burns as the bar goes silent. A pin could drop and I’d hear it. I look straight into his eyes.
“Soccer.”
“Daisy,” he bellows.
“What is wrong with it?”
“It’s a bastardization of our language.”
I laugh in his face. “You realize the English invented that word, right?”
“We hate the fucking English!”
“Then blame them for inventing it, not me.”
“At any rate, it’s associated with Americans.”
“Well, I’m American, buddy. You better get used to it. I use words like soccer, fanny packs, and bangs all the time.”
He winces at each word. “You live in this country, Daisy. You’re the fucking princess. Treat it with an ounce of respect.”
“I am!” I stand, not giving a shit that I’m causing a huge scene. “I’m trying really hard, but I am not from here. I am American, and I’m not going to apologize for that!”
I leave him sitting there as I run toward the bathrooms, passing a giant Loo sign, and dread fills my chest. Instead, I walk toward the glowing Exit sign.
The door bursts open as I crash into it, and the rain falls on my cheeks. My feet nearly trip over the cobblestones on the roads. I hate this place. I hate the persistent, gloomy sky and the constant rain. Everything’s different. Even the signs on the street look alien to me. There’s also the fact that everyone in this country seems to hate my guts.