Page 29 of Picking Daisies on Sundays

“Do you go on a lot of dates?”

My eyes left the menu instantly. I didn’t need the menu since I knew it top to bottom, including every price and calorie, but it felt like the normal thing to do.

I looked at him, but he was focused on his menu. I must have imagined the weight of the question, seeing as he didn’t look concerned by any means.

“I wouldn’t say a lot. Once every few months.” I loved the idea of dating: getting dressed up, meeting a person outside a restaurant with a shared nervousness. Then sitting at dinnertogetherfor hours talking, knowing there’s a mutual attraction when they look at your lips or bump your foot under the table.

Not that any of that happened though. Onlyin the movies I watched.

That’s why I only date once every few months—not that men were constantly hitting on me. I wasn’t the girl that men gravitated towards or even wanted.

Every few months, I opened the dating apps back up. It was how my dating cycle started. Only choosing to date every few months gave me (1) time to build up my love for romance before I met someone cute for a date, and then (2) be disappointed by how the date went, and finally (3) grow worried that I’ll never find love. I then entered into my romantic-comedy and love-storyland hibernation, where I tried to remind myself that if love existed in films and books, then those stories must’ve been inspired by real love stories too. Right?

He responded simply by nodding.What does that meanyou may ask? Absolutely no clue. I hadn’t seen men in rom-coms do that.

I tapped my phone screen to read the time. Jia should be here with her date in about fifteen minutes. I guess our sprint to the

train station through the rain got us here early.

“Do you walk to the train by yourself every Friday night?” Levi asked, as if he was reading my mind.

“Sometimes I skip there,” I joked, trying to make him laugh. But I answered too quickly, not understanding the concern in his voice.

“Dani,” he asked in his authoritative, big brother voice, the one he used with his younger sisters. It made me feel worse. That was the last way I wanted him to talk to me—like I was another sister.

I matched his tone, putting the menu down. “Some Fridays, not all. The girls usually go out after club meetings, so the nights I don’t go out with them, I walk back by myself.”

He adjusted one of the rings from the matching pair on his index finger. “Call me next time you decide not to go out, I’ll walk you back.”

“I’ve been walking back to the train by myself since freshman year.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “Just call me, okay? I’m only a few blocks away.”

I pursed my lips in thought but nodded in agreement.

“How’s trying to get the job going?”

“I had an interview yesterday with a team of journalists, but Bella’s mom stopped me. Bella must have brought us up because she congratulated me on my new relationship.”

“Wow, that’s a bit condescending. I’m surprised you want to work for someone like that.”

“It’s not that Iwantto. I want to teach, that’s why I’m studying it, and student-teaching with every free hour I have. But the journalist position pays well. It would give me the ability to help out with the girls.” There was no morsel of exhaustion or regret in his voice, only matter of fact. As if he had no idea how selfless he was being.

“Levi,” I sighed, my heart aching. “I thought real-estate was going well for your mom?”

He nodded. “It is, it is. But it’s not a job that has a constant flow of income. It all depends on whether she’s making sales. I want to make sure that there’s money available during off seasons for her.”

I wanted to tell him that he should be following his heart by teaching. I wanted to explain that his happiness and well-being should be more important. That there can be really great paying positions in those roles depending on where he went.

But those weren’t guaranteed unlike this position with The New York Times. I could see how badly he needed this job from the way his shoulders slumped forward during this conversation. To tell him to give up on his family and leave them when Sarah was already states away was unrealistic.

I remembered the years when his mother struggled to make ends meet and he would grow with tension every time his mother opened a bill. That fear didn’t just go away.

“We’ll get you the job. I promise,” I reassured, leaning over to squeeze his hand.

Our conversation was cut short by Jia’s sudden appearance with her date.

“It’s gametime,” I said with the passion of a football coach. He laughed, showing off the contrast of his white teeth to his tan skin. I almost lost my next words, but then I spotted what her date was wearing. “That’sher date?”