Don't Forget to Write: A Novel(62)

I wasn’t. The plan was always the summer. Ada was supposed to straighten me out or marry me off. And despite her machinations to get me on this date, she had done neither. It sounded like college was still on the table, and Ada hadn’t offered to extend my visit. But it was a way to make him realize this wouldn’t work.

“Maybe.”

“Would you transfer to Bryn Mawr?”

I studied him carefully to see how much he had gotten out of my mother. I didn’t have the grades for Bryn Mawr. Not by a long shot. But it seemed to be a genuine question. “I have no idea.”

“Just staying with Ada, then?”

“Maybe.”

He shrugged. “It’d be disappointing, but it’s only a two-hour train ride. If you wanted to see me, I could do that on weekends.”

It was the opposite of Freddy’s answer. And I kind of hated him for giving it.

“What about you? What are you going to do in the fall?”

Dan made a wry face. “That’s a contentious question right now. I’m working on convincing my parents that no, I’m not going to rabbinical school.”

“Why not?”

He looked suddenly uncomfortable. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Absolutely not.”

He thought for a moment, pushing his plate away. Then he looked up, his blue eyes earnest and kind and . . . some other emotion I couldn’t recognize. “I want to be a photojournalist.”

“A what?”

“Someone who takes pictures for newspapers.” He looked down again, and I couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed at the admission or just unsure how I would react. “I know. There’s not a lot of money in that line of work. I understand if it puts you off.”

“I don’t give a fig about money,” I said. He looked back up at me, almost smiling, but not quite.

“That’s because you grew up with it—you don’t know what it’s like to not have it.”

“And what do you know about that either?”

We locked eyes. “Nothing, really. I have friends who do though. But, Marilyn—I’d photograph weddings and work at a corner shop and whatever else it took if we . . .” He realized his gaffe and trailed off. “If my family needed the money.”

“That right there,” I said, pointing at him. “That’s the problem. ‘I.’ I don’t want someone who solves problems for me. I want someone who lets me be an equal partner. And I know that may not exist, but if it doesn’t, I’m fine being like Ada and not being tied down.”

“Okay,” he said. “Say you never get married. What are you going to do? Take over the matchmaking game?”

“It’s not a game. She’s got it down to a science. And no.”

“Then what? You mentioned writing?”

I shut my mouth firmly.

“I wouldn’t want you to give that up if it’s what you love,” he said softly. “Besides, I bet you’re great at it. You’ll make more than I will.”

“And you’d be okay with that?”

He shrugged, but he was smiling. “Why not?”

A busboy came and took our plates and our waiter returned, asking if he could show us a dessert menu. “No, I don’t think so,” I said. “Just the check, please.”

“Miss Heller has already paid the bill.”

“Of course she has,” I said, rolling my eyes. “We should have ordered extra lobsters to go. Had a picnic on the beach.”

“Sounds awfully romantic. You sure you’d be up for that?”

He was teasing, but I pointed at him again. “Don’t you start.” I rose from the table, and Dan followed suit. “Let’s go.”

Dan threw some bills on the table as a tip, and I stalked out of the restaurant, him in pursuit. He looked at me standing by the car. “I didn’t do well enough for a second date, did I?”

He had said all the right things. But there was a big difference between saying he liked me as I was and actually living it. He needed to understand that I didn’t follow the same rules that he did. I eyed him carefully, then looked down at my watch. “It’s early. You driving back tonight?”

“I don’t have to. What did you have in mind?”

I grinned and started walking up toward Dune.

He followed, confused. “Where are we going?”

“Can you sing?” I asked.

“Sing? Not well.”

“Shame,” I said. “But probably a good thing you decided against being a rabbi, then.”

The bay stretched beyond us at the end of the street, the sun just descending over it now. I looked at it briefly, thinking how this was the actual opposite of the sunrise with Freddy. Then we headed south toward 36th Street.

The sign for the Black Eagle glowed neon in front of us. Avalon didn’t have much of a nightlife other than the small boardwalk. But I had heard about this place even if I hadn’t been.

“A bar?”

“They have live music on weekends,” I said. “Come on.”

He looked unsure but opened the door for me, the smell of alcohol and cigarettes smacking us in the face.

“You twenty-one?” a bartender called to us as we walked in.