What Love Survived

Our First Date

I was ready for my date.

I wore a red skater dress with a short wedge heel, the fabric soft against my skin, moving gently with every step I took as if it had its own quiet rhythm. My hair was parted to one side and flowed freely past my shoulders and down to my lower back, brushing lightly against my arms whenever I moved. I brought a jacket just in case the weather changed, or the theater was cold, though I suspected it had more to do with needing something to hold onto—something to ground me.

Taking the train on a Saturday guaranteed it was not crowded, which fortunately made the commute to my intended destination pretty fast. The emptiness of the car gave my thoughts too much room to wander. My fingers tapped lightly against my lap, my reflection flickering in the window as I watched the city blur past.

When John saw me, his mouth almost dropped. His reaction wasn’t loud or exaggerated—it was quiet, stunned, real. His eyes lingered, taking me in like he was trying to memorize every detail.

“Wow, you look stunning.”

The words landed softly, but they wrapped around me in a way that made my heart flutter. I accepted the compliment and looked down shyly, suddenly aware of everything—my dress, my hair, the way my hands didn’t quite know where to rest.

John was wearing black jeans with a white button-up long-sleeve shirt; he also had a blazer draped over his left arm. His hair was short on the side and longer on top, which he styled really well, neat but effortless. He looked very handsome, the kind of handsome that didn’t need trying.

“You look quite dashing,” I said to John, meeting his eyes just long enough to see the small smile forming there.

“Thank you.”

“Shall we get going?”

“So, where are you taking me?”

“I was thinking we could have Italian? How does that sound?”

“I love Italian.”

“Great choice.”

It was a four-minute walk from the train station to Piccola Cucina Uptown, where we would be having dinner. The walk felt shorter than it should have, filled with quiet glances, small smiles, and the soft awareness of each other’s presence.

Upon entering, the warmth of the restaurant wrapped around us immediately—the soft glow of lights, the low hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses.

The hostess asked, “Do you have a reservation?”

John quickly answered. “Yes we do, under John Daniels.”

“Right this way,” the hostess said while leading us to our table.

“Thank you,” we both said in unison.

We paused for a second, looking at each other, a shared smile forming like we had stepped into the same moment at the same time.

The hostess left us with our menu and said, “Your server will be with you shortly.”

“Have you eaten here before?” I asked, glancing around at the cozy space, the intimate tables, the soft candlelight flickering gently.

“No, but I’ve heard the food here is pretty good.”

“Do you know what you would like to order?” John asked.

“Ravioli.”

“Good, I love Ravioli,” he responded, his tone light, easy.

Our server arrived and said, “I am Marco, I will be your server.”

“Would you like to start with some drinks?”

“I will have ginger ale,” I told the server. John said, “I will have a sprite.”

“I am ready to order,” I added, my voice steadier than I felt.

He said, “Ok.”

“I will have the Ravioli Di Ossobuco,” John said.

“I will have the same.”

The server took our menu and said, “I will go right back with your drinks.”

“Thank you,” John replied.

Under the table, my hands moved restlessly, brushing against the fabric of my dress, smoothing it over and over as if it could calm the nervous energy building inside me. I could feel my heartbeat in my fingertips.

John started. “I still cannot believe I am here with you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Five months of wanting to speak with you and now, we are sitting here about to share a meal together, it just seems unreal.”

The way he said it—soft, almost like he was still trying to believe it himself—made something in my chest warm.

“It is real.”

We both chuckled, the sound easing the space between us.

“So, what have you explored in the big city?”

“Well, I made a list.”

“A list. This should be good. Let’s hear it.”

“Are you going to make fun of me?”

“No, not at all, I am very interested in your list.”

“I went to the Bronx Zoo first, Central Park, Times Square and the Empire State Building.”

“Wow! You are truly making your way around the city. I would love the opportunity to take you a few more places if you don’t mind.”

“I would love that.”

Our drinks arrived, condensation forming along the glass as I wrapped my fingers around it, taking a small sip, letting the coolness steady me.

I asked John, “Do you have any siblings?”

“Yes, I do. I have an older brother and sister; I am the last. What about you?”

“I am the middle child, I have an older brother and a younger brother.”

“Seems to me, you are well protected.”

“I am.”

“So, tell me where you work. On York Avenue?”

“The last building on the corner of First and York. Why? You want to stalk me?” I laughed.

“No, I would not do that. You go down that way every morning, I’m just curious.”

Our dinner came and it was absolutely delicious, the aroma rising warm and rich between us.

“John, thank you for taking me here. It is so cozy, and I love the atmosphere.”

“You are very welcome. I do hope we can come back here soon if you let me.”

“That would be great.”

After dinner, we took a cab to Regal Times Square to watch a movie. The city lights reflected off the windows as we drove, everything glowing, alive.

When we arrived, I asked, “John, did you already purchase the tickets?”

“Yes, I did it online. Would you like a drink?” John asked.

“No, thanks, I’m good. Tell me what we are watching?”

“It is a surprise.”

“Really!?”

“I think you will like it.”

We arrived at the door, John said, “Don’t look up at the name.”

We walked in, found our seats, watched the opening credits, and then I saw it.

To All the Boys I've Loved Before.

“Have you seen it before?” John whispered into my ear, his voice warm against the quiet of the theater.

“No I have not.”

“Alec told me it would be a good movie for us to watch.”

“Is it a love story?”

“I’m not sure, I have not researched it before.”

It turned out to be a romantic movie. I loved it. I was a bit uncomfortable during the kissing and hot tub session, shifting slightly in my seat, aware of him beside me, but overall the movie was great.

As we walked out, John turned to me and said, “I am so sorry, if I knew the movie had all these romantic scenes I would have chosen something else.”

“It’s fine.”

“I would like to take you to Times Square Plaza for a bit. Would that be OK with you?”

“I would like that very much.”

“It is two blocks away, would you like to take a cab?”

“No, we can walk. The Red Steps is a popular spot just to sit and hang out and watch the lights in Times Square, take pictures and watch a few street performers.”

Along our walk, I spied a pizza place. The smell hit me first—warm, cheesy, impossible to ignore. Although we had just eaten not even three hours ago, my stomach growled, betraying me completely. John noticed my stare and chuckled.

“Would you like a slice of pizza?” he asked.

“Sure, that would be great,” I responded, trying to pretend I wasn’t just salivating over the smell of the pizza, but failing miserably.

“A ginger ale for you?”

I smiled. “Yes, please.”

After getting our pizza, we went to the Red Steps and looked at the amazing sight that was before us—lights flashing, people moving, music drifting through the air, the city alive in every direction.

A couple passing by saw us and asked, “Can we take a picture of you guys?”

John looked at me and nodded yes. He got up and gave them his phone, we moved in a little closer—just enough to feel the warmth of each other—and the picture was taken.

“Thank you so much,” John quickly told them.

He showed me the picture. “It came out really nice.”

“It did. Send it to me, please.”

Now I have a memory of our first date, I thought to myself.

“I told John, “It is getting late, and we should head back to the train station.”

“I would like to take you home if you are comfortable with that?”

“I am not,” I told him. “It is not that I don’t trust you, but I would like to keep where I live private for now.”

“I understand, but can I at least pay the fare for the cab home?”

“That will not be necessary.”

“I insist,” he said earnestly, “I just want to make sure you are not riding the train so late, and you can get home safe.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

“Thank you for a lovely evening, I really had a great time,” he said. “We should do it again soon.”

I smiled and got into the cab. John closed the door and waved me goodbye, and the cab left.

I quickly sent Susan a text. “Are you okay? I have not heard from you all day.”

She texted back, “I’m fine, I will be spending the rest of the weekend with Bob. See you on Monday.”

“Okay.”

When I arrived home, I texted John to let him know I arrived home safely, and I truly had a wonderful time.

He texted back. “It was my pleasure, and I cannot wait to spend the day with you again. How about tomorrow we spend the day at Central Park?”

“I would love that.”

“Would you like to meet at the same place, and we can walk to the park from there?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“What time should I meet you?”

“How about noon? That way we can get lunch.”

“Fantastic, see you then!”

I looked at my phone and changed my home screen to the picture that John and I took.

Sunday morning came, and I got ready to leave to meet John. I wore a light green sun dress. The fabric was breathable and very comfortable. I paired it with white Converse, simple and easy, the kind of outfit that let me move without thinking.

I got off the train and ran upstairs to the street.

John was leaning on the stair railing, looking at his phone.

“Hi,”

John looked up and smiled. “You made it. Do you realize it is a fifteen-minute walk from here to Central Park?”

“Yes, I know, I have done it before.”

“You look very pretty, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

We arrived at the zoo, where we fed the animals at the petting zoo, laughter slipping out easily between us, and then walked to Bethesda Terrace. We saw the Angel of the Waters and, of course, the Bethesda Fountain.

“I have never been on this side of the park before. There is so much to see.”

“How about lunch? Then, we can get some ice-cream and after that, we can climb Belvedere Castle.”

“That sounds awesome.”

The day stretched out softly, unhurried, like time had decided to slow down just for us.

By 5:30 pm I was tired and wanted to go home.

John said, “Are you heading back?”

“I am, I am tired.”

“Let’s take a cab back to the train station and I will drop you off there. I am meeting Alec at his job. We will be going home together.”

“Okay.”

We arrived at the train station and John exited the cab first. He hurriedly walked around to my side and opened the door for me, extending his hand out to assist me with my exit.

“I had another wonderful date with you and I can’t wait to do it again soon,” he said, placing a soft kiss on the back of my hand.

The gesture lingered, warm and unexpected, sending a quiet rush through me.

“I had a wonderful time too, I’d love that.”

We descended the stairs together, hand in hand, the contact light but steady.

Once we reached the fare gate, John hugged me and kissed the top of my head, whispering goodbye.

I waved goodbye and swiped my card to pay the fare.

We chatted for a bit before my train arrived, neither of us quite ready to end it.

When the door closed, we waved goodbye—

And the train departed.