Falling Gently

“Thank you,” Leen told the waitress with a genuine smile as she poured us water. 

“Thanks, Jane,” I said as I wiped my sweaty hands on my napkin and placed it on my lap. 

“Nice to see you again, Hadi. I hope you two enjoy,” Jane said as she handed us the menus and returned to the kitchen.

“Have you been here before?” Leen asked. 

“Yeah, I used to work here while I was in high school. Jane is the best, by the way. She has worked here for over twenty years. I don’t think it’s possible for her to get an order wrong. Also, watch her pretend to write our order down.” 

“It must be good if you still come back.” 

“All the time! I am trying to get my brother to work here for the discount.”

She asked how old my brother was, opening up to our first topic, family. I told her I was the eldest son and about my brother and sister. She said she was the eldest of six.

“Six!” I said with amazement. 

She laughed as if she had seen this reaction before. “Yup, and no, it’s never boring at home, and yes, I am their second mother.”

 I couldn’t help but laugh at how quick and satisfied with her answers she was. 

“So your brothers are right after you?” I asked, eyeing her brothers, Mohammed and Malik, who sat a few tables behind her. 

If we had not walked in together, I would have sworn they were FBI agents. They wore well-fitted blazers over buttoned-up shirts, casual but sleek, with khaki pants and polished shoes. They blended in just enough with the restaurant’s relaxed atmosphere, but still sharp enough to know they weren’t just there for a casual meal. I’ll have to take notes for when my sister needs a chaperone. Mohammed played with the butterknife as he stared at me with guarded eyes. Malik looked up from the menu, he followed Mohammed’s glare, saw my face, and started to laugh. 

“Yeah it’s me, then them two,” she said as she pointed behind her. “And then my two sisters and one more brother.” 

“Three girls, three boys? That’s amazing MashAllah.” 

After we skimmed through the menu, she asked me what I would recommend. When I worked here, I hated that question. I used to think, “how can I recommend something when I don’t know what they like?” But when she asked me, everything felt different. I knew the menu like the back of my hand, and for once, I was actually excited to share my old favorites and hoped she’d enjoy them too. It felt like a small way to break the ice and learn more about her, without diving too deep too soon.

“What do you normally order at an Italian restaurant?”

“When I was a kid, I always ordered chicken alfredo, but there was a period where I could not eat dairy, so when we came to an Italian restaurant, I’d have to request something often not on the menu,” she replied. 

“So you can have dairy now?” I questioned. 

“Yes and no,” she began. “I still am allergic to dairy, but I take these digestive enzymes,” she pulled a small, blue tin box that might have been for mints out of her purse. “They allow me to eat certain things I’m allergic to.” 

“Wow, that’s pretty cool. I never heard of those before.” 

“Yeah, they also cover my egg and garlic allergy, but not my lamb allergy.” 

I could live without lamb. Turns out she wasn’t always the girl with allergies. They got so intense in high school that she had to avoid them completely. About a year later, she discovered digestive enzymes and has used them ever since.  

“Well, in that case, I would recommend the chicken parmesan. It’s on the bottom of the second page. It comes topped with our – I mean their – homemade marinara sauce, mozzarella, and parsley.” 

“That sounds delicious,” she said with a smile. 

When Jane returned, I told her we would have two chicken parmesan with one table salad and two club sodas. After Jane walked off with our order, Leen immediately leaned closer and whispered, “She definitely didn’t write anything down!”

We both laughed and watched Jane walk to the kitchen, but I quickly scooted back the moment I saw her brothers’ unwavering eyes on me.

“Her name reminds me of my favorite author-”

“Jane Austen?” I blurted out before she could, which caught her by surprise. Leen smiled and looked down. She opened her napkin and said yes. I told her about how my sister loves everything about Jane Austen. 

“Since she was in middle school, she would make our whole family watch each Pride and Prejudice adaptation, pausing every scene to explain like it was a case study.”

Leen’s eyes widened, “I do the same thing! Except only my youngest sister will watch with me,” she said with a hint of defeat. 

“I’m going to assume Jane is your favorite Bennet,” I declared as I leaned back in my chair. 

“Actually,” she stated as she straightened her posture. “Lizzy is my favorite, but I think my personality is a bit of both.” 

Confidence looked good on her. The sunlight set on her face. Her eyes are hazel. I asked her which Bennet she thinks her sister is. “My sister is Elizabeth Bennet,” she said. 

“I think mine wants to be her but is actually Mary,” I muttered, making Leen almost laugh out the water she was sipping. 

Jane, our waitress, came back with our breadsticks. She glanced at us and smirked with her eyebrow raised. Having heard the end of our conversation, Jane remarked, “Hadi’s definitely a Mr. Darcy, but after the first proposal.”

She winked at Leen, making her cheeks turn as pink as her hijab.