Four doves came for crumbs. He came for the seat beside her.
Daniel moved a little closer. The dove moved closer too.
It stood on the back of the bench, watching Mae’s open palm. Daniel sat beside her, watching Mae.
“There,” she whispered. “Don’t be shy.”
He had been working on that.
An Occupied Afternoon
The bench was wide enough for several people. Daniel had chosen the small part beside Mae, where the sun warmed the wooden slats and a loose strand from her bun stirred near his shoulder.
They had been seeing each other for several weeks. This afternoon, he had suggested a walk by the river. Mae had suggested sitting down for a minute.
The minute had acquired four doves.
Three pecked among the crumbs at their feet. The fourth remained above them, taking its time over the considerable decision of stepping onto her hand.
Daniel leaned forward.
“There’s a little path beyond the bridge—”
“Look at his feet.”
He looked. They were pink.
“Very good feet,” he said.
The dove lifted one and put it down again. Mae smiled as though it had done something rather difficult.
A Fifth Applicant
Daniel settled back against the bench. Dry leaves scratched along the path, and somewhere behind them a bicycle clicked past. Mae held her hand steady while the dove stretched its neck toward a crumb.
“I thought we might go as far as the old boathouse,” he said.
“He’s nearly doing it.”
The small beak touched her palm. Mae drew in a delighted breath.
Daniel looked down at his own hands.
“I can do that.”
She turned toward him at last.
“Eat from my hand?”
“Get your attention.”
Mae laughed. The dove stepped backward, offended by the movement rather than the joke.
“You’ve made him nervous.”
“I’ve made myself nervous. He can wait.”
She nudged Daniel’s sleeve with her elbow, then opened the little paper bag on her lap.
“Here. Give me your hand.”
He offered it rather promptly.
She poured in a few crumbs.
His Turn
The crumbs felt dry and gritty against his skin. Daniel held his palm beside hers, trying to keep his fingers flat. The dove inspected the new arrangement.
“Don’t move,” Mae said.
“I had quite different plans for this afternoon.”
“Just for a moment.”
The bird leaned across. Its beak tapped his palm twice, so lightly that he almost laughed. Below them, one of the other doves paused beneath his shoe and looked up.
“Now they’re all considering me.”
“You have more left.”
Mae’s hand was empty. She lowered it, tucked the folded bag into her pocket, and settled against his shoulder.
Daniel kept his palm very still.
“The path beyond the bridge,” she said. “Does it reach the boathouse?”
He turned his head toward her.
“You heard that?”
“I heard you. I was watching him.”
“I noticed.”
She slipped her arm through his free one.
“I’d like to go.”
When They Could Leave
For a little while, they sat close together while the dove finished the crumbs. Mae asked about the river path, and Daniel told her where it narrowed beneath the willows. This time, she kept her face turned toward him.
At last he showed her his empty palm.
“Ready?”
“Ready.”
They stood. The dove fluttered down to join the other three, leaving the bench entirely free.
Daniel brushed his hands together and reached for Mae’s. She took it.
Behind them came a soft, questioning coo.
“No,” Daniel said, without turning. “You’ll have to find your own date.”
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