Page 9 of Meet Me on Love Street
“I like Cosmic Vintage,” Sarina says suddenly. I look at her. I wasn’t aware that my stepsister had ever been in the store before. I don’t actually dislike Sarina, but we have pretty much nothing in common, and I admit, it’s super annoying that Sarina is perfect in all the ways I’m not. “A really nice girl helped me there once,” Sarina continues. “Short black hair… She was so great.”
“That’s Cara,” I say. “She’s one of my closest friends.”
Sarina nods. “I’ve seen her around. I think she goes to my school. Fast fashion is so harmful to the environment. We should all be buying more secondhand.”
I raise an eyebrow at my stepsister. I’ve never heard Sarina say something that conflicted with her mother’s stance on anything, so this is pleasantly out of character.Then again, I really don’t know her that well. When we were kids, Sarina used to complain to her mother if I touched one of her toys, and she would make comments about me not being as smart as her, but it’s been a long time since she said anything like that to my face. But even when we grew up and stopped the petty fights, we never managed to get close, despite all those weekends I awkwardly sat with her while she did her homework, practiced her cello, or did another Noureen-approved extracurricular.
“What are your plans for the summer, Sana?” Noureen asks, not acknowledging her daughter’s comments. “You could work at your father’s real estate office. Sarina works there part-time, you know. But there should be enough for you to do too. It would look much better on your résumé than the used store.”
I shake my head. “I’m fine at Cosmic.”
Noureen gives my father a glance like it’s his turn to say something. He clears his throat. “Sana, this is a good opportunity for you to make some changes in your life,” he says. “You’ll be finished high school soon; you can’t keep living this hippie-dippie artist life like your mother. It’s time you looked and acted like an adult.”
Hippie-dippie?
My jaw clenches as I glance down at my outfit. I’m wearing vintage, of course. A yellow blouse with pearl buttons and a rust-colored skirt, along with boots and a pale beige cardigan. My outfit is perfectly brunch-with-Dad appropriate. No hearts or rainbows to be seen, except for the heart locket, which still has that fortune in it. No tie-dye, either, so I don’t know what about me looks childish or hippie-like.
“I have a job, Dad. And I was accepted to the best art school in the country.”
“Why an art school, though?” Noureen asks, apparently not satisfied with how our discussion on this topic a few minutes ago ended. “It doesn’t seem practical. Also, why not apply to schools outside the city? It could be a great learning experience to live on campus!”
Cost, mostly, but I don’t say that. Also, OCAD, the Ontario College of Art and Design, is super hard to get into. They should be proud of me. “Dad’s the one who pushed me to apply for digital arts!” I say. I wanted to major in drawing and painting, but Dad lectured me for so long about studying something with viable career options. I kind of saw his point, so the digital arts major was my compromise. But apparently Noureen still isn’t happy. To her, I may as well be studying basket weaving. I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m not Sarina—I’m not going to study business.”
I look at my stepsister, but Sarina says nothing. I can’t read her expression.
Dad sighs. He takes a deep breath before talking again. Seems I’m going to get another Dad lecture today. “Sana, I wanted to speak to you at home about this, but you never come home anymore.” He glances at Sarina for a moment, then back at me. Clearly Sarina knows what this is about. Which is weird. It’s so odd to think my own father has a closer relationship with his stepdaughter than with me. “We would love to help you more with your education, so in September, when you start university, we would all be happy if you would come live with us instead of living with your mother.”
What…? He wants me to live with him? In Noureen’s house? “In Vaughan?”
“Yes. We’re not far from the subway. Sarina takes it to school every day. We could cover all your living expenses easily this way. Even give you a bit of an allowance.”
I’m speechless. Why would I want to move in with the man who replaced his family with this better model? Why would I ever agree to live under Noureen’s judgment and passive-aggressiveness? My jaw clenches.
“There’s plenty of space in the house,” Noureen says. “This is a good opportunity for change.”
I can’t stop myself from cringing. “I can’t leave Mom.”
“Your mother is an adult,” Noureen says. “She doesn’t need you babysitting her.”
I squeeze my lips together. Of course, my mother is an adult… She freaking owns her own business and the building it’s in. Alone. And she’s loyal, supportive, and honest. Noureen can only dream of being like my mother.
“Why don’t you think about it,” Dad says.
I’m not going to. Ever. Mostly because I don’t want to live with Dad and Noureen, but also because I can’t imagine leaving Love Street. Cosmic Vintage. The flower shop. Jenn, Cara, Julie, and the whole Love Street crew. But telling Dad and Noureen off now for suggesting I move in with them isn’t going to help. They would be even more disappointed in me, which would only make these brunches harder.
“Okay, I’ll think about it,” I say, before downing the rest of my green tea.
On the subway back into the city, I do think about Dad and Noureen’s proposal. There’s no way I would live withthem, but the fact is, Love Street is struggling. Mom’s worried about sales and interest rates and is even thinking of selling the building. If she sells, where would I go? Maybe Mom would want to live closer to her parents up north, but that would be way too far of a commute for me. And I can’t afford to live in my college’s residence next year, not without taking out massive student loans, which I really don’t want to do.
I’m a positive person, and I pride myself on finding the best in any situation, but an hour and a half with Noureen at brunch every two weeks is bad enough; there’s no way I could live with Noureen and Sarina full-time without tearing all my hair out. And I like my hair. It’s like Noureen is a vampire, sucking all the optimism out of me whenever I’m in the room with her.
I have to make this Love Street rebranding project work. If we can get more people to come to the street and Mom’s sales go up, then she won’t have any trouble paying her mortgage and she won’t sell the building. And I could stay right where I am, living on Love Street, and working at Cosmic Vintage when I start university in the fall. Exactly where I’m supposed to be.
CHAPTER FOURA HATER OF TRUE LOVE
The next day after school, I head straight to the bookstore instead of going home or to Cosmic Vintage. Second Story Books is on the same side of the street as the flower shop and across the street from Cosmic Vintage. It’s a small dark, overstuffed store, which, despite the name, is on the first floor of an old building. I think the store is incredibly romantic, with the smell of old books and all the hidden corners. Come to think of it, it would be a perfect place for a meet-cute among the bookstacks. But no. I’m not looking for a meet-cute anymore. My focus isonlyon the Love Street project.
Reggie bought the bookstore a few years ago, and he immediately increased the history and historical fiction sections. He also started carrying a small selection of used records. He, unfortunately, got rid of the meager romance selection, which was probably for the best since the only romances in the store back then were old paperbacks with questionable consent in them. I was disappointed that he didn’t curate a better romance section, though.
