“So you work here and at Cosmic Vintage?” Miles asks me.
I shake my head. “I don’ttechnicallywork here. But I help out when Mom needs me. She doesn’t pay me, or anything. I’ve practically grown up in flower shops—Mom worked at another one in Markham before we moved here. I’m not as good as Mom, but I’m not bad at floral design.”
Miles’s eyes widen. “You’re originally from Markham?” He seems surprised at that.
I chuckle. “Nope. Born and raised in Toronto—but we used to live in the North End.”
“So you’re here for the same reason I am.”
It takes me a second to realize that the reason is our parents’ divorces. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“What happened between your parents?”
I take a bite before answering. “Oh, you know. Taleas old as time. Man meets free-spirited woman. Falls in love. Gets married. Man disappointed to discover that free-spirited wife doesn’t become a respectable suburban soccer mom after marriage. Divorce. Child support. New apartment and custody arrangements.” There’s more to the story, but I don’t want to get into it now.
Miles takes a forkful of cake in his mouth. “So you know exactly what it’s like to get caught in the aftershocks of your family imploding,” he says after chewing.
I turn to him and see the resentment on his face. My parents’ divorce was a long time ago now, and seriously, I’m over it. But I remember how hard it was when it was fresh. Everything changed so much, and so quickly. It really messed me up for a while.
I give him a sympathetic smile. “Divorcesucks. I remember feeling like everything I thought I knew about my life was a lie. Did your mom move out, or your dad?”
He cringes. “Neither. They say it’s because of housing costs, but I think they’re playing chicken. They’d rather make each other miserable than pay rent somewhere else. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I’m the one who moved out.”
“Oh, that’s terrible. Why would they do that to themselves? And to you?”
He shrugs. “Good question. When they started to only speak to each other through me, I realized I had to leave. Thank goodness I got a job quickly… and I had some savings from working all through high school.”
“Aren’t your parents helping you with school?”
“They pay my tuition. But since it wasmydecision to leave home, they won’t help with rent. And they both blame the other for me leaving.”
I shake my head. That’s so ridiculous. Miles is great—his parents should beproudof his independence. “Do you have siblings?”
“Only child, thankfully. I’d hate for them to have more kids to use as weapons against each other.” He takes another bite of cake. He looks so hurt, my heart breaks for him. Maybe I should stop eating and leave the cake for him. He needs it more than I do. “It’s so stupid,” he says. “They used to talk about their deep and profound love all the time. Hell, they named me after their relationship.” When I raise a questioning brow, he clarifies. “There’s this song from when they were young, ‘I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles),’ and it’s all about how far the guy would go for the person he loves. They also picked the name Miles because it’s not a Muslim or a Hindu name. My dad’s Hindu, and my mom’s Muslim, and neither of their parents approved of the marriage. Eventually their families accepted each other, but they said they named meMilesto represent the miles they went through to be together.”
“That’s so romantic,” I say. “But now they’re miles apart. Even in the same house.”
He nods. We’re quiet for a while. I wonder if his parents loving each other so much is why they’re so toxic to each other now. Like they’re only capable of enormous feelings for each other. To be honest, I get why Miles is turned off by that kind of…demonstrativelove and why he hated the festival theme at first. His parents ruined the concepts of love and romance for him. I have a lot of bitterness from my parents’ divorce, but at least they never used me against each other.
“We’re both named after songs,” I say, hoping to lightenthe mood. “Mom named me after the Cream song ‘Sunshine of Your Love’ and the Beatles song ‘Here Comes the Sun.’ They are her two favorite songs, and she listened to them nonstop when she was pregnant. She says that’s why I came out of the womb smiling. I was almost Sunshine Merali.”
He squeezes his lips together, holding in a laugh.
“Iknow,” I say. “It’s terrible. Dad insisted onSanainstead because it’s pronounced a bit like sun, and it’s Arabic for “brilliant.” Which is what the sun is.”
Miles looks at me with those intense eyes, again, and there’s the smallest hint of a smile on his face. I smile back at him. It almost feels like he’s going to say something. I wonder if he’ll say the name suits me. I want him to.
When the moment gets too intense, I change the topic. “If your name brings bad memories, you could change it,” I say. “You’re over eighteen.”
“Nah, it pisses them off more than me. I like my name. It’s short. Easy to spell.”
I smile at him. “It suits you.” I can’t imagine him as anyone but Miles.
He still has that tiny smile on his face as he takes another bite of cake. I take one too. This is nice. Not just the cake, but the conversation. Even the silence is nice. This is much better than staying at prom. I was so worried that my prom night memories were ruined, but Miles saved them.
“What’s the story with your prom dress?” he asks after a few moments. “Why did you only get the dress two days ago?”
I sigh. “Did you see the dress Priya’s girlfriend, Amber, was wearing? The one that matched Priya’s? I was supposedto wear that. We bought the dresses when we were still together.”
