This is the first time I’m seeing them since they came back from the print shop, and I can’t get over howfantasticthey look. The big LOVE ON LOVE STREET sign with the logo is hanging high over the entrance, and there’s a big standing sign that says LOVE FROM OUR COMMUNITY TO YOU, with a collage of pictures submitted by members of the Love Street BOA. This sign was Julie’s idea, and she asked us to give her pictures of us that represent love. I find Julie and Ajit’s wedding picture first, with Julie wearing a Korean hanbok and Ajit in an ornate SouthAsian sherwani. There’s a picture of April with huge nineties hair with her arms around a tall-haired boy from her prom. There’s one of Alain in his restaurant with his arms around his eight-year-old sons, and an old picture, maybe from the seventies or early eighties, of Mr. and Mrs. Kotch outside an old car in downtown Toronto. There’s one of Reggie barbecuing in a park with what I assume is his entire extended family around him, and one of Ben and his husband holding up an empanada. I laugh when I notice one of Cara and Sarina, with Sarina looking straight at the camera and Cara kissing her on the cheek. They looksohappy. My father and Noureen aren’t coming today, but I wonder if Sarina and Cara intended this picture as a way of going public with their relationship. And speaking of my father, my eye unexpectedly catches a picture of him smiling. He’s sitting on an old sofa, with his arm around Mom. It looks to be about twenty years ago. Or almost eighteen, I suppose, because Mom is holding a white blanket-wrapped baby in her arms. Me.
I lean close because I’ve never seen this picture before. After my parents separated, neither of them had any old albums or frames accessible. Why did Mom submit this picture? A family that broke up years ago ishardlyappropriate to represent love.
But I look closer, and there is so much love in this picture that I actually tear up. The way Dad has his arm around Mom and is smiling at her with complete and utter awe. The way Mom is looking at me like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to her. Yesterday they told me that they had been deeply in love when I was born, and I didn’t really believe it. But their love is as clear as day in this picture.Even if they didn’t have the big, swoony, epic love story, they loved each other. And they love me.
Then I see that Miles submitted a prom picture. I see why he submitted it, even if he and his prom date are no longer together either. In fact, I know they broke up that night. But the picture is such a perfectcheesyprom pic. His prom date, Giselle, I assume, is wearing a long red ball gown. (I snarl a bit at her picture for what she did to Miles.) And there’s a big heart-shaped balloon arch behind them. Miles is even wearing red. I lean in to look closer at him. I know him well, so I can tell that he’s not happy in this picture. He’s stiff and uncomfortable.
But he’s gorgeous, too. I was already teary from that picture of Mom and Dad, and now I’m even more teary. What my mom said was right—we did have something special. It’s too bad Miles and I don’t have a picture of us on this collage. Hell, I should have submittedourprom picture.
As my eyes take in everyone’s pictures, I see it. A small picture of Miles and me at Riverdale Park, months ago, from my Instagram, with the Toronto skyline and sunset behind us, our heads touching. This was before we were together, of course. But we still look so happy—like we belong together.
Did Miles submit this too?
I had such a great time that day, once Charlene and her mice left. I know a lot has happened between us since we watched the sunset on that hill, but I really think that day felt like our beginning. And maybe he felt the same way if he submitted the picture.
I shake my head and walk away from the sign. I don’t want to mess up my eye makeup before the festival evenstarts. I keep checking out the rest of the vendor tables. Cara is talking to someone at the Cosmic table. When I get close enough, I realize it’s Sarina.
“Hi, roomie!” she says, grinning widely.
Last night she excitedly texted me, delighted with Dad’s idea of her moving into my Love Street apartment in September, so yeah. She’s going to be my roommate in a few weeks. After hugging me, Sarina puts an arm around Cara and grins. Cara looks at Sarina with an incandescent smile—bigger than I’ve ever seen on her.
Seeing them together for the first time is weird, but honestly, I kind of love it. Cara and Sarina look like the ultimate grumpy/sunshine pairing, with Cara back in her black ripped jeans and a red volunteer shirt with the sleeves rolled up and Sarina in a pink volunteer shirt with white jeans and sneakers. They are so clearly smitten with each other. They explain that Jenn asked Sarina to help out in the Cosmic booth for the day, since I won’t be able to.
I grin at them. “Are you aware there’s a picture of you two on the banner at the entrance?”
Sarina smiles, nodding. “Cute, right?”
I nod. “It’s exceedingly cute. Does that mean you’re not keeping all this a secret?”
“Whatever happens, happens,” Sarina says. “I love that picture you sent in of you and Miles.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t send it.”
“Miles probably did,” Cara says. “You really did a number on him. He was such a grump, and you turned him into a hopeless romantic.”
“No, I didn’t. He’s the furthest thing from a hopeless romantic.”
Cara snorts. “Are you kidding? I mean, most of this”—she waves her hand at the vendor booths—“was his influence… He’s soinvestedin the festival.”
“He’s dedicated to the festival, but I’m pretty sure he still thinks the theme is cheesy.”
A hopeless romantic wouldn’t go behind his girlfriend’s back and interview with acondodeveloper… He wouldn’t be so focused on changing everything she values. True, I see Miles’s point of view a lot more now, but there’s no question that he’s single-mindedly focused on progress. Not romance.
Sarina laughs. “He’s acompleteromantic. Did you even see the bookstore?”
I shake my head. From afar I can see someone at the table outside the bookstore. It’snotMiles—I could pick him out a mile away.
“Go see it, Sana,” Cara says.
I shrug and head over. As I get closer, I recognize that it’s Reggie’s niece Tamara at the booth. And I’m shocked at the books I see on the table.
I expected that, somewhat reluctantly, Reggie and Miles would put out the rest of the meager used romance section that I helped curate, but also add a few history and literary fiction books. Hopefully books that at least have a romantic subplot.
But that’s not what’s on the table. First, these books arenew. Second Story Books mostly sells used books, but Reggie does order a small selection of new award winners and popular book club titles. I’ve never seen a new romance book there, though. But the books on the table all are brand-new and firmly in the romance genre. After saying hi to Tamara,I skim the bright covers. I’ve read a lot of these—there’s a definite focus on diversity, and on Canadian authors, too. I pick up a green book that has an apartment building on the cover with a man and a woman each peeking out a different window. I’ve read the book—it’s set in Toronto and has South Asian leads.
“I love that book,” Tamara says.
“I’ve read it,” I say. “It’s great.” I put it down and pick up a blue book next to it. The title is a donut pun. “Reggie did a fantastic job with this selection. Did you help him?” I then notice the framed sign above the display.
