Chapter Twenty The Eye-Opening Streetcar Ride
It takes me forever to decide what to wear for work on Sunday, since I’m going straight to my first date with Miles after.
I want to look good, but it needs to be casual, too.
Jeans would be the obvious choice for a casual restaurant, but I’m not really a wear-jeans-on-a-date kind of girl.
A short skirt would be more me, but I hate wearing skirts to work because I’m always climbing ladders.
I finally decided on pink vintage sailor pants and a white shirt with a little scarf around my neck.
I wear my hair big and curly, put on my brightest pink lipstick, and, finally, grab a pair of white sandals to change into after my shift.
The outfit looks like I’d put thought into it, but it’s as comfortable as jeans and a T-shirt.
After I close the store, I change my shoes and touch up my lipstick before heading to the subway to meet Miles at Broadview station.
He’s on the platform when I get off the train, and I can tell right away that he put thought into his outfit too.
He’s in perfectly fitted black pants that hit just above his ankles, a pair of trendy loafers, and a short-sleeved blue button-up with a leaf print on it.
I smile, admiring how that blue brings out the warmth in his eyes.
Miles’s clothes aren’t as loud as mine, but they are…
colorful . I love how he manages to look preppy and smart, but also stylish.
We hug like we haven’t seen each other in weeks instead of a day.
I’m getting so attached to the feeling of Miles’s arms around me. Taking my hand, he says, “You ready?”
I nod. “Yes. You going to tell me where we’re going?”
“I’m taking you to my uncle’s restaurant,” he says. “Unless…” He runs his free hand through his hair, looking unsure. “I mean, unless you think it’s weird to meet my family. We can go somewhere else.”
“If this is the place that has the best pani puri in town, I’m in,” I say, even though I am a bit nervous.
Miles wouldn’t introduce me to family that wouldn’t like me, would he?
He starts climbing the stairs up from the subway platform, and I follow, even though I’m confused.
“You said it’s in the West End… Wouldn’t the subway be easier? ” I ask.
He shakes his head as we walk to the streetcar platform on the upper level of the station.
“Getting there is part of the date. We’re taking a streetcar.
” He explains more when we get to the platform.
“When I first moved here a few months ago, I used to go to my uncle’s place a lot because he’d give me free food.
But one day there was a subway closure so I couldn’t take the train.
The 505 streetcar runs between Broadview and Dundas West stations—right near my uncle’s place. ”
I nod. “It’s the same streetcar we took to Riverdale Park.
” Toronto streetcars run much slower than subways because they share the road with cars.
It would easily take over an hour to get to Bloor and Dundas from here on a streetcar but would only be about twenty minutes by subway.
I understand Miles’s choice, though. We’ll be above ground, seeing everything from one end of the city to the other, for nothing but the cost of one TTC fare. It’s a perfect first date.
When the streetcar arrives, we take two front-facing seats in the middle, with me near the window.
Toronto streetcars are long , more like modern electric trains than old-fashioned trolley cars.
I’d always taken them for granted, but Miles tells me this is one of the last first-generation trolley systems still in operation in the whole world, which is super cool.
During the ride we talk about equity and about how even in a city like Toronto, wealthier neighborhoods are better served by public transportation than neighborhoods with less money, even though those are the people who rely on it more.
We see some unhoused people sleeping on the street, which gets us talking about the housing crisis and what can be done about it.
“It’s weird that Toronto has all these areas that are just houses, but then areas where there are apartments and businesses together,” I say. “Why can’t they turn empty office buildings into housing? Or tear down two houses and put up an apartment building?”
“Because of zoning laws that were put in years ago. A huge percentage of the city is zoned for single-family housing only, which is ridiculous. We should have more mixed zoning.”
I nod. I can’t believe I thought he was arrogant about all his knowledge of this stuff—because this—the work he wants to do—is so important to make the city fair for everyone here.
We eventually pass the busy square at Yonge and Dundas, with its enormous multistory billboards and jumbotrons.
There are people and cars everywhere . Tourists shopping, people leaving work, even students taking summer classes at the nearby Toronto Metropolitan University—the school Miles goes to.
We pass the Ontario College for Art and Design next, where I’ll be starting school in September.
I show him the building most of my classes will be in.
We pass Toronto’s main Chinatown, and I point out the best cheap dumpling place.
We get close to Kensington Market, and I tell him next time I get to plan a date, we’re going there for tacos and vintage shopping.
“How often do you take this streetcar?” I ask.
“I’ve done it a few times. It’s so much better than being in an underground tunnel.”
“You go to your uncle’s restaurant a lot?”
He nods. “Rajit is my favorite uncle. And he always feeds me for free. As a poor student, I appreciate that.”
“Are you worried about what your uncle will think of me?”
“I don’t really care what my family thinks of you. I like you. And what others think isn’t going to change that.”
I smile. That was a good answer. I lean over and kiss his cheek, and he blushes.
“Anyway,” Miles says. “I know Rajit is going to love you. Seriously. He’s not strict or… parental .”
“Parental meaning judgmental , right?”
He nods. “He’s my dad’s youngest brother, and he always felt more like an older cousin than an uncle. He won’t even let me call him uncle.”
I nod. I’m still nervous though. Because I like Miles so much more than I’ve liked anyone else in a long time, and I don’t want this to fizzle away like all my past relationships.
“This is a nice ride,” I say. My head is on his shoulder so I can’t see his expression, but he squeezes my hand. “You were right—you’re an excellent date planner.”
When we finally get to Dundas West station, it’s a ten-minute walk to his uncle’s restaurant.
The restaurant is called Juna, and it’s pretty new, with a modern design.
It’s a far cry from the old Indian street-food places on Gerrard.
After we sit, a Brown man comes toward us with a huge smile.
This must be Rajit. He’s younger than I expected—he doesn’t look much older than Miles.
“Hey, Miles, my bro! Who’s your friend ?” He says the word “friend” with a little teasing lilt. I already like the guy.
After Miles introduces me to his Rajit Uncle (who also insists I drop the uncle bit because it makes him feel old), Rajit hands us some menus and tells us to order whatever we want. He offers mango lassis to start, which I can’t say no to. I smile at Miles when his uncle leaves to get our drinks.
“I like your uncle. He’s like… an extroverted you.”
Miles laughs at that. “What do you want to eat?” I look at the menu. It’s standard Indian street food: samosas, pakoras, chaats, and, of course, the reason we’re here, pani puri.
Miles’s uncle sits with us after we order a bunch of different things to split. I ask him how long he’s had the restaurant.
“Two years. It’s been my dream forever . I’m in a partnership with my two closest friends in the industry, and we’re working our asses off, but also having so much fun. I started working in Indian kitchens when I was fifteen. I’m still pinching myself that I have my own place.”
“Kitchens here in Toronto?”
Rajit shakes his head. “No, in Florida. That’s where Miles’s dad’s family is from.
” Rajit is chattier than Miles, so I learn more about Miles from hearing his uncle’s history.
Apparently, Miles’s father’s family originally came from India and settled in Florida.
Miles’s father worked at Disney World as a teen and met Miles’s mother when her family was there on vacation, which…
talk about an epic meet-cute. The two kept in touch, fell in love, and he ran away to Canada to marry her.
Miles’s father’s parents pretty much disowned his father for marrying a Muslim.
Rajit said he himself took the first opportunity to leave Florida, too.
He followed his brother to Toronto, and got a job in a kitchen here as soon as he finished high school.
“You don’t have a relationship with your grandparents at all?” I ask Miles. That’s sad.
He shrugs. “They did eventually accept my mother, but we’ve never been close. They’ve called me a few times since my parents split, but that’s only because they want to complain about my mother to me.”
“Does your dad talk to them now?”
“I honestly have no idea,” Miles says.
I reach over and hold his hand. Rajit looks at our connected hands and smiles.
“My parents—and Miles’s father, too—have a lot of issues .
But what do I always say, Miles? Found family is way better than blood.
People who support you unconditionally because they want to, not because of some family bond, those are your real family.
Like my business partners… They’re are good as gold to me, and I’ve known them for less than a decade. ”
Miles raises a brow at his uncle. “You’re saying this as my literal blood uncle.”
Rajit laughs. “True, but you know I chose you. Even if we’re related.”
I must look confused, so Miles explains. “Rajit says he chose Toronto when he left Florida because he wanted to be close to his only cool nephew.”
I wonder how much of that was because he knew Miles’s parents weren’t the best, so he wanted Miles to have some decent family nearby. I smile. I really like this guy.
“I always knew he was a unique one,” Rajit says.
“Miles is my kindred spirit. A sign reader, like me. Are you a sign reader, Sana?” I have no idea what Rajit is talking about.
He laughs. “There are two kinds of people—sign readers and people who can move through the world without the unignorable urge to read every sign they see.”
I’m still confused. “What kind of signs?” I glance at Miles, and he looks a little embarrassed, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Any sign,” Rajit says. “Street signs, new restaurants, billboards. This guy.” He puts his hand on Miles’s shoulder briefly.
“He’s big on historical plaques. I remember when we all went to Montreal when Miles was a little kid, and his mother had to ban him from reading signs.
Every two steps in Old Montreal, he had to read the whole plaque about what happened there.
Museums take three times as long with him. ”
Miles is still a cute shade of pink. I can totally see little Miles reading every historical sign he sees. I remember his comment so long ago about how there should be a plaque at LOL Park commemorating that Lionel Love guy.
“And it’s not just historical signs,” Rajit continues. “You know those signs that they put up at construction sites talking about what’s going to happen? He’ll cross a busy intersection so he can study those.”
“Notice of Proposed Development Application signs,” Miles says. “They’re to let the public know that someone has put in an application to change the zoning for a site.”
I smile. I get why Rajit is telling me all this. Miles’s curiosity… his drive to understand everything about a place and its history and how future changes can impact the people who live there is why Miles is amazing. It’s what makes him… him . It’s only making me like him more.
Our food arrives then, and Rajit leaves us alone to eat.
As Miles promised, the food is all excellent.
The balance of flavors is completely on point—the right amount of acidity, the perfect amount of spice, and a touch of sweetness in the fresh yogurt that brings it all together.
I moan after popping another pani puri in my mouth.
“Good, right?”
“Better than good. I wish this place were closer. Actually, that might be dangerous.”
“Yeah, it’s probably a good thing that I can’t eat here every day.”
“Rajit seems great.”
“He is. I told you, he’s more of a friend than family.”
“I’m glad you have that here. I mean…” I don’t know how to say this. I exhale. “I understand how horrible it feels when you’re an afterthought to your parents. Finding someone who has your back is as good as gold.”
Miles smiles at that. “Did your parents treat you like an afterthought when they split?”
“My father did.” I sigh. “It’s complicated.
My mom and I get along, but we’re not, like, super tight or anything.
And my dad… That’s a whole other issue. I like what your uncle said—that the people who are real, who support you because they want to, not because they feel they have to—those are the important people.
It’s like my Love Street people. Jenn, Julie, Ajit, April, Cara.
Even Mrs. Kotch. We have our own little found family.
And now you’re one of us too. Whether you want to be or not. You’re stuck with us.”
He laughs. “Somehow I think I should be grateful for getting stuck with all of you.”
“All of us?” I ask coyly.
And he grins. “One of you more than others.”
“I’m happy to be stuck with you, too, Miles Desai.”
That night I have an idea. Something that I want to surprise Miles with at the festival. I do some research online to see if it’s possible, and unfortunately, I don’t think there’s enough time.
Unless… maybe Su Lin Tran can help fast-track it for me. I send her an email.
This will show him how grateful I am to him. Miles deserves this for opening my eyes to all the potential in this city.