Chapter Twenty-Six Avocado Toast to the Rescue #2
Mom shakes her head. “Noureen didn’t steal anyone, Sana.
I promise. Everything isn’t black-and-white here.
I know it would be easier if there were a bad guy and a good guy…
but your father and I both made mistakes.
And quite truthfully, our relationship was effectively over long before Noureen came into the picture. ”
“What does that mean… effectively over ?”
The server shows up with our food then. It all looks delicious—too bad none of us has an appetite right now.
After she’s gone, Dad sighs. “Your mother and I wanted different things from our lives. She wanted to open her dream flower shop in the city, and I wanted a stable house in the suburbs. And I’m not proud of it, but we bitterly villainized each other for our differences for much too long. ”
“You guys never fought!” We were a happy family. My memories weren’t all fake. My parents weren’t particularly romantic with each other, but I don’t remember them arguing.
Mom shakes her head. “We did fight. All the time.”
“We didn’t let you see it. We thought we were protecting you.” Dad says.
I exhale. All this lying. Just to protect me.
I remember that comment I made to Miles a while ago, that divorce is shocking because you realize all your family memories might be wrong.
I take a bite of my salad. It’s, of course, great, but I can’t really enjoy it.
It would really suck if this whole conversation ruins Fiona’s for me.
“So does that mean Dad didn’t cheat?” I’m looking at Mom when I ask that. Because… I feel like she’s more likely to tell me the truth. But Dad is the one who answers me.
“We decided to permanently separate before we actually did. Before we told you. It was a mutual decision—neither of us left the other.”
“How long before?” I ask.
“Six months. Give or take,” Mom says. “During that time, I looked for opportunities in the city and eventually bought Morgan Ashton Flowers and the building.”
Six months. While I was reading my teen romances and telling everyone my dreams to be an artist, they were making plans to break up our little family.
I turn to Dad. “And you got with Noureen during those six months.” He doesn’t say anything.
Just looks at me with the blank expression he had yesterday.
It makes sense—Noureen wanted everything he wanted.
The suburban house, the respectable businessman husband, and the stability for her own kid.
“You guys should have told me,” I say to them both.
“You were so young,” Dad says. “And I’m not sure you would have understood. You’ve always been such an idealist.”
“You’re like your father that way,” Mom says.
I look at her sharply. “I am not like Dad. I’m like you, remember?” Two peas in a pod. A couple of vegetarian, hippie-dippie, free-spirited artists.
Mom chuckles. “You are a lot like me. But… you’re like him, too.
You both have an image about what life is supposed to look like, and you reject anything that deviates from that image.
Now, mind you, your images are quite different.
You want your eclectic and colorful life to stay the same forever, and he wanted two and a half children, a two-car garage, and granite countertops.
You’re idealists with very different ideals. ”
Dad smiles at that. “She’s right,” he says. “Your mother wanted to do something different every few years. You’re like me. Once you find your happy comfort zone, you want to stay in it.”
I scowl. I know Mom and I aren’t the same, but I’m not like my father, either.
I’m honest. But… it’s true that neither of us likes change as much as Mom, who repaints her bedroom twice a year while mine looks exactly like it did when I was nine.
“If you wanted things to stay as they were, why did you leave Mom?”
Mom turns to look at me. “Because he wasn’t happy. Neither of us was.”
I glare at my father. “So you took away my comfort zone in the search for your own?”
“Sana, you wouldn’t have been happy with unhappy parents,” my mother says.
I blink. Was I happy before their divorce?
I’d thought my childhood was fine in that North Toronto house.
True, I like Love Street better, but I don’t remember it being miserable at home.
But even if I was comfortable, I doubt it would have stayed that way.
Not if the two people I was living with were so unhappy.
Mom’s right. All this isn’t black-and-white.
Relationships have lots and lots of shades of gray.
“Were you ever?” I ask. Both my parents look confused at that question. “Were you ever happy together? Or do you regret getting married?”
Mom shakes her head. “I don’t regret it for a second,” she says. Then she looks at Dad like she has no idea what he will say to my question.
“I don’t either,” Dad says. “We were young and impulsive, and your mother and I have changed a lot since then, but—”
“We were in love,” Mom says. “ Truly . And of course, we got you out of it. I fell in love with you even more… more than anyone else in the world. So how could I regret it?”
I don’t say anything for a while. I think that’s the most they’ve ever told me about their relationship. I know Mom loves me that much… but… I look at my father.
“Sana, I really am so glad you came to see me yesterday,” Dad says, eyes soft.
“I needed that kick in the pants. I’m so sorry I haven’t made you more of a priority.
You’re absolutely right—we should see each other without Noureen and Sarina.
” He chuckles sadly. “That’s my idealism—I wanted us all to be a happy family. You, me, Noureen, and Sarina.”
Even if Dad wanted that, Noureen never did.
“I wasn’t pretending when I asked you to move in,” he continues. “I would love to see you more. I know we’re not as close as we used to be, and I thought it would be good for us.”
I take a bite of my sandwich. How could he think that me living with Noureen could ever be good for me? Does he listen to her at all when we’re at brunch?
“After you left yesterday,” he continues, “I thought long and hard about how I can make you more of a priority going forward. I do think I got the best possible deal for your mother in the sale, but I think I can still negotiate a better deal for you .”
“What? Like, Mom wouldn’t sell?”
“I technically can cancel the contract,” Dad says, “but I won’t. This is what your mother wants.”
Mom nods at that statement. And I know that she’s right—selling the building is what she has to do right now. Even if I hate it.
“But because we haven’t signed the final paperwork,” Dad continues, “it’s not too late to negotiate some extra clauses in the contract.”
“Clauses like what?” I ask.
Dad looks at Mom, and Mom nods. So he explains.
“The developers need to buy at least three more addresses near your mother’s before they can build anything.
They are currently in negotiations and are confident they will acquire them, but it will be a while before anything is demolished.
A year, minimum. But empty storefronts aren’t good for the street.
I can include in the final contract that they can buy the land, but they must lease the building to me at a fair price until construction starts.
For a year or longer. I can easily sublease the storefront for a year. And I’d keep the apartment for myself.”
My eyes widen. “You want to move to Love Street?” I try to imagine Dad and Noureen in my tiny apartment.
Mom laughs. “Sana, he wants to rent it for you to live in.”
I blink. I could stay on Love Street? With Cosmic and LoveBug and Second Story Books and Mrs. Kotch?
Dad nods. “I understand why you don’t want to move in with me and Noureen. Your mother will probably be moving up north. Your mother and I discussed it, and we’d be willing to cover your share of the rent while you’re in school, if you want to stay there.”
This is… actually perfect. I can stay on Love Street.
Maybe not forever, but at least for now.
I look at Dad. I honestly can’t believe this was his idea.
Yesterday I was so sure that there was no way I could ever forgive him, but him doing this shows me that he is capable of making me a priority.
Maybe it’s fueled by guilt, or maybe me yelling at him really did show him that he hasn’t been fair to me. But he put me first. Finally.
I’m so delighted with the idea, I clap my hands. “That’s so perfect. Yes, I want to stay on Love Street. I can get a roommate… another OCAD student, or maybe Cara—”
“Wait, Sana,” Dad says. “The other bedroom—your mother’s room—how would you feel if Sarina rented that room?”
Did I hear him right? “Sarina?”
Dad nods. “Her commute to U of T has been hard on her. She’s wanted to move out for a while now.
Noureen won’t like it, but I suspect she’d be happier if Sarina was living with family instead of with strangers.
I know you and Sarina have been spending a lot of time together lately and have become so much closer, which is wonderful.
But this is completely your choice. I won’t even ask her if you don’t want it. ”
I stifle a laugh. No , Sarina and I haven’t been spending time together.
We’ve seen each other literally twice without Dad and Noureen in the last couple of months—that day at High Park and then yesterday at that café.
I wonder if Sarina has been telling her mother that she was with me when she went out with Cara.
The thought makes me smile. First step to sisterhood is covering for each other.
“Yeah,” I say. “But does Sarina want to live on Love Street?”
“As I said, I haven’t asked her yet. I wanted to ask you first.”
I like this new communicative family I have.
On one hand, living with my stepsister would be weird.
We barely know each other. But after yesterday I know Sarina is someone I want to know better.
I think living with her would be the perfect way to do that.
Not to mention, she’s dating one of my closest friends.
“If Sarina is cool with it, I’m fine with it. Actually, it would be great.”
Both my parents smile widely. I can’t even believe it… This is such an amazing solution. I still don’t love that Love Street will change, but at least for now I won’t have to go.
After that is settled, Dad asks Mom how her search for a new space for the flower shop is going.
Mom tells us about the warehouse space she looked at the other night.
Dad then tells us more about the condo builder who’s buying Mom’s property.
He says they seem different from every other developer he’s worked with, and it’s so evident that one of the founders was a planner with the city first.
I exhale. I can’t deny it—this company does sound like a good fit for Miles.
Not that I’m over his deception or anything, but…
he wanted to help with the festival so he could make the connections to get a good internship.
And he did that. And maybe my parents are right—the developers aren’t the bad guys here.
Life isn’t black-and-white, but so much more complicated than that.
Mom, as usual, can tell what I’m thinking. “It’s a wonderful opportunity for Miles, isn’t it?”
I exhale. “Yeah. He’s always talking about zoning and higher-density housing and whatever. I wish it didn’t mean destroying what we have for their profit.”
Dad shakes his head. “I know I’m an evil real estate agent, but not all developers are terrible.
This firm really is focused on sustainability and building community.
They plan to offer the new storefronts to the displaced Love Street businesses first. And they want community involvement in the planning. ”
I don’t like it, but yeah, I know housing is what this city needs. And putting a few more people above the stores on Love Street doesn’t mean that Love Street has to lose what makes it great.
“Your festival will be so good for the area. Not just now, but for years,” Dad says. “I’m so proud of you—I thought the only good thing to come out of all those festivals we went to when you were young was my lifelong love of churros. Who knew it could benefit you, too!”
I laugh. Dad gives me an expression that I haven’t seen on him in a long time—pure mischief. Like only he and I are in on a joke.
After Mom insists I order dessert—the vegan chocolate torte that’s to die for—I smile. “We should have talked like this a long time ago. I probably should have told you I knew about Noureen.”
Dad shakes his head. “You were just a kid. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Seriously, Sana,” Mom says. “We’re the only ones who should be apologizing.
And… I hope you’ll grant Miles the same.
Let him explain his point of view before you give up on him.
Because you two had something special. You complemented each other.
If he can’t be your boyfriend, maybe he can be your friend. ”
I take a long breath. I know Mom’s right. I have to give him the chance to talk. I owe him that much.
Dad frowns. “Wait, Miles is your boyfriend ? Since when?”