Outside the studio, Phiona was coaxing her nephew into using the tablet to finish his homework. Her house had telltale signs of a kid disrupting order with his energetic chaos—toys in unexpected places, cut-outs of dinosaurs, and plates and cups lying about. Most of her wooden carvings and other potentially dangerous things had been stashed away.

Earlier today Phiona had introduced me to her friend who owned a bar in Etobicoke. It was one of the small businesses and places that her other musician clients had sworn by to be great. Inside, people moved around like schools of fish, breaking apart and coalescing to share their music, interests, dreams. They were so friendly to me.

The tears had fallen when I stepped out. I was one with the evergreen trees and snow, but how long would this last? Building up to a gig, then climbing back down to do it all over again. A cycle of seasons with variations, but no real change in the end. No net growth.

That was right. I was here to show my music to the world and build a living off of my life's passion. Invisibility wouldn't do me good in the long run. When the audience applauded and I bowed and my heart swelled with pride...I wanted to feel that off the stage too.

I'd expressed this to Phiona as delicately as ripping tape off of paper. Like always, she was one step ahead of me.

She came in, called over her shoulder to make sure Zayn knew what to do, and collapsed into her chair. Her rose gold windbreaker was crinkled, but her face held a motherly smile. Pushing aside a stack of what looked like research papers, she switched to a professional-looking website on her laptop. "Apologies for making you stay. Zayn's having trouble switching back to school after the break. But I did want to check up on you, to see if everything was okay? This session will be shorter though--I have a former mentee visiting at the last minute, and that's on me."

That confused me, "How is it your fault? They should've told you sooner in advance." Come to think of it, I have never met someone else that Phiona mentored. "Could I meet them?"

"Sure. I wanted to make sure you were okay in terms of all the venues and gigs I recommended. Quality checking and all."

"The venues have been good."

"And? Networking?"

I shrugged.

Phioan shook her head. "I've seen people who think they can make success only from the efforts of their own work. But there's something to be said about recognizing the fans, especially your first few ones, who propel you upwards. And fellow musicians. Which is why I think going to a music event to network, not just perform, is worth a shot."

That made sense. "It's not easy for me like it is for you--"

"Look," Phiona said. "I'm not perfect. I don't like being put on a pedestal. So while I am flattered you think I am someone you can look up to—because that is my goal, really—I'll caution against comparing you to me. It's unfair for both sides."

Heat rose up to my cheeks. "Okay." But if I was still unhappy, what did others have that I didn't?

Phiona said thoughtfully, "You are neurodivergent, right? Why not reach out to others? A safe place? There's this organization called R4E—'Radio for Equality'. Thiran and I met through it. Now they've branched way beyond the radio field, and they're hosting a music venue in two and a half weeks."

She explained how R4E originally started as a LGBTQ+ friendly network, giving news that concerned equality rights and playing music by queer artists. But then it morphed into something more—including people not just with different sexualities and gender orientations, but of different ethnicities, cultures, and very recently, people along the neurodivergent spectrum.

"I'll be performing too," she said with a grin. "They like songs that challenge the status quo. Something that uniquely comes from you. And unlike the last place I worked with, the organization makes sure its stakeholders and founders also care about all different types of stories. Except anything that promotes hate or 'disagreement' with others' 'lifestyles.'" She sighed and smiled. "So strange, isn't it? What we know seems obvious to us, but it's not like others don't have valuable experiences to share, either."

She started reminiscing but I cut her off. "I don't know." To mitigate my crappy tone, I said, "I think I need some time to back off and think. It's like--a lot of people."

She didn't get it. She loved people. Knew how to be with them.

Instead of going down that rabbit hole, I focused on the present. "If you picked up I was Autistic, would others know? Would it mean I have to be more transparent on my social media?"

She wound a strand of curly hair around her finger, staring intently at nothing.

"How could you tell?" I wondered. "Are you Autistic too?"

"Hmm? Oh, sorry, I'm...I'm so distracted today. No, you don't have to be transparent--and trust me, going to R4E isn't going to flag you as anything. Everyone goes there. But it's good you know your limits. That way you won't need to waste time putting yourself in hurtful situations."

Wished that was true. "Am I wasting your time?"

Her expression softened. "Reflecting on your past and future is time well spent."

If there were musicians and neurodivergent people...my heart kicked into overdrive without permission. Calm down. R4E probably had guidelines about being respectful and not expecting people to state their identities if they didn't want to, right? And being Autistic shouldn't have anything to do with my music.

Yet at the same time, I was drawn to Autistic musicians because I saw myself in them. It wasn't important but it was important. I didn't know how to explain the dichotomy.

I drew in a long breath and continued. "The other reason I wanted to talk...What are your thoughts?" I pulled up the email I got from Hidden Stars and gave her my phone.

Greetings Mr. Vuong,

At Hidden Stars we're looking for talent. The underdiscovered, the diamonds in the rough. We've seen your capabilities on the stage and strongly feel you'd be a strong addition to our musician roster.

Our large team of talent agents and promoters work hard to help you build the career you want. With our hundreds of connections in the industry, we can land you venues and jobs at a greater speed and efficiency than any individual might offer. Finally, we're dedicated to maintaining a community with our musicians, which is why we host bi-annual showcase events dedicated to showcasing our best and brightest upcoming musicians. Other events, such as our recent show at the Elizabeth Theatre, was a general sign-up-as-you-come performance where any musician regardless of whether they're part of our roster or not may perform to help build their audience.

We understand these decisions can seem overwhelming. But if any of this speaks to you, you are welcome to join any of our monthly promotion events where you can get a better feel for what we stand for.

We look forward to hearing back from you.

Usually artists were the one swarming around talent agencies like bees to honey. But maybe this was their brand thing? Maybe it wasn't as uncommon as I thought.

I twiddled my thumbs. My parents were so excited--it was a shame I got it the day after I left home, they said--andMẹhad the good sense to suggest Phiona would know more about preparing for a bigger performance. Kimmy also explained the social implications of making contracts. (There were rules I theoretically understood but struggled to apply in new scenarios.) Revealing your cards to someone who might have a conflict of interest could imply you were contemplating being disloyal to your already-established connections. It could lead to your connection dropping you first. However, because I signed a reasonable one-year contract with Phiona, this email wouldn't change much. I needed her advice.

"However," my big sister added, "you should keep in mind people's advice is to make themselves look the best. If you truly want someone impartial you could go to a lawyer or someone who has no stakes in your decision. Buttttt you don't have anyone else so better to ask your music manager. She'll have a big effect on your career anyway."

"No."

My head snapped up.

Phiona's face was stone. "You expressed your struggle with funding your career, especially with your part-time job, yes?"

Technically that was true. My parents' financial help was to initially cover accommodations, basic needs and my partnership with Phiona. "But in the long run, wouldn't having a booking agency--sorry, an artists' management company be beneficial?"

I've never seen my manager so still. Like a worn pillar. "Hidden Stars offers a lot of services. But it's best if you had one party dedicated to promotion and management, which is what Hidden Stars is known for. I wonder if they knew."

"Knew what?"

"That I'm your music manager," and she repeated it as the furious typing on the keyboard concealed her quiet voice.

"Of course. I put it on my public bio," I said indignantly. "I wanted everyone to know."

An unexpected smile. Shy, not like her usual full one with teeth. "I appreciate the sentiment." She drew in a breath. "But I'd recommend staying away from Hidden Stars. They didn't treat me well despite their efforts to be inclusive and...accepting."

Everything fell in place. "That's the company you keep talking about that you cut ties with! But...why would you perform at their--"

Two door knocks. One further away, and one behind the studio door.

A pudgy face framed by dreadlocks peeked in. Zayn blinked away tears as he cupped his ears. "Aunt Phi. You said not to interrupt but is it an emergency when someone's at the door? They've been knocking a lot and it keeps surprising me."

"Oh baby," Phiona said. She crouched down and took his hands. "I didn't mean to be so stern. Next time you can come whenever you're hurting, okay? That rule comes before all else." She looked at me. "I'm sorry, Tai, but I lost track of time. We'll discuss this through email or Instagram."

"But Aunt Phi..." said Zayn.

"Yes?"

"It's twelve-thirty. We need to pray."

"Tai, could you get the door? Ask them to be more patient. I can't believe them," she muttered. She turned her attention to her cousin. "Thank you, Zayn. You're keeping me on schedule!"

"'It takes twenty one days to form a habit,'" he recited. He grinned at her, then me, and I bobbed my head.

As Zayn eagerly led Phiona upstairs for their afternoon prayer, I stepped around the messy living room to pull on my boots. The controlled chaos of Phiona's life made her house swell with raw fulfillment. It fit her like complimentary colours, a mold that she constructed with the knowledge it would help her as much as she contributed to its design—

Someone rapped at the door, and I jumped.

I yanked open the door.

Instead of the classic suit and tie, they wore a floral maxi dress--the big, colourful types I've only seen in their old promotion pictures. Yet even with the flowing skirts, the dress cut at sharp lines and angles that instantly made me feel small.

I should show some respect, or something, and compliment their performance at Hidden Stars.

"Phiona's praying and she told me to tell you to be more patient." The words spewed out like printer paper. "Um--yeah. Nice to meet you?"

Charu Dubashi winced and adjusted a silver watch on their wrist. "Can't say I'm surprised."