TAI: [Image of a poster]

TAI: Isn't OBGMs one of the indie bands you listen to?

MONTY: Damn they're coming here? Can't make it though, I have an important class and Friday night is the only window I have left to properly study.

TAI: You could have studied earlier.

MONTY: Thank you for telling me.

I squinted at the screen, trying to discern if that was sarcasm or not. Then I looked back up at the glossy poster pinned to the public bulletin board.

"The Hidden Stars Event is coming to Elizabeth Theatre! Featuring local artists like DeFye, Ebhoni and the OBGMs! ALSO: a special performance by Charu Dubashi!"

TAI: So you don't want to come?

MONTY: I want to, but my marks will suffer, so I can't. Thanks for asking, but seriously, what's up with ghosting Raj and I? Are you going to see that music manager or not?

MONTY: I feel like you're sinking yourself here. You're not that kind of person that doesn't ask for help when he needs it, so what's up?

MONTY: I'm trying to help.

MONTY: Tell Raj your decision ASAP so they can tell Phiona. Apparently she has a busy schedule.

I leaned against the lobby's cream-coloured wall. This wasn't how I expected my last Uber Eats venture of the day to end up.

My last customer had been a guy from a law firm on the fourth floor of this nondescript building. Uber Eats required less social interaction than driving others around to their destination, but I disliked going up to strangers to exchange words with them. Even the standard "Hi, I'm from Uber Eats. Here is your order. You can tap your card here" statement was life-sapping when you factored in smiling, hand gestures, something-close-to-eye-contact, and adjusting your voice at the right time. I only put on this performance to avoid one-star reviews.

I didn't need to act when I was onstage though. I looked back at the poster with envy.

The elevator dinged. I stepped away from the bulletin board to make way to the lobby's exit--and stopped in my tracks.

Nora had swapped her signature red blazer for a black one. In her hand were a stack of official-looking papers that she was trying to stuff into her purse while walking.

It wasn't until she sped walked right past me that she paused. Silence replaced the clicking of her high heeled boots.

"Tai. How is it going?"

Her voice had a tremor, like a beginner performing their instrument for the first time. And was that a sniffle? "What's wrong?" I asked.

Together we sat on the lobby's public bench. I could tell Nora wanted to lean on me, but if she did, her touch would obliterate my concentration. And this had to be a serious matter. I tried to pull my face in the correct expression, to match what I was feeling and what Nora needed at this moment, but that was like stretching rubber.

Instead, I observed how she kneaded her hands together, and how she kept a stiff posture like she was prepared for an interview.

Out of the two of us, Nora was supposed to be the confident one. She matched my pace when I spaced out during conversations, and despite the gap between our professions--her as a successful marketing manager, me as a barely employed musician--she listened to what I had to say. Like she wasn't just tolerating my hyper-fixations and niche interests. When I talked, I didn't worry as much about maintaining a performance or sticking to the neurotypical script. She actually listened, and every word I spoke was a victory shared between us. She learned more about me, and I learned more about myself.

I wasn't used to being the one people depended on, because everyone else had given up on that. What did you do when your existence mattered?

"My parents were never compatible. But when I finally convinced my dad that the divorce would be best for all of us, he fell for my mom's claims that she's suffering too," she said bitterly. She waved the legal papers sharply like wielding a knife, and I flinched. "All this work, and for what? The fixing of my family falls to me, but so does the blame for destroying it."

I didn't get all the nuances of her family, but after taking a pause on our relationship a few months ago (though Nora had taken that as a break-up, which complicated things until we sorted that out), she gave me enough to understand why she despised her mom.

And if I was honest, I could see how her mom wore down Mr. McIntyre. I only met Nora's dad once, but until then I hadn't met a grown man more socially awkward than myself.

My feet moved on their own, away from the bench and to the other side of the lobby. Nora's words drudged up memories. They came from pieces of colours, scents and sounds that merged to remind me of how isolating the world can feel. It was like being swallowed up by the darkness that dwelled under your bed: familiar, but only through your nightmares.

Because there was no one else in the lobby, I did some vocal thrumming. I focused on my vibrating vocal chords to lift my mood up while rocking on the balls of my feet.

"Tai?" Nora called. "You look distressed. Is everything okay?"

"Of course it's not. Your family is breaking apart," I responded as I sat beside her again. "I was wrong. I kept thinking of the best possibility, that everything would be okay. I feel bad for you."

She smiled sadly. "I was wrong too, to get angry at your optimism. I thought it was a facade."

"I--"

"But to demand someone to soak in my misery was selfish of me, so I apologize," she continued. "It's just that when I think about what my life could have been if this hadn't ...well." She shook her head and regained her no-nonsense demeanor.

It dawned on me she was thinking of something completely different. But just as I relaxed, she asked, "Was there ever a point where you felt helpless?"

"Yeah..."

"Could you talk about it? I need to know that there is a future beyond this. I know this sounds selfish, but it would help me feel better."

"If...if you say so." I fiddled with my metal bracelet, which had a Chinese stylized dog carved on the metal pendant threaded through with yarn. "My parents are really involved in my life. My sisters say it's because they feel guilty after my older brother, Liam, moved away without warning. I know my parents try to help me when they can, but the whole reason I moved out was to prove to them I can do this on my own. Or at least, discover what I can do. Sometimes I worry that my career path will stir up drama."

I sighed. "I don't see how any of this negativity helps you. It's not like I've resolved these problems. The pain stays."

"Because it's nice to relate to struggles. Call me a pessimist, but I don't think these things are talked about enough." She rested her chin in her hand, thoughtful. "I never knew you had a brother. You talk more about your sisters."

I shrugged. "I'm closer with them--especially Tienne. Liam barely talks with us. He's in San Francisco now, where we used to live before moving to Canada."

"And everyone else is in Mississauga?" I nodded. "I'd like to meet them someday."

I could have melted through the bench. "I don't know about that."

"And for what it's worth, a creative career sounds harder but much more fulfilling," she added, standing up to stretch and smooth the wrinkles in her blazer. "If I had studied art instead of something more academic I'm not sure if...."

The rest of her words faded as my mind drifted, exhausted from the emotional talk. Well-meaning actions caused so much heartache. Yet the only thing we could do was talk about it.

Nora is looking at me with flitting glances. "I-I just lost my concentration. That's all," I said.

"Okay...?"

"I don't like it when people assume what I am feeling or not feeling, so just ask. And please tell me when you're feeling sad so I can help you too. I want to help, even if I don't always know how."

Her shoulders relaxed. "Okay. I will. I was worried I would be burdening you with this information."

Burden. I swallowed.

"I do feel sad," I admitted, "but I rather know than not know." Nora was not the person to talk about these things, and neither was I. I had been afraid that the 'I love you' phrases we'd been sending back and forth were only founded on a hypothetical wish of the real thing. But as I felt a deep warmth spread in my stomach, anchoring me amidst all this uncertainty, I finally decided on a name for this feeling: love.

Because behind the curtains, everyone was struggling a little. I just had to remember to look in the first place. These conversations...really helped.

After wiping her tears again--we both realized that the tears wouldn't stop coming, so I took walks around the lobby to keep my own emotions in check--Nora shuffled through her car keys. If I hadn't known her better, I'd say she was trying to divine the future with her keys like tarot cards. "I hate sitting here and not knowing how to help my dad."

I glanced at the bulletin board again. The glossy concert poster gave me an idea. "I don't know how to help your dad, but I can help you. Do you like concerts?"

She tentatively walked up to the bulletin board. "Not the big and rowdy concerts, but this one sounds nice. You want to go to it? There's--"

"You didn't answer my question."

"I've never been to one but I suppose it would be a nice....Yes. Yes, I would like it," she repeated, this time with conviction. "But there's supposed to be a terrible blizzard on Friday, so we should go to tonight's venue."

She pointed to the fine print I had overlooked. Reality dawned on me. Tonight. An unexpected change of plans, but there was no way I was driving in a blizzard.

Every cell in my body lit up in excitement. I hoped Nora could feel my happiness and absorb some of it for herself. I nodded.