I liked to perceive myself as observant. Smart. On the same wavelength with those around me. If they preferred to drift about, I'd let them. If they caused up a storm, I'd do my best to steer us to safety. Independence didn't mean solitude. It fostered the opposite: the need to connect with others. Being socially adept was what guided you to independence, and it created a safety net to catch you when you fell. I thought I had become good at it.

But my parents never failed to surprise me.

Mom: Yes, of course. What time?

Nora: This Sunday, in the morning. Over Skype. I have work so that's the only time available.

Mom: Always the early bird. That shouldn't be a problem.

It was like treading on ice. I'd never put so much thought into my text messages before. This was taking me closer to the answers I needed. Not only for the house but what the key had shown me, too.

Wondering if this was silly, the door chime to the confectionery jingled above my head. It took me a moment longer to return Mrs. Wiśniewski's smile as she bustled out with a box of pumpkin-spiced chocolates in hand. The outdoors chill seeped into the brightly lit shop.

La Pâtisserie Dans La Lune, Hannah had told me, was named in honour of her parents' astute remark: "Always in the clouds, that girl! Next thing you know she'll sprout wings." Naturally her confectionery lived up to its namesake. Aerial photographs of historic sites in France hung on the walls. Fresh pastries sat primly in the counter's display case. I placed my purse and umbrella on the shop's only table, decorated with wispy clouds. It eluded me why Hannah chose such a small space for her shop. Despite being here for six years, and the growing popularity of her shop, Hannah had hung onto this wedge of property.

Where were the personal touches that Hannah loved to add to her own home? I was so used to her going all out, especially for fall. Aside from the orange fairy lights, there was little seasonal decor. It was a shame; Hannah's shop was one of the few that wasn't automatically buried in Halloween decorations the minute October hit.

At the counter, Emmanuel tilted his chin up in greeting. Today small green beads hung on the tips of his dreadlocks. A plain star tattoo peeked from his collar. He set down his jacket and put his hands on the counter. "Nora. Anything for today?"

"Not now, thank you. You're ending your shift?"

"Oni and I wanted to be home together for a change. And to talk with Vihan," Emmanuel sighed, shaking his head.

Uh-oh. "Go easy on him, okay? Well, not like I would know," I said quickly.

Emmanuel and I were amiable at best. I liked to think we stepped on each other toes too often with our perceptiveness, and that was why. But in my defense, admitting that he knew I had unrequited feelings for Hannah before I was ready to come to terms with it—and a week within meeting the other, mind you—was not a smart move. It was easy to assume his power of perception came from an unordinary ability. Then again, if I treated everyone I met with that mindset, it wouldn't get me anywhere.

Emmanuel deliberated. He drummed his hands on the counter. "I'm going to take a wild guess. Did he tell you something I'm not aware of? Yeah? That's fine, he's like that." It clearly was not fine, but he continued, "Oni is getting the help he needs. We hadn't had an open talk in some time, and I hadn't been clear with Vihan. He barely talks to me these days. I don't even know what's going on in school."

That struck a chord. It was easy to emphasize with both sides, but how to take action? I heard the same thought echoed in Emmanuel's voice. I said, "Do you think it'll work?"

"Don't know what else to do. But I have an idea." He tilted his head towards the kitchen, where Hannah was. The gentle clinking of dishes could be heard. "Hannah's been busy. I don't think she told you, but she won't be at the Farmer's Market this Wednesday. It's a PD day for Vihan too. Mind helping us run our stall? Might make things less awkward with my son. I'm beginning to think bonding time doesn't work with him."

"If you say so," I said thoughtfully, wishing my parents had gone to that kind of effort. "What do you want me to do?"

"Could you paint a banner?" Emmanuel asked. "Nothing fancy, just the logo and the shop's name. The Market doesn't open until ten o'clock. Vihan knows how to draw; you can work on it together and I'd try to...well, paint in the lines." He half-smiled.

"I haven't painted in a long time," I muttered. Usually this was the point where I'd decline. Use the slightly humorous excuse of being married to my day job. But despite everything, the idea appealed to me. Painting outdoors with Emmanuel would be a bit of a relief. I was less sure that it'd be an ideal setting for an open talk, but I hadn't had a proper conversation with Emmauel in some time. "If it'll help you and Vihan, then sure. Could be fun."

"Cool. Well, later. I'm leaving now!" Emmanuel called to the kitchen.

"Have a good evening!" Hannah's voice returned.

Emmanuel looked over my shoulder. Oni was waiting at the shop's front. We waved to each other. He seemed to be doing well. Emmanuel gathered his belongings. Outside, the men kissed each other on the cheek. They walked away with the slight lean towards each other that spoke of quiet, affectionate love.

Just then, Hannah glided out of the kitchen doors. Asides from the nametag pinned to her royal blue apron, she looked no different than if she was baking from home. "Oh, he already left. I'll ask him tomorrow."

"Ask what?"

"He did a fantastic job with the specialty orders. I don't know how he frosted all of them in nearly half the time I would need."

"Impressive." Sometimes the shop received orders to make fancier, more extravagant sweets and pastries. Hannah was borderline territorial when it came to them. She always insisted on preparing the special orders herself, even if someone was equally suited for the job.

Hannah slid into the seat across from me. "I saw your message. What happened? And what's that?" She touched her lips as she glanced at the doctor's note clutched in my hand. An additional medication for handling my fatigue. No problems with my thyroid, for now. It took all my self-control to keep my eyes locked on Hannah, and not the display case at the counter.

"It's from the doctor's. But my health is fine. Sorry, I should have been clearer. Here, look." I showed her my phone. The exchange between my mom and I was short. Uncharacteristically so of my mom. "I don't know if this is the right choice to make. What if the meeting with my parents makes things worse, and not better?"

Hannah let out an exhale. "You already spoke to her? That's good, Nora! She does seem a little robotic...but older folk are more concise with their words, no? And you do want information about the house. That's not going to change," she pointed out.

I wrung my hands. "I should have called instead. You can't tell what someone is like through text messages."

"Over a Skype call, there's little that they can threaten you with. In fact, you have the most control over this situation."

"It doesn't feel that way." I could picture the cost-benefit analysis in my head: in one column, the pros. Cementing my knowledge about a house I was about to inherit. Being able to make an informed decision based on that. Satisfying my curiosity, and making sense of my childhood. The cost?

Sorrow. My pride. The dread of facing them after disappearing, only thinking for myself at the time. I didn't need to reawaken those emotions.

Hannah put her hands over mine. Her middle finger was calloused—from the way she held her pen, I surmised. We sat that way for a few minutes. Hannah knew her words wouldn't bring much comfort this time around.

"Nora," she said gently, "it will be all right. See, when I first told my family my plans for Canada, my brothers and sisters refused to speak to me for a week. My parents were shocked. They made a huge fuss in the family. But in the end, coming here was what I wanted. Paris was beautiful, and so are its people, but I wanted to try something new."

"Your shop," I said.

"Exactly. I asked myself, 'What if I could make French pastries, but in another country?' I had visited Canada before, and I liked it, so..." she waved her hand as if to say, The rest is history. Like living overseas on a whim was a typical decision. "I don't regret it. Even if I might have fared better near home, I learned a lot here. And met some wonderful people."

Hannah's smile lifted my heart so high it was lodged in my throat.

How could she look so cheerful and sad at the same time?

For a moment, I thought she would say it. Admit whatever was on her mind. Ever since she returned, the creases in Hannah's life had shown through. Small details were no longer in alignment; details that I feared would spread into an avalanche of...of what? Thanks to my parents, I was hyper-aware of every word, every step and the strings attached. But if I couldn't put my finger on what bothered me, then on what basis did I have the right to ask?

But Hannah only said, "You're really brave, Nora. It's natural to feel scared, but you've made this leap. I think you can do it. Take the chance, and see what happens. Who knows, this could be a new chapter in your life. Move forward."

"But going back to them feels like the opposite. Besides," I sighed, more to myself than Hannah, "shouldn't I be doing what makes me happy? I'm already wishing it was the weekday. Helping Emmanuel at the Farmer's Market is more appealing than this. And this? This is just miserable."

"Are your parents that bad?" she asked cautiously. She chewed her lip. "In that case, maybe this wasn't a good idea after all--"

"No, it feels right. I had a choice before, but I prolonged the inevitable. But I don't know if they can forgive me."

Hannah paused. She fingered her bronze pendant. I recalled her mother had bought it as a gift from an antique shop. "People can surprise you. They can change, sometimes in the blink of an eye. You don't really know what you want or what's wrong until time passes, right? But whether they do or not...Communication is key. If you truly want to reconnect with them, then that should be what matters."

If I wanted to. I did. Very much. I wasn't under the illusion that my situation was unique. But unlike others, I had left in the messiest way possible. It was selfish. Disgraceful. Take Hannah, who was mature enough to maintain her familial relationships despite the headaching drama. Or Vihan, whose concern for his fathers was palpable, even though his actions might have been seen as self-centered. And Tai.

"They aren't perfect. A lot of times, they don't understand me...But my parents had done a lot for me. Think of it as roads in a city. They're connected in some way, and there's dead ends and sometimes things aren't built right, but there are shortcuts. People find ways to build around it..."

What did I plan to accomplish with this meeting? A few weeks ago I was perfectly content with my independence. It'd been that way ever since I ran away. That was what I'd wanted the most. But ten years was ample time to let the past memories fade away. It was also ample time to truly get my life together. I hadn't accomplished that at all. Climbing the ladder at GreenGlass, meeting Hannah, grasping control over what I wanted to do with my life...they paled in comparison to the awful ache that told me I was incomplete. This black hole inside me—what did that look like to everyone else? To my past dates? To Tai? Before, I'd brushed it off as a fundamental difference in values. That was my ticket away from my responsibility to make the first step and fix the mess I'd left behind.

Walking the non-existent tightrope between myself and my family was exhausting. Making up would be a huge relief. My parents made bad decisions. It didn't mean they were bad people. Everyone made mistakes. The MacIntyre key, and my visions were proof of that. Perhaps none of my romantic relationships have worked because I'd been so close-minded.

But what would have been the point of running away in the first place? Would tomorrow prove that I'd been wrong the entire time?

The windows rattled. Outside, orange-brown leaves danced in a frenzy in the streets. We watched as the sky darkened to nearly black. My poor umbrella wouldn't be able to stand that. I had the foresight to bring a poncho, too, though I didn't relish walking home in pouring rain. It reminded me too much of the days where I searched for a roof over my head.

"Do you want me to be with you? When you make the call?" Hannah said softly. She squeezed my hands. "You don't need to feel alone. And I want to be here for you, as much as possible."

I smiled. "Yes. That'll help a lot. Thanks, Hannah."

I watched her avert her eyes. My instincts grated against me. I didn't need Unlocking to tell that Hannah was troubled. By me, or her trip in France, that remained to be seen. We would know soon enough.

—

The floor left my back aching the next morning. Grandpa could snore up a storm, but the rain had drowned out most of it. I might spend the rest of my nights in Grandpa's room, with a makeshift cot, the nightstand as my workspace, and surrounded by colourful drawings. The crayon pigments sucked the life out of everything else.

Mom wouldn't complain. I'm helping Grandpa after all. But it was like she couldn't stand the sight of me Skyping with my classmates. I couldn't meet her eyes anymore. The image of the carefree woman living her life withered my sympathy fast.

I combed out the knots in my hair with ferocity. One stroke. Two. Teardrops caught in my ponytail.

She would forgive me, right? My visions weren't lying. It was her problem. She had blown the gasket because she was a coward, afraid to face the truth.

Grandpa muttered something, and my hands stilled over my backpack. Five more minutes until school started.

"Sinead?" Grandpa murmured. Stirring up from bed, he raised his bushy eyebrows. "Nora."

"It's too early for you to wake up. You should rest," I whispered, rushing over to help him get up. Grandpa gripped the bed frame post and stretched one leg at a time, steadily.

"See? All good," Grandpa said, smiling to match my own. "Get going, now. Isn't your friend waiting for you?"

R. We'd promised to take the bus together.

I peeked out in the hallway. Mom's bedroom door was closed, meaning she had left for work instead of sulking at home. It'd give me time to think up a good enough apology. I had to face Mom. Her choice with what she decided to do afterwards.

"See you, Grandpa." I glanced back. Grandpa standing was like watching a stout, red buckeye tree move around in the house. A wonder. "Be careful."

He leaned back in pretend-surprise. "No 'Call the school if there's an emergency?' Good, good. I'll be here exercising. I know you're studying for your test, but mind a stroll to High Park later?"

"If we get back home on time--"

"Psh, don't mind Sinead. She'll get over it, she always does."

I pretended to understand what he was talking about, nodded, and met R at the front porch.

Sometimes she was quiet, but today she was energetic. She pumped her fist up. "Two more months until graduation! Let's give it all we got!"

Two more months until we graduated. Then R would move to a fancy high school, and I'd be taking the bus alone.