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I think he thinks he’s complimenting me, but also—“You kind of sound like you’re describing my colleague Phillip right now, and that scares me a little.”
Mackenzie laughs. “So, is he the one you’re meeting tonight?”
I nod. “He has MRI privileges. In my world, that makes him kind of a big deal. Plus, he’s a very brilliant scientist.”
Mackenzie gives me a sidelong glance. “Are you two…?”
“No!” The word comes out like a squawk as I accidentally picture it for a second. “Oh my god, no. I don’t even know if Phillip has feelings; if he does, they are definitely not for me. We are just colleagues…”
I drop my eyes to the sidewalk, wondering why I couldn’t have answered with a simple “no.”
“So…” I look up. “What about you?”
His brow lifts. “Am I dating any of my colleagues?”
My jaw drops open, at first to protest, and then in horror.
“Nope”—he grins—“I haven’t dated anyone in a while—at least not seriously. The last few months have been busy with the move, and I kind of like the idea of focusing on my music for a bit.” He kicks a small stone with the toe of his shoe, sending it skittering over the curb.
I welcome the turn in topics. “Did you always want to be a musician?”
He shakes his head and laughs a little to himself. “Not really. I kind of…stumbled into it. When I was little, I was torn between being a garbageman or, like, an Avenger. But then puberty hit, and suddenly I fell head over heels for Becky van Ghelt…” He draws out her name, smiling. “Becky…she was the captain of pretty much every sports team—volleyball, rugby, women’s hockey—you name it. She sat right in front of me in biology but, of course, had no idea I even existed. So, I’d go home and write these angsty, soul-crushing poems for her—which I stealthily kept hidden under my mattress until my older brother Aaron found them and made copies for all of his friends.”
My stomach twists, mortified on his behalf. “Oh, god.”
He nods. “ ‘Oh, god’ is right. He and our brother Clive tortured me about it. One night, while I was sleeping, they drew a mustache on me with a permanent marker. And every time I tried to say anything, they’d snap their fingers like they were some kind of coffeehouse poets. Then, one day, Becky came up to me and asked if my poem was a song. I, of course, panicked and said yes, but it turns out tortured teenage poets are not cool, but angsty musicians do fairly well with the ladies.”
I feel a weird stab of jealousy for no logical reason. “So you got the girl in the end?”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Not even close. She started dating one of her assistant captains. They got married eventually and now run a cheese shop in Collingwood.”
“Good for Becky.” I smile at this ending.
He grins, nodding. “Great for Becky and for me, I guess. I found out I love composing music.”
“Wait. You write music as well as play?”
He gives a casual shrug as if it’s no big deal. “The writing is actually my main thing. The playing is just what pays the bills. I’d love to be able to compose full-time, but the music industry isn’t exactly known for hiring random unknown mechanics off the street. So I joined the band, figuring my odds are better if I’m a slightly known musician.” He raises an eyebrow. “It’s a solid strategy, right?”
I am not entirely sure if he’s joking. “I mean, it’s definitely a strategy.”
He knocks his elbow into mine. “See, you tell it like it is.” He sighs, closing his eyes for a second. “So, yeah…Zee seems pretty connected, and part of our deal when I agreed to move here was that they’d play some of my songs. I’ve already met a few people in the industry, and I don’t know…” His voice trails, and I think he’s lost his train of thought for a moment, but then he stops and turns to face me. “Have you ever had a moment in your life where you know, for no other reason than a feeling in your gut, that something is just…right?”
I assume his question is rhetorical, but I shake my head anyway. “This may come as a shock, but I am more of a follow-the-facts kind of girl. Who makes carefully curated lists of pros and cons—ideally on color-coordinated Post-it notes.”
He gives a little half laugh. “I know it sounds a bit out there, but last spring, I got this…random sign from the universe, I guess, and it got me thinking about my life and how I’d never be happy unless I at least gave the whole music thing a shot, and I just…knew I was supposed to be here.”
I almost tell him that the closest I’ve come to following through on a whim was picking up a box of strawberry Pop-Tarts while cruising the cereal aisle, which I promptly put down after reading the sugar content. I can’t imagine moving to a new city without thoroughly conducting research.
The rest of our walk is quiet but easy, and we arrive with fifteen minutes to spare.
“This is me.” I stop on the sidewalk, holding out my arm as if showcasing the building behind me, even though the College Street campus of CAMH is just big, brown, and institutional-looking. Really, the only redeeming architectural quality is the numerous windows that, during the day, let in ample natural light. Tonight, they act as a beacon, pointing to the parts of the center that are still up and running and those that shut down for the night.
Mackenzie inclines his head in the direction of the brightly lit lobby. “So…do you want me to wait until you’re done?”
I shake my head even though I like the idea of him wanting to. “It’s okay. This might take awhile. I’ll call an Uber when I’m finished. Thank you, though, for the company.”
I linger on the sidewalk, unsure of the protocol here. I can’t recall ever having been walked anywhere before and it’s nice…really nice. My weight shifts, and I consider opening my arms because maybe we are roommates who hug. I swear I see Mackenzie’s arms flinch like he’s thinking the same, but at the last minute, he changes his mind and brings his arm up, making a fist.
