A neon sign hung on the awning of Juan’s Groceries - a plaster white building on the corner of Madison and Fairview.

  Fresh Fruits and Vegetables!

  Anthropomorphic, cartoon figures flanked the cursive words. A banana, a tomato, and a potato, all wearing sunglasses and silly, overconfident grins. Juan thought the signage was a great idea.

  Juan’s Groceries was both a neighborhood institution, and misfit at the same time. The squat, one storey building anchored a series of connected buildings that wrapped around a small plaza. A combination of moonlight and street light illuminated the hand painted grocery signs that hung out the windows and the side of the building.

  99 Cent Spring Onion Bunches

  Three for Five All Purpose Flour

  2 Liters Any Pop, Two Dollars

  … And more!

  The Plaza was surrounded by tall high rises, apartment complexes, and metal-glass office buildings that rose up around the block in recent years. Juan owned the plaza before anyone wanted to be there, and he sure wasn't selling to the developers who were resorting to skulduggery and harassment in effort to get him to sell.

  The only standalone building on the block was the Fairview station, the only lot in Juan’s plaza that he was willing to sell - in this case to the city to place a subway station. It helped that the city gave the rest of Juan's buildings very generous exemptions to city codes.

  The developers who disappeared and sued when the city was looking for land, reappeared when property values popped and looked at Juan’s land with dollar signs. Juan, however, had no intention of turning his grocery store and the apartment buildings on his lot into anything but what it was today. Accessible groceries and affordable housing for refugees like he was a few years back was his prerogative, and he used his privileges liberally to build on attachments, levels, and add-ons to his buildings that a less scrupulous landowner would abuse.

  He didn't care much for the young urban professionals that would move here but he welcomed their business and recognized that his little slice of the neighborhood gave them a reason to stay.

  Juan sighed as he pulled down the security gate for the store front and locked up. It was cold outside. He wished that the autumn's in New Adelaide were less brisk. Tonight, Juan was planning on walking over to Maria's spot for a nightcap before turning in.

  Maria ran the Library Lounge, a local bar with all the dive bar goodies along with an extensive book collection. Every other week, they would host story night, where the patrons would put down their books and turn their head towards a small stage, where different people would take turns telling stories.

  Instead of cutting across, Juan took the loop, walking along the perimeter of the plaza to look over the store fronts and say hi to the children playing outside their family businesses.

  “How are you doing, Zeke?” Juan stopped in front of Ezekiel, the son of one of the older residents, who was smoking on the bench outside his mother's salon.

  “Sorry for the smoke,” the man mumbled, quickly putting out the cigarette in an ashtray that he had set by the bench.

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  “Not at all Zeke, I see you picked up smoking from your dad. Didn't he quit recently?”

  “Yeah, he did, doctors orders. But man, I get it now.” the young man looked down to his hands, taking out some rolling paper, folding it and unfolding it as he talked.

  “I knocked my girl up Mr J.” the young man said solemnly.

  “When did you find out?

  “Yesterday…”

  Juan looked at the young man, he had watched Ezekiel as a baby when his parents were first setting up the shop.

  “Tell your folks yet?”

  Zeke shook his head. It didn't matter.

  “She ain’t keeping it… I mean we aren't ready, I certainly am not, we can't afford it, it makes sense but…”

  The young man hesitated…

  “I was so happy and relieved when she said she wasn't going to keep it. Though I was so scared before… her saying no to the kid bailed me out, but now I’m sad?”

  “Sad?”

  Zeke paused again, before talking again.

  “Do you think I’m a go-nowhere fuckup? That I can't step up?”

  The question came slowly, with a tremble on the delivery. These weren't rhetorical, it wasn't anger, it was fear. Terror, he was scared of his potential mediocrity.

  “Hey,” the older man sat down next to the young man, “No, I’m sure you'd be able to. I'm sure she believes in you, but I don't think either of you want to become who you’d need to be now, instead, she is probably thinking about the you that you want to become…” Juan paused before continuing, “Do you know who you want to be?”

  “No…”

  Zeke drew a blank in his head. He thought of what he did with his friends after school, his part-time job, the conversations he had with parents, the forced ones he had with their friends, all things in the past. But the future? He couldn't see pass walking across the stage and graduating.

  “And neither does she. And she wants to find out, so… yeah, it's OK to feel a little sad, it's OK to feel relieved, just be supportive all right? Wouldn't you want to figure out who you are first before figuring out to be a parent?”

  The young man gave Juan a tight hug, burying his face in the older gentleman's puffer jacket.

  They sat in silence for a bit, time pausing for a few minutes.

  They sat on the bench and stared across the Plaza. A train must have arrived - a steady flow of people trickled out from the underground and through the turnstiles and onto their next destination.

  A burly large man stepped out. The Plaza was quite wide, but it was clear who it was from a distance.

  “A Hawaiian shirt in the winter? Is your dad crazy?” Juan had seen Ezekiel Senior in the winter before, but was always shocked at the man's cold tolerance.

  Zeke looked at his father in the distance. Cringy dad jokes and questionable fashion choices aside, was his dad who he wanted to be?

  Juan looked at the young man who was examining his dad from a distance.

  “Need to chat some more?”

  “Not really Mr. J, thanks though.” Zeke released Juan from his arms and rubbed his eyes dry. He stood up, ready to process things alone.

  “OK, well you just tell me OK, you have my number so don't be afraid to call it. My smart phone is on at all times,” Juan pronounced the compound words separately. He took his “smart phone” out of his pocket and wiggled it in front of Zeke, “even an old fart like me can use a phone.”

  It made Zeke smile. The first one in the conversation.

  “Ha, you funny man, thanks again.” the young man leaned over and picked up the ashtray on the floor. He smiled wryly at Juan and started to turn away and walk towards the Plaza.”

  As the young man walked further away, Juan hollered from the bench “You should check out Maria's bar tonight. I know you aren't technically allowed in, but you and I will more or less average out.

  Zeke barely turned, “Sure thing, I'll let you know,” and continued to walk away, back into the complex surrounding the Plaza, and disappearing into the night. He flipped up his hoodie over his head.