‘Juliet and I have talked to each other on Skype loads before now. She’s very nice and is looking after me perfectly fine and she isn’t a middle-aged man looking to drug and kill me.’
Dad laughs. ‘I’m very glad to hear that.’
‘Is Mum still angry at me?’
‘I think so, yes. She was typing very loudly at her computer this morning.’
We both laugh.
‘I think,’ says Dad, ‘she’s just frustrated because she feels like you’ve been keeping this from her.’
‘I talk about The Ark all the time. I don’t know why this was a surprise.’
‘Fereshteh, it was a little bit of a surprise to me too.’
‘Why?’
‘I suppose … I suppose I never thought you actually cared about this band that much. And to see you just … just start shouting at your mother like that—’
‘She shouted at me too!’
‘I know, I know. But I’ve never seen you so angry, my girl. You’re not a naturally angry person. It was a bit of a shock for everyone.’
There’s a pause. I guess it had been a major argument. One of the worst I’ve had with my parents. I usually get along with my parents really well. I don’t tell them everything about my life, obviously, but I share stuff with them and we have a laugh sometimes.
But the argument yesterday. I can sort of see why Mum and Dad were a bit taken aback.
‘Well, sorry, I guess,’ I say. ‘This is just really important to me.’
‘I know,’ he says. ‘I know. But we’re worried it might be too important.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Well … more important than your education.’
‘I told you, that school leavers’ ceremony thing isn’t important—’
‘Not just that. You are growing up now, my girl. You’ll be studying at university, then finding yourself a job, starting a new life. And we just want to make sure … you have that in mind too. Because all you seem to talk about or care about is this boy band.’
‘That’s not all I talk about!’ I say, but now that I think about it, it does seem to come up in conversation quite a lot with my parents. And they listen politely, but they don’t care about The Ark.
‘We’re just concerned, Fereshteh.’
I laugh, not knowing what to say. ‘I’m … I’m just going to a concert.’
Juliet wanders into the hallway, a cup of tea in her hand and her hair pulled back into a loose French plait. She notices the serious expression on my face and mouths, ‘Everything okay?’
I give her a reassuring nod.
‘Fereshteh? Have you gone?’
‘No, I’m here, baba.’
‘Just stay safe. We worry.’
‘I know you do. But I’m not stupid. I won’t do anything stupid, I promise.’
‘You are a smart girl. Smarter than us, probably.’
I smile a little. ‘Nah, you two are the smartest of them all.’
I reassure him again that I’ll be fine and hang up.
‘What was all that about?’ asks Juliet, perching on a radiator and looking up at me.
‘That was my dad. My mum’s still angry.’
Juliet grimaces. ‘Oh.’
I laugh. ‘Don’t worry. Parents, am I right? She’ll chill out when she realises she’s in the wrong.’
Juliet chuckles weakly and looks away. I know she’s had some bust-ups with her parents in the past – they’re both very important lawyers, as are Juliet’s older siblings, but Juliet wants to go to uni to do theatre set design.
‘Oh,’ she says. ‘Yeah.’ There’s an odd expression on her face, as if this is an awkward thing for us to talk about. Maybe it is. I guess we don’t talk about our families that often.
Mac chooses this moment to thunder downstairs, adjusting his belt. At the sight of Juliet, he immediately starts running his hands through his hair.
‘What are you two talking about?’ he asks. Nosy.
‘You, behind your back,’ says Juliet with a sly smile that is most definitely the Juliet I know.
They start talking and wander off towards the living room. I stay and stare down at my phone, thinking about what Dad was trying to explain about Mum.
Mum doesn’t understand me. She doesn’t understand why I reacted so strongly about a boy band.
And I know they’re both worried about my future. They don’t ever say it, but I know they know I’m average and average is disappointing for them. Especially compared to my brother. The pinnacle of ambition and success.
Don’t worry. I know that. I’m fully aware I’m average. God, I’m so, so aware I’m average.
But I’m not going to think about any of that right now.
I don’t need to.
This week isn’t about my life.
I don’t have to think about it at all.
This week is about The Ark.
I spend a greater part of the day talking about Jowan. With Juliet, and on the internet.
Tumblr is awash with theories and opinions and discourse. Whether Jowan is real is split approximately fifty-fifty. I suppose Jimmy and Rowan being asleep in the same bed, cuddling, isn’t exactly official proof, but in my eyes it’s close enough. It looks pretty damn romantic to me. I’m an optimist. I like to believe that love exists.
Twitter won’t shut up either. #Jowan has been trending for hours. My whole timeline is flooded with people screaming and crying in caps lock. Neither Jimmy nor Rowan have tweeted about it, but they’ll have to say something soon, won’t they?
I wish I could ask them in real life.
I wish I could see them and tell them everything will be okay and everyone is happy for them.
‘Do you think they’re upset?’ asks Juliet, while we’re both sitting on the same living-room sofa, our laptops open in front of us, Brooklyn Nine-Nine playing on the TV across the room. Mac sits alone on the other sofa, scrolling through his phone.
‘Maybe,’ I say.
‘I feel bad … feeling so happy when they’re probably upset,’ says Juliet.
‘We don’t really know what they think about it yet, though,’ I say, forcing a chuckle, but it’s obvious to both of us I’m just trying to justify our joy at the situation.
Once I’ve read every opinion one could possibly have on the subject, I wrap myself in one of the blankets from last night and reread one of my favourite Jowan fanfics. It starts when Jimmy and Rowan met in primary school, and ends when they’re both twenty-seven, having left The Ark and gone onto solo careers. They fall in and out of love multiple times, always finding their way back to each other.
I know it’s not real. The details, anyway. But I like to imagine.
I like to hope.
I like to feel happy.