I Was Born for This(23)

‘I want to work for a charity,’ says Bliss, leaning so far over the table that her cheek is almost pressed against it. ‘To save the world.’

‘What bit of the world, though?’

‘Location, you mean?’

‘Nah, like, what sort of charity? The world’s a bit shit. Can’t save all of it at once.’

‘Oh. Greenpeace, I think. I want to help them try to stop climate change before humans destroy the Earth.’

‘Wow. Will they be able to do that?’

‘Probably not. But it’s worth a shot.’ She looks at me. ‘What do you want to do?’

‘Career, you mean?’

‘Yeah! Or, like, life, generally.’

It takes me a moment to remember what my future plans are. I almost just mention Thursday’s Ark concert. My future plans feel very far away right now, like they’re not even real. They’re just in the inevitable After I Meet The Ark.

There seems to be very little I care about in my life besides The Ark.

‘Psychology,’ I say. ‘I’m going to uni in October.’

‘Cool,’ says Bliss. ‘I’ll save the nature, you save the humans, and hopefully everything will be all right. Psychologist and climate change warrior save the world.’

‘Damn. I’d watch that Netflix show.’

I learn that Bliss is bisexual. She says it with such extreme confidence that I’m suddenly jealous. Lots of people, especially in The Ark fandom, are like that, though. They know exactly who they are. They put it in their blog ‘about’ page, they put it in their Twitter bio. I never know what to put in my Twitter bio so I usually just put an Ark lyric in there.

I learn that Bliss’s surname is Lai. Her dad is Chinese and her mum is white. Her parents tried to raise her Christian, she says, but she just couldn’t ever fully believe in God. She asks me a bit about Islam, because, she says, she skipped all her religious education lessons at school. Normally I get a bit annoyed when people treat me like I’m the fountain of all Islamic knowledge – it’s not like every single Muslim has the same opinions and beliefs – but I can’t seem to bring myself to be annoyed at Bliss about anything.

‘It’s not really that different from Christianity, is it?’ says Bliss, after I’ve answered her questions. ‘My boyfriend’s best friend is a really committed Christian.’

‘There’s loads of similarities, yeah.’

‘I really wish I could believe in God and all that stuff.’

‘Why?’

‘Just gives you something to believe in and cling on to, doesn’t it? Even when everything else turns to shit.’

I nod at her. She’s right. ‘What do you do when everything turns to shit, then?’

‘I dunno. Cry?’

‘Well, believing in God doesn’t stop you crying every now and then.’

‘It’s a bit like all this, isn’t it?’ she says, gesturing around her. ‘The fandom stuff. It feels like we’re part of a big religion.’

I’ve never really thought of it like that.

I laugh. ‘Yeah. Man. We’d better go find something to pray to in the hope that Jimmy and Rowan will bless us with another on-stage hug.’

Bliss laughs at me, and I wonder, for a moment, if she feels sorry for me, for all of us.

‘You guys really like the idea of Jimmy and Rowan together, don’t you?’

I shrug. ‘They make me feel like love exists.’

That something good exists. That the world shouldn’t just disintegrate, right now. That there’s something worth me sticking around for.

‘Wouldn’t you otherwise?’

I try to think of another pair of people that make me believe in love, but nothing comes to mind. I think about my parents snapping at each other. A school friend dumped after she finally had sex with her boyfriend. A couple sitting in silence at a restaurant table.

‘Probably not,’ I say.

When I next return from the bathroom, Bliss is on the phone, standing a little away from the crowds of fans. Gone is the bright, confident expression – she looks like she might be arguing with someone, actually.

As I approach, I hear her say, ‘Well, it’s not really any of your business what I do or where I go,’ and then she hangs up and drops her phone onto the table.

The name on the phone screen is ‘Rowan’.

Which is kind of ironic.

‘Everything okay?’ I ask, sitting down next to her. She whips her head up at me, startled, then shoots me a beaming grin as if nothing had happened.

‘Yeah, yeah, all’s good!’ she says. ‘Just my mum calling. She doesn’t like me staying out late.’

‘Ah,’ I say, trying to sound convincing, but I think it’s highly unlikely her mum’s name is Rowan.

‘I should go,’ she says, and pockets her phone. She gives me a big smile. ‘It was nice to meet you!’

And then she’s gone. Before I have the chance to say anything. I feel a bit like I’ve maybe just met a ghost.

After a few more chats and another J2O, I decide it’s time I reunited with Muliet, but Juliet is nowhere to be found. Mac, on the other hand, is sitting alone in a booth with a pint of beer in front of him, looking slightly like a cheated lover who’s come to the pub to drown his sorrows and write some poetry.