The Roaring Twenties
THE ROARING TWENTIES
People are calling it the roaring twenties. The decade of glamorous parties and people living their best lives. However, it begins with continued devastating forest fires spreading around Australia. Then conflict between Iran and America, resulting in an abundance of crass World War III memes and lost lives.
It is now February 2020 and they are all at Millie and Tommy’s housewarming party. In a shock discovery, Henry was caught texting other girls, which prompted Millie to finally break up with him. She had only been seeing Tommy for three months before they decided to move in together. Millie claimed, “When you know, you know.” While Shirin is not quite sure about that, she is glad her friend has moved on from her toxic boyfriend. Millie and Tommy have moved into a one-bedroom period flat in Forest Hill. The kitchen they stand in is narrow, illuminated by soft, warm lighting. Cool jazz beats through from the living room, vibrating the walls of the kitchen, where Shirin is standing.
More surprising than Henry’s infidelity, though, was seeing Kian walk into the flat hours earlier. She had been sitting at one end of the dining table, the food about to be served, when he walked into the room. Millie ushered him to the only available seat on the other end of the table to Shirin, and she wondered if she was dreaming.
No one had told her he would be here. And it seemed like the kind of thing she should have been told.
He caught her eye and gave her a small smile, which she could not return because she was so surprised. Instead, she gave him a brief blank stare before looking away, feeling her cheeks going very warm. For the next few hours, they caught each other’s eyes, holding them for one beat, two, then three, until someone next to them said something to break them away from their silent communication.
At certain points in the night, too, she could feel his presence and knew when he was looking at her, without looking in his direction. She knew what it felt like to be looked at by Kian. Since he walked in, he is all she has been able to think about. Everything she says to her friends feels like someone else speaking, like she is completely outside of herself watching the scene of this dinner party unfold. Her nerves, to summarize, are jacked.
She had heard from Millie that he was staying in New York for longer than originally planned, though she didn’t ask for details because she assumed it would only hurt her more knowing specifics. All she knew, or thought she knew, was that Kian was gone and she needed to move on.
“We’re old now, aren’t we?” Shirin says. A small group of them had moved over to the kitchen to fill up their drinks. Her hair is now dark brown and she—like everyone at the party—is dressed up. She wears a red midi-length dress that is tight on her waist and flows out at the skirt. She glances up directly at Kian for the second time that night. He is leaning against the kitchen cabinet, a beer in his hand, his eyes downcast. He wears a white shirt, tucked in, and navy trousers. A strange, familiar feeling encircles her. She wants him to look up, to smile, to disagree with her—anything, truly—but there is this gulf between them. He appears detached from her, from the conversation, deep in thought.
They have been unable to speak all night, their friends in the way, between them. Shirin feels strongly that when she speaks to Kian, she wants it to be with him alone, not with an audience.
“Well, that depends on how you look at it. Is twenty-eight old?” Jasper says.
“We’re old for being in our twenties, but in the grand scheme of things, I think we’re still young. We’ve still got a young person’s Railcard,” Millie adds.
“Yeah, but it’s the new twenty-six-to-thirty Railcard because, as millennials, we’re not well off,” Jasper says.
“It’s nice, though, isn’t it, being older? Like, in our early to mid-twenties I felt like I had no idea what I was doing. I was bashing away at what I thought I should be doing, but it feels a lot calmer now,” Shirin says.
Millie nods thoughtfully. “True, yes.”
Hana is pouring herself a glass of red wine, her back to the group, when she says, “God, uni was fun, though, wasn’t it?”
Shirin smiles—because while Hana still reminisces about university, there has been a marked change in the past year. It is no longer romanticized as the best period of their lives. It was only a segment. The best is possibly yet to come.
“Shirin, do you remember at uni when you freaked out because a psychic said you had a third eye, and you thought that meant you had powers?” Jasper laughs. “Any time you were high, you’d give predictions about what would happen in our future.”
“How could I forget?” she says absentmindedly. She steals another glance at Kian, who at that moment looks back at her. He holds her gaze for a moment and her heart begins to beat more speedily.
“I’m just going to the loo,” she says, still looking at Kian, and leaving the group.
She walks slowly and joins the short bathroom queue, leaning her back against the wall, closing her eyes, and breathing out deeply. In–out, in–out, in–out. She is much more grounded now, but despite all this, Kian arriving—again unpredictably—has shaken her up. She has had so much time to think about what she wants, has imagined this moment many times, but when it is presented to her, she does not know what to do.
“You all right?”
She starts at this, even though she knew he would follow. It’s hearing his voice again, after all this time, that creates a jolt within her, like she is being brought to life. Opening her eyes, she finds Kian standing next to her. “Yes, fine,” she says. Something about him being so close to her breaks the facade she has kept up all night, of pretending that he is exactly like everyone else in the room. She lets out a held breath.
“What are you doing here?” she asks. Someone leaves the bathroom and it is her turn. “You can go,” she says to the person behind them—a friend of Millie’s that she does not know very well.
Kian scratches his neck, and she notices he is wearing her old hair bobble around his wrist. She averts her gaze quickly, but she notices him noticing her noticing it. He looks like he finds the fact amusing for a second, before shaking his head.
“My residency ended,” he says. “A few months ago, actually.”
A lot has happened in the past year, though it doesn’t feel as though a year has passed since they last saw each other.
“I heard that you were staying in New York longer,” she says.
They have not spoken properly in months. Not intentionally—at least that is what Shirin tells people. She thought it was self-sabotage, really, to continue talking to someone you have feelings for but with whom it can never work because of the miles between you.
“I’ve been back a few weeks now. And there was a reason I wanted to come here tonight.” He squints down at her, his eyes a deep brown. She can’t fully read his expression, but he is serious, possibly nervous, too. He has grown a well-groomed beard and it makes him look much older, but also softer somehow. He then bites his bottom lip, ever so briefly, as though considering his next words carefully. “Do you want to go for a smoke?”
She nods and they go outside together.
Millie and Tommy’s flat, like many in London, does not have a garden or a balcony, so they sit on the steps in front of the converted house. The winter air is sharp. Ahead of them, across the road, is a small patch of grass cordoned off with high steel gates. They see a fox running, foraging in nearby bins for food, its body lean and its tail plump.
“I feel sorry for foxes,” she says, to fill the space. “They’re always starving.”
“Yeah,” he says. “It’s shit.”
He lights up his cigarette and they are both avoiding each other’s gaze. It is as though once they look at each other, they will be laid bare—each fearful that what they are feeling will not be reciprocated.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Shirin says. “Why did no one tell me?”
“I think Millie thought it would be a nice surprise,” Kian says, his lips quirking upward. “I told her you wouldn’t like it.”
“I don’t dislike it, obviously.”
He lets out a short laugh. “ Obviously, ” he repeats.
“Have you been following all the stuff about Iran and America?” Shirin asks suddenly. It has been bothering her, but anyone she speaks to about it does not seem to care.
“It’s fucked-up,” he says, shaking his head.
“Did you see the memes? People joking online about it?”
He nods. “It pissed me off.” He had a long Twitter argument with someone about it, in fact.
“I’m glad it annoyed you, too. I feel like if you’re not Iranian, you don’t get it. People think it’s funny.”
There is a silence, then they both begin to speak at the same time, and that is when they turn to each other.
“You go first,” he says.
“No, you,” she says.
Kian smiles, blows out a puff of his cigarette to the side before beginning. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the past, and the things I’ve been holding on to. And I’m so glad we bumped into each other at my housewarming party. I just want to say thank you, I guess.”
“Thank you for what?”
“For being you,” he says with sincerity, his eyes locking onto hers. She feels in this moment that he is seeing the true her, that he has always seen it, and that’s the whole point. Being looked at in this way makes her chest warm, and she leans ever so slightly into him, almost unthinkingly.
There is so much she wants to say in response, too much in fact, that in the end she settles on “I’m glad we saw each other again too.”
The fox has made its way to the end of the road now. It is merely a speck against the nighttime darkness.
“I keep thinking, though,” he begins, pausing to gulp. He looks nervous. Nervous and handsome. She wants to touch his face, to soothe whatever anxiety is bubbling away inside him. “What happened with us this time around? Why didn’t we make it work?”
She is taken aback by this and looks down at her feet—at the scuff on her pointed-heel shoes—and eventually settles on “I don’t know.” The words are not quite truthful. She has come a long way, although, like most things, resetting your mind is not an overnight change. Much like with her depression and anxiety, she is looking inward to manage it, but it takes time. “I thought you didn’t want to do long-distance.” It is hard saying these words, being honest with the people she cares about. She feels herself vulnerable, opening herself up to be hurt.
He shakes his head, a frustrated look on his face. “I was scared.” This makes her look up at him. “I left everything in my life for this adventure, to focus on my art, and it felt like I only had these few years of my course to do it in. So when I found out I got my residency, I was surprised by how much I wanted to decline it and stay here, with you. I almost did, but doing that after we’d been together for only a month… it felt crazy to me. I didn’t want to hold you back. And, maybe selfishly, I didn’t want to hold myself back. But all the time I was there all I thought about was you, even when we weren’t talking. My heart was here, with you.” He gives her a small sidelong smile. She is struck by how Kian’s beauty has refined over adulthood, that he has grown into himself, and she has not stopped being drawn to him over the past twelve years.
His honesty makes her bold enough to say, “I wish I had said something then. I was scared too—scared to say how I felt, in case I got rejected. But I’ve not stopped thinking about you, either.”
“We’ve both been stupid then,” he says, still smiling, hope rising within him. “I sometimes think how different our lives would have been if we hadn’t stopped talking—not just this past year, but back then. If we’d told each other how we felt, back in school.”
Shirin’s brows furrow. She looks different now from how she did when he saw her a year ago. She is slower in her movements, more considered. There is an absence of chaos that he hadn’t even realized was there before. She reaches up and takes his cigarette from him, draws a long drag before handing it back to him.
“I don’t think we would have been good together at school,” she says. “We were held back by so much. I prefer adult us, right now, to be honest with you.”
He smiles but doesn’t say anything, realizing she’s right. And while they cannot do anything about their past, they have power over their future.
“So,” she continues. “You’re here for good?”
“I think so, yeah.”
“I’m glad.”
Kian lets out a long breath before saying, “I don’t want to regret not saying this. I don’t want this to be another thing I look back on and wish I did differently.”
“How do you mean?” Shirin looks up at him then, really looks at him, which makes his mouth run dry.
“I want this.” There’s more he wishes to say, but he’s hoping he can convey everything in what he is not saying. She puts her hand gently over his, the hand that isn’t holding the cigarette. Hers is warm and soft. “When I left for New York I wish I had told you how I really feel about you, that I didn’t want us to stop seeing each other. So I’m telling you now, Shirin. I want us to try again, this time properly—all in.”
Her lips curl up in a smile. “I want that too,” she says, heart soaring.
He thinks she looks her most beautiful when she smiles like that. It is infectious and soon his expression mirrors hers. They sit on the steps for a while, watching the cars pass in the night. Whereas before they were haunted by their past, they lean into it now, acknowledging that it led them to be here, together.