During our dinner at Wang Liu's, both my and Rave's positivity was partly restored. I ordered Rave and me the seasonal platter that the florist recommended, and she wasn't lying about how good that meal is. Rave was so addicted to it that he said if he had the superpower to duplicate stuff he would duplicate this meal a million times total in his entire life. Rave also convinced me to go on the downtown stroll that I would've done with Railo. During that walk, I saw the driver of the steam train that exploded that night.
"Wait, have I seen you before?" I said.
"If you were at the Crossyards, yeah," he responded.
"So you're the driver of that train that uh... went to its unfortunate demise...?"
The driver chuckled. "It was unfortunate, for sure. I feel bad for Railo now, with that explosion just mercilessly killing him..."
"About that... I was about to propose to him tonight. I'm on my downtown walk with one of Railo's friends. I could've done this walk with Railo himself had he not..."
"Aw, that just feels depressing to be so close to marrying a lover only for him to die horribly... Want a hug?"
I accepted the offered hug.
"Should your mental breakdown, which I saw, go viral," the driver offered, "do you want me to inform everyone about your backstory behind the breakdown?"
"Yeah, sure..." I respond
"Now, how did the steam train catch on fire?" Rave asked the driver.
"I honestly don't know," the driver responds. "Maybe some of the lubrication oil set on fire... maybe because a burning charcoal fell off or something..."
"Interesting," Rave says, "what's your name?"
"Grayson," the driver states.
"You got anything to say, Rod," Rave asks, to which I shake my head.
"This was a nice conversation," Rave says, "See ya next time."
"You too," Grayson responds.
As Rave and I strolled for an hour and a half across downtown Huwesinton, we both got tired as time went deeper into the night. Rave was so tired during the stroll he would sleepwalk. Luckily we were close to the parking lot where we started, and by the time we got inside the car, Rave was rem sleeping in the backseat. Even though he was tired, I asked him if I should carry him to his apartment.
"Hell nah, man! I am staying with you the whole night and you better get used to it!"
"In a mile, turn left to Cocos Avenue," the GPS dictates. Rave's rem sleep had long turned into a deep sleep. With one hand at the steering wheel, I searched the front row of the car with my other hand for the bouquet of roses. I felt anxious for a second when I couldn't find it, knowing that I didn't care about my bouquet as it was always with me until I heard the crackle of plastic coming from the pocket of my car door. "Turn left to Cocos Avenue, then your destination is on the right," the GPS states. I turned left into the canal-side Art Decos neighborhood. As I drove through Cocos Avenue, I remembered that one time when Railo and I were watching little kids play badminton on this exact street. Railo would always cheer for his favorite team. Ah, the memories.
"Your destination is on the right," the GPS states.
As I parked on the side of the street, I looked back at Rave snoring during his deep sleep. I was also tired, but I decided to get the keys and quietly unlock the door. Being my quietest, I then tried to carry Rave in my arms gently. Although he weighed from what I could tell 155 pounds, using the experience I got from 10 years of road construction I didn't necessarily have a hard time carrying him. With two hands carrying the sleeping beauty, I opened the door to the bedroom and put him snuggly inside the blanket of the queen-sized bed.
Once I took care of Rave, I walked back outside the house and into the car. Once I got the bouquet, I walked to the other side of the street and look at the house once again. As soon as I looked at it, I saw a million memories of Railo and me, together. One memory was of the fierce pillow fight Railo and I had one early morning. Another memory was of Railo struggling to carry a U-Haul box only for him to look at me in envy and jealousness as I easily cradled the big box in my hands. A memory of Railo accidentally pushing me into the swimming pool of our old apartment accompanied the other memories that popped into my head. But as my brain reran those memories, it soon switched to that one unfortunate moment that happened a few hours ago. My brain replayed the moment that broke my heart and took away my lover. It pictured everything crystal clear: from the cheering of the crowd to the explosion and then to my mental breakdown. Tears once again streamed down my face, reminding me that I would never experience those million memories with Railo again. It reminded me that a goal that I've worked on for years would be of no use. These thoughts led to two sentences that would replay inside my head: Railo is dead, and you will never see him again; there is no hope for you. You and Railo were supposed to have a happy ending, but God himself ripped you two apart and give it a depressing stop; you have no power; hope and pleading are useless and you know it.
