Without his memory, Rasmus would never understand what she needed to do, but Raya did her best to put her reasons into words. She gave up trying to write them down, realizing that the train’s official stationery could only bear so much weight. She crumpled her latest attempt into a ball and threw it into the bin beneath her desk. She pushed her chair back and stood up.
Raya walked over to the guitar she kept in her office. She sat on a floor cushion, cradled the guitar on her lap, and played. Winged songs burst from its strings, carrying every thought Raya could not write or say. They would whisper to Rasmus while he slept and by morning, he would understand why he had a conductor’s cap in his hands.
Raya pulled out a sake bottle from her satchel and set the train’s back door on the floor. She tucked a black-and-gold invitation into the inner pocket of her blazer, leaned over the mouth of the bottle, and counted to three.
A cat purred. Raya opened her eyes and met the empty stares of passengers whose thoughts were elsewhere. A woman stroked her cat with her acrylic extensions. A math student played Haydn on his headphones. A man stared at his muddy pant leg and thought about a regret named Lily. Something heavy pressed against Raya’s ribs. She glanced down. Her arms welded her upcycled tote to her chest. The Elsewhere Express was already beginning to feel like a dream.
The subway car slowed at her station. She hooked her bag over her shoulder and stood up. While the bag’s strap still dug into her skin, its load did not feel as heavy. Without the ghosts she used to carry, Raya could walk with her chin up and spine straight, bearing the posture of a person who had learned to shoulder the weight of a train. She stepped off the subway car and rechecked the time on the invitation to Q’s exhibit. It opened at midnight, and she had more than enough time to head back to her apartment, take a long, hot shower, and change.
Raya paid for her cab and hopped off. It had started to drizzle, and the art museum was still a block away, but she decided that she needed to walk the rest of the way without an umbrella. She missed the rain. Her stride was slower than those around her. After being on a train without any control over its route or speed, following her own path was disorienting. And welcome. She poured her intention into every step, setting her own course forward.
The rest of the museum was closed and those who wished to visit Q’s exhibit were advised to go through the back door. Raya laughed at the joke only she could understand.
The museum allowed two people inside at a time but gave guests the option to view the exhibit alone if they came by themselves. Shefell in line and waited for her turn. The queue buzzed with anticipation, but no one’s heart pounded as fast as Raya’s did.
It set the cadence of questions marching through her mind. What had happened to Q after he jumped? Could he see? How did he know how to find her? She told herself to remember to congratulate him on the exhibit before she allowed any other questions or words to race out of her. Once they started flowing, they wouldn’t be able to stop. She had twice as many stories to tell him.
Raya wondered what it would be like to see Q against the backdrop of the everyday and what she would look like to him. She was certain that he would only look brighter. But she would not tell him that. That could be her secret without worrying about a gold tether snitching.
The queue had snaked around the corner of the block by the time Raya neared the museum’s back door. She had not realized that Q was so popular. She had overheard as many theories about the exhibit as there seemed to be people in line. Some said its title meant the exhibit changed each time it moved venues. Others said that it was meant to be ironic. Raya put on her earphones to drown the theories out. She wanted to be surprised. Jace’s favorite song filled her ears, inviting her thoughts to wander. Raya let go of their leashes and let them run free.
Raya reached the front of the line. She reeled her thoughts back and listened carefully to an usher dressed in a crisp black blazer and cap she had worn until a few hours ago. The usher informed her that guests were free to explore the exhibit as they pleased, but that no phones or flashlights were permitted. Each guest was given an alarm shaped like an eternal knot to wear around their neck which would buzz when their time was up. Guests who broke any of the rules would be escorted from the museum and not allowed to reenter. Raya signed a consent form and nodded that she understood.
The usher took the form from her and ran his eyes over it. “Welcome aboard, Ms. Sia. We’ve been expecting you.”
A night sky was projected onto the high ceiling of the museum’s exhibition hall. Though it did not look as realistic as the ones painted on the Elsewhere Express, it had its own magic. Stars were free to chart their course across the galaxy, sailing across the sky as they pleased. Raya did not recognize a single constellation. A full moon cast its halo over drifting clouds and shared its light with the exhibit below.
Raya walked across a gossamer bridge. Q had done away with the dragonflies and made the bridge appear to float over a glass pond on its own. Raya leaned over the bridge. A galaxy of luminescent fish swirled beneath the glass. Raya stepped off the bridge and onto a moonlit beach covered in pink-tinted sand. She followed a path lit by glowing spheres inland. Red paper lanterns floated over an illusion of a lagoon that filled the length of a second exhibit hall.
An usher walked up to Raya. “Good evening, Ms. Sia. I hope that you’re enjoying your journey throughHereso far.”
“I am, thank you.” Raya silently wished the usher away. The exhibit was a space she did not want to share.
“Before you enter the gallery, you’ll need to wear this.” The usher offered her a black velvet blindfold.
“Thank you.” She took the blindfold from him and slipped it over her eyes.
“Is it comfortable? I can adjust it if it’s too loose or too tight.”
“It fits fine. Thanks.”
“Perfect. I’ll lead you into the lagoon now.”
The sound of water filled the hall. Cool silk billowed around her and kissed her skin. Though the installation stopped short ofsubmerging her in water, it played with her senses enough to convince her that she had plunged into the dark depths of the Elsewhere Express’s lagoon. She resisted the urge to tear off her blindfold and run. She took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, reminding herself that eyes were not the only way to navigate the space. She softened her shoulders and let her other senses lead the way.
A breeze, perfumed by roses and mint, blew through the lagoon, whispering poems and singing wistful songs. Raya’s hands found shapes she recognized and others she did not.
Tables made from coins and pens.
Spiral sculptures constructed from rings and eyeglasses.
Chairs made from socks.
A sculpted face that Raya recognized as her own. She inhaled sharply. Her hands wandered over the statue, trying to find the warmth of Q’s hands in the curves he had sculpted from memory without ever having touched her face.
This labyrinth, Raya realized, was not meant to be escaped from, but explored. The alarm around her neck chimed like the Elsewhere Express’s loudspeaker did right before an announcement.
“Ms. Sia,” the usher said. “Your time is up. You may take your blindfold off now.”
