Every scary movie had gotten it wrong. Q had learned at thirteen that ghosts didn’t haunt crumbling houses in cul-de-sacs or forests at the edge of foggy, remote towns. Real ghosts lived in kitchen drawers, clothes dryers, and bathroom sinks. And sometimes they moved into bookshelves, tucking themselves between the dog-eared pages of yellowing novels.
After Q’s father woke up one morning and decided to step in front of a train, his ghost lingered in the most mundane corners of their home. His favorite haunt was a closet filled with all his old clothes that Q’s mother refused to clean out. But what surprised Q more than his father’s hiding places was learning that ghosts were not phantoms nor floating bedsheets with cut-out holes. The scariest ones were dusty memories that had gone feral and grown thorns.
Quentin Sr. had left at least a hundred such barbed traps for his wife to find. An unopened pack of cigarettes. A blue toothbrush. A leftover box of the Darjeeling tea that only he drank. They ambushed Connie when she made dinner or folded the laundry, slicing her open and making her cry. One night, a month after her husband’s death, she locked herself in her bedroom after his favoriteplaid jacket had smothered her with his scent: leather, cedar, and musk. Those who didn’t know Connie well thought she looked the same when she emerged two days later and carried on the business of living with her perfect posture and South Sea pearls. Only Q, despite his failing vision, saw the truth.
The woman who left her room each day was a mere facsimile of Q’s mother, with eyes as empty as its smile. This is why Q was inclined to believe that despite lying about who she really was, Lily was telling the truth about what happened to passengers who insisted on clinging to suitcases filled with ghosts. Ghosts had hollowed out his mother and turned her into an echo of herself too.
“I don’t care what the baggage policy is,” Raya said. “I’m not erasing a single memory. I don’t even want to be here.”
“The choice is entirely yours, Ms. Sia. If you find your compartment and change your mind about lightening your luggage, you’ll find Mr. Goh’s serum inside your amenity kit next to the shampoo.”
“Ifwe find our compartment?” Lily’s word choice was little more than a puff of air, but it struck the center of Q’s chest like a fist. “What do you meanif? Why wouldn’t we find our compartments?”
“You’ll have to search for your compartments on your own, Mr. Philips. I cannot assist you. No one on the train can. Finding your place isn’t a journey someone else can take for you.”
“You can’t be serious.” Q furrowed his brow at the train ticket details swirling over his hand. “The ticket doesn’t even say what compartment we’re assigned to. How are we supposed to find our way around a place where doors don’t even look like doors?”
“The same way I did and all the passengers before you have. You say that the train’s doors don’t look like doors. I say that everything on the Elsewhere Express appears as it truly is. You don’t recognize them because you’re viewing them through an old, broken lens. The world you left is the illusion, not this train. Until you boarded, you lived with your eyes closed.”
Q tensed up from his ankles to the top of his head. He wondered if Lily knew more about him than she let on.
“What are you even talking about?” Raya said. “What illusions?”
“Wealth. Prestige. Fame. Failure. Guilt. Grief. Past. Present.Future.” Lily shrugged. “Just to name a few. They color your world and make some things appear shinier or larger than they are, camouflaging others so that they’re easier to overlook.”
“And this place doesn’t?” Raya said. “I haven’t seen a single thing here that isn’t masquerading as something else. This mast. That sail. You.”
“What makes you say that?” Lily tilted her head. “Why wouldn’t thoughts that make a woman decide to stand strong and tall look exactly like a ship’s mast? Why wouldn’t a man’s plan for reclaiming his freedom appear like a sail that could take you anywhere you wanted to go? Why are you so certain that I don’t look like someone’s greatest regret? The world you left drapes people in gold to make you believe that they’re more valuable than a person wearing the skin they were born in. It builds houses with more rooms than people who live in them because you’re taught that an excess of emptiness makes a better home. Please tell me, Ms. Sia, which of these two worlds is hiding behind a mask and playing pretend?”
Raya parted her lips as though she was about to speak and clamped them before she uttered a sound.
“I know how the idea of navigating a train made of thoughts can seem daunting. I’ve gone through it,” Lily said. “But how is this different from what you did each day prior to boarding? You woke up in pajamas a stranger designed, drank a brand of coffee an entire department of people convinced you was essential to start your day, and made your way around a city shaped by the ideas and beliefs of generations that came before you. The only difference between finding your place in that world and this train is this: To be able to see things for what they truly are and to know where you fit in, one of them requires that you present yourself as your true self too.”
Lily directed her attention to Q’s and Raya’s hands. “The knot on your palms isn’t just your ticket. It’s a reminder that you can’t hold on to two things at the same time. The past and the future pull you in opposite directions. The Elsewhere Express’s baggage policy isn’t a rule that was made up for fun. A train that never stops carries a lot of weight. Do you have any idea how heavy eternity is and how much space it takes up? As wondrous as the Elsewhere Express is, itdoes not have the capacity to accommodate the combined load of all its passengers’ infinite tomorrows and the weight of their past. Choosing to remember one means losing your memory of the other. And trust me, clinging to your past and forgetting that you need to locate your compartment isn’t a situation you want to find yourself in. The knot will unravel if you forget what you’re searching for. It can happen slowly or fast, depending on the weight of the baggage pulling on it. If the knot comes undone, you will lose your bond to the train.” Her eyes fell on the ghostly lights in the water. “And tumble from it.”
“There’s a simple solution to that.” An old anger that Q usually kept sheathed whittled his words to sharp points. “Why don’t you just let the passengers who’ve fallen off back on? For god’s sake. They’re right there. Do something. Anything. Throw them a lifeline. Save them.”
“Do you think we enjoy the way they batter the ship, Mr. Philips? Do you think we like keeping the curtains closed and ignoring their constant scratching and wails? The Elsewhere Express does not reissue train tickets, no matter how hard you hurl yourself against it or how loud you scream.” Lily flicked her smile back on like a light. “But as I said, this isn’t something that should concern you. Passengers who travel light usually find their compartments right away.”
Q caught Raya wringing her overstuffed bag’s straps in the corner of his eye.
“The key to finding your compartment is to keep moving forward, searching one car after another, without looking back,” Lily said, “and never going through locked doors.”
“Why?” Raya creased her forehead. “What happens if you go through a locked door?”
“Nothing good.” Lily’s tone made it clear she had no intentions of elaborating on the subject.
“And what happens after we’ve found our compartments?” Q said.
“Then that means that the Elsewhere Express has truly welcomed you on board. You become a part of the train and the train becomes a part of you. One passenger. One compartment. One bond. Like aperson’s place and purpose in life—and on this train—it is uniquely yours. It is the eternal knot manifested.” Lily grinned. “And secured.”
“Does that mean once we find our compartments we won’t turn into Echoes and fall off the train?” Raya said.
Lily nodded. “The compartment will anchor you to the train and keep you from drifting off it. You’ll be able to explore the train at your leisure and find your role in it. The Elsewhere Express is a train run by its passengers. No one here is a dead weight. I’m looking forward to seeing where both of you apply your talents. Think of this train as your second chance to find what eluded you before you boarded it. And of course, the best part about finding your accommodations is that you get to enjoy the chocolate-covered strawberries and the bottle of champagne housekeeping has left for you by the minibar.”
Q turned toward the water, wondering how useful a painter might be on a train made of thoughts and if he would be thrown off once Lily learned he had nothing to contribute. His ribs squeezed his heart. Even with his sight, he was useless.
Lily walked over to a wooden chest and lifted its lid. An assortment of gilded frames peeked out from inside it. She picked one up. “I’ve taught Ms. Sia how to use these but allow me to quickly demonstrate how they work one more time.” She closed her eyes, a smile lighting her face as though her favorite song had come on the radio.
