At the end of the street were train tracks. Many of them, like a river skipping rocks and changing course. All looked as if they were leaving, and none wanted to return.
The street was dusty and often smelled of a decomposing boat baking in the sun. The steam engines carried an enigmatic hint of French parfum. A smell of far away.
My grandpa had badly worn clothes. They made my scratched, torn shoes and my knee-ripped pants look like I was an important person. Everything was normal and good.
A silent giant with enigmatic, hidden sparks in his calm eyes. He never learned how to fish. There was no river nearby. So, he never learned how to tell stories; he only knew how to live and feel them.
Holding my tiny hand, he always took me to "the trains." In those times, in that world, playgrounds for kids seemed unwilling to be invented. He couldn't afford to take me to the fair - the only place with fake clowns to make you laugh at dreams. Too expensive. My grandpa would have had to sell three or four chickens from the yard. Not an option that year either. Aside, the train tracks were longer lasting.
We watched trains leaving every day for hours. A few were returning too, but only because some distracted people inside always forgot something or someone special at home.
Ta-tac-ta-toum, ta-tac-ta-toum, the sound that could only be heard at the church when someone died, fading away into the distance. I never told him about this because I knew he heard the same.
He used to look in silence. That silence that was loudly telling, "They are all, all leaving."
One day he died. In silence. Without telling anyone.
For the first time he forgot.
The only thing he ever forgot.
◇
The thrill was higher than ever. None of us had enough money to pay for the train tickets. Nothing new. This time around, our group was larger than usual. We were eight of us. Four young boys and four girls, and we only had two tickets.
One of us came up with a childish plan on how to avoid getting caught and being thrown off the train... We all would wear white sneakers, blue jeans and white T-shirts. Two of us, one boy and one girl, would take the only two tickets we had and stay in the way of the conductor to be first checked. Once the tickets were marked as checked, the two would walk and pass the tickets to the next pair of boy and girl waiting a bit further ahead. When approached, they would act surprised, like they were those just checked back there minutes ago. Of course, all while blaming police-officer-like "skills" on the confused conductor.
It worked. For a bit.
Alas, we had the bad idea to regroup. The conductor first thought for a moment that he had too much to drink that day when he suddenly saw us together. He quickly sobered up and called the police for help, who in turn rounded us up and kicked us off the train at the next stop.
With no tickets and no money, for a while, we just watched the trains leaving, one by one, ta-tac-ta-toum, ta-tac-ta-toum... We were sitting there on dirty benches, forgotten, halfway to the sea. No train was returning for us.
That train station was also the home of a large fleet of nearly retired steam engines moving back and forth for reasons never shared, as though stretching their wheels before another journey. The scent of the burning coals and steam filled the air with an enigmatic French fragrance reminiscent of a distant, estranged memory.
That was when, for the first time, I caught her stealing a glance at me. Unexpected. It never crossed my mind she was interested in me. That’s when I noticed her clothes were as worn as mine. She was beautiful.
Eventually, we decided to walk the rest of the way. After all, with less than 100 km left to the sea, "Nothing compared with the human migration," one of us said. Aside from small tents, luckily we didn’t have much to carry. Just our thoughts. Thoughts of great expectations about how it would be when we got there. There was a lot of laughter. Incredibly lame stories. And silence. Silent she was.
We left the town behind fairly fast. Soon we were walking on an empty street, crossing a cornfield that threatened to be endless - just us, the heat and buzzing insects. She drifted closer and closer to me. Like a happening. Glowing.
All around us, an endless supply of corn ready to be cooked, but we had no fire, and nothing around there was eager to help us invent it - just dirt. The hunger was setting in, making us wonder if firestones had even been invented yet. When the sun surrendered to the night, we had no choice but to eat the corn raw, complaining and laughing. Except her, who was instead smiling like she knew what was in it for us tomorrow. Enigmatic.
We were all lying on our backs among the tall cornstalks, whose rough leaves rustled at the stars. It was a perfect night. She softly lowered her head on my shoulder. We fell asleep watching the playful stars, envying the alarmed rodents who live there. In my dream, I was wondering what that beautiful creature was lying there on my shoulder.
In the morning, a gigantic, rough farmer stumbled into us.
"What the hell are you doing here in my field?" he shouted.
Just awakened, confused, one of us answered.
"We were just sleeping, forgive us."
"Sleeping?! And who the hell ate my corn in your damn sleep?"
"We… We are sorry, we were..."
"I don’t care how you were. Shut the hell up, or I'll call the police!"
Being thrown out of a field of corn would be less spectacular, I thought, so I tried to reason with him.
"Sir, we had nowhere else to sleep overnight. We are leaving. We are sorry…"
"Don't you sir me! You!" he pointed his thick, dirty middle finger at me.
"You, give me your shirt!" he thundered.
I took out my shirt and handed it to him. He looked satisfied.
"Now, you can all leave. I shall never, ever see any of you again. Fucking thieves! Now. Leave!"
We left. There was something else to laugh about for another long day. It all was utterly funny.
For the others. They still had shirts.
Within just a few hours, walking, my shoulders' skin looked like the Sun was about to set on my back. She cared.
That day felt longer than an entire week. There was a lot of chatter on the way, but no one remembered anything. By evening, the muscle soreness had become unbearable for all of us. The cornfield was far behind. We spotted a pond surrounded by large crabapple trees. We decided to settle there for the night. The Sea wasn't too far anymore, and the excitement of finally getting there was pleasantly in the air. I was exhausted, burning and almost bleeding. For the first time, she left my proximity, but only to grab an apple and bring it to me. I could then see clear love in her eyes. Gracious.
We told a lot of silly stories, and we laughed late into the night until the Moon hid and we couldn’t see each other. She fell asleep with one hand crossing over my heart, with the face still on my shoulder.
Then. In the morning. Just when the birds started to fight each other, a thunderous, familiar shout again...
"You motherfuckers! What are you doing here, sleeping in my grove?"
I jumped and looked around. Everyone was confused. The same farmer was standing again in front of us...
"But, sir..." I mumbled.
"I told you not to fucking sir me!" he shouted even louder. His eyes kept growing.
"You! You, dirty thief! You ate my apple when you shouldn't have. Give me your pants! Now!"
I took them off and handed them to him.
He grabbed my T-shirt from the bag he carried, pushed it to his face and took a deep, satisfied sniff… To make room for my pants.
"Now, all of you leave! Go drown, motherfuckers!"
We left in a hurry to get away from that nut. Again, there was a lot of laughter before we finally reached the Sea. She didn't laugh.
It was a beautiful day. What was left of it. Short. We swam and played in gorgeous waves.
When night fell, I was sitting on the shore in front of the luminescent waves. Alone.
Far away, where the sea and sky get confused, there were lights. Leaving lights. I could hear the sailors partying on the decks. A little later, wondering what it was like when you left, she came and sat next to me. She was silent.
Exhausted, that night we all slept on the beach. It was the longest beautiful night.
At sunrise, when I woke up, she was no longer there. She wasn't there. Nowhere to be found. Nowhere to be seen again. I was confused. Desperate.
"Where? Where did she go?" I asked, lost.
Everyone was looking at me, stunned, worried that the sun had gotten deep into my head and I might need help.
"She... who?" eventually someone asked...
◇
"Grandpa, last night I had a bad dream that was so wonderful I can no longer see the trains today."
That's the only time I saw him smiling. He looked at me.
"My boy, it was just a dream..."
"Then, grandpa, why do I miss her so much, so badly?" I asked.
"Because your train left, and it took you with it."
Beauty and the Beast: A Triptych