Chapter Text
That day was a funeral. It was Mazin's old man who'd passed on, and though most everybody knew he was most certainly going to hell, they had all gathered to pay their respects to the late Cirrus Valencia. I didn't like Mr. Valencia that much, Mazin did though, and maybe that was enough for me to come. Mazin was, without much doubt, his old man's favourite. That came with its responsibilities and its duties, being the oldest on top of it all. I think he was hit the hardest, his mom didn't seem so inconsolable when I'd found her. I told her, I said, "He was a good man.",
and she took a long drag of her cigarette and said, "No, no he wasn't."
After the funeral came the will reading. I'd never been to one, I didn't even expect to be in this one. Mazin's mother had knocked on my door early that morning, told me to get ready for it. As I looked in the mirror, doing my hair, she'd asked if she could come in. She looked at me with this warm smile, I remember thinking, I thought, Don't smile at me like that. I'm not your kid. She dusted off my shoulders, eyed me up and down. She let out a long sigh and hugged me. Don't do that, I'd thought. Be composed. But she wasn't.
I was used to being dressed up, just not in a place like this. A sit-down with the principal, sitting there all silent, I could do that. If not for me, then for her, I guess.
It wasn't much surprise that Mazin inherited that old train, the one that him and I worked on all throughout our teenage years. My parents never quite agreed with their only daughter working on a dirty train for the loud man on the farm. Maybe that's why I worked for him in the first place. Mazin on the other hand, he worked for his dad because that's what his dad did with his. Maybe that was it, cause he lived a life not for himself, maybe that's why he went to hell. Maybe it was because he cheated on his wife one too many times, though she always took him back for the kids. Maybe it was because he beat his kids to a shade of blue that hadn't been seen before. There were too many reasons why he went to hell, and too many people had showed up, too many people had commuted all the way to the middle of bumfuck nowhere, that saying such things felt disrespectful not to Mr. Valencia, but to the time they spent getting to his grave.
Columbus Valencia was the original conductor of that train. After his death, his son Cirrus Valencia, Mr. Valencia, took over. He was the best, that's what Mazin said at the funeral. He said his father was the best conductor he'd ever seen. It was a sentimental message, but Mazin never knew any other conductors, so it couldn't be wrong. Mazin never met his grandfather, he died early, just like Mr. Valencia. Mazin was the new owner, the new Mr. Valencia, and so a meeting was scheduled to discuss funding. Here we were outside of Mr. Valencia's office, waiting for somebody, anybody, to show up.
The train'd always gotten it's funding from this rich couple, "generous benefactors" Mr. Valencia'd called them. Those rich benefactors had a son who they wanted to take for a test drive. His parents had sent him in place of them so he could get a look at the new conductor, just like his father had done before him with Mr. Valencia. Zelus Noah was his name. He was different from most of the people I saw on the daily, he wore better clothes than most of the people I knew, he even smelt better. He was tall, even taller than Mazin, who smiled as he shook his hand. He looked at him, Mazin looked Zelus Noah and he said, "Mr. Noah! Mazin Valencia."
Zelus Noah smiled too, and said, "It's a pleasure, Mr. Valencia."
His voice was smooth, so smooth that he sounded a tad queer. He dressed like one anyway. The two of them had re-enforced their smiles and Mazin urged him inside of the office, smiling at me as he closed the door.
Apparently, the whole thing went good. His family continued whatever sort of relationship they had, and everything was okay. I didn't think much of the conversations that Mazin and Zelus Noah had while I guarded the door outside. Mrs. Lynn had came to check up on us, to which I had to explain Mazin was busy discussing something. She looked a bit disappointed, frowning slightly as she walked away with her tray of sweets. I think everybody adored Mrs. Lynn, she just wasn't somebody you hated. Mrs. Lynn was the old and caring grandmother everybody read about in books, the person everybody wished was their mother in place of their actual one. Mrs. Lynn was something of a secretary, she recruited new people for Columbus, then Mr. Valencia, and now she would do it again with Mazin.
When they finally came out of the room, Mazin was patting Zelus on the back, both of them laughing at some joke neither I nor Mrs. Lynn would know anything about. At the sound of bellowing laughter, the old lady came back with her tray like clockwork. Mazin eagerly greeted Mrs. Lynn, introducing her to Zelus like a happy kid. "And this," he said, "You've already met her, this is Mal!"
"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you again," Zelus smiled. "Mal, Mrs. Zimmerman."
It took me aback for a moment to hear Mrs. Lynn's real name, I think Mazin was surprised as well, even though he was the one to tell it. She smiled as she lifted up her tray, remembering what she came in for. "Would you like a scone, young man?",
To which he happily accepted.
The next few hours were spent in a bar. It wasn't too uncommon for us, but it wasn't everyday somebody like Zelus Noah was spotting the bill. Might as well take advantage of something like that. Well, it's not like I'm that unfortunate. My parents work for this big tech company, they make good money, good enough at least. Not like the Valencia's. Zelus Noah'd gotten blackout drunk, and Mazin was halfway though another bottle by the time the sun'd come up.
A long walk later and I was face to face with that old train, the one with OLYMPUS plastered on the side.