“What made you think to bring me here of all places?”
“Don’t punch me in the face, but I thought it might inspire you on your End Day.”
“In what way?”
“Way back when, this area was called Death Avenue. Hundreds and hundreds of people were getting straight wrecked by the trains, it was bad. It got to a point where they—I don’t remember who they were, but someone—hired fucking cowboys to stop people from trying to cross the tracks. Like, legit dudes on horses.”
“You’re making this up!”
“I shit you not! They—again, I don’t know who they are—decided to elevate the tracks. Then the rest is kind of a blur.”
“Pardon my English, but you’re a shitty historian.”
Orion laughs. “I’m not trying to compete on Jeopardy! or anything.”
“Alex Trebek would have you banned for answering every question with a swear word.”
“For fucking real.”
I stumble onto the train tracks, the plants growing around them like a garden bed.
This place is really something.
“You still haven’t told me how this is supposed to inspire me today.”
“I was about to before you started hating on my storytelling.”
“I apologize for expecting you to be a know-it-all. I guess everyone needs a flaw.”
“My heart is a pretty huge flaw.”
“It won’t be for much longer.”
Then we’re just two boys who are silent as we continue crossing this postapocalyptic, retired train line. There’s no one else in sight, almost like the world wants us to be present in our future. I listen to the wind and my thoughts, which are both depressing and uplifting. I might not be around to laugh for much longer, but Orion will be if all goes well. It will go well. I’m putting my full faith into that; whatever that means these days.
Orion stops and stares at the plants emerging between the train tracks. “This is my first time here too. I wanted to visit last summer when everything was super fresh, but my heart got in the way. I spent the day at the hospital instead. I took it as a sign that I shouldn’t try to go somewhere that was known as Death Avenue. But I was just remembering how the High Line was supposed to be demolished. Just straight wiped from the city until people in the neighborhood fought for it to find new life and it got turned into this dope park.” Orion looks at me with his hazel eyes. “I hate that you’re dying, Valentino, but I want you to remember that everything isn’t over just because you’re a Decker. I’m going to keep fighting through whatever your End Day throws your way to turn your life into something beautiful.”
There’s no doubt in my mind that Orion means every word.
I bumped into the perfect stranger in Times Square.
“It’s almost like when I die and you have my heart, I’ll live on through you,” I say. “A new, beautiful life.”
My chest feels tight as Orion and I stare into each other’s eyes.
“Totally,” he says, breaking contact, and I look away too. “I’ll become a walking park.”
“What you lack in history, Orion, you make up for in metaphors.”
“I’m a writer. I better get that shit right.”
We stop and rest our arms on the railing. We have a calming view of the river. I’m guessing it’s the Hudson River, but even though I’m a newly christened New Yorker I didn’t suddenly download all the knowledge of one. I just watch the water and the boat slowly creeping along its surface.