Communicating Vessels [COMPLETED]

Epilogue

"I can either come with you or wait for you in the car. Whatever you prefer," Arthur says as he brings the car to a stop.

It is the beginning of July, a year later. I graduated from Caltech only a few weeks ago. Not with honors, but with a decent GPA. I have a few interviews lined up for junior engineer positions in aerospace companies. I will start preparing for them once I am back from this surprise graduation trip Arthur organized for me.

Royal Tunbridge Wells is a pretty little town in the south-east of England. Its well-kept green spaces and the expensive cars driving on its roads make it abundantly clear that this is the wealthiest part of the country. We are not here for tourism, though.

When we took a direct plane from LAX to London, I thought Arthur wanted to show me the British capital, what with Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London, Big Ben, and all those pretty things I have only seen in pictures. I was excited about it, the only countries I've been to are Argentina, because I was born there, and the US, which I have not left since I moved there with my parents.

But we did not check into a hotel with a view of Hyde Park. We rented a car at the airport, and we drove away from the capital. When the road signs started indicating how far was Royal Tunbridge Wells, also called just Tunbridge Wells apparently, what he had planned all along became clear as day.

"I'm not sure I have the strength to do it," I said shortly after realizing.

"I'm sure it's going to be hard, but I'm also sure you can do it, and you need to do it. For yourself. For him."

A moment passed in silence while I considered his words and resolved myself to do it. He was right. I have longed for years to see Josh's grave. It probably wouldn't do much but that is the closure I have never had. The last goodbye.

Since the moment I decided to do it, my mood has been oscillating between tears, anxiety, and excitement. I am not sure what to feel, so I am feeling everything at once.

I look up at the church-like stone building that makes up the entrance of the Tunbridge Wells Cemetery. It has an arch cut out for hearses to drive into the lot, but we are parked just outside.

"I'll go on my own," I reply to his offer with determination. And then I add, "Come and join me in twenty minutes?"

"Of course." He slips a piece of paper in my hand. "These are the instructions to find his grave."

He kisses my lips briefly and tells me to be strong.

I brace myself, grab the bouquet of black roses we bought on our way there, and exit the car. I walk underneath the arch and unfold the piece of paper Arthur gave me. The instructions are straightforward and, in just a couple minutes, I reach the last resting place of the love of my life. Yes, Josh is still the love of my life. I have no doubt that, should we not have had the accident, I would have never met Arthur and I would be happily married and mother to a beautiful AJ, who'd have a sex and a real name.

But Josh is also dead. I didn't mean to find someone else to love, and yet I did, in the person of Arthur Edward Dullac. To be pronounced the French way, i.e. 'due-lack', and not 'dull-ek.' It took us a full year of dating before he eventually corrected my pronunciation.

I love Arthur, and he loves me, but he knows that I love Josh, that I always will. Arthur will forever be my second love, and he's okay with it. A second love doesn't have to erase the first one, and it can be just as good. We all come with emotional baggage and a love history. Mine is a deceased soulmate, his is a depressed ex-wife who wanted a child more than anything.

'Joshua Isaac Paxton' the headstone reads right before his birth and death years. 'Beloved son, brother, and boyfriend.'

He was my fiancé and a father-to-be, I think. But his parents didn't know that when they buried him, so I don't fault them. I am flattered enough that they immortalized our relationship in the marble.