“What?”
“You’ve accepted you’re dead,” Nelson said. “At least a little bit. You think you can’t interact with the corporeal world because of it. Your mind is playing tricks on you.”
Wallace scoffed. “Isn’t that what you all wanted me to do? Accept that I’m dead?”
He didn’t like the smile that grew on Nelson’s face. “Come here.”
Wallace did.
Nelson motioned for him to sit on the floor before him. Wallace sighed, but he had no other choice. He sank to the floor, crossing his legs, hands twitching on his knees. Apollo raised his head and looked at him. His tail thumped. He turned himself toward Wallace, rolling onto his back, legs kicking in the air. When Wallace didn’t accept the obvious invitation to scratch his stomach, he whined pitifully.
“No,” Wallace said. “Bad dog.”
Apollo farted in reply, a long sonorous sound.
“Oh my god,” Wallace mumbled, unsure how he would find the strength to make it through the night.
“Who’s a good boy?” Nelson cooed. Apollo almost knocked Wallace over as he wiggled at the praise.
“Are you going to help me or not?”
“Ask me nicely,” Nelson said, sitting back in his chair. “Just because we’re dead doesn’t mean we don’t have to use our manners.”
“Please,” Wallace said, grinding his teeth together.
“Please what?”
Wallace wished they were both alive so he could murder Nelson. “Please help me.”
“That’s better,” Nelson said. “How’s the floor? Is it comfortable?”
“No.”
“But you’re sitting on it. You expect it. The floor is always there. You don’t think about it. Except now you are, aren’t you?”
He was. He was thinking about it quite a bit.
Which is why he suddenly found himself sinking through the floor.
He scrabbled for purchase, trying to reach for something to keep him from falling farther. He was up to his chest by the time Nelson held out his cane, cackling as he did so. Wallace grabbed ahold of it as if it were a lifeline and pulled himself back up, only to start sinking again almost immediately.
“Stop thinking about it,” Nelson told him.
“I can’t!” In fact, it was all he could think about. And even worse, he wondered what would happen if he fell through the floor completely, only to hit the earth beneath and then go through that.
But before he sank to the center of the earth only to perish （possibly） in the molten core, Nelson said, “Did it hurt when you died?”
He blinked, his grip on the cane tight. “What?”
“When you died,” Nelson said. “Did it hurt?”
“I … a little. It was quick. One moment I was there, and then I wasn’t. I didn’t know what was happening. I don’t see what that has to do with—”
“And when you were there and then you weren’t, what was the first thing that went through your head?”
“That it couldn’t be real. That there had to be some mistake. Maybe even just an awful dream.”
Nelson nodded as if that were the answer he expected. “What made you realize you weren’t dreaming?”
He hesitated, his grip tightening on the cane. “Something I remembered. I’d heard or read it. That it wasn’t possible for you to see your own face in a dream with any real clarity.”
“Ah,” Nelson said. “And it was clear for you.”
“Crystal,” Wallace said. “I could see the indents on my nose from my reading glasses, the stubble on my chin and cheeks. That’s when I first started thinking it might not be a dream.” A fleeting thought, one he’d shoved away as hard as possible. “And then…” He swallowed thickly. “At the funeral. Mei was … I’d never seen her before.”
“Exactly,” Nelson said. “The mind is a funny thing. When we dream, our subconscious isn’t capable of constructing new faces out of nothing. Anyone we see in our dreams is someone we’ve seen before, even if only in passing. And when we’re awake, everything is clear because we see it with our eyes. Or hear it with our ears, smell it with our noses. It’s not like that when you’re dead. You have to start from scratch. You need to learn to trick yourself into believing the unexpected. And would you look at that. You did. It’s a start.”
Wallace looked down. He was once again sitting on the floor. It felt solid beneath him. Before he could think about falling once again, he said, “You distracted me.”
“It worked, didn’t it?” He pulled his cane back and set it against the chair. “You’re very lucky to have me.”
“I am?” He was dubious at best.
“Absolutely,” Nelson said. “When I died, I had to learn all of this on my own. Hugo wasn’t pleased with me but kept his protestations to a minimum. One shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, after all. It took time. It was like learning to walk all over again.” He chuckled. “I had quite a few stumbles here and there. Broke a few teacups, much to Hugo’s dismay. He loves his teacups.”
“He seems to have an unhealthy fascination with tea,” Wallace mumbled.
“He got that from me,” Nelson said, and Wallace almost felt bad. Almost. “Taught him everything he knows. He needed focus, and the growing of tea plants provided that for him.”
“Why are you helping me?”
Nelson cocked his head. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s the right thing to do.”
Wallace was confused. “But I’m not giving you anything in return. I can’t. Not like this.”
Nelson sighed. “That’s a strange way to look at things. I’m not helping you because I expect you to give me anything. Honestly, Wallace. When was the last time you ever did anything without expecting something in return?”
2006. Wallace had loose change in his pocket that annoyed him. A homeless man had been panhandling on the street corner near his office. He’d dropped the change into the man’s cup. It totaled seventy-four cents. The man thanked him. Ten minutes later, Wallace had forgotten he existed. Until now.
He said, “I don’t know.”
“Huh,” Nelson said. “That sure is … what it is. You’ve already got a leg up on me in one regard.”
“I do?”
Nelson nodded toward the sconces on the wall. “Shorted out that light bulb. Broke the glass. Took me a long time to work up that amount of energy.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Wallace admitted. “I wasn’t—I was angry.”
“So I noticed.” His brow furrowed again. “Best you avoid anger if at all possible. It can cause all manner of situations better left avoided.”
Wallace closed his eyes. “I have a feeling that’s easier said than done.”
“It is,” Nelson said. “But you’ll get there. At least you will if you don’t decide to go through that door.”
Wallace’s eyes snapped open. “I don’t want to—”
Nelson held up his hands. “You’ll know when the time is right. I will say it’s nice to have someone to talk to so late at night. Helps pass the time.”