“You knew this was going to happen,” Wallace snapped.
“Of course I didn’t,” Nelson replied. “I thought you’d stand there scrunching up your face for a good thirty minutes before giving up.” He chuckled. “This is far more entertaining. I’m so glad you came here. You certainly know how to liven this place up.” He grinned. “Get it? Liven? It’s funny because you’re not alive. Oh, wordplay. How I adore you.”
Wallace had to remind himself that from a legal perspective, striking the elderly was frowned upon （and against the law）， even if said elderly deserved it. “Change me back!”
But before Nelson could open his mouth—and undoubtedly make things worse, Wallace thought—Hugo said, “Wallace, look at me.”
He did. He felt almost helpless not to. The cable thrummed between them.
Hugo nodded. “It’s okay. A little hiccup. It happens. Nothing to get upset about.”
“You’re not the one wearing a bikini,” Wallace reminded him.
Hugo smiled. “No, I don’t suppose I am. It’s not so bad, though. You’ve got the legs for it.”
Wallace groaned as Mei started choking again.
Hugo held up his hand toward Wallace’s chest, his fingers and palm a few inches from Wallace’s skin. The hook vibrated softly. Wallace sucked in a breath. His anger was fading along with his mortification. He didn’t feel good, not exactly, but he was growing calmer. “What are you doing?”
“Helping,” Hugo said, lines appearing on his forehead. “Close your eyes.”
He did.
And strangely, he thought he could feel the heat from Hugo’s hand, though that should have been impossible. Wallace could touch the dog, he could touch Nelson and Mei （and she all of them）， but he couldn’t touch Hugo. There seemed to be rules in place, rules that he was beginning to learn even if they were nonsensical. That tingling sensation returned, running along his skin. “It comes from the earth,” Hugo said quietly. “Energy. Life. Death. All of it. We rise and we fall and then we rise once more. We’re all on different paths, but death doesn’t discriminate. It comes for everyone. It’s what you do with it that sets you apart. Focus, Wallace. I’ll show you where to look. You’ll get it. All it takes is a little—there. See?”
Wallace opened his eyes and looked down.
Flip-flops. Sweats. Old shirt. Just like it’d been before.
“How did you do that?” he asked, pulling at his shirt.
“I didn’t do anything,” Hugo said. “You did. I merely helped you find direction. Better?”
Much. He never thought he’d be so relieved to see his flip-flops again. “I guess.”
Hugo nodded. “You’ll figure it out. I have faith in you.” He took a step back. “If you stay for long, that is.” A funny look crossed his face, but it was gone before Wallace could make sense of it. “I’m sure that whatever comes next, you won’t have to worry about such things.”
That sounded ominous. “Do—do people not wear clothes in the … Heaven? Afterlife? What do I even call it?”
Nelson laughed. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll find out one way or another. For all we know, it’s a gigantic nudist colony.”
“So, Hell, then,” Wallace muttered.
“What do you think of the scones?” Hugo asked, nodding toward the tray sitting on the stove.
Wallace sighed. “I can’t eat them, can I?”
“No.”
“Then why on earth would I care what they look like?” He didn’t say that he could smell them, the scent thick and warm, because it made him feel alone. Strange that scones could do such a thing, almost making him reach out and fail at touching something he could never have.
Hugo looked down at them then back at Wallace. “Because they look nice. It’s not always about what we can or can’t have, but the work we put into it.”
Wallace threw up his hands. “That doesn’t—you know what? Fine. They look like scones.”
“Thank you,” Hugo said seriously. “That’s nice of you to say.”
Wallace groaned.
* * *
At promptly half past seven, Charon’s Crossing opened for business.
Wallace watched as Hugo unlocked the front door, flipping the sign in the window from CLOSED to WE’RE OPEN! COME ON IN! He didn’t know what to expect. The tea shop was removed from the town, and he thought if there were any customers at all, they’d trickle in slowly throughout the day.
So, imagine his surprise when he saw people already waiting outside. As soon as the lock clicked on the door, it opened, a stream of people pouring in.
Some formed a line at the counter, greeting Hugo as if they’d known him for a long time. Others sat at the tables, rubbing sleep from their eyes as they yawned. They wore business attire or uniforms for their places of employment. There were young people in beanies, their bags slung over their shoulders. He was shocked when no one immediately pulled out a laptop or stared down at their phones.
“No Wi-Fi,” Mei said when he asked. She was bustling around the kitchen with practiced ease. “When people come here, Hugo wants them to talk to one another instead of being fixated on a screen.”
“Of course he does,” Wallace said. “It’s a hipster thing, isn’t it?”
Mei turned slowly to stare at him. “Please let me be there when you say that to Hugo. I want to see the look on his face when you call him a hipster. I need it like air.”
Hugo rang up the orders on his old cash register, his smile never faltering as he put pastries in little bags or delivered teapots to waiting tables. Wallace stayed in the kitchen, watching him through the porthole windows. He thought about going out to the front, but he stayed right where he was. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to get in the way.
Not that he could.
Nelson went back to his chair in front of the fireplace. Wallace noticed no one ever tried to sit in the chair, though they couldn’t see it was taken. Apollo moved around from table to table, tail wagging even though he was ignored.
It was close to nine when the door opened once more. A woman entered. She wore a heavy coat, the front buttoned up to her throat. She was pale and wan with dark circles under her eyes. She didn’t go to the counter; instead, she went and sat at an empty table near the fireplace.
Wallace frowned through the window. It took him a moment to place her. He’d seen her the night before when Mei had brought him to Charon’s Crossing. She’d been walking swiftly away from the tea shop.
“Who is that?” Wallace asked.
“Who?” Mei came to the door, standing on her tiptoes to look through the porthole next to him.
“The woman near Nelson. She was here last night when we arrived. She walked right by us.”
Mei sighed as she dropped back down to her heels. “That’s Nancy. Shit, she’s early. She usually comes in the afternoon. Must have been a bad night.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “I’ll have to go out and run the register. You gonna stay here?”
“Why do you have to—” He stepped back when Mei pushed her way through the door. He watched as she went to Hugo, whispering in his ear. He looked at the woman sitting at the table before nodding. Hugo moved around the counter, picking up another pot of tea and a single cup, setting it on a tray. He carried it over to the woman. She didn’t acknowledge him as he placed the tray on the table. She continued to look out the window as she clutched at the purse in her lap.