Hugo didn’t look disappointed. If anything, Wallace’s answer seemed to calm him further. “It’s okay not to know. In a way, it makes things easier.”
“How?”
Hugo settled his hands into his lap. Apollo lowered his snout to his paws, though he kept his gaze trained on Hugo, blinking slowly, tail curled around his haunches. “Because it’s harder to convince someone of what they need versus what they want. We often ignore the truth because we don’t like what it shows us.”
“Alan.”
“I’m trying,” Hugo said. “I really am. But I don’t know if I’m getting through to him. It’s only been a few days, but he feels further away than he did when he first arrived.” His mouth twisted down. “It’s like Cameron all over again, only worse because there’s no one trying to undermine my work.”
Wallace startled. “They’re not your fault.”
“Aren’t they? They came to me because I’m the one who’s supposed to help them. But no matter what I say, no matter what I do, they can’t listen. And I don’t blame them for that. It’s like a panic attack. I can try to explain it to you, but unless you’ve ever had one yourself, you’ll never understand just how harsh they can be. And though I’m surrounded by death, I can never understand what it does to a person because I’ve never died.”
“You’re better than most,” Wallace said.
Hugo squinted at him. “Another compliment, Wallace?”
“Yes,” Wallace said, picking at the frayed ends of his jeans.
“Ah. Thank you.”
“I could never be you.”
“Of course not,” Hugo said. “Because you’re you, and that’s who you’re supposed to be.”
“That’s not what I meant. You do what you do, and I can’t even begin to imagine the toll it takes. This gift you have … it’s beyond me. I don’t think I could ever be strong enough to be a ferryman.”
“You underestimate yourself.”
“Or I know my limits,” Wallace countered. “What I’m capable of, even if I should’ve second-guessed some of the decisions I made.” He paused. “Okay, maybe a lot of the decisions I made.”
Hugo knocked his head back against the railing softly. “But isn’t that life? We second-guess everything because it’s in our nature. People with anxiety and depression just tend to do it more.”
“Maybe that’s Alan,” Wallace said. “I won’t pretend I get everything about him. I don’t. But the world he knows is gone. Everything has changed. He’ll see you for what you are, eventually. It just takes time.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I have faith in you,” Wallace said, feeling brittle and exposed. “And all that you are. There’s no one like you. I don’t know if I would have made it this far without you. I don’t even want to think what it would have been like with another ferryman. Or woman. Ferryperson?”
Hugo laughed, looking surprised as he did so. “You have faith in me.”
Wallace nodded as he waved his hand awkwardly. “If this is a way station, if this is just one stop on a journey, you’re the better part of it.” He was silent for a moment. Then, “Hugo?”
“Yeah?”
“I wish for things too.”
“Like what?”
Honesty was a weapon. It could be used to stab and tear and spill blood upon the earth. Wallace knew that; he had his fair share of blood on his hands because of it. But it was different, now. He was using it upon himself, and he was flayed open because of it, nerve endings exposed.
And perhaps that’s why he said, “I wish I’d found you before. Not someone like you. But you.”
Hugo inhaled sharply. For a moment, Wallace thought he’d crossed a line, but then Hugo said, “I wish that too.”
“It’s dumb, right?”
“No, I don’t think it is.”
“What do we do now?”
“I don’t know,” Hugo said. “Whatever we can, I guess.”
“Make the most of the time we have left,” Wallace whispered.
And Hugo said, “That’s all anyone can ask of us.”
The sun drifted slowly across the sky.
* * *
The last customer left for the day with a jaunty wave. Mei was back in the kitchen, Nelson in his chair. Apollo stayed close to Hugo, as if wanting to make sure he didn’t relapse. Alan still stood in the corner, shoulders hunched up around his ears. They’d left him alone, but Wallace knew it couldn’t last, especially when Nancy came back. They needed to make him understand that she was off-limits. Wallace wasn’t looking forward to it.
Hugo flipped the sign in the window.
He was about to lock the door when he froze.
“Oh no,” he breathed. “Not now.”
“What is it?” Nelson asked. “Don’t tell me we’ve got another guest coming. It’s getting a little crowded as is.” He glared at Alan.
“It’s not that,” Hugo said tightly.
In the distance, Wallace heard the rumble of a car engine coming down the road. He went to a window. Headlights were approaching. “Who is it?”
“The health inspector,” Hugo said.
Nelson suddenly popped into existence next to Wallace, who yelped. Nelson ignored him, peering out the window. “Again? But he was just here a couple of months ago. I swear, that man has it out for you, Hugo. Quick! Turn off all the lights and lock the door. Maybe he’ll go away.”
Hugo sighed. “You know I can’t do that. He’d just come back tomorrow and be in a worse mood.” He glanced at Nelson. “Leave him alone this time.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Grandad.”
“Fine,” Nelson said irritably. “I’ll be on my best behavior.” He lowered his voice so only Wallace could hear. “But mark my words, if he tries anything, I’m going to shove his pen up his ass.”
Wallace grimaced. “You can do that?”
“Damn right I can. And he’d deserve it too. Prepare to meet the biggest waste of space you’ve ever met in your life.”
“I know hundreds of attorneys.”
Nelson rolled his eyes. “He’s worse.”
Wallace wasn’t sure who he was expecting to climb out of the little car, but who he saw certainly wasn’t it. The man was younger, around Hugo’s age. He was coldly handsome, though his handlebar mustache made Wallace want to punch him in the face. He wore a smart suit—one Wallace might have worn when he was still alive, expensive, cut perfectly to his frame, the plaid tie completing the look—and a terrible sneer. Wallace watched as he reached back into his car, pulling out a clipboard. He took a fountain pen from the inner pocket of his suit jacket, pressing the tip against his tongue before he started scribbling notes.
“What’s he writing?” Wallace asked.
“Who the hell knows,” Nelson said. “Probably something bad. He’s always looking for every little thing he can find to use against Hugo. He once tried to say that we had rats in the walls. Can you imagine? Rats. Odious man.”