Hugo snorted before shaking his head. “I don’t know if there’s anything left to tell you.”
“Where’s Cameron?”
“With Grandad and Mei.” He cleared his throat. “He’s, uh. Tomorrow.”
“What about tomorrow?” A big question, but never more than now.
“He’s going to cross.”
Wallace turned his head toward Hugo. “Already?”
Hugo nodded. “He knows what he wants.”
“And he wants this.”
“Yeah. I told him there was no rush, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Thinks he’s wasted too much time. He wants to go home.”
“Home,” Wallace whispered.
“Home,” Hugo agreed, throat bobbing. “It’ll be first thing.” He stared at Wallace for a long moment. Then, “We can help them. If … if it worked for Cameron, maybe it can work for others.” He looked out at the tea plants. “The Manager won’t like it, though.”
Wallace chuckled. “No, I don’t expect he will. But regardless of what else he is, he’s a bureaucrat. And even worse than that, he’s a bored bureaucrat. He needs what I did.”
“What’s that?”
“A shock to the system.”
“A shock to the system,” Hugo repeated, mulling over the words. “I…” He shook his head. “Will you come with me? I want to show you something.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see. Come on.”
Wallace pushed himself off the deck, floating upward. He bounced when the leash grew taut. He swayed back and forth, blinking slowly. He wondered what would happen if he untied the leash, if he would continue to rise and rise and rise until he took his place amongst the stars. It was a terribly wonderful thought.
Instead, Hugo pulled him into the house, careful so that Wallace didn’t bump his head on the doorframe.
The clock ticked the seconds by.
Mei and Cameron sat on the floor in front of the fireplace, Apollo on his back, legs in the air. Nelson was in his chair. They didn’t speak as Hugo climbed the stairs, Wallace trailing after him, feet never touching the floor.
He thought Hugo would take him to the door and speak more of what it could mean, what might lay on the other side. He was surprised when Hugo went to one of the closed doors on the second floor.
The door that led to his room, the only one Wallace hadn’t been into.
Hugo paused, his hand on the doorknob. He looked back at Wallace. “You ready?”
“For what?”
“Me.”
Wallace laughed. “Absolutely.”
Hugo opened the door and stepped to the side. He motioned for Wallace to go through.
Gripping the frame, he pulled himself into the room, ducking his head.
It was smaller than he thought it’d be. He knew the master bedroom was on the third floor, and that it’d belonged to Nelson and his wife before they’d passed.
This room was neat and tidy. Harvey, the health inspector, would undoubtedly be pleased. There wasn’t a single speck of dust, not a bit of clutter or a thing out of place.
Much like the first floor, the walls were covered with posters and pictures of faraway places. A never-ending forest of ancient trees. An ancient statue on the banks of a green river. Bright ribbons hanging over a colorful marketplace filled with people in flowing robes. Homes with thatched roofs. The sun rising over a field of wheat. An island in the middle of a sea, a strange home set on its cliffs.
But they weren’t all out-of-reach dreams.
A man and a woman who looked like Hugo smiled from a framed picture hanging in the center. Below it was another photograph, this one of a mangy dog looking grumpy as Hugo gave it a bath. Next to this one was Hugo and Nelson standing in front of the tea shop, arms folded across their chests, both of them grinning widely. Underneath this one was a picture of Mei in the kitchen, flour dotting her face, eyes sparkling, a spatula pointed at the camera.
And on and on they went, at least a dozen more, telling a story of a life lived with strength and love.
“This is wonderful,” Wallace said, studying a photograph of a young Hugo on the shoulders of a man who looked to be his father. The man had a thick, bushy mustache and a devious spark in his eyes.
“They help me remember,” Hugo said quietly, closing the door behind him. “All that I have. All that I’ve had.”
“You’ll see them again.”
“You think so?”
He nodded. “Maybe I can find them first. I can … I don’t know. Tell them about you. All that you’ve done. They’ll be so proud of you.”
Hugo said, “This isn’t easy for me.”
Wallace turned around in air. Hugo frowned, his forehead lined. He reached up and slid the bandana off his head. “What isn’t easy?”
“This,” Hugo said, motioning between the two of them. “You and me. I spend my life talking, talking, talking. People like you come to me, and I tell them about the world they’re leaving behind, and what lies ahead. How there’s nothing to fear and that they will find peace again even when they’re at their lowest.”
“But?”
Hugo shook his head. “I don’t know what to do with you. I don’t know how to say what I want to say.”
“You don’t have to do anything with—”
“Don’t,” Hugo said hoarsely. “Don’t say that. You know that’s not true.” He dropped the bandana to the floor. “I want to do everything with you.” Then, in a whisper, as if saying it any louder would break them completely, Hugo said, “I don’t want you to go.”
Six little words. Six words no one had ever said to Wallace Price before. They were fragile, and he took them in, holding them close.
Hugo lifted his apron above his head, letting it fall next to the bandana. He toed off his shoes. His socks were white, a hole near one of his toes.
Wallace said, “I…”
“I know,” Hugo said. “Stay with me. Just for tonight.”
Wallace was devastated. If they were anyone else, this could be the start of something. A beginning rather than an end. But they weren’t anyone else. They were Wallace and Hugo, dead and alive. A great chasm stretched between them.
Hugo switched off the light, casting the room in semidarkness. He went to the bed. It was simple. Wood frame. Large mattress. Blue sheets and comforter. The pillows looked soft. The bed creaked when Hugo sat on it, hands dangling between his legs. “Please,” Hugo said quietly.
“Just for tonight,” Wallace said.
He looked down at his own feet, hovering above the wood floors. He scrunched up his face, and his shoes disappeared. He didn’t worry about the rest. He wouldn’t sleep.
Hugo looked up as Wallace floated toward him. He had a strange expression on his face, and Wallace wondered why Hugo had chosen him, what he’d done in life to deserve this moment.
Hugo nodded, sliding back on the bed, stretching out against the far side. He grabbed the dangling leash, tying it off to the headboard.
Wallace reached down and pressed his hands against the bed, wishing he could lie down next to Hugo. His fingers curled in the soft comforter. He pulled himself down until his face pressed against the blanket, breathing in deeply. It smelled like Hugo, cardamom and cinnamon and honey. He sighed, moving until he floated above Hugo, who rested his head on the pillow, eyes glittering in the dark as he watched Wallace.