The next day, Charon’s Crossing Tea and Treats didn’t open as it normally did. The windows were shuttered, lights off, a blind pulled down on the window to the front door. Those who came for their daily tea and pastries were disappointed to find the door locked, a sign in the window.
DEAR VALUED FRIENDS:
CHARON’S CROSSING WILL BE CLOSED FOR THE NEXT TWO DAYS DUE TO SOME MINOR RENOVATIONS.
WE LOOK FORWARD TO SERVING YOU AGAIN WHEN WE REOPEN!
HUGO & MEI
Wallace floated a few feet above the back deck, watching Apollo run through the tea plants, chasing a cadre of squirrels that didn’t know he was there. He laughed quietly when the dog tripped over his own feet, tumbling to the ground before picking himself up and tearing through the tea plants again. Wallace barely felt the leash tugging at his ankle, tied to the deck railing to keep him from floating away.
He looked down at the man standing next to him, Wallace’s knees at the same level as the man’s shoulders.
“I don’t really remember,” Cameron said, and Wallace wasn’t surprised. “What it was like being … a Husk. There are flashes, but I can barely make them out, much less remember them.”
“It’s probably for the best.” Wallace didn’t know what it’d do to a person to remember their time as a Husk. Nothing good.
“Two years,” Cameron whispered. “Hugo said it was over two years.”
“You can’t blame him. He didn’t know. He was told there was nothing that could be done when someone—”
“I don’t blame him,” Cameron said. Wallace believed him. “I made my own choice. He warned me what would happen if I left, but I couldn’t listen.”
“It didn’t help that the Reaper tried to force your hand,” Wallace said bitterly.
Cameron sighed. “Yeah, but that’s not Hugo’s fault. All he wants to do is help, and I wasn’t willing to let him. I was so angry at everything. I thought I’d found a way to make it stop. Everything I was feeling. It was a slap to the face when I realized it wasn’t over. It goes on and on. Do you know what that’s like?”
“I do.” Then, “Maybe not to the extent you mean, but I get it.”
Cameron glanced up at him. “You do, don’t you?”
“I think so. It’s a lot for anyone to realize that we go on, even when our hearts stop beating. That the pain of life still can follow us even through death. I don’t blame you for what happened. I don’t think anyone could. And you shouldn’t blame yourself. Learn from it. Grow from it, but don’t allow it to consume you again. Easier said than done, I know.”
“But look at you,” Cameron said. “You’re…”
Wallace laughed against the lump in his throat. “I know. But I don’t want you worrying about that. I think … I think you helped to teach me what I was supposed to learn.”
“Which was what?” Cameron asked.
Wallace looked toward the sky, tilting back until he was almost horizontal with the ground. Clouds passed by, fluffy white things with no real destination in mind. He raised his hands, backlit by the warm sun. “That we have to let go, no matter how scary it can be.”
“I’ve wasted so much time. Zach must be angry with me.”
“You’ll find out soon enough. Do you love him?”
“Yes.” It was said with such a tangible fierceness that Wallace could taste it in the back of his throat, the remnants of a fire that smoldered and sparked.
“And he loves you?”
Cameron laughed wetly. “Impossibly. I wasn’t the best person to be around, but he took the worst parts of me and dragged them out into the light.” He hung his head. “I’m scared, Wallace. What if it’s too late? What if I took too long?”
Wallace turned over in midair, looking down at Cameron. He didn’t cast a shadow. Neither of them did, but it didn’t matter. They were here. They were real. “What’re a couple of years in the face of eternity?”
Cameron sniffled. “You think so?”
“Yeah,” Wallace said. “I do.”
Time seemed to move in fits and starts for the rest of the day. Hugo spent most of it with Cameron. For a brief moment, Wallace was intensely jealous, but he let it go. Cameron needed Hugo more. Wallace had made his choice.
“What’s it like?” Mei asked him. They were in the kitchen, Mei moving back and forth between one of the ovens and the stove. Just because the shop was closed, she’d told him, didn’t mean the work stopped too.
“What?” The leash was tied around the bottom of the refrigerator, cinched tightly so that his feet brushed the ground.
She hesitated. “Hugo said you…” She motioned at her chest.
He shrugged. “It is what it is.”
“Wallace.”
“Untethered,” he said finally.
She took her hand in his, tugging gently so his feet bumped the floor. “I’ve got you.”
He smiled at her. “I know you do.”
“I won’t let you float away. You’re not a balloon.”
He laughed until he could barely breathe.
He didn’t know what they were planning.
He should have known it was something. They weren’t the types to let things lie as they were.
He wandered the bottom floor of the tea shop, Apollo happily tugging on the leash to hold him in place, Wallace doing his best to ignore the little whispers at the back of his head. They weren’t like what he’d heard with Cameron. These whispers were more forceful, coming from the door, and though he couldn’t make the words out, they had a cadence to them that felt like speech, frightening and enthralling him in equal measure. He was haunting the tea shop, a little boat in a vast ocean. His feet never touched the floor.
Nelson watched him from his chair in front of the fireplace. When Apollo tugged Wallace by him, Nelson said, “You feel it, don’t you?”
“What?” Wallace asked, voice wistful and off-kilter.
“The door. It calls to you.”
“Yes,” Wallace whispered. He spun lazily in the air.
“This hook. The cable. You had one.”
Wallace blinked slowly, coming back to himself. At least a little bit. “You do too. Of course you do. I never thought to ask. What is it?”
“I don’t know,” Nelson admitted. “Not really. It’s always been there. I think it’s a manifestation of a connection, tying us to Hugo, reminding us that we’re not alone.”
“It’s gone now,” Wallace whispered, staring down at the crackling fire. He closed his eyes. Hugo was there, smiling in the dark.
“Perhaps,” Nelson said. “But what it represented isn’t. That can never be taken away from you. Remember what I told you about need versus want? We don’t need you because that implies you had to fix something in us. We were never broken. We want you, Wallace. Every piece. Every part. Because we’re family. Can you see the difference?”
Wallace laughed quietly. “But I haven’t had my third cup of tea.”
Nelson tapped his cane on the floor. “No. I don’t suppose you have. Let’s change that, shall we?”
Wallace opened his eyes. “What?”
Nelson nodded toward the kitchen.
Hugo and Mei appeared through the double doors. Hugo carried a tray filled with familiar cups and a clay teapot. Cameron trailed after them, eyes bright.
Hugo set the tray down on a table. He motioned for them to join them at the table. He said, “Cameron, I have something for you.”
Cameron blinked. “For me? I thought this was for…” He glanced at Wallace.
Wallace shook his head. “No. This is for you. Your first.”
Nelson rose from his chair, tugging the leash from Apollo’s mouth. The dog thought they were playing and tried to pull it back. Wallace jerked from side to side, smiling so wide he thought his face would split in half. Apollo eventually let go, barking at Wallace’s feet as Nelson pulled him toward the table.
“Has it steeped long enough?” Wallace asked as the scent of … oranges? Yes, the scent of oranges filled the tea shop.
“It has,” Hugo said. His hands shook as he lifted the teapot. Mei put her hand on the back of his to steady him. He poured the tea into each cup. Once he’d finished, he poured more tea into a little bowl with the same markings as the teacups. He set the pot down before lifting the bowl and placing it on the floor in front of Apollo. The dog sat in front of it, head cocked as he waited. “It’s ready.”
Cameron hesitated before leaning over the teapot, inhaling deeply. “Oh. That’s…” He looked up at Hugo with wide eyes. “I know that smell. We … had this orange tree. In our back yard. It was … Zach liked to lie underneath it and look up at the sunlight through the branches.” He closed his eyes as his throat worked. “It smells like home.”
“Hugo knows what he’s doing,” Wallace said. “He’s good like that.” He looked at all of them. “How does it go again?”
They knew what he meant. “The first time you share tea, you are a stranger,” Mei said.
“The second time you share tea,” Nelson said, “you are an honored guest.”
Hugo nodded. “And the third time you share tea, you become family. It’s a Balti quote. I took those words to heart because there’s something special about the sharing of tea. Grandad taught me that. He said that when you take tea with someone, it’s intimate and quiet. Profound. The different flavors mingle, the scent of it strong. It’s small, but when we drink, we drink together.” He handed each of them a cup. First Cameron. Then Mei. Then Nelson. Wallace was last. The tea sloshed as he took the cup from Hugo, their fingers close but not touching, never touching. He was careful as he spun in air, pointing his feet toward the ground as Nelson tied off the leash against a table leg. “Please, drink with me.”
He waited for Cameron to go first. Cameron lifted the cup to his lips, inhaling again, eyes fluttering shut. His lips curved into a quiet smile before he drank. Mei went next, followed by Nelson, then Hugo. Apollo did too, lapping at the bowl.
Wallace raised the cup to his lips, breathing in the orange mingling with spice. He could almost picture it, lying on the ground in the grass, looking up at a tree heavy with fruit, the leaves swaying softly in a cool breeze, sunlight trickling through the branches. He drank deeply, the tea sliding down his throat, warming him from the inside out.
Once the tea was finished, Wallace felt like he had only a moment before.
Except …
Except that wasn’t quite true, was it?
Because he’d had his third cup of tea. His gaze drifted to the Balti proverb hanging above the counter.
Stranger. Guest. Family.
He belonged to them now just as much as they belonged to him.
He set the teacup back on the table before he could drop it. It clattered against the table, but the remains of the tea didn’t spill. Cameron did the same. He stared down at the teacup, a look of wonder on his face. “I can…” He turned his gaze up toward the ceiling. “Can you hear that? It’s … it sounds like a song. It’s the loveliest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Yes,” Nelson said quietly as Apollo barked.
“Me too,” Wallace said.
Mei shook her head.
Hugo looked stricken, but Wallace hadn’t expected him to hear what they could. It wasn’t meant for him, at least not yet.
“It’s calling me,” Cameron whispered.
Wallace smiled.
They stood around the table, Wallace floating amidst them, drinking the tea until there was nothing left but the dregs.
Hugo found him on the back deck, floating horizontal to the ground, hands folded behind his head as he gazed up at the night sky. Mei had tied the leash to a deck railing after he’d asked, telling him he wasn’t allowed to untie it for any reason. The stars were as bright as they always were. They stretched on forever. He wondered if there were stars where he was going. He hoped so. Perhaps he and Hugo could look up at the same sky at the same time.
Hugo sat next to him, wrapping his arms around his legs, knees against his chest.
“Another session, Doctor?” Wallace asked as he grabbed the leash, pulling himself closer to Hugo. His rear bumped the deck. He reached behind him to grab the edge of the deck, holding himself in place.
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.
They didn’t speak at first. Wallace had so many things he wanted to say, but he didn’t know how to start.
Hugo did. He always did. “Hello.”
Wallace said, “Hello, Hugo.”
Hugo raised his hand toward Wallace, fingers outstretched. Wallace did the same, their hands inches apart. They couldn’t touch. Wallace was dead, after all. But it was good. It was still good. Wallace imagined he could feel the heat from Hugo’s skin.
Hugo said, “I think I know why you were brought to me.”
“Why?” Wallace asked.
Voices low, soft. Secret.
Hugo lowered his hand back to the bed, and the grief Wallace felt over it was enormous. “You make me question things. Why it has to be this way. My place in this world. You make me want things I can’t have.”
“Hugo.” He cracked right down the middle.
“I wish things were different,” Hugo whispered. “I wish you were alive and found your way here. It could be a day like any other. Maybe the sun is shining. Maybe it’s raining. I’m behind the counter. The door opens. I look up. You walk in. You’re frowning, because you don’t know what the hell you’re doing in a tea shop in the middle of nowhere.”
Wallace snorted. “That sounds about right.”
“Maybe you’re passing through,” Hugo continued. “You’re lost, and you need help finding your way. Or maybe you’re here to stay. You come up to the counter. I say hello, and welcome you to Charon’s Crossing.”
“I tell you I’ve never had tea before. You look outraged.”
Hugo grinned ruefully. “Maybe not outraged.”
“Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that. You would be so irritated. But you’d also be patient.”
“I’d ask you what flavors you like.”
“Peppermint. I like peppermint.”
“Then I have just the tea for you. Trust me, it’s good. What brings you here?”
“I don’t know,” Wallace said, caught in a fantasy where everything was beautiful and nothing hurt. He’d been here before in secret. But now it was out in the open, and he never wanted it to end. “I saw the sign near the road and took a chance.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you for taking a chance.”
Wallace struggled against closing his eyes. He didn’t want to lose this moment. He forced himself to memorize every inch of Hugo’s face, the curl of his lips, the stubble he’d missed on his jaw when shaving earlier. “You’d make the tea. Put it into a little pot and set it on a tray. I’d be sitting at the table near the window.”
“I’d bring the tray out to you,” Hugo said. “There’d be a second cup, because I want you to ask me to sit down with you.”
“I do.”
“You do,” Hugo agreed. “Sit a spell, you say. Have a cup of tea with me.”
“Will you?”
“Yes. I sit in the chair opposite you. Everything else fades away until it’s only you and me.”
“I’m Wallace.”
“I’m Hugo. It’s nice to meet you, Wallace.”
“You pour the tea.”
“I hand you the cup.”
“I wait for you to pour your own.”
“We drink at the same time,” Hugo said. “And I see the moment the flavor hits your tongue, the way your eyes widen. You didn’t expect it to taste like it does.”
“It reminds me of when I was younger. When things made sense.”
“It’s good, right?”
Wallace nodded, eyes burning. “It’s very good. Hugo, I—”
Hugo said, “And maybe we just sit there, wasting away the afternoon. We talk. You tell me about the city, the people who hurry everywhere they go. I tell you about the way the trees look in the winter, snow piling on the branches until they hang low to the ground. You tell me about all the things you’ve seen, all the places you’ve visited. I listen, because I want to see them too.”
“You can.”
“I can?”
“Yes,” Wallace said. “I can show you.”
“Will you?”
“Maybe I decide to stay,” Wallace said, and he’d never meant it more. “In this town. In this place.”
“You’d come in every day, trying different kinds of tea.”
“I don’t like a lot of them.”
Hugo laughed. “No, because you’re very particular. But I find the ones you do like, and make sure I always have them on hand.”
“The first cup I’m a stranger.”
“The second you’re an honored guest.”
And Wallace said, “And then I have one more. And then another. And then another. What does that make me?”
“Family,” Hugo said. “It makes you family.”
“Hugo?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t forget me. Please don’t forget me.”
“How can I?” Hugo said.
“Even when I’m gone?”
“Even when you’re gone. Don’t think about it now. We still have time.”
They did.
They didn’t.
Hugo’s eyes grew heavy. He fought it, eyes blinking slowly, but he’d already lost. “I think it’d be nice,” he said, words slurring slightly. “If you came here. If you stayed. We’d drink tea and talk and one day, I’d tell you that I loved you. That I couldn’t imagine my life without you. You made me want more than I ever thought I could have. Such a funny little dream.”
His eyes closed and didn’t reopen. He breathed in and out, lips parting.
After a time, Wallace said, “And I would tell you that you made me happier than I’d ever been. You and Mei and Nelson and Apollo. That if I could, I’d stay with you forever. That I love you too. Of course I do. How could I not? Look at you. Just look at you. Such a funny little dream.”
For the rest of the night, he floated above Hugo, watching, waiting.