A longer pause. “Are you his therapist? I don’t recognize the area code. Where are you calling from?” Then, “And why are you calling?”

  “No,” Hugo said. “I’m not a therapist. I own a tea shop.”

  Naomi laughed. “A tea shop. And you say Wallace was a client of yours. Wallace Price.”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t think I ever saw him drink a cup of tea in his life. Forgive me for sounding dubious, but he wasn’t exactly the tea type.”

  “I know,” Hugo said as Wallace groaned. “But I think you’d be surprised to hear that he learned to enjoy it regardless.”

  “Did he? That’s … odd. Why would he—it doesn’t matter. What do you want, Hugo?”

  “He was a client of mine. But he was also my friend. I’m sorry for your loss. I know it must have been difficult.”

  “Thank you,” Naomi said stiffly, and Wallace knew she was wracking her brain, trying to figure out what angle Hugo was working. “If you knew him, I’m sure you’re aware we divorced.”

  “I know,” Hugo said.

  She was growing irritated. “Is there a point to this conversation? Or was that it? Look, I appreciate you calling, but I—”

  “He loved you. Quite a bit. And I know it got rough, and you went your separate ways for good reason, but he never regretted a single moment he spent with you. He wanted you to know that. He hoped you found happiness again. That you would have a full life, and that he was so sorry for what happened.”

  Naomi didn’t speak. Wallace would have thought she disconnected, but he could still hear her breathing.

  “Say it,” he whispered. “Please.”

  Hugo said, “He told me about your wedding day. He said there had never been anyone more beautiful than you were at that moment. He was happy. And even though things changed, he never forgot the way you smiled at him in that little church.” He laughed quietly. “He said he panicked right before the ceremony. You had to talk to him through a door to try to get him to calm down.”

  Silence. Then, “He … he said he couldn’t get his tie to work. That we might as well call the whole thing off.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  Naomi sniffled. “No. We didn’t, because it was just something so Wallace that I … Christ. You had to call and ruin my makeup, didn’t you?”

  Hugo chuckled. “I don’t mean to.”

  “No, I don’t expect you do. Why are you calling me now with this?”

  “Because he thought you deserved to hear it. I know you hadn’t spoken in a long while before he passed, but the man I know—knew, was different than the man you remember. He learned kindness.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Wallace at all.”

  “I know,” Hugo said. “But people can change when faced with eternity.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It is what it is.”

  She sounded uncertain when she said, “You knew him.”

  “Yes.”

  “Really knew him.”

  “Yes.”

  “And he told you what happened with us.”

  “He did.”

  “So you just decided to call me out of the blue, out of the goodness of your heart.”

  “Yes.”

  “Look. Hugo, was it? I don’t know what you’re gunning for here, but I don’t—”

  “Nothing. I want nothing. All I wanted to do was tell you that you mattered to him. Even when all was said and done, you mattered.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “That’s it,” Hugo said. “That’s all I needed to say. I apologize for interrupting your evening. Thank you for—”

  “You cared for him.”

  Hugo startled. He glanced at Wallace before looking away. “I do.”

  “Friends,” she said, almost amused. “Just friends?”

  “Hang up!” Wallace said frantically. “Oh my god, hang up the phone!” He tried to swipe at it, but Hugo was quicker, plucking it off the counter and holding it out of reach.

  “Just friends,” Hugo said, hurrying around the counter to keep Wallace from the phone. Wallace snarled at him, prepared to do what he had to in order to make this fresh hell end as quickly as possible.

  “Are you sure? Because—and I can’t believe I know this—you sound like the kind of guy he’d go for. He didn’t think I noticed, but he would swoon whenever—”

  “I don’t swoon!” Wallace bellowed.

  “Really?” Hugo said into the phone. “Swoon, you say?”

  “Yes. It was embarrassing. There was this one friend of mine—kind of talked like you, the same cadence—who Wallace would fawn over. He would deny it, of course, but I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case with you.”

  “I have the worst ideas,” Wallace muttered. “Everything is terrible.”

  “Good to know,” Hugo said to Naomi. “But no, we were just friends.”

  “Doesn’t matter now though, does it?” Naomi asked. “Because he’s gone.”

  Wallace stopped, hands pressed flat against the counter. He bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

  “I don’t know that he truly is,” Hugo said finally. “I think a part of him remains.”

  “Pretty thoughts, and nothing more. Did…” She huffed out a breath. “Did you love him? God, I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. I don’t know you. I don’t even care if you and he were—”

  “We weren’t,” Hugo said simply.

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “I know,” he said, and Wallace felt hot and cold, all at the same time. “I don’t know how to answer that question.”

  “Yes or no. It’s not hard. But you not saying no is all the answer I need.” She sniffled again. “You weren’t at the funeral.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “It was … quick. For him. I’m told he didn’t suffer. There and gone as if he never were at all.”

  “But he was,” Hugo said, and he never looked away from Wallace. “He was.”

  She laughed, though it sounded like a sob. “He was, wasn’t he? For better or worse, he was. Hugo, I don’t know who you are. I don’t know how you knew Wallace, and I don’t believe for a minute it was because of tea. I’m … sorry. For your loss. Thank you, but please don’t call me again. I’m ready to move on. I have moved on. I don’t know what else to say.”

  “You don’t need to say anything else,” Hugo said. “I appreciate your time.”

  The phone beeped as she disconnected the call.

  Silence filled the tea shop.

  Wallace broke. “You can’t … Hugo.”

  “I know,” Hugo said, sounding strangely vulnerable. Wallace looked up to see him fiddling with his bandana, green with white dogs imprinted on it. “But it’s mine. It’s for me. And you can’t take that away.”

  “I’m not trying to,” Wallace snapped. “It’s—you’re…” His chest hitched. The hook felt molten hot. “You’re making it harder. Please don’t do this to me. I can’t stand it. I just can’t.”

  “Why?” Hugo asked. “What’s so bad about it?”

  “Because I’m dead!” Wallace shouted.

  He left Hugo standing in the main room of the tea shop, the shadows stretching further.

  CHAPTER

  20

  The next day was hard.

  Wallace brooded, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. The others gave him a wide berth as he muttered, “Two days. Two more days.”

  He shuddered. He shook. He quaked.

  And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

  He looked out the front window.

  There, parked in front of the tea shop as it always was, sat Hugo’s scooter. Pea green with whitewall tires. A side mirror with a little trinket hanging from it, a cartoon ghost with a little word bubble that read BOO! The seat was small, but there were metal handlebars on the back.

  He remembered the way the sun had felt on him as he’d stood on the back deck. Again. Again. He needed to feel it again. Such a small thing, but the more he thought about it, the more he couldn’t shake it. The sun. He wanted to feel the sun. It was calling to him, the hook in his chest vibrating, the cable brighter now than it’d been before. Whispers caressed his ears, but it wasn’t like the voices from the door. Those were soothing and calm. This felt urgent.

  He went to Mei in the kitchen. She eyed him warily as if she expected him to bite her head off. He felt guilty. “Can you watch the shop this afternoon?”

  She nodded slowly. “I guess. Why?”

  “I need to get out of here.”

  She looked alarmed. “What? Wallace, you know what’ll happen if you try to—”

  “I know. But I won’t go far. I know how long I lasted the first time. I can handle it.”

  She wasn’t convinced. “You can’t take that risk. Not when you’re so close to…” She didn’t need to finish. They both knew what she meant.

  He laughed wildly. “If not now, when? Oh, and I’m taking Hugo with me.”

  Mei blinked. “Taking him with you where?”

  He grinned. He felt crazed, and it burned within him. “I don’t know. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  * * *

  Hugo listened as Wallace explained. He didn’t answer right away, and Wallace thought he was going to refuse. Finally, he said, “Are you sure?”

  Wallace nodded. “You’ll know, won’t you? How long we can go. How far.”

  “It’s dangerous.”

  “I need this,” Wallace said plainly. “And I want it to be with you.”

  It was the wrong thing to say. Hugo’s expression shuttered. “Changed your mind? Last night, you seemed pretty certain you didn’t want to hear how I feel.”

  “I’m scared,” Wallace admitted. “And I don’t know how not to be. But if this is it, if this is what I have left, then I want to do this. With you.”

  Hugo sighed. “It’s really what you want?”

  “Yes.”

  “I need to ask Mei if she’ll—”

  “Already done,” Mei said, peeking her head through the kitchen doors. Wallace snorted when he saw Nelson peering under her arms. Of course they’d been listening. “I got it, boss. Give the man what he wants. It’ll do you both some good. Fresh air and blah, blah, blah. We’ll hold down the fort.”

  “We don’t even know if he can ride it,” Hugo said.

  Wallace puffed out his chest. “I can do anything.”

  * * *

  He couldn’t do anything.

  “What the hell?” he growled as he fell through the scooter to the ground for the fifth time.

  “People are staring,” Hugo muttered out the side of his mouth.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Wallace pushed himself up off the ground. “And it’s not like they can see me. For all they know, you’re talking to your scooter like a weirdo.”

  Hugo crossed his arms and glared at his feet.

  Wallace frowned at the scooter. It should be easy. It was just like the chairs. “Unexpect it,” he mumbled to himself. “Unexpect it. Unexpect it.”

  He lifted his leg once more, throwing it over the back of the scooter. He knew he looked ridiculous as he lowered himself slowly, but he was beyond caring. He was going to do this if it was the last thing he did.

  He crowed in triumph when he felt the back seat of the scooter pressed against his rear and thighs. “Hell yeah! I’m the best ghost ever!”

  He looked over at Hugo, who fought a smile. “You’re going to fall off and—”

  “Kill myself? I have a feeling I don’t need to worry about that. Get on. Come on, come on, come on.” He patted the seat in front of him.

  It was awkward, more so than Wallace thought it would be. The scooter was small and Hugo and Wallace were not. Swallowing thickly, Wallace studiously avoided looking at Hugo’s rear as he threw his leg over one side and settled on the seat. The scooter creaked as Hugo propped it up, raising the kickstand with the heel of his shoe. They were close, so close that Wallace’s legs disappeared into Hugo. The cable stretched between them tightly. It was oddly intimate, and Wallace wondered what it would be like to wrap his arms around Hugo’s waist, holding on as tightly as he could.

  Instead, he reached back and gripped the metal bars at his sides, settling his feet on the footrests.

  Hugo turned his head. “We’re not going far.”

  “I know.”

  “And you’ll tell me when it starts getting bad.”

  “I will.”

  “I mean it, Wallace.”

  “I promise,” he said, and he’d never meant it more. The whispers he’d heard in the house were louder now, and he could no longer ignore them. He didn’t know what they were calling him toward, but it wasn’t the door. They were calling him away from the tea shop.

  Hugo turned the key. The scooter’s engine whined, the seat vibrating underneath Wallace pleasantly. His laugh turned into a yelp when they started rolling forward slowly, picking up speed as dust kicked up behind them.

  Wallace felt the pull the moment they hit the road. He gritted his teeth against it. He hadn’t known what it’d been before. He did now. He looked down at his arms, expecting to see his skin beginning to flake off. Not yet, but soon.

  Wallace thought Hugo would turn toward town, perhaps driving down the main drag and back to the shop.

  He didn’t.

  He went the opposite direction, leaving everything behind. The forest grew thicker on either side of the road, the trees swaying in a cool breeze, limbs clacking together like bones. The sun sank lower in front of them, the sky pink and orange and shades of blue that Wallace couldn’t believe existed, deep, dark, like the farthest depths of the ocean.

  No one followed them; no cars on the road passed them by. It was as if they were the only two people in the entire world on a lonely stretch of road that led to nowhere and everywhere all at once.

  “Faster,” he said in Hugo’s ear. “Please go faster.”

  Hugo did, the engine of the scooter whining pathetically. It wasn’t built for speed but it didn’t matter. It was enough. The wind whipped through their hair as they leaned into every curve, the road a blur beneath them, flashes of white and yellow lines shooting across Wallace’s vision.

  It was only a few minutes later that Wallace’s skin began to rise and flake away, trailing behind them. Hugo saw it out of the corner of his eye, but before he could speak, Wallace said, “I’m all right. I swear. Go. Go. Go.”

  Hugo went.

  Wallace wondered what would happen if they never stopped. Perhaps if they went far enough, Wallace would drift away into nothing, leaving all the pieces of him behind. Not a Husk. Not a ghost. Just motes of dust along a stretch of mountain road, ashes spread as if he’d mattered.

  And maybe he had. Not to the world at large, not to very many people in the grand scheme of things, but here, in this place? With Hugo and Mei and Apollo and Nelson? Yes, he thought maybe he mattered after all, a lesson in the unexpected. Wasn’t that the point? Wasn’t that the great answer to the mystery of life? To make the most of what you have while you have it, the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly.

  In death, Wallace had never felt more alive.

  He squeezed his thighs against the sides of the scooter, holding himself in place. He raised his arms out like wings, pieces of his arms flaking off behind them. He tilted his head back toward the sun and closed his eyes. There, there, there it was, the warmth, the light covering him completely. Never wanting it to end, he shouted his wild joy toward the sky.

  Hugo seemed to have a destination in mind. He turned down a road that Wallace would have missed had he been on his own. It wound its way through the forest on an incline. The pull of his shedding skin was negligible. A dark curl flickered at the back of his mind, but he had it under control. The whispers were fading.

  On the side of the road ahead was a little pullout, nothing more than a gravel patch. Hugo steered the scooter toward it. Wallace gasped when he saw what lay on the other side of the guardrail.

  The pullout was set on a cliff. The drop-off was steep, though the tops of the trees below rose in front of them. The sun set in the west, and as the scooter came to a stop, Wallace jumped off, rushing toward the guardrail. In his haste, he almost ran through it, but managed to skid to a stop just before.

  “That would’ve been bad,” he said, looking down, the thrill of vertigo washing dizzily over him.

  He heard Hugo turn the scooter off and prop it up on the kickstand before climbing off himself. “We can’t stay long. It’s getting worse.”

  It was. The flakes were larger. The curl in his mind was stronger. His jaw ached. His hands were shaking. “Just a few minutes,” he whispered. Hugo joined him at the guardrail. “Why here? What’s this place to you?”

  “My father used to bring me up here,” Hugo said, face awash with dying sunlight. “When I was a kid. This was where we’d talk about all the important things.” He smiled ruefully. “This is where I got the sex talk. This is where I got grounded because I was failing algebra. This is where I told him I was queer. He told me if he’d known, the sex talk would have gone a hell of a lot different.”

  “Good man?”

  “Good man,” Hugo agreed. “The best, really. He made mistakes, but he always owned up to them. He would have liked you.” He paused. “Well, how you are now. He wasn’t fond of lawyers.”

  “No one is. We’re masochists that way.”

  As the sun set, they stood side by side, Hugo’s shadow stretching behind them.

  “When I’m gone,” Wallace said, “please don’t forget me. I don’t have many people who’ll remember me, at least not in a good way. I want you to be one of them.” His fingernails began to break apart.

  Hugo’s throat worked as he swallowed. “How could I ever forget you?”

  Wallace thought it would be very easy. “You promise?”

  “I promise.”

  The sunset was brilliant. He wished he’d taken more time to turn his face toward the sky. “Do you think we’ll see each other again?”

  “I hope so.”

  It was the best answer he could ask for. “But not for a long time. You’ve got work to do.” He blinked away the burn in his eyes. “And it will—”