Hugo's face was so immobile it looked like he was wearing a mask.
He's always been there for me. When I'm whiny or sad, he always has a kind word and a hug for me--or a joke and a Special.
"I never liked her, anyway, sweet thing."
I propped my face up on a hand. "You always say that, Hugs."
"I'm always right, too. Listen to your mother, my petite poisson."
I've always loved Hugo's voice. I've always hated his pet names. Especially when they're in French.
"Poison?" I asked. "You're saying I was poison to the relationship?"
"Poisson, mon cher. Fish."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He looked taken aback, stunned by my Amazon fury.
"Huh? Oh, Frannie, I wasn't talking about THAT!" He blushed and started an infectious belly laugh that made me think he'd be the perfect Santa Claus.
If Santa was a queer, excessively opinionated know-it-all bookworm.
I waited off to the side while he talked to the police. When the cops stopped writing and closed their notebooks, he motioned to me to come over.
Given his general personality, I would have assumed that when disaster struck, he'd be a weepy baby. Just the opposite.
I put my arms around him, but he felt different. Harder, colder somehow. I hadn't been around when Charley died, Hugo and I had only known each other for a year or so, right after he joined AA. I'd never seen him in any kind of vulnerable state.
Until now. And I didn't really like what I saw.
It was almost as if every drop of kindness had solidified and formed a wall around him. While I didn't like to see him this way, I knew that, for the moment, the best thing I could do was be the same way.
He wasn't going to cry and neither was I.
