Last night, I was fairly sure I’d met a dead man. Unfortunately, it seemed he was very much alive. When I returned last night a couple of hours later than intended, as I expected, Francesca had already left and Davis was in his office.
While my thoughts did linger on that blonde-haired man I’d briefly spoken with, then not so briefly sat with, I quickly dismissed all curiosities about him. It would be a waste to lend another thought to the encounter since I had no intention of ever meeting him again unless I wanted to risk him remembering me.
The following morning had been quiet and uneventful so far, just as I preferred. I made my way down the hall with only one destination in mind. There was still unfinished business from the previous day I had to address sooner than later.
“Oh, so you’re still here.”
A familiar voice interrupted my thoughts. At the end of the hallway, Hendrik stood there and stared at me with disinterest. We hadn’t spoken or even crossed paths since our first meeting, but his distaste for me had not seemed to have wavered.
“Just as you are, Mister Franssen,” I responded plainly, eyeing him as he slowly stepped towards me, every step echoing against the hardwood floors.
“Try not to bother the other staff here. The last thing they need is another inconvenience,” he said, his tone just as cold as before. He strode past me, not even sparing another glance.
His pace made it seem as though he wasn't eager to stay for long. It was curious why the man seemed so vehemently against me and I did wonder what his reasoning was. Usually, it was easy enough to figure out why someone disliked me. But now, with only one person knowing about my past, it was less easy. But did I care enough to find out? Not particularly. Regardless of whatever it was, I was at least relieved he didn’t want to stick around for a chat. I would already have enough talking to do today.
I continued down the hall, stopping in front of a door as I reached the end. I knocked on it, hearing a faint ‘come in’ before twisting the handle and pushing it open. In the room, Davis sat by his desk immersed in some documents. He raised his head and his eyes met mine with a friendly smile.
“What a surprise, I didn’t expect you to come and visit,” he said as he put down the papers. “How has work been so far?”
“It has been fine. Alfred has been a good mentor.”
“That’s a relief to hear, especially since you’re finally calling him by his first name so maybe now he’ll stop complaining about that. But was there something you needed? I know you probably didn’t drop by just for a chat.”
“That’s right,” I said before pausing for a moment. I wasn’t entirely sure how to say what was on my mind without offending him. “Do you know how long it will be yet until I’m free to leave?”
His expression dropped slightly. “Are you still set on leaving once everything is sorted out?
“Yes, I see no reason for intruding here any longer than I have already,” I said, thinking it would be best to be straightforward with him. “And if repaying you for what you’ve given me so far is what you’re concerned about-”
“No, that isn’t it. I don’t need you to pay me back, that’s isn’t the point.”
I furrowed my brows at him. I’d assumed that if the man really had no ulterior motives, he’d at least want to receive compensation for the lodging and food he’d provided me so far.
“Then what is it?”
“I- Is it so wrong for you to say here? Do you not like working here?”
“No, I am content with the work I’ve been doing.”
“Then why do you want to leave so badly? I know I said you’re free to leave, but I thought you’d at least enjoy it here.”
“My enjoyment is irrelevant to this matter,” I pointed as my voice grew lower. “If someone were to find out what you did and who I am, I realise that it would not only compromise your safety, your business, but also the rest of the staff.”
In truth, I wasn’t overly attached to either the director or anyone else here. I’d be leaving them anyway. All I wanted after the war was to live a quiet life. One where I was neither an inconvenience nor a concern to anyone. I would just be someone who existed and could be forgotten. Maybe then the noise would finally disappear.
But, I wasn’t going to jeopardise their safety or livelihood with a legality issue in pursuit of that. I wasn’t interested in compromising another’s life. And as Davis hesitated in his response, it seemed he already knew that too.
“You were a soldier, you’re not anymore. And that won’t happen.”
“Director-”
“And what about you? Where would you go?” Davis asked, cutting me off. His voice raised with a sternness coursing through it that I hadn’t heard from him before. “If you left now, do you even know where you would go? Because you’re clearly not eager to return to Candeur.”
I gritted my teeth at the thought of that. He was right. While I had already considered the possibility of leaving to find alternative work and accommodations. Even if I couldn’t, I was fine with living on the streets if I had to, but Davis was unlikely to view this as preferable.
“I don’t know.”
He rubbed his temple at my response. “Then stay here a little longer until you do. At least until you figure out where you want to go.”
I let out a quiet sigh, but before I could say anything else, a loud cry pierced through the entire building. We both grew silent.
—
Davis and I didn’t resume our conversation. We left it unfinished as we both rushed towards the source of that sound: the embalming room. When we walked through the doors, I noticed that a small trolly had been knocked over, the tools once inside it now scattered across the floor.
Hendrik stood silently by the wall, watching as Francesca was kneeling on the ground beside an older woman. The woman’s eyes were puffy and red, weeping as Francesca tried to console her. It was a look I could describe as anguish.
But more noticeably, there was that familiar scent of decay also in the room. My eyes began to drift towards the embalming table in the centre of the room. A body was laid on it completely lifeless and unmoving. His hand peaked out from under the shroud that covered it, the skin discoloured and flesh already beginning to rot.
“That isn’t my son,” the woman through a strained voice, her fingers digging into Francesca’s skirt.
“Mrs Wright, I-”
“That isn’t my son!” she cried again even louder. “My son, my precious Anthony is still alive. I know he is.”
Tears fell down her cheeks. Her brown hair layered with grey strands grew more dishevelled with every outburst.
“You said the body was beyond recognisable, didn’t you? That they weren’t certain that this body was his. Look, I know my son, and that can’t be him.”
“Mrs Wright, you must understand that it’s highly likely that’s Mr Wright’s body since he was holding his name tag at the time of death.”
“No, I refuse!” she yelled stubbornly, her voice growing louder.
Her hands shook around the fabric of Francesca’s skirt as her head fell to her lap. Tears began to bleed into the fabric as the woman’s words became muffled. “He’s going to come back home to me… He promised… He promised…”
“Mrs Wright,” Davis said softly as he knelt next to the woman. He began to rub her back slowly, trying to calm her, “Let’s get you some tea.”
Davis and Francesca both helped the woman to her feet. She’d stopped speaking at that point, only trying to suppress the sobs that choked in her throat. When they both eventually walked her out of the room, I was left alone with Hendrik. His eyes were fixated on the three as they exited before shifting towards the mess on the ground.
“Help me clean this up,” he said. His usual coldness was gone, replaced with something quieter. I didn’t say anything, only kneeling to the floor to start picking up the scattered instruments on the floor
We didn’t say anything to each other, it didn’t feel like there was anything to say. I’d seen breakdowns similar in the past with soldiers after their allies had met a similar fate. I never truly understood why they would act so irrationally when conveying their anguish; death was always inevitable whether or not they lost their life in war. But I found that in those situations, it was best to remain silent.
I stood back up to place the equipment in my hands on the counter when I noticed that the man’s arm was still hanging out from underneath the shroud. I went to move the man’s arm back onto the table and to cover it again. But as I did, a sudden flash of white clouded my eyes. My vision was engulfed by a blur of vibrant colours and irregular shapes that gradually contorted into something more vivid.
“Mother!”
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