“I really don’t know if I can do this.”
I almost wanted to tell this man that he had little choice regardless since I was the one pushing him in his wheelchair down the street. It was not as if he could escape, but I thought it best to refrain.
“It will be fine, Mister Collins.”
I was lying. I had no idea how it would turn out.
But it was too late for reconsideration as we stopped in front of a quaint townhouse in a quiet neighbourhood. I wheeled him towards the front door, stopping him just in front of it. I waited for him to knock, but he had a hesitant look on his face.
“Is something wrong?”
“Everything, honestly,” he admitted before letting out a heavy sigh. “But, as you said, I’ll be fine.”
Mister Collins raised his fist, hovering a few inches from the door before finally knocking on it. There was an almost fearful anticipation in his eyes, filled with a panicked dread before the door finally opened.
“Harry?” Mrs Wright said, staring at him with disbelief. “I haven’t seen you in so long. How have you been? I was so worried when I heard you lost your leg-”
“I’ve been fine,” he said, quickly cutting her off. His hand tightened around the arm of his wheelchair. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit earlier."
“No, don’t be at all. If anything, I should be sorry that I didn’t come to visit either,” she said with the same tender concern in her eyes that I’d seen from that memory. Her eyes briefly flickered toward me before shifting back to him. “You two must be cold out here, so please, come in.”
“No, we shouldn’t-”
“Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs Wright,” I said, cutting him off as I began to push his wheelchair forward. I wasn’t going to let him avoid her that easily.
His hands gripped around the arms of his wheelchair, his knuckles growing white. Mrs Wright led us both into the living room and sat on an armchair. I parked Mister Collin’s wheelchair just a few feet opposite her, turning on the wheel break with my foot.
There was a tense silence in the room. Mrs Wright’s eyes occasionally flickered towards me as I stared blankly at the two of them. She seemed just as unwilling as him to be the first to speak. But then, a loud screech invaded the room from the kitchen, cutting through that quietness and breaking that silence for them.
Mrs Wright turned towards the source of that sound before moving to stand. “That must be the kettle. I’ll go make us tea-"
“Do not bother, Mrs Wright. I will deal with it,” I said, already moving towards the kitchen before she could say anything else.
When I entered the kitchen, steam was rushing the kettle sitting on the stove. I walked over to it and turned off the gas, causing the noise to gradually quiet down. I then searched through the cabinets, opening each one before finding one filled with mugs and other tableware inside. I grabbed two of the mugs, placing them on the counter before reaching for the kettle. I didn’t think to reach for the tea leaves. I didn’t know how to make tea.
I’d only used it as an excuse. I figured it’d be best for them to deal with this issue without me being in the same room. And as I poured the boiling water, I started to hear their voices from the living area as Mister Collins finally spoke.
“I’m sorry again that I visited earlier.”
“No, like I said, don’t be. But was there something you wanted to talk about?”
There were few seconds of silence as he let out a sigh. “Yes, there is.”
I sat the kettle back down on the stove before I moved towards the open doorway between the living room and kitchen. I was able to see the two from the point that I stood but was still hidden enough behind the wall to not easily be seen.
Mrs Wright had grown quiet, her eyes following Mister Collin’s hand as he reached into his coat pocket. He pulled out the ring and brought it to his lap. Her eyes widened as she realised what it was.
“Is that…”
“Anthony wanted me to return this to you.”
“A-Anthony… Did he?” she stumbled on her words, hesitant to say her thoughts out loud.
Mister Collins nodded, his eyes lowering his feet. “I’m sorry that I didn’t return this to you until now and that I couldn’t protect him either.”
Mrs Wright grew silent as she only listened to his words. Her face was completely blank and unmoving, but her eyes betrayed the sorrow hidden in her.
“You always treated me the same as him, like I was also your son.” His words were becoming choked in his throat as his eyes grew wet. His hands had fallen to his lap, clenching around that ring, refusing to let it go. Mrs Wright watched as he began to slowly bring his fist onto his remaining leg, hitting it over and over again, grinding his teeth to suppress his tears. “And after everything you did for me, I still couldn’t bring him back to you. It’s my fault he couldn’t keep his promise to you.”
“Harry, it’s not your fault. Anthony would’ve never blamed you for this,” Mrs Wright said, trying to soothe him as she fought through the shakiness in her voice. “And I don’t either.”
Harry’s eyes widened, his breath growing more unsteady as he finally raised his head and met her eyes.
“I miss my son, and I wish he was still here. But it’s no one’s fault he was taken away from us. Not the soldier who took his life and not yours,” she said as the tears escaped down her cheek. But she managed to smile for his sake.
She took in a deep breath, her breathing shaky, as she placed her hand on top of his.
“Thank you for bringing this back to me,” she said, squeezing his hand softly as more tears fell to her face. “And thank you for coming back alive.”
I finally turned away from them, pressing my back against the wall. I couldn’t intrude on them. I couldn’t just leave without causing an interruption. So I just lowered my head and stared down at my shoes as I remained hidden. Only the sounds of weeping reached my ears. For a while, they didn’t speak, only echoing the same sorrow in their sobs for a single man’s life that they both missed.
And I realised then that grief, as intangible as it was, was something that could still somehow be shared.
—
Mrs Wright later came into the funeral home to discuss arrangements for her son’s funeral. She remained downcast, but something about her had changed. She no longer refused the reality of his death. A few days after that, a funeral was held at a nearby church. Mister Davis was required to attend to make sure everything went accordingly. He asked me to accompany him and I agreed.
It was a small event with only a handful of people attending. But in the crowd, I recognised a few faces from Anthony’s memories. Some were childhood friends, and extended family, but most importantly, Mrs Wright and Harry Collins were there. Mister Collins and his wife sat next to Mrs Wright during the funeral.
The two mourned, but they didn’t cry. I would’ve been surprised if they had any tears left. I stood next to Davis near the entrance of the church and out of the way of any guests, listening through eulogies and words given by the priest.
Davis wore a fully black suit, while I wore a black dress Francesca had lent me. It was the first funeral I’d ever attended, and it only lasted half an hour. After the formal part of the ceremony concluded, the guest finally stood from their seats and began to talk amongst each other.
“I’m going to step outside for a moment,” Mr Davis whispered to me. I nodded and he smiled before opening the entrance door and exiting quietly, leaving it only slightly open behind him.
A few minutes passed as I continued to stand, not really doing anything as I observed the guests talking among each other, presumably about the deceased. I was told to keep an eye on them in case they needed anything, But then, I realised that Mrs Wright’s eyes were on me. Before I knew it, she was already making her way towards me.
“Excuse me, you work for the Davis Funeral Home, don’t you?” she asked, stopping in front of me.
“Yes, I do,” I confirmed, unsure of what exactly she wanted from me.
“I heard from Harry about what you did, including a few harsh words you gave him.”
I flinched. I didn’t expect the man to have shared what occurred during our conversation that day. I thought what I said was necessary at the time and I didn’t regret it. However, I started to reconsider if it went beyond the boundaries of what was socially acceptable.
“I apologise if I was out of line with my actions.”
“No, don’t be. I think we both needed a voice of reason,” she said with a sigh before placing her hand on my arm and squeezing it softly. “I’d just like to thank you for that.”
“There’s no need for you to thank me,” I told her, my eyes narrowing at her words but she just smiled.
“You’re wrong. I do need to, and you should know when to accept someone’s gratitude.”
Without saying another word, she left. I watched as she walked back towards Mister Collins who was speaking with his wife. He glanced over to me, our eyes meeting for a moment before he gave a small nod, a thankful look in his eyes.
I nodded back.
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