“I really don’t know if I can do this.”

I almost wanted to tell him that he didn't have much of a choice considering I was the one pushing him in his wheelchair down the street. It wasn't as if he could escape. But, I thought it best to refrain from saying that aloud.

“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 arrived in front of a quaint townhouse in some quiet neighbourhood. I wheeled him up to the front door and waited for him to knock. But after a few seconds of him doing nothing, I glanced down and saw his hesitant expression.

“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 a few inches in front of the door, hovering it there for a moment before finally knocking against it. There was an almost fearful anticipation in his eyes, like a harrowing kind of dread before the door finally opened.

“Harry?” Mrs Wright said, standing in the doorway as she stared at him with widened eyes. "How have you been? It's been so long since I've seen you, and I was so worried when I heard you lost your leg—"

“I’ve been fine,” he said, quickly cutting her off as his hand tightened around the arm of his wheelchair. "I apologise for not visiting earlier."

“No, don’t be at all. If anything, I should be sorry that I didn’t come to visit earlier.” There was a tender concern in her eyes, the same one I'd seen in that vision. She flickered her eyes towards me, knitting her brows for a moment 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 quickly cut him off and pushed his wheelchair, causing him to lurch forward slightly. I wasn't going to let him avoid her that easily.

His fingers tightened again, gripping harder onto his armrest to the point his knuckles grew white. Mrs Wright led us into the living room before taking a seat on an armchair. I parked Mister Collin’s wheelchair just a foot or two opposite her, pressing down on the brakes with my foot.

I thought they would spring into conversation, but there was only a tense silence in the room. Mrs Wright occasionally glanced at me, but I only stared blankly at the both of them. She seemed just as unwilling as him to be the first to speak.

Instead, it was a loud screech that made the first noise, invading the room kitchen and breaking that silence for them.

Mrs Wright snapped her head towards the source of that sound before quickly standing up. "That must be the kettle. I’ll go make us tea—"

“Do not bother. I will deal with it.”

I was already halfway across the living room before she could even say another word. When I did enter the kitchen, steam was gushing out of the kettle's spout as it sat on the stove. I walked over to it and turned off the gas which caused the noise to finally quiet down.

I then skimmed through the cabinets, opening several before finding one filled with all sorts of tableware. I grabbed two mugs, placed them on the counters and grabbed for the kettle. I didn't think to reach for the tea leaves since I didn't know how to make tea.

I’d only used it as an excuse since I figured it'd be best for them to deal with this issue without me 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 didn't visit earlier.”

“No, like I said before, don’t be. But tell me, was there something you wanted to talk about?”

There were a few seconds of silence before he let out a sigh. “Yes, there was.”

I set the kettle back on the stove and moved towards the open doorway between the living room and kitchen. I was able to catch a glimpse of those two from where I stood, yet remained hidden enough behind the wall so as to not easily be seen.

Mrs Wright had grown quiet, her eyes following Mister Collin’s hand as he reached into his coat pocket. When he pulled out the ring, her eyes widened as she realised what it was.

“Is that…”

“Anthony wanted me to return this to you.”

“A-Anthony? Did he...” she stuttered over her words, hesitating to say her thoughts out loud.

But Mister Collins nodded, his gaze lowering to his feet. "I'm sorry that I didn't return this to you until now., and I'm also sorry I couldn't protect him either.

She was quiet as she listened to his words. Her face remained completely unreadable and unmoving, but her eyes betrayed the sorrow slowly welling up inside her.

“You always treated me the same as him, almost like I was also your son." His words were becoming choked in his throat and his eyes grew wet. His hands had fallen to his lap, clenching around that ring and refusing to let it go. Mrs Wright could do nothing but watch as he slowly brought his fist onto his remaining leg, hitting it over and over again like a self-inflicted punishment. “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.”

“Harry, it’s not your fault. Anthony would’ve never blamed you for this,” Mrs Wright said, fighting through the shakiness in her voice as she tried to soothe him. "And I don't either."

I could see Harry's eyes widen. His pupil was contracted to the point it barely appeared as a speck as before finally raised his head and met her eyes.

“I miss my son, and every day I wish he was still here. But it's no one's fault he was taken away from us. Not the soldier who shot him and certainly not yours."

Her tears escaped down her cheek and rolled past the smile she gave him. She took a deep breath, her breathing still shaky, as she placed her hands on his. "Thank you for bringing this back to me, and thank you for coming back alive."

It was at that point I decided to turn away from them and press my back against the wall. I couldn't intrude on them, but I couldn't leave either without causing an interruption. So, I lowered my head and stared down at my shoes as I remained hidden.

Only the sounds of weeping reached my ears, and for a while, they didn't speak. They only echoed the same sorrow in their sobs for a single man's life they both missed.

And it was then I realised that grief, for as intangible as it was, 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, and a few days after that, a funeral was held at a local church. Mister Davis was required to attend to ensure everything went accordingly. When he asked me to accompany him, 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, others extended family, but most importantly, Mrs Wright and Harry Collins were there.

Mister Collins and his wife sat beside 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 had 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 guests finally stood from their seats and began conversing with each other.

“I’m going to step outside for a moment,” Mr Davis whispered to me. I nodded and he smiled before exiting quietly through the front doors, leaving them only slightly open behind him.

A few minutes passed as I continued to stand there, not really doing anything and just observing the guests. I was told to keep an eye on them in case they needed anything, but it was then I noticed that Mrs Wright's eyes were fixed on me. Before I knew it, she was walking across the room towards me.

“Pardon me, but 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.

“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 heavy sigh. She placed her hand on my arm before squeezing it softly. “I just wanted to thank you for that."

Oh.

I expected some kind of scolding or perhaps even disciplinary action, but there was none.

“There’s no need for you to thank me,” I told her, narrowing my eyes 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 with a thankful look.

I nodded back.