The Grief Team by David Collins

smallest digit into the handle. The only time she had attempted to employ such an exquisite item, Elias had pontificated that it, however fine, could hold no more than a swallow of tea and was therefore useless in its primary function. He had proceeded to explore the problem further; such objects were demeaning in their pathetic uselessness and were also sexual, in that there was the ritualistic pointing-of-the-extended-little-finger and everyone knew what the hell that meant!
    Mary had bristled of course and recited a long list of names which included Limosges, Derby, Spode, Royal Doulton and a dozen other manufacturers who no longer existed but whose wares fell under the umbrella of Mary’s domain. She toiled, for her pains, as the Supervisor of Domestic Supplies (Dry) at Yorkdown Mall where, amid the organization of basic necessities, fine bone china was an example of  human ingenuity which Mary alone seemed to appreciate. The fact that Elias was hugely indifferent to her sensitivities in this matter was a source of moderate discomfort but which, in the end, did nothing to change Mary’s feelings for him.
    Elias swallowed several quick gulps of tea from his oversized mug and presented it for a refill. Aware of just how hot it was, Mary marvelled at Elias’ ability to ignore that fact altogether. She poured once again.
    “I would like a cat, Elias,” said Mary, as she set the teapot on its trivet and popped a little quilted cottage teacosy on top. “A ginger cat with white paws.  Or a little grey tabby cat.”
    “Cats don’t exist. You might as well ask for a dog or a lemur.”
    “I know that.  All the same, I would like a cat. I am expressing a wish on my part to have a cat.”
    “Wish all you like, Mary, but wishes can’t always come true. Cats were demented animals born with dual purpose and intent, in that they were both good and evil.”
    “Hardly,” smiled Mary, “a cat is a cat is a cat, not some sort of feline demigod of polarized persuasions. In any event, you did not take note of the fact that I was merely stating my desire to have a cat without necessarily committing myself to the act of going out to look for one.”
    “They’re all dead anyway,” said Elias abruptly. Then, softening, added, “Do you not really want one then, Mary?”
    “I would like one but I do not want one.”
    “I see.”  Elias finished his second mug of tea, one drawn in more slowly this time allowing as the first was solely to prime the pump. Elias expunged a long sigh. Accepting a third pouring, he leaned back into the groaning couch as far as he dared and settled himself. Mary recognized this as a necessary preliminary to Elias’ unburdening of his troubles and, establishing herself adjacent to him without actually entering his physical space, Mary prepared herself to listen.
    In the interim, a silence ensued, punctuated only by the odd sigh or clearing of the throat by a thoughtful Elias. Some seven or eight minutes later, he spoke. “Mary, what would you say if I told you that something over which we have no control is happening to us?”
    Mary straightened her dress. After all this time, Elias was finally getting around to proposing. It was so unexpected, it was…
    “Elias, I…”
    “…I had a dream last night, Mary. One I’ve had before, where I’m out fishing on the Digdeguash River in New Brunswick, catching rainbow trout. But this time, while I’m sitting in the boat, a boy…a Wildkid…he’s suddenly sitting right beside me, just as plain as anything. Dark hair, dirty, skinny, and coughing a lot, like he was sick. Maybe a virus but it didn’t seem like it.”
    Mary felt the corners of her mouth wobbling, always the sign that she was having difficulty getting her emotions under control. In the space of a few seconds the topic at hand had moved from marriage to mirage.  “I…I see,” she said finally, masking disappointment with a brusque tone of voice that Elias failed to notice. “And