I blinked away the tears as Uncle Darin passed by what used to be the New Commonwealth Stadium, currently Kroger Field—the place where the Kentucky Wildcats played football. Despite my attempt at anonymity, Dad attended many of the UK home football games while I worked with the team. He didn’t do so with fanfare—most likely the reason Daphne rarely accompanied him. No, I later learned that Dad purchased season tickets in the stands. Blending in with the other parents, he quietly watched me on the sidelines.
“Vee,” Uncle Darin asked, “are you sure you can do this?”
This.
The question and the slowing of the vehicle brought me back to the present as I eyed the building before us. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but a worn-down, one-story brick building painted gray with two flags and a large sign was not it. I turned to Uncle Darin. “Are you sure this is where they brought him?”
Uncle Darin pulled his car up to the building and shut off the engine. “This is it.” His tone was somber. “It’s all right if you’ve changed your mind.”
A single tear slid down his cheek that he didn’t try to hide.
“Neither one of us wants to be here,” I said. “I can’t believe he’s really gone.”
“But you can see him after they do whatever they do. This could traumatize?—”
“There wasn’t anything Dad wouldn’t do for me. I’m going to do this for him.” Instead of waiting for a reply, I turned and opened the passenger side door. The overcast mid-October sky was various shades of gray. The clouds seemed to amplify our somber moods. An autumn breeze rustled the orange and yellow leaves in the nearby trees. Grabbing ahold of the black railing, I climbed the steps to the glass door.
The three steps felt as if I were climbing Mount Everest. Each step was more difficult than the last. As I reached for the door handle, the dizzying sense of oxygen deprivation took over, and black spots danced before my eyes. Filling my lungs became paramount.
After I gulped a few deep breaths, Uncle Darin materialized at my side. He too had made it to the summit. Together, we entered the plain front office. Nothing registered. There was nothing special about the interior.
Uncle Darin spoke to the woman behind the counter. “Darin Marsh and Maeve Hubbard. We were told by Detective Pelt of the state police that my brother-in-law and Vee’s father, Reid Hubbard, was brought here earlier today.”
“Yes, Mr. Marsh.” She nodded toward me. “Ms. Hubbard. My name is Angela and I’m sorry for your loss.” She stood and gestured to the end of the counter. “Please come with me.”
My shoes remained glued to the cracked old flooring as my heart rate accelerated and my hands began to shake. “Are you…taking us…to him?”
“First,” Angela said, “I’ll take you to a private room. Robert Gordon is the crisis counselor on staff today. He’ll be in shortly and explain everything to you.”
Uncle Darin laid his hand in the small of my back. “Will you make it, Vee?”
I nodded, ungluing my shoes from the tile as the tears that could no longer be restrained streamed down my cheeks.
The room where we were led was nondescript, small, and sterile. We stepped inside. Taking a step away from my uncle’s touch, I wrapped my arms around my midsection and looked around. A worn leather sofa sat against one wall opposite a table with three chairs. It was the kind of table with collapsible leaves. One was open, making the table an incomplete circle. When Angela closed the door, leaving Uncle Darin and I alone, I noticed two boxes of tissues. However, it was as if nothing truly registered.
The sofa was black.
A plastic plant sat on the windowsill.
The flowers in the vase on the table were silk.
“Vee, why don’t you sit?” Uncle Darin asked.
“Have you” —I lowered my arms— “ever done this before?”
He took a seat at the table. “No.”
I took the seat opposite my uncle.
Time moved in uneven increments.
We waited.
A strange concoction of sorrow, dread, and anticipation brewed within me, unlike anything I’d ever known. I wanted to go back in time, as I’d told Fin. While at the same time, I wanted to jump ahead, to have this in the past, not the present.
Looking around, I searched for a ticking clock. If this were a movie or television show, there would be a clock ticking. The only wall décor was an enlarged photograph with dark matting in a silver frame, hanging over the sofa. The picture was a close-up of leaves covered with water droplets. Beneath one leaf wrapped in what appeared to be a silk web was a white cocoon.
What an odd picture.
