The Last Meeting

by Richard Kimball

Margo stared at the pictures in front of her. The last few days had been frustrating. Her life had suddenly been turned upside down. Emotionally draining - yet still painful - encounters from coworkers and friends, unexpected outbursts of crying and emotional upheaval, had all now been synthesized into this one moment of decision.

The somber man behind the desk politely proffered a box of tissues. She pulled one, paused, and then pulled another. The first one she used to primly dab at her nose while the other was balled into her left hand as backup, just in case.

“It’s so hard” she whispered.

“Yes.”

Her mind whirled and reeled out of control, trying desperately to avoid the decision that she faced, but at the same time part of it wondered how such a monosyllabic response could be polite yet still convey a sense of empathy and understanding. Was it the slight lingering over the vowel, or the inflection that dropped at the end just before the sibilant? While she tried to will off the approaching panic attack, her surroundings closed in; the background humming of HVAC was very noticeable, getting louder now that she was aware of it. She was hearing her own heartbeats in her ears.

Taking deep, gasping breaths that verged on sobs she tried to bring herself back to the moment. Finally she was able to pull herself together enough to raise her head and look into his eyes.

“I always knew that somehow, someday this would happen,” she blubbered, “but I just never thought it would come so soon. I just wish I could have been there…”

She put the backup tissue to work.

“Of course,” in the same vaguely warm, yet polite, tone. Reaching out she touched one of the photos.

“I always liked this one.”

She paused with her Jungle Red manicured index finger hovering over the glossy paper, as she relived that day when the picture was snapped.

“But these others are so important as well."

“If you would prefer, we could make a choice…”

“NO!” She blurted out and then flinched at the sharpness of her response. Consciously softening her tone, she continued.

“It is my responsibility. Just give me a moment.”

Wringing the back up tissue with both hands she tried to steel herself to the finality of the choice that she knew was upon her. After a few silent moments, she took a deep breath.

“That one” she said indicating her favorite.

“Yes, of course. I do think that is everything. Now if you will just sign here?”

Eager now to be finished, Margo scrawled her name.

“Thank you for making an exception in this case. He was always there for me, and now I can be here for him.” Fresh tears dampened the wad in her fist. After one last affectionate pat on the photo, Margo stood and shook hands with the man, then turned away and quietly left the building. As she drove off her tears were mixed with a smile. She was happy to put the Catnip Corners Pet Cemetery behind her and very glad that Spike, her pet alligator, would have a fitting photo-embossed marker.