The Last Messenger

Chapter 13 - To ultimately replace the memories

"Thank you, Maya." Katiara wrapped her finger around the handle of the tea cup which was plated on a silver tray. The 40-year-old nurse smiled at Katiara as she picked the empty tray from Katiara's lap and pressed it against her hip.

"Is there anything else you need, ma'am?"

Katiara sighed and chuckled, "Maybe a miracle."

Nurse Maya gave her a sympathetic look. "I assure you; we're trying all that we can with these treatments. But you know that if these treatments don't work, you only have a few more months to live. When are you planning to tell your granddaughter? She'll need to be here with you."

"I know, but I don't want Eleta to lose all hope in God just because it wasn't His plan for me to continue." Katiara's eyes glistened staring at the striped wall standing in front of her hospital bed.

"But wouldn't she lose her faith in God if she finds you gone from her life with no warning?" Maya pressed her hand against the cold fingertips of the elderly woman. "I know this is hard for you, but I do believe she needs to know. As a friend, I'm asking you to please let her know soon."

Katiara watched the tea in her left-hand quiver forming small ripples that hit against the sides of the tea cup. She really didn't want to tell Eleta, especially since the loss of her parents. Eleta wouldn't have a family member to support her. On top of that, there was now Caiaphas to worry about. She won't be able to protect her much longer. She glanced up at Maya. "I guess you're right. I will call her then and let her know." Maya slipped her hand away and patted the Katiara's shoulder before heading towards the door. "Let me know if you need anything else then. I'll be right outside."

Katiara nodded as she watched the nurse leave her room and close the door behind her. She glanced at the clock mounted on the wall in front of her. Eleta is probably eating her lunch right now Katiara thought as she raised her hand to sip the small white cup in her hand. I probably shouldn't bother her just yet. She used her right hand to reach for the album sitting on the side desk near her bed and sat it on her lap. The worn leather bind had strings wrapped around the book which Katiara pulled off as she flipped the cover over to reveal the first few images.

A little girl sat in the arms of a younger Katiara in an old apartment couch. The side of the photo printed a 50-year-old time stamp and a silver handwritten note that read, "I love you, Mom." Katiara traced the name, Aviya, with her pale finger. The child's emerald green eyes were bright and resembled Eleta's green pair. Katiara sighed as she recalled the moment, she gave birth to her daughter and decided on naming her Aviya which was Hebrew for "God is my father".

Katiara's memory wandered to their old backyard designed with a wooden playground set surrounded by wooden chips that felt prickly against their bare feet. Of course, this bothered Katiara every time the little girl refused to wear her shoes and would rather walk on the chips with her little white feet. But Aviya's nature was what awed Katiara the most. She had a great imaginative mind. She always thought of ways to entertain herself on that playground from making it into a pirate ship and then replacing it into a castle. But the one thing Aviya loved the most was the squeek sound from the swing every time Aviya would press herself against the little paddle board underneath her and grip on the chains. She let her feet rock back and forth swinging higher and higher. Her boldness to swing high was eminent and she didn't bother to care how far she was from the ground.

Flipping through a few more pages, an old family photo surfaced up. Katiara squinted her eyes to get a clearer view of their faces. Her husband stood tall on the right with his hand resting on the small shoulder of Katiara. Her eyes were young and full of youth and her husband still had a heavy set of hair. Katiara chuckled at the sight of her and her husband standing there looking so different from what she could remember. Along the left of the picture, stood the rest of their family and old friends. But one man stood out most of all. His eyes were uncanny, but his looks made women swoon over him. His shoulders were broad with ink trailing down his shoulder.

His lips were curled in and his arms reached out to surround the shoulders of her grandfather who looked well and strong even at the age of 85. But that small and simple gesture of that arm around her grandfather's neck reminded her too much of his death.

Her heart felt heavy with sorrow and anger at the sight of that man in her family picture. To think that after all these years, things would come to how it was today, she thought. While deep in her thoughts, a knock from the door echoed in her room. "Come in," Katiara called out as she sipped the remaining drops of herbal tea into her delicate mouth. Maya opened the door holding a silver tray of steamed vegetables and chicken soup.

"I hope you're ready for dinner, Katiara. They've got your favorite Yemenite soup with chicken!" Maya called out as she made her way to Katiara's bedside. Katiara's eyes lit up pushing her album to the side of her legs. Picking up Katiara's tea cup, Maya placed it on her night stand before setting the tray on her bed sheets covering her fragile legs.

"Oh, have you been looking at old pictures of your family?" Maya grinned glancing over at the album of pictures near Katiara. Katiara smiled and nodded as she picked up her spoon and pressed it against her chicken soup. The smell was mesmerizing and Katiara can already feel her mouth water with delight.

Maya observed the album and pointed to the mysterious figure next to Katiara's grandfather. "Who is that? He's quite good looking." Katiara didn't bother to look or say anything. She didn't want to utter the name of that man. That man who was responsible for her grandfather's death and possibly the death of her only daughter. Katiara felt the tips of her fingers heat up as her emotions wavered uncontrollably. Sipping in a spoonful of spices, she let the soup's flavor take over the anguish and grief building up inside of her and to ultimately replace the memories of someone who once was considered family.