Reviving Rafael

Chapter Eight

Vita’s first week at Kubo’s almost drained her energy. She was assigned to an old woman, who, thankfully, was kind and charming. They said she has dementia while other patients insisted she was just plain crazy.

She still helped Hannah in her small diner every Saturday, not wanting to be a pest who would plague her friend’s kindness.

“Here,” she said handing the capsules to the old woman.

“I forgot your name,” her hoarse voice said. “I’m Rosabella.”

It was the sixth time she introduced herself to Vita. She smiled kindly at her. “My name’s Vita.”

“A beautiful name!” she replied with enthusiasm. “What does it mean?”

“Life,” she answered and watched Rosabella take her medicine. “How about your name? Do you know what it means?”

“A beautiful rose,” she said proudly. “I remember my father used to tell me I’m his beautiful rose.”

“You are,” Vita said. “You’re beautiful.”

“You are too.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Where are your children, if you don’t mind me asking?” Vita settled to the chair beside her bed and brushed her hair gently.

“I don’t know if I have any children, dear,” she replied. The wrinkles around Rosabella’s eyes were visible and at an old age her beauty seemed not to fade, though. “I know I have a father and he’s calling me in. I think he wanted us to meet again.”

“Where is he?”

“In heaven.”

“Oh,” Vita composed herself. “Do you want to do something today?” she asked, stirring the conversation to a lighter mood.

“How about you read to me?” She requested, smile sweet and kind.

“Sure.” Vita replied with the same enthusiasm as Rosabella’s.

****

“I’ll kill you!”

Morte cocked his head on the side, flashing his smirk. “I’d love to see you try.”

Niko grabbed his arm but he didn’t budge, his posture looked bored yet every muscle prepared for an incoming battle, just in case.

Three boys threw a calculated glare at them before fleeing, some sort of fear hammered in their heads. Niko let out a heavy sigh as his classmates finally turned away, a bruise on his eyes started to get more visible than it was a few minutes ago.

Morte turned to him, his eyes penetrating the boy, as if the stare alone was hypnotizing enough. “Care to tell me what the fuck just happened?”

The boy stammered and avoided Morte’s eyes, shame swarmed at the top of his lungs. He was a junior in high school, lanky and gentle, making him the target of bullies.

“Let’s just go home.” he started to walk but Morte hauled his arm and tilted the boy to face him again.

“You don’t want me repeating my question, boy, so better answer now.” He had no idea how it happened, but a genuine care for Niko suddenly grew inside of him.

He found it funny how hate could easily build in a matter of first meetings and how fast it could melt by trying to look inside the goodness of one person. Humans were unpredictable, Morte had realized. They were the kind of creatures that could alter themselves, intelligent enough to think over things and somehow make it right the next time.