Montage May 2017 | Page 12

Clairetza Felix “Take a deep breath,” Sorchalena thought to herself as she slowly walked into the aged, dimly lit hospital room. It was nine o’clock and the windows mirrored black shadows. As her eyes peered the floor, she noticed how shiny it was, and suddenly pinched her nose as the scent of rubbing alcohol encircled her. The room was rectangular shaped, with beige walls and white blinds. Beep. Beep. Beep. The sound of the heart monitor machine led her eyes to veer upwards, where she saw her aunt Niama lying on a narrow, metal bed. Niama’s curly black hair was splayed across the white pillow that supported her fragile head. She was neatly tucked in beneath a thin white linen sheet. This would be the final night that they would share together. Sorchalena forced her heavy feet to transport her to this woman that she wholeheartedly loved. Sorchalena extended her right hand to cling to Niama’s wrinkled, bronze-skinned hand. “I thought you wouldn’t make it in time,” her aunt whispered. A stinging sensation irritated Sorchalena’s eyes and she realized her vision was becoming blurry. Endless tears began to flow as if each one encapsulated a memory that she shared with her heroic aunt. “How did this happen, auntie Niama,” she murmured as her shoulders trembled and her heart