Lieutenant JG Yogan Yalu — Memories raw and ragged
jkpbem
Zhian’tara I
(( OOC: This is the beginning of a story arc in which Yogan Yalu returns home to perform zhian’tara, a Trill ritual ceremony. I would like to say a quick thanks to Elliot (Genkos Adea), Marie (Meidra Sirin), Matt (Addison MacKenzie), and Mikey (Etan Iljor) for volunteering to write some of the later scenes with me. ))
(( Verso family home, Grodor Regional Municipality, Trill — Friday afternoon ))
As Yogan walked up the path from the town centre, he felt a mixture of nostalgia and apprehension. The last time he’d stepped foot in the family home was six years ago, just after he’d been Joined. At the time, he was still unsure of himself, and still unaccustomed to the memories and emotions in his head. Things were very different now, and the passage of time was reflected in what Yogan saw as he neared the property. The flower beds that lined the building were overgrown with weeds, and the plantings were leggy and sad. The walls showed cracked paint and chipped stone, worn down from years without maintenance. The gravel path had weathered away, exposing dirt and craggy clay underneath.
When he came home the last time, he hadn’t got twenty metres up from the main road before his father and mother rushed out to greet him with hard slaps on the back and too-long hugs. Today, he took the long uphill walk alone, toward a house that looked as if no one had lived there for years. When he reached the front door, he considered just letting himself in, but changed his mind and instead rang the chime to announce his arrival. A few moments later, the doors opened to reveal his younger sister Kejana, looking frazzled and short on both energy and patience.
K. Verso: ::with a tired smile:: Well, look who it is. I wasn’t expecting to see you for a few more days.
Yalu: Our runabout arrived ahead of schedule, so I had some free time. Can I come in?
Kejana stepped back from the doors and waved Yogan in.
K. Verso: Of course. Place is a mess, though. We don’t really get visitors anymore.
Yogan looked around at the husk of his once-beautiful family home, and felt like a stranger in the very place where he grew up. Most of the furniture had been cleared away, and what remained was covered over with dust cloths. Boxes of household items were stacked in each corner, as if someone were in the midst of moving out. The wall of family holo-photos remained, snapshots of various moments in Yogan’s younger years immortalized in their gaudy frames. Him as an eight-year-old precariously holding a newborn Kejana. Their first day of school after moving back to Trill. A teenaged Yogan smiling with his initial pilot’s certificate. The focus of the next several days would be the memories of his past hosts, but Yogan felt the weight of his own memories just as acutely.
Kejana beckoned her brother to follow her into the dining room, where the familiar farmhouse table was bathed in light from the skylights above. All but two of its chairs had been removed. Yogan sat down and Kejana stepped into the kitchen, returning a few moments later with a tea service.
Yalu: Thanks. ::taking a cup from the tray and adding a scoop of tea leaves:: It was nice of you to do this.
K. Verso: Like I said, we don’t get many visitors. It’s nice to have something to look forward to. ::wry grin:: Even if it is just you.
Yogan chuckled. Despite the nearly eight-year age difference between them, Yogan and Kejana had always been closer to each other than either had been to their brother Nedal. The two inherited from their father a sense of humor that he seemed to lack, and where their innate optimism and laughter had made it easy to bond, Nedal was so serious about everything that it was difficult to connect with him. Just like their mother.
Yalu: How is she doing?
K. Verso: Who?
Yalu: ::smirking:: You know who.
K. Verso: ::shrugging:: She has good days and bad days. Today seems to be a good day.
Yalu: I know you said she wasn’t up to participating in my zhian’tara, but I was hoping she might still be able to come to Leran Manev with us. Just to be there.
Kejana bit her lip, a family trait that Yogan often did when he was deep in concentration, or when he was trying to figure out the best way to break news gently.
K. Verso: I wouldn’t get your hopes up. We went to the doctor yesterday. Mother is not really responding to the treatments anymore.
Yogan poured steaming water from the kettle into his cup as he let this news sink in. It wasn’t wholly unexpected—according to the updates he’d received from Kejana, the experimental therapy was never intended to cure their mother, only to delay her inevitable decline. Even so, as each successive treatment became less and less effective, Yogan felt as though he had to reconcile the loss over and over again.
Yalu: So what happens next?
K. Verso: Nothing really. We’ll keep doing the same things we’ve done for the last two years.
Yogan waited for Kejana to explain further, but she just met his gaze with a wry smile and an awkward silence.
K. Verso: Keep her comfortable, keep her as active as possible, and keep her out of trouble. Of course, you’d have to have been here to know what I’m talking about.
Kejana’s verbal barbs always came with a mixture of acerbic wit and affection, but sometimes the proportions favoured one over the other. Yogan winced at the remark, as if his sister’s words had physically stung him, but Kejana dismissed the tension with a flick of her wrist.
K. Verso: I was joking, Yogan. I like giving you a hard time because I know you can take it. Not like Neddo. ::pouring herself a cup of tea:: At least you made the effort to come all the way back home. Neddo and I live on the same planet and I haven’t spoken to him in almost a year.
Yogan looked down at his cup of tea. The leaves had turned the water a dark shade of blue and tendrils of steam wisped their way upward from the surface of the beverage. Since it was still too hot to drink, he was content to simply warm his cold hands against the smooth surface of the cup.
Yalu: Well, you’re going to see him in a couple days. The Guardian assigned to me, Rohjess Beem, just happens to Neddo’s supervisor as well. He will be there for the entire ritual.
Kejana leaned forward keenly, as if she’d just heard a juicy piece of gossip.
K. Verso: Wow. That’s going to make things interesting. Which one am I again?
Yalu: Keroga, my fourth host.
K. Verso: She was the actor, right?
Yalu: ::nodding:: That’s right.
When Yogan asked Kejana to take part in the ritual, she immediately agreed. No conditions. No questions. Her willingness to be there for Yogan only stirred up the smoldering feelings of guilt he’d harboured for not doing the same for her, or for any of his immediate family.
Yalu: Kej’, I want you to know something about her. So you can prepare for the experience.
Yogan hesitated. Keroga died 113 years ago, but her memories were still as raw and ragged as if her tragic story had ended yesterday.
Yalu: Keroga was about your age when she died. She-- ::beat:: She took her own life.
Kejana’s eyes widened with surprise and for just a moment, Yogan saw her not as a grown woman, the de facto head of their family, but as the little girl who used to run after her big brothers as they went out into the fields to play, insisting he was indeed big enough to join in.
K. Verso: That’s… unexpected. I’ve never heard of anything like that happening to a Joined Trill. Doesn’t it, y’know, go against everything you’re taught?
Yalu: ::nods:: When the Guardian transfers the memories to you, Keroga’s personality will assert itself, but you’ll be fully aware of everything that goes on. ::beat:: I just want you to know that it may not be the most pleasant experience.
Kejana responded with her trademark wry smile.
K. Verso: Well thank you, brother, for the honour of such a difficult time. Why me? Surely you could get one of your Starfleet chums to do the hard work, and give me a fun one.
Yalu: All jokes aside, Kejana, you’re a lot stronger than you think you are.
That statement hung in the air while Yogan and Kejana sipped their tea. After a few moments, the sound of movement in the corridor broke the silence, and Yogan’s mother emerged in the great room, shakily shuffling across the uneven wood floor. Kejana got up and helped her to the table, then prepared her a cup of tea.
In the light of day, Yogan barely recognized his mother. Haned Jurea wasn’t old, just 71 years, but she looked frail and small, her faded spots almost invisible along the sides of her ashen face. Yogan closed his eyes and pictured his mother as he remembered her from just six years ago–healthy and vibrant–then opened them and saw her again in the present. She raised a hand to beckon Kejana back over to her and eyed Yogan curiously. She whispered something to her daughter that Yogan couldn’t quite make out.
K. Verso: ::gently:: No, mother. That’s Yogan, your son.
Haned looked at him again, this time squarely in the eye. He thought he saw a flicker of recognition, but it passed quickly and she shook her head decisively.
H. Jurea: No.
Yogan ached. His mother, once an administrator in the Diplomatic Corps, had left the service sixteen years ago. Around the same time, the first symptoms of her illness appeared, although Haned’s stubborn, even combative nature made the personality changes and lapses in lucidity difficult to identify as part of a disorder at first. She hid them well, and wouldn’t be formally diagnosed until more than a decade later, after she and her husband had already separated. Kejana leaned in and helped Haned place the teacup back onto the table. From over Haned’s shoulder, she silently mouthed a single word. “Sorry.” Yogan mouthed back “It’s okay.” But it wasn’t.
Yalu: How are you feeling today, mothe-- Ms. Jurea?
(( Timeskip – An hour later ))
Several times during Yogan’s visit, Haned had said things or gestured in certain ways that made it seem as though she were herself again, but these moments were always fleeting, and inevitably she would withdraw behind the fog once again. Yogan and Kejana had returned to the dining table, with Haned sitting just outside in the afternoon sun, twisting lengths of brightly coloured cord around a decorative pegboard pattern.
Yalu: What do you do when you’re not taking care of Mother?
K. Verso: Lately, there hasn’t been time for much else.
Yalu: Do you have help? Anyone to take over for you when you need a break?
K. Verso: The couple down the road come by from time to time so I can go into town. ::looks around the mostly-empty house:: But there are a lot of things that don’t get done around here.
Haned walked through the sliding doors, holding the completed pegboard out for display.
H. Jurea: I finished the pattern.
K. Verso: All right, mother. It’s almost time to start dinner. I’m just going to show this gentleman out, and then I’ll bring you a new one to start working on.
Yalu: ::standing, addressing his mother:: It was nice to see you again.
Haned looked at Yogan for a moment, and he wondered if she remembered him at all. She gave a curt nod and returned to her chair on the patio without a word.
Yalu: oO I should have come home a long time ago. Oo
Yogan followed Kejana back into the great room, and they stopped at the threshold next to the wall of pictures. Kejana kept one eye on the frail woman the whole time they spoke.
K. Verso: Where are you staying in Leran Manev? With friends?
Yalu: No, I booked a room at a hotel near the Institute. I’ll message you with all the details when I get back there. ::gesturing toward their mother:: Are you going to be OK?
K. Verso: I’m always OK.
Yogan smiled. Kejana seemed to have acquired more grace and forbearance in under 30 years than he had managed in over 300. She opened the door and they hugged briefly before Yogan stepped back across the threshold.
Yalu: Be good. ::smirking:: Or don’t. I’ll see you at the Institute in a couple of days.
Kejana nodded and closed the door, leaving Yogan alone to contemplate how much things had changed in just a few short years, and how much time he’d wasted. As he set off down the dirt path back toward town, a gust of wind came down from the foothills of Bes Manev, forcing Yogan to wrap his jacket tightly around his body. The next week was going to be an experience that, for better or for worse, he would never forget.
TBC
PNPC Kejana Verso
Yogan Yalu’s sister
PNPC Haned Jurea
Yogan Yalu’s mother
with, and simmed by
Lieutenant JG Yogan Yalu
Helm Officer
USS Resolution NCC-78145
Justin
D238804DS0
As you liberate yourself in metaphor, think of others, those who have lost the right to speak.
— Mahmoud Darwish