Lemon Grass

She flinched. As her mother stormed up and down the house, yelling at every moving specimen as if they couldn't hear her. It amazed the girl how her mother, who a few minutes ago, couldn't even talk at a normal decibel without coughing mucus and almost starving for air could suddenly take on this new persona, almost as if possessed, to shout so loud that it drowned out every other sound, every bird, grasshopper, crickets and humans. The voice boomed, in and out, with very brief pauses of begged and granted silence that only lasted so long that they were a tease to the much-desired silence. 

The girl, of course, stayed out of the way. She knew better. She sat outside with her dog getting bitten. Stung. The pests, she thought. It was evening and the sun had just about retired for the day, and out they came, swarming invisibly until their needles pricked and you knew their exact geographical existence. Oh, these were the rainy days. The mosquitoes were at their prime. For a minute, she wandered off into her curious thoughts, wondering if the little rascals ever died under the heavy drops, and if they did, why did they always seem bigger in number instead of smaller during the monsoons? Did they breed faster than they died? That must be quite the relentless war between the Gods of the clouds and their un-meaningful existence. "Not there! Move the couch to the right I said. MY right! Are you deaf? Or do you not have any brains?"

The voice spilled rudely into the girl's wonderings of the little cursed creatures of misery and pulled her back to the bigger existence, the only one that mattered and the reason of her own - her mother. 'It was just one of those days', she repeatedly thought to herself. 'She's just not in the best mood today.' She mumbled inaudibly, only loud enough for the words to cautiously sneak out of her mouth.

"I heard that!" she snarled.

"Oh, I'm sorry ma, I don't think you're feeling too well, that's all. Shall I make you some warm water with turmeric and honey?"

"Do you even know where the honey is?!" She growled back, trying to control what seemed like a genuinely concerned question that was stuck in the after taste of the previous sentence's tone.

"Yes ma, I know."

"OK" She agreed.

She agreed. That is good thought the girl and rushed to the kitchen before the moment of her mother's acceptance of any soothing beverage were to pass. She is not all bad. Just beaten down. Tired. It was normal. Just a bad day, she thought, as the water started to dance with tiny bubbles. How many such bad days had gone by, who knew? Handing over the medicated water, she stepped back out reluctantly into the darkness that only darkened further. Another bite. Another mark. Another itch to not be itched. Her good day for someone's bad one. She felt the sting, in places of her body she couldn't think of getting hurt. But somehow, seemed familiar. The body is connected after all. Like a constellation of stars, she thought, mapping them from her heart to her mind, to her chest again to her lips, and all the way down. Wondering what shape they may form? That of a girl? Or of a girl trapped in a woman? Another bite. Looking inside, and then at her dog. Counting the mosquitoes that were camping on his thick hide of black and white spots, while he sat diligently with her in shared misery.

They shamelessly sucked the blood out of the love of her life. She watched, as she slowly brought her palm close to his chest. Phatt! She killed one. There. She broke into a triumphant half-smile, amusing herself with her own tiny victory. One for the Gods of the clouds. I helped. The dog didn't move. Staying perfectly still, grateful, intuitive; he didn't want to disrupt her small win by moving clumsily. So focused was she on the saving of her companion that she didn't feel the three bites endured during this heroic swat.

"Almost done! If these idiots would move faster, I would have left an hour ago!"

The girl looked through the mesh door, the only magical break in the wall to bring her away from this endless war with the mosquitoes. There was much work to be done. And she couldn't come in just yet. It's just a bad day for her, she thought. Looking around the green grass now turning into a dark shadow, she walked aimlessly hoping her directionless movement might just render the insects lost for a target. The dog followed. Of course, he did. He always followed. But then, he passed her. And stopped at a big grass bush. 'Lemongrass', she thought. The dog looked up at her as if to return the favor. She plucked a few blades, crunching and rubbing them in her hand and on her arms. 'She can have her bad day', she thought, a bit more at ease now; almost as if she were giving her the permission.

Slowly, with a few extra blades in the pockets of her fur covered sweatpants, she walked back to the chair outside blending into the darkness but now fully armed.