POSITIVE

I sat on the cemented footsteps that led to my house, staring at the sky as torrents of rain crashed against the ground. The wind was blowing my hair into my face, and it dawned on me that my guava and mango shampoo did not taste as good as it smelled. I tucked the strands behind my ears, and glanced at my watch. 6:57. 

I gripped my left wrist tightly, and the pressure comforted me. I knew Sheori would arrive in three minutes, as she always did, and we would go inside, prepare dinner, eat and share our stories. Losing the house key was not the wisest decision on my part, not when my phone’s battery had died, my power bank was not working and the neighbour’s villa was a swim away. It was just one of those days, when everything went wrong. 

Ordering myself to not think about the other thing, I tried to focus on the rose buses in the small garden, looking bright and cheerful, as though the change in season was their chance at leading a better, longer life. Perhaps it was. I shivered at the thought of earthworms emerging from the soil to explore the world, and made a mental note to sprinkle salt from the iron gate to the red entry door. There is nothing like waking up to a driveway of shrivelled up worms, anyway.

I slipped my feet out of my shoes, and wiggled my toes lightly. I had recently had a pedicure done, but there was no evidence left of it. Not that I was an unhygienic person, I just sweated more than I should and wearing three metal rings that rusted easily did not add a pretty landscape to the ruined painting. For a wild second, I thought of jumping into the open and letting the force wash me out, my troubles, fears and pain. Sheori would never approve. Doctors never liked people rain-dancing. Too many colds, hot flashes and pneumonic patients to deal with. How is that fun, when you could perform surgery on a man with kitchen magnets in his stomach?

I smiled at the image of Sheori scrubbing in for the operation and muttering to her nurses and interns, “This is why I spent half a million dollars on my education. Magnetic intestines.” I realised, too late, that I shouldn’t have allowed myself to picture the hospital. 

Sheori would be around the corner of the street, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel, relieved or maybe, stressed. The wait was killing. I was never one to wish for the ability to read minds, people weren’t really intelligent enough to be spied on, but right now, I’d do anything to know. 

7:02. She was late. Why? Was there an accident? Did she pass out at the wheel? Did the car crash into a pole? What if she used the wipers wrong? “The more you think about it, the worse your thoughts will get. How many times do I need to tell you this?” a male voice, deep and all-knowing, spoke into my ear. I tried to ignore it, but it was difficult, for he was breathing into my face. 

I turned slightly to the left, and glared at Gregory, a twenty-seven-year-old man, who was the reason I had to visit the hospital thrice in the past two weeks. “Why are you here?” I hissed, hoping he would disappear if he sensed the anger in my voice. I could smell the perfume reeking from his neck, musty.

“Angie, I appear every time you are stressed. Why are you blaming me?” 

“Fuck off, Greg. I can’t deal with this.” Before he could reply, I heard a sound coming from the front. I turned back and saw Sheori leaning against the car, looking at me talk to a man only I could see. I ask her, pleadingly, for good news. In a second, she would shake her head and it would be over. 

She nodded.

The next second, I heard an apology from the side, and I collapsed on the stairs, my tears mixing with the rain, tarnishing sweet waters with salty despair.