Another Day

Daya

It was one of those muggy, July afternoons when kids chase each other around the playground, causing all sorts of havoc, passing the time until the water fountains would allow a mandatory cool-off period. Parents were easily irritated by even one breath out of place, not realizing their irrational anger was instigated by the heat.

Daya was sure her parents had figured out by now that she had slipped out of her room, through the bushes of the backyard, and into the warm sweaty arms of the dwindling afternoon. She had spent a good two sullen hours on a swing at a busier park by the lake. It was a little bit further of a walk, but completely worth her parents' scolding if they found out. Daya had managed, in her annoyance, to squeeze in a scowl or two at any approaching children who seemed to think it was their turn on the swing. To her, the park without supervision, was a lawless land. Why did she need to be polite? She wasn't here to make friends.

Daya had just turned ten a week ago and her newfound double digits were weighing down on her mind. The responsibilities and expectations for a ten year old girl were substantially more than a nine year old's or even a boy. Already, Daya's mum had the audacity to tell her to empty the dishwasher and help her make chai. She even overheard her mum talking on the phone with her aunt about teaching Daya how to cook. Her brother, Ali, didn't have to worry about kneading his own atta and making perfectly round roti for the family—and he was already thirteen! It was simply too much for Daya, who feared that her mum would soon inform her that she would have to make her own end's meet and move out of the house by the time she turned her brother's age.

As Daya contemplated the carefree attitude of the other children her age, she noticed an older man sitting on the park bench watching her, smiling slightly. Her initial thought was that maybe she had scared off his kid earlier and now he was going to "kill her with kindness" about sharing.

That was her abbu's favourite solution to any conflict she complained to him about. The first time she complained after they had moved to Elmsboro, a gori made fun of her "smelly" lunch, which was just leftover biryani. This girl made her entire group of friends laugh with her riveting commentary about it. It didn't even smell! Abbu immediately tutted at Daya's complaints and told her to offer to share her lunch next time. Kill them with kindness, he said.

Annoyed by the idea of having to give her lunch away, Daya decided that she had probably caused her parents enough worry and she didn't want to have to deal with an overly forward parent. She launched herself off the swing and landed in the gravel confidently. As soon as she landed she noticed the man get up and wave her over, as if he knew her. This made her slightly nervous, because she was absolutely sure she hadn't met him before. He also didn't dress like any parents she knew.

None of the other parents in the park had noticed him and Daya began to feel uncomfortable. She had felt this kind of discomfort before. That time her mum had been with her, when they were sitting in the Elmsboro Mall food court. Daya loudly asked her mum why the older man was staring at her only to be hushed embarrassedly. Her mum had told her she had to be more aware of what she wore and how she sat. Later, her mother bought her a few pairs of pants and loose-fitting jeans to replace all her shorts. This seemed like another added disadvantage of getting older.

Daya ignored the man, pretending she hadn't noticed him and left the park. She walked slowly along the main sidewalk to make sure he wasn't actually going to come talk to her. When she saw him head towards the parking lot a moment after, she was relieved. Carrying a conversation with a parent would have been too much for her, especially while she had to grapple this new decade of her life she was entering. And parents loved asking other kids what their future plans were, like their lives depend on it.

Daya took the bike trail through the woods home, hidden from the surrounding houses, which conveniently led to a small path behind her backyard. The sun was barely beginning to set, throwing odd-shaped shadows across Daya's path as she walked.

I can't lay a foot on those shadows. They are likely ghouls sent to capture me for the Evil Queen, Daya thought, bemusedly. She couldn't help embrace the tale in her head to keep the heavy thoughts from making her even gloomier.

Daya began skipping carefully over the shadows in her path. Some were wider than others and she had to give it a little run-and-push before she leapt over the entire shadow. Occasionally Daya caught a toe on a shadow or even a heel, but decided to write those off as non-ghoulish shadows. Safe shadows.

Just as Daya was about to step carefully over a thin stretched blur of a birch tree, the entire path in front of her was doused in darkness. Even the chirping of the cicadas seemed to become quieter.

Daya frowned up at the nervous man in her way. He was the dad from the park who tried to wave her over, but it suddenly occurred to her that she hadn't seen him leave with any kids.

As he reached for her, the last thought to cross her mind, before she blacked out, was how furious her mum would be when she realized Daya had not, in fact, emptied the dishwasher.