The Wasps

She was supposed to be born on the first of April. In utero she considered this to be a bad move, a foolish foreboding that would perhaps taint the rest of her life. So, she found herself a comfortable position and waited the day out. The trouble was, she got too comfortable, she fermented in the amniotic sac, her skin wrinkled and she began to shrink. The Gods did not like that she was forgoing this wonderful opportunity that was life so they came together to discuss the situation. How she was to be delivered was to be left to the humans. They had they ways and means to do such things but this inconvenience was not to be forgotten. A fool she was meant to be and a fool she would be. The Gods were not concerned with immediate revenge; it was agreed that the wasps would be put in her head. She would not realize they were there in the beginning, but as she grew she would come to know.

And they were right. Ten days later Mother was wheeled into theatre and injected a potent medicine into her. After thirty-six hours of protests and claiming squatters rights the little girl with the wasps in her head finally emerged into the world. On the surface she appeared as a normal, healthy little girl, if a little wizened by her thirteen-day sit in, but the wasps were there, quietly buzzing the back of her mind.

Growing up was asymptomatic. She was a quiet, withdrawn child. Mother had been blessed, the other mothers declared, for it was universally agreed that little girls who were quiet were the best kind of girls. They were living in a land where these good little girls made the best wives and kept the best homes. So, the wasps had gone unnoticed.

Mother would sit in the garden and converse with the other mothers on the street. The little girl would be at the bottom of the garden hosting tea parties for her toys. There was cabbage patch Sally, with her woolly ginger hair. Teddy Ruxpin in his red and beige shorts and t-shirt, and Cheer bear, a soft pink bear with a rainbow emblazoned across her chest. The little girl could never remember what order to make the tea. The wasps said it didn’t matter but the mothers in the garden would always let her know.

“You’ve given Teddy Ruxpin just milk and sugar!”

“Milk before teabag, that’ll never brew!”

“God help her future Husband!”

They would laugh and concede that at least the little girl was trying, unlike the other little girls who were always away, returning home at dusk with dirty knees from tree climbing.

The other little girls would sometimes put pillowcases over their hair, the lovely silky white ones with the frilled edges that every mother seemed to have in their home. The others would pick roses from the neighbor’s garden and scatter the petals on the ground in lines which they would walk down and ‘marry’ the next door boys. It seemed like an odd practice to the girl with wasps in her head and she had no interest in it. No matter, it wasn’t a big problem

“She just hasn’t found boys yet.” Mother would laugh. “It is odd they she doesn’t mix with other little girls though, perhaps she is just shy.”

But she was not Shy. When she got to high school, she would talk, talk to anyone. The other girls seemed to like it at first. She was cool, she got into trouble with the teachers for talking too much. They would make her sit on her own to stop her from talking to others. Then she would get into trouble for sending notes, squirming in her seat. The wasps would never let her sit for too long. And the other children, who thought she was cool at first, began to drift away from her.

“You never listen to us!”

They would say, but that wasn’t true. She would always listen to what they said. It’s just that the wasps said it wasn’t interesting, and the thing they had to say was much better, so she would talk over them.

“We were talking about that five minutes ago!”

“That has nothing to do with what we’re saying!”

They would cry, but they were never mean to her, she was very funny when she wanted and could be relied upon to spit out a pithy one liner at the right moment. She was never in the usual high school groups, but often sat with the shyer girls because they never engaged in her constant chat. She found herself at the edges of everyone.

Mother could not understand

“You absolutely love school, and are so smart!” She would say when the school reports came back doesn’t try hard enough, will only work for five minutes they would say Class clown, very foolish was a staple in every report. The Gods smirked, the revenge had come to fruition.

The wasps were very active now, sometimes they were a swarm, an impenetrable mass that meant nothing could penetrate. Even simple conversations were hard to follow when the wasps were swarming. Other times a wasp, a single entity would fly out of the swarm, acting as an impulse or need and push its stinger deep into her mind. Move, talk, shout out, say this. They were always at the wrong times, for she realized now that there were times when you were allowed to do things, to move, to speak, and she was doing them all at the wrong times.

Now the wasps could be circumnavigated, and it was in the form of other humans helping here.

“Don’t talk over people, it’s rude!”

Mother would say, and she listened to that. Because not being rude helped her make more friends. She would quietly wait in conversations. The wasp would push its stinger in. No, it’s rude. She would scream back. Slowly over time, she learned to control them. It was never perfect, sometimes a wasp would push its way through but she would catch it midsentence, give the person an apologetic look and nod for them to continue. This would be gratefully received and allow the girls with wasps in her head to form real lasting friends, who would help her understand how to live as those who do not have wasps in their head live.

The gods have made their decision, and once it is made it cannot really be unmade. She will always have the wasps in her mind, always be a little separate in the world. But with a few people by her side, she can manage in her life.