51. Mosquitoes.

Nan had followed Sid as he strolled through the security gate unobstructed, then through the line at the boarding gate, then into the plane. She was only slightly surprised to discover that the ticketing agent had seated them in first class, which was empty except for a couple of businessmen, one of whom was already asleep, sprawled across his wide seat with an airline blanket covering him from chin to toes.

When the flight attendant had come by with glasses of orange juice and champagne, Sid refused both. Nan drank her champagne in two swallows, its tartness making her eyes water, a curdling taste of sour followed immediately by a warmth in her throat and stomach.

Sid was leafing casually through an in-flight merchandise catalogue, and paused at a particular picture. He held up the catalogue for her inspection. Nan looked at the image he showed her distractedly, her head spinning slightly from the champagne. She wanted more, and then she wanted to sleep.

The picture showed a family sitting outdoors for dinner at dusk. The mother was happily serving roasted meats to her equally happy family. In the background was an odd-looking device, one that resembled the barbecue grill from which the servile mother had--presumably--just retrieved her family's meal. Hovering above the scene was the silhouette of a gigantic mosquito with a red bar through it. Taken as part of the scene, the mosquito would have been the size of a large dog. The testimonials of satisfied customers blared in bold capitals underneath the image.

"There's something amusing about the products they're trying to sell in this catalogue," Sid said. "According to this, there is a machine that emits a gas that only mosquitoes can smell, and it drives them away."

Nan looked at him blankly. Her mind was still at the security gate where, however miraculously Sid had procured tickets without money or passports, she had been sure they would be turned away or arrested.

"But really nothing like that will get rid of mosquitoes. The only thing that will attract them is blood--and similarly, the only thing they're repelled by is the suggestion that the blood is tainted."

Was he really talking about mosquitoes? Nan's mind continued to wander as she took a second glass of champagne from the passing flight attendant.

"That's why Indians eat lots of garlic," Sid said, as though confiding the secret of existence. "That, and other spices in Indian food, come out of the pores. It drives the mosquitoes away." Sid paused. "You'll need to eat lots of garlic. And turmeric. You're going to smell different to the mosquitoes otherwise, and they will come after you. Eating the spices will keep them away." Sid pointed once again to the illustration of the family barbecue, kept safe from the enormous marauding mosquito by vapors from the miracle device. "But don’t worry--you won't see mosquitoes this big even in India." Sid examined the photograph minutely, and chuckled. "The cockroaches, on the other hand..."

Nan stared at the curve of Sid's ear, and the way it merged into the contour of his throat. She swallowed the last of her champagne, and closed her eyes.