Page 49 of Bad at Love
I roll my eyes. “No. She’s just checking you out. You should be flattered.”
“Uh-huh.”
I grab his arm and pull him toward the hives. “She knows we mean no harm. This is her job, she’s a guard bee. Show some respect.”
“Oh bloody hell,” he mutters as we’re right at the hive now and the bees are swarming all over us as they go on their way to and from the hive. “This isn’t fun, you know that? People actually pay to do this?”
He’s borderline shrieking. I have to admit, it is fun seeing this big buff rock n’ roller with his tattoos and piercings freaking the fuck out over my girls. I’d say I’m surprised we haven’t done this more often but then again, I’m not.
“Not a lot of people pay,” I tell him, placing my fingers on either side of one of the bars. I’m about to lift it up and expose the comb and bees inside but I wait. I have a feeling it’s going to freak him out and for now I just want him to listen. “But that’s what I want to change. This could be a fun and unusual date night for some people.”
“Cross out fun. It’s unusual at best,” he says, breaking off as he raises his arm to swat a couple of more bees who are investigating him.
“Don’t,” I tell him, gripping his forearm and holding tight. “Don’t swat. They don’t deserve it.”
“Jesus, where did you get a kung-fu grip from?” He’s staring down at my hand and I tighten my grip even more.
“No swatting,” I warn him. “Or they will turn on you. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Youarethe Candyman,” he says in a hushed awe.
“Okay, let’s be serious for a second,” I say.
“You think I haven’t been taking any of this seriously?”
I give him a look but I’m not sure he can see it. It’s hard with all the bees darting between us. “If more people were exposed to hives like this in a safe and controlled environment, then they wouldn’t fear bees. If they don’t fear bees, they’re more likely to respect them. If they respect them, they might learn about them and find out how important they are to the world. I get a ton of calls for live bee removal but I’d get a lot more if people started respecting bees and wanting the hives to be safely removed. Most people just have a pest control person come and destroy them all…it’s…it’s devastating.”
Just thinking of it makes my heart feel weighted, way more than it should, like it’s sinking in my chest.
“You okay?” Laz says softly after a moment.
I exhale and give my head a little shake. “Yeah. Sorry. Don’t know why that bothers me so much.”
“This isn’t really about bees, is it?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“You told me your mother kept bees when you were younger. After she died…you said that the hives were destroyed.”
I rub my lips together, glad he can’t get a good look at my face. “Yeah,” I say breathlessly. “Gone.”
“And those hives brought your mother the same kind of joy they bring you now, don’t they?”
I know what Laz is getting at. I’ve had this conversation with my therapist a lot. That the bees somehow represent my mother and my relationship with her, that I feel I can keep her alive if I keep the hives alive. But though this insight isn’t new to me, it’s new to Laz. In the past, I might have shrugged it off but I don’t want to do that anymore.
“They do,” I say quietly. “It’s how I keep her memoryalive. When I see hives destroyed, it just reminds me of everything I lost.”
“Do you need a hug?”
I let out a soft laugh and put my hand out to keep him in his place. “No hugging in front of the bees. I’m not sure how they’ll take it.”
“And you want this to be a date-night activity?”
“Okay, so maybe you have a point.” I sigh. I still think I could make it work but maybe it’s the kind of thing that really wouldn’t take off here. Maybe my efforts are better spent elsewhere. “Anyway,” I go on, “now that you’re somewhat calm and orderly, let me at least give you the rundown of the hive.”
The hives I have are top-bar hives, which looks totally different from what people are used to seeing. The traditional beehives are the ones that are like high stacks and have the brood at the bottom and the honey at the top. But the frames are heavy as hell and you have to smoke the bees to keep them calm. With the top-bar system, it’s horizontal. It’s less intrusive and I don’t even have to suit up if I don’t want to. I did today but I’m not even wearing gloves.
“Are you ready to take a look?” I ask him.
