Queen Bee

by Dorothea Benton Frank

  “She didn’t even say she was sorry,” Hunter said. “She said next time, I’d listen to her, wouldn’t I?”

  “Does your father know about this?” I asked.

  “No. He only knows what she said,” Tyler said.

  “She told him a lie. She said she followed me and got there just in time after I fell off my bike,” Hunter said.

  “She didn’t say it was her fault that he had the accident in the first place,” Tyler said.

  This was a clear case of reckless endangerment of a minor, and who knew what else?

  “I hate her guts,” Hunter said.

  “Me, too,” Tyler said. “It’s like living with the devil. My little brother could’ve been killed! What if he had landed on his head?”

  Tyler wasn’t wrong.

  “Okay, what would you boys like me to do? Would you like me to tell your father your side of the story?”

  “Yeah, but she’ll kill us if she finds out we told on her,” Hunter said.

  “Nobody’s killing anybody,” I said.

  “We won’t get out of the house until school starts!” Tyler said. “And Dad doesn’t listen to us anymore!”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “He just goes along with whatever she says,” Hunter said.

  I believed them, and any fool could see they had no advocate. These boys needed family therapy. So did Archie and Sharon.

  “Let me talk to your father,” I said. “He listens to me. Sometimes.”

  They drained their juice and put their glasses in the sink.

  “Thanks, good luck,” Tyler said. “Things are really terrible, Miss Holly.”

  “I hear you, sweetie. It’s going to get better.”

  They literally ran home in fear that Sharon would come home from the drugstore and discover them missing. And why had she left them home alone, anyway? I was tempted to tell Ted. They were still too young. Surely Sharon knew that.

  The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. I went out to the apiary to check on the bees’ water supply and, of course, laid the whole story at their fuzzy little feet. Not just the pink hive, but the other two as well. I was talking to myself all over the backyard. What the hell was the matter with Archie? And what was the matter with her? Eventually I came to the conclusion that I’d talk to Archie. If he didn’t want to hear it, I’d take it to Ted. This was too important to let slide.

  I waited for a time when Cruella de Ville’s car was gone and Archie’s car was there, and boldly, I rang his doorbell. He answered and invited me inside.

  “No, I think it’s better if we speak where we can’t be heard. Why don’t we sit on your porch?”

  “Sure, okay.” He came out onto the porch but made no sign that he intended to sit. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the banisters. “Maybe I’d rather stand. I’ve been sitting all day, grading essays.”

  “There’s something I have to talk to you about, and I don’t think you’re going to want to hear it.”

  “How could that be?”

  “You know your children love me, don’t you?”

  “That goes without saying,” he said. “They adore you.”

  “As I do them. And I hope you know that I would never tell you something taken out of context to excuse or to enhance anyone’s innocence or guilt, right?”

  “My God, Holly! Get to the point.”

  “Okay, here it is. Sharon cut Hunter off with her car and that’s what caused his accident. Not the other way around, that he had an accident and she arrived to save him.”

  “Oh, come on now, Holly. She wouldn’t lie to me.”

  “Really? Okay. I’m not going to go into this any further. But you ought to know, Archie, this is endangerment of a minor. I’m not going to stand around while these boys are in harm’s way and do nothing about it.”

  “Why are they in harm’s way? Because Sharon’s trying to make them responsible for cleaning their rooms?”

  “Archie, Hunter and Tyler can’t read the washing machine buttons.”

  “Then all they have to do is ask for some direction,” he said.

  “And if they get home at five minutes after five, do you really think they should be denied dinner?”

  “That’s a bit too much, I agree,” he said.

  “And should she really turn the lights out when they are in the shower?”

  “She was just trying to make a point about using too much hot water.”

  “What if they slip and fall in the darkness? Do you know what percentage of head injuries come from bathroom accidents?”

  “I suspect more come from football,” he said. “Look, I know Sharon’s a rough taskmaster, but this house has never been cleaner. Even the dining room table is cleared.”

  “Your house might be clean, but your boys are miserable.”

  “Why in the world would they be miserable?”

  “They feel they are being distanced from you, and they sure as hell don’t feel loved by her.”

  “Holly, that’s quite a mouthful.”

  “Yeah, it is. Can you imagine what it would be if I filled in the details?”

  “It wouldn’t be a story I’d relish hearing about my new wife, I’m sure. But I will be more vigilant and I will try to give the boys more time.”

  “Why not have a boys’ night once a week? Give them a chance to talk to you without her there.”

  “Not a bad idea.”

  He looked at me in such a way that I could tell he was absolutely unconvinced that I had told him the truth about Hunter’s accident.

  “You don’t believe me about Hunter and his bicycle accident, do you?”

  “Look, I think you are very well intentioned. If I didn’t know you had genuine feelings for my boys, I’d be furious right now. And I’m not. Not a bit. And I think my boys are on a mission to get rid of Sharon, for whatever their juvenile reasons might be.”

  “Okay, I’ve said my piece. Good luck to you, Archie.”

  “Hey! Why are you saying good luck like there’s something terrible looming?”

  “Because there is something terrible looming, Archie. I feel it in every one of my bones.”

  “Really?”

  “Look, she’s accusatory, self-absorbed, defensive, judgmental, petty, dishonest, and unkind, so I don’t like Sharon, your boys don’t like Sharon, Leslie doesn’t like Sharon, and even my momma doesn’t like Sharon. The bees don’t like her and even the seagulls don’t like her. None of us, the humans that is, see this situation improving. We all see it as going downhill. So good luck.”

  “I see. So are you saying you don’t want to sit for my kids in the future?”

  That was his biggest concern?

  “I would never say no to doing anything for those boys. And you know it. But sit for them? I wish they lived with me. And so do they. Figure it out, Archie. You’ve got a ticking bomb on your hands, because this is only going to get worse unless you step in.”

  “Look, Holly. You’re a nice girl. You mean well. But you should never assume to know how things really are under someone else’s roof.”

  Don’t condescend to me, bubba, I thought.

  “That’s right. And you’re a nice boy.” I thought, Think about that one, old man. “Unless a person is absolutely certain things are way off kilter, it’s always better to mind your own business. And I am absolutely certain.”

  “Well, you’ve given me a lot to consider,” he said.

  This entire conversation was all in one ear and out the other.

  “Archie, I’ve known you since the day the boys were born. We’ve never had a serious difference of opinion.”

  “Are we having one now?” he said and had the audacity to smile at me.

  “Yeah, we are. You may think this is a joke, but no, sir, it is not. We’re having a huge difference of opinion.”

  I walked down his steps, across the road to my house, and went inside. I sat down at the kitchen table and had a long-o
verdue cry. After about thirty minutes, I lifted my head to see my bees, bearded on the window screen over the sink.

  Suzanne said, “Do you know there are about a thousand people living underground in Las Vegas? They’re in tunnels.”

  “No way,” I said.

  “Way,” Charlie said.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Leslie, the QB, and Vegas

  There would be no grass growing under our feet. Momma and I didn’t waste a moment in getting down to business. In the first few days we were in Las Vegas, we found a fabric store and bought a bolt of muslin, shears, thread, tailor’s chalk, and everything else she would need to get started. There were sketches of costumes taped all over the walls of Charlie’s dining room, which was now transformed into a pattern and sewing room. Momma measured and remeasured Charlie from one end to the other, noting everything on a legal pad.

  “I love your apartment, Charlie,” Momma said, while hooking up the back of a bustier we’d bought to give Charlie a bit of cleavage.

  “Why, thank you. It’s just for now, but the view of the desert is quite nice. Especially the sunsets.”

  “You’re getting too skinny,” Momma said to him. “There’s not enough meat on your bones to achieve the desired effect.”

  “I have to be svelte for this plan to work,” he said. “Ow! That’s too tight!”

  “Pride knoweth no pain, Charlie boy,” Momma said. “Suck it up! I still can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  He was caught somewhere in between strangulation and suffocation.

  Charlie looked at me and said, “She’s trying to kill me. You know that, don’t you?”

  I knew no such thing.

  I laughed and said, “Oh, Charlie. I’m afraid Momma’s right.”

  And did we shop? We found fabulous women’s shoes in Charlie’s size and so many wigs we couldn’t decide, so we bought them all, and we had an appointment with an award-winning cosmetic artist who was going to give Charlie a distinctive look. And at Momma’s insistence, he hired a personal coach to work on his dramatic presentations of Cher, Judy Garland, Beyoncé, and anybody else he felt he might like to lip-sync to. He was good, but he’d have to be drop-dead amazing to break into the really big time as he wanted to.

  Momma and Charlie were out shopping again, so I called Holly to see how she was holding up. She told me about Hunter’s accident and the words she’d had with Archie. I was flabbergasted.

  “This makes me absolutely sick inside,” I said to her.

  “Me, too,” she said. “It’s like something really terrible is going to have to happen before Archie will wake up.”

  “Don’t say that,” I said.

  “Here’s what I don’t understand,” she said. “Hunter’s accident would’ve been the perfect moment for her to take this banged-up little boy in her arms and say she was so sorry. It could’ve been a turning point for them instead of a hundred more nails in the coffin. But that’s not what she did. This is what happens to people who can’t ever be wrong.”

  “You’re right, of course. They always blame the problem on somebody else.”

  We were quiet for a moment.

  Then Holly said, “Something awful is going to happen. I just know it.”

  “You and your premonitions,” I said. “Let’s hope you’re wrong for once.”

  “I’d love to be wrong.”

  “On a lighter note,” I said, “Charlie is beside himself with all the attention he’s getting from Momma and this army of people they’re calling in to help him literally get his act together.”

  “Is she having fun, too?”

  “Are you kidding? She’s the stage mother for him that she never was for us,” I said. “She made me laugh so hard yesterday when we were shopping. She said to him, ‘Now, Charlie, remember, the higher the heel, the more flattering it is to your calf muscle.’ I thought I’d lose my mind. Can you believe she even thinks of things like that?”

  “We always forget that back in the day, the QB was a stunner.”

  “That’s true. She was. Well, Project Charlie is sure resurrecting her.”

  “That’s good to hear,” I said. “So how’s it going between you and Charlie?”

  “That is a much harder question to answer. It’s like, the overwhelming majority of drag queens I’m meeting are one hundred percent gay. But Charlie says he just wants to be a female impersonator. Gay’s cool, though. Listen, whatever Charlie decides he is becoming, I’m still going to love him. In fact, there’s an old female impersonator here, Suzanne Velour is her stage name, who’s taken a shine to Momma and flatters her so much that Momma’s sort of smitten with her. Suzanne bought Momma’s drinks all night last night. And the night before.”

  Suzanne Velour was approximately the same age and girth as Momma. They acted like they’d known each other all their lives. In fact, anyone who knew Momma at all might say they’d never seen her so compatible with someone.

  “Momma doesn’t drink,” Holly said.

  “Well, honey, she was knocking back mimosas like she grew up on champagne. Anyway, I imagine at her age she’d be happy with a platonic relationship. And, here’s the thing, I suspect I’m headed down that road with Charlie, you know, that maybe our job here is to help him step out of the closet with his dignity and his relationship with us intact. If that is what he wants.”

  “And if you have a full understanding of the lifestyle, and see it for what it really is, that then you won’t judge him?”

  “That and more. I don’t think Charlie wants to see our relationship sour and get bitter. And he’s working really hard for that not to happen.”

  “You’re not going to know what’s cooking in his head until he does, so you may as well relax and try to have fun,” she said.

  “You know what?” I said. “You’re right! Last night we went to the Miss Behave Game Show, which was so hilarious I thought we’d die, and then tomorrow we’ve got a reservation at the Drag Supper Club. And we’re wait-listed for tickets to Divas Las Vegas. I’ll tell you, Holly, this crazy world of drag queens and female impersonators and the whole lot of them is a universe unto itself. It’s fantasy and drama and humor all rolled into one. And it’s super fun. At least, as a spectator, so far.”

  She said, “Send pictures!”

  I promised I would, and we hung up.

  And as day rolled into night, there was plenty to photograph. Sometime in the afternoon, Suzanne Velour called Charlie to speak to Momma. They had just arrived home with an astounding amount of shopping bags.

  “What?” Momma said. “She wants to talk to me?”

  She dropped all her bags on the floor.

  “You need your own cell phone, Momma,” I said.

  She took Charlie’s phone and I heard Momma say, “What? Italy? But I don’t have a passport! Oh! Oh! I see! You had me going for a minute, Suzanne. Yes, I think we can be ready by eight. That was my new friend, Suzanne. She’s taking us all out tonight. She said we should get gussied up. What does getting gussied up mean in Las Vegas?”

  “It means, get fancy!” I said. “I’ll do your makeup, if you’d like.”

  “Well, someone had better take over for me. All I’ve got is a bottle of Oil of Olay and a Chapstick,” she said. “But I have those Eileen Fisher black silk pajama pants with the tunic. Maybe we can dress that up.”

  “Oh, Momma,” Charlie said. “Don’t you worry! We’re going to have you looking like a queen!”

  “That’s what Holly and I call her, you know,” I said.

  “That’s right,” she said. “You girls!”

  “Actually, Momma, we call you the QB, for queen bee.”

  “I’ve heard you two mumble it,” she said, obviously pleased instead of irked. “I think I kind of like that name! Although I have a very small kingdom with very few minions.”

  “Well, you’ve got us and Holly, and I’d say that’s not a bad start,” Charlie said. “Now let’s get you dressed!”

  “Charlie?�
�� I said, with some trepidation. “Are you going out tonight as Charlie or Charlene?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Do you have a preference?”

  “Why don’t you try Charlene?” Momma said.

  Please someone come and get my dead body off the floor.

  “Because if Suzanne shows up in drag then we’re just having a girls’ night out!” the now and forever QB said.

  “That’s hilarious, QB! I love it!” Charlie said.

  As he applied his own makeup, he began to gradually and ever so subtly wade into the waters of Charlene’s personality, which I’d noticed he did from time to time. The changes were extremely subtle. There would be more expressive hand gestures, more gentility, and a different posture. I had to say, I liked Charlene just as much as Charlie. Charlene was merely Charlie completely relaxed and at home with himself. Charlie with his guard down. Charlie in perfect humor. But also Charlie exuding confidence. Were these changes so odd? When I put on new shoes or had my hair blown out by a pro, I felt more confident, too. So what was the big difference? The whole world of female impersonation fascinated me. Well, Charlie fascinated me, probably because I loved him so much. This whole new aspect of him was incredible.

  By eight o’clock we were all set to go out for a night on the town. Charlie had decided on a cosmetic transformation instead of a complete change.

  “You know,” he said, “I have a few things for the stage but not a lot for dinner. So, I’m thinking this black shirt and pants with ballerina flats, lots of bangles, and this scarf tied like this.” He stopped and looked in the mirror. “Dear Lord! I look like that old dame Anita Bryant in the orange juice commercials from a thousand years ago!” He quickly untied the scarf and tossed it on a chair. “I need a little black dress.”

  “What is your problem?” Momma said. “You’re beautiful!”

  He looked in the mirror again.

  “Wasn’t it Coco Chanel who said to ditch one accessory before you walk out of the door?” He said. “Or was it Wallis Simpson?”

  Would a straight man know this? I asked myself this, knowing the answer was, who’s to say?