Lost in the Beehive

by Michele Young-Stone

  I confided in Betty: “He apparently told Darlene that he was going to come home with a Yankee wife.”

  “I heard all about that at the restaurant. Gossip. I wouldn’t give one hoot about it.”

  “You’re right. It was just so weird. Rather unsettling.”

  “I’m here if you need a sympathetic ear. Small-town living is not easy like you’d think. Everybody is always up in your business.”

  “Thanks.” I asked Betty, “Are you married?”

  “Not in the cards. I live alone, and I like it that way.”

  I went to the kitchen for the bottle of wine and the cookie tin. “Do your parents live in Greeley?”

  “My dad passed away ten years ago, and my mom lives in a nursing home. When I came back after graduation to visit, she was really confused. She forgot my dad’s name. Then, when she remembered that she’d forgotten it, she became very upset. She kept forgetting things. It seemed to get worse in a matter of weeks. She kept saying, ‘I can’t lose my mind. Don’t let me forget everything.’ It’s been a tough five years.” Betty made a weird noise like she was stifling a sneeze. Then, I saw that she was tearing up. “I don’t like to cry,” she said, “but it’s really hard sometimes. My mom has good days and bad days. More bad than good.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I wouldn’t be in Greeley except I need to be here. My mom used to live with me, up until six months ago when she started wandering off. When I’d find her, she wouldn’t know me. I’d try to take her home, and she’d fight me.”

  “That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

  “She’s only fifty-nine. I never thought of her as old. I look just like her.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I poured the last of the wine into her glass.

  “And I wonder why I have no friends? Jesus, but I’m depressing.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  I saw Jacob’s truck pulling into the driveway. He came in through the kitchen, and I went to meet him. I reached out my hands to tell him that I was having a great time with Betty when he said, “What is she doing here?”

  “She brought us cookies and tea towels.”

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “Just a little wine.”

  “During the day?”

  “It’s after five. What does it matter?”

  Then, Betty came into the kitchen. “I should go. It’s already dark. I had fun, Gloria.”

  “Me too.”

  Jacob got a beer from the refrigerator. “See ya.”

  I walked Betty out to her car. We hugged. She smelled like the cookies she’d brought. “You’re a fun one,” she said.

  “Back at you.” As she drove away, I waved. Her dark ponytail caught the wind. I was angry that Jacob had said, “What is she doing here?” When I went back inside, he was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking his beer and eating the cookies she’d brought. I said, “Why were you so rude?”

  “I wasn’t rude. I said, ‘See ya.’ I’m not a big fan. She went away to school, and she should’ve stayed away. She thinks she’s better than everybody else.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You just met her. Big Mama goes to her bakery all the time. That’s her excuse for hanging around her. What’s yours?”

  “You’re being mean. Her mother was sick.”

  “I don’t know her mother.”

  I started washing our wineglasses, and Jacob came up behind me. He kissed my neck. “I missed you today.” I was thinking about Betty, about her wine-stained lips. Jacob slipped his hands between my waist and the sink. He started unbuttoning my shirt. I pretended his hands were Betty’s. He said, “We own this house. Let’s do it right here on the kitchen floor.” His mouth belonged to Betty.

  We got down on the cracked linoleum.

  “I missed you today.”

  I straddled him, my eyes closed. He was Betty. For a second, I worried that I was cheating, thinking of Betty, but then I decided I didn’t care.

  24

  I TOOK PRIDE IN MY work. I painted our bedroom a bright yellow. I collected enough Green Stamps to surprise Jacob with a television for Christmas. I planted grass seed in the fall, and it came up in the spring. I got rid of the weeds overtaking the brick patio. Jacob collected old pieces of picket fencing at the flea market, and he and I were slowly putting a whole fence together around our house. I felt like I was really succeeding, living that American dream—even the picket fence.

  On March 26, three days before my twenty-third birthday, my mother called from a hotel in Washington City. They’d flown into Raleigh and rented a car. “Surprise,” she said, and then before I could say anything, she said, “We didn’t see you at Thanksgiving or for Christmas, and I told you that your father and I would come to you, but you said, ‘No, we want our first Christmas to be just the two of us together,’ and your father and I were okay with that, sweetheart, but we haven’t seen you now in nine months. We miss you. So we’re in town, or at least close to Greeley. We found an okay place, and we don’t have to see you every day, but we don’t want to miss your birthday, and we could see you for Easter too if that would be all right. If they have Catholic churches down here, we could go to Mass.”

  I tried to speak, but she cut me off. “I hope you aren’t mad. You’re our only daughter. We love you.” She stopped.

  “I’m thrilled. I’ll talk to Jacob and see what he’s planned for my birthday, and I’ll call you back. I think there’s a Catholic church in Washington City, but I know there isn’t one in Greeley.”

  “Okay,” my mother said. “We’ll be here.”

  I hung up the phone.

  When Jacob got home from work, I got him a beer and opened it. Then, I sat on his lap. “So, guess what?”

  “I have no idea.”

  I smiled exaggeratedly. “My parents are in Washington City!”

  He swigged his beer. “Why?”

  “They miss me.”

  “You’re a grown woman. Why can’t they let you live your own life?”

  “They miss me.” I smiled again, trying to look cute.

  “Get off,” he said.

  I stood up, and he lit a cigarette. “What do you need me to do?”

  “I don’t need you to do anything. It’s my birthday on Wednesday and Easter is Sunday, and since they didn’t see me at Christmas, they flew down to surprise me.”

  “Surprise? I think it’s inconsiderate.”

  “Why?”

  “It just is.”

  “I’m their only child.”

  “I guess if they have that kind of money to throw away flying up and down the East Coast, so be it.”

  “Please don’t be disagreeable.”

  He got another beer from the fridge. “I’m going to take a shower. When are they coming over?”

  “I was hoping we could invite them over tonight. If that’s all right. I didn’t want to make any plans until I checked with you. I told my mother that I’d call her back.”

  “It doesn’t really matter what I think.” He tromped upstairs. I waited until I heard the bathroom door open and close before I picked up the telephone.

  Then I heard the bees buzzing, and pulled back the pantry curtain. There was a tiny hole where the left corner of the pantry ceiling connected to the exterior wall and then to the wood siding. I hung the phone up and went into the pantry. With the light off, I could see the pink twilight through the crevice, and I could see the worker bees constructing cells. I watched the bees work. After a while, I slid the curtain closed and telephoned my mother at her hotel. “Do you want to come over around seven?”

  “Absolutely!”

  I heard my dad in the background. “Tell her that we’ll bring some cheese and crackers. Tell Jacob that I can make him a gin fizz.”

  “Tell Dad that we don’t have any gin. If he wants, he can pick up some beer.”

  “We’ll do it,” my mother said. “We’ll see you in an hour.”

  “Okay.” I h
ung up.

  I went upstairs and opened the bathroom door. Jacob was stepping out of the tub. I said, “Please don’t be in a bad mood. Please don’t be angry that they’re in town.”

  He grabbed a towel off the rack. “It’s fine.” He didn’t say anything else.

  I went downstairs to see what we had in the way of food. Lots of canned chili and ravioli, some Hostess Sno Balls and Fritos, but little else. I was closing the pantry curtain when Jacob came downstairs, his hair slicked back. He kissed me. “I’m sorry about earlier. It’s just rude to visit someone without asking. I feel like we’re not prepared. I’m going to run out and get some beer and some crackers.”

  “I think my dad’s bringing beer. He said he’d bring some cheese and crackers.”

  “I’ll grab something else then,” he said.

  “I’m sorry that they didn’t tell us they were coming.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Like you said, you’re their only daughter. I was just being a dick.”

  “Should I call your mom?” I asked. “They’ll want to meet her.”

  “Whatever you want to do.”

  My parents arrived promptly at seven o’clock. Oscar barked like crazy when their rental car pulled into the driveway. He ran ahead of me, nearly knocking me over. Jacob caught up with us, taking hold of my hand. My mother’s arms were outstretched. “Your house is lovely,” she said.

  “Thank you.”

  Jacob and my father shook hands. Jacob said, “We’re so glad you’re here. What a great surprise.”

  My father said, “Gloria’s been telling us about her home-improvement skills. I had to see it to believe it.”

  Jacob said, “She can’t cook, so I figured she had to be good at something.”

  “Ha-ha,” I said.

  My mother chimed in. “She got a C in home economics.”

  “That’s enough out of you two,” I said.

  My dad pulled a twelve-pack of beer, a box of Ritz Crackers, and a block of cheddar cheese from the trunk. Jacob offered to help, and my dad handed him the twelve-pack. My parents followed us and Oscar indoors. Together, Jacob and I took them on a tour of the house. Jacob highlighted all the home-improvement things I’d done. “She painted in here,” he said. “She sanded these floors.” When we got to the bathroom, he said, “We still need to redo the tile. You can see where it’s cracked in spots. Gloria scraped all the loose bits already so it’s safe to walk in here and everything. Plus,” he said, swigging his beer, “eventually we’ll have to retile that wall. We can do it all at once.”

  My father said, “I’m really impressed by both of you. I couldn’t have done all this.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “I mean it.”

  We went back downstairs. My mother said, “The kitchen is small.”

  “It’s just the two of us.”

  She looked in the pantry. “What’s that noise?”

  “Nothing.” I pulled the curtain shut.

  We went and sat in the living room. My father liked blues and jazz, so I put on Mrs. Priddy’s Bessie Smith record. I sat on the floor so my parents could sit on the sofa. Jacob sat in his recliner. “When was the house built?” my father asked.

  “Nineteen twenty-seven,” Jacob said. “A tobacco farmer named Aster Priddy built it. He and his wife, Marla, lived here with their daughter, Beatrice, and Beatrice lived here until she died.”

  My mother and I went to the kitchen for beers. She said, “School’s going well.”

  “My friend Betty graduated with a bachelor’s degree in English from the University of North Carolina.”

  “Maybe I can meet her.”

  “Well, if you want anything decent to eat while you’re in town, you’ll have to meet her. Betty has a bakery and restaurant. And you know me: I can’t cook.”

  “I think you told me about Betty.”

  “She’s really nice … Is Uncle Eddie still in town?” I poured Fritos into a bowl.

  Mother said, “They can wait on those beers.” We sat at the kitchen table, popping open two of the beers. “So your uncle has moved to Miami. He’s written to tell us that he’s in love with someone named Honey. She’s Cuban, one of those refugees.”

  “Wow! I guess that’s a good thing—as long as he’s happy.”

  “I don’t think that man will ever be happy.”

  “You seem happy.”

  “I am. This semester I’m taking an Afro Studies course. It’s so interesting, and I’m on spring break like a real college kid.” She laughed. “It took long enough.”

  “How’s Dad doing with his hand?”

  “Better all the time, really. He has some arthritis, they think. He had an X-ray taken, but considering how many bones he broke, he’s doing better than anyone anticipated.”

  “How’s Gwen?”

  “You probably know better than I do. I bet she calls you every day.”

  “Actually, she does.”

  We both laughed.

  My mother said, “Are you happy? We were so upset that we didn’t see you at Christmas.”

  “I’m good. We should take these to Jacob and Father.”

  She patted my hand. “Are you sure you’re all right? You didn’t know Jacob for very long before you married him.”

  “We’re really good.”

  “Okay.” She knew that I wanted her to stop prying. She followed me to the den. I handed a beer to my father and one to Jacob. Bessie Smith lamented, Nobody knows you when you’re down and out.

  I said, “Mrs. Priddy left her phonograph and records.”

  “Great record collection,” my father said.

  Jacob said, “We should have a cookout for your birthday, Gloria. That way, your parents can meet Big Mama and Early Bird.”

  “And Poppy … and Betty.”

  I hadn’t kept my distance from Betty. In fact, in February, I had walked three miles to town, to her restaurant. I sat at the red Formica-topped bar and ordered a bowl of tomato bisque and a slice of blueberry pie, the whole time hoping and wishing that she’d come out from the kitchen. I kept looking around for her, eating slowly. I drank three cups of coffee. After I’d finished my pie and my last cup of joe, when I was about to pay the check, she emerged from the back. “What are you doing here? You should’ve told someone to get me,” she said.

  “I figured you were busy. Besides, you must know everybody in town.”

  “Everybody’s not as fun as you.” She wiped her hands down the front of her apron. “It’s great to see you. How have you been?”

  We sat and talked for over an hour. The restaurant closed, and she drove me home.

  While Jacob talked about my upcoming birthday cookout, I was thinking about Betty. “I’ll hire Betty to make a cake.”

  My mother said, “We can make your cake, Gloria. We can make it together.”

  “Oh, Mother, no offense, but nobody bakes like Betty.”

  “Enough said.”

  My parents stayed until nearly ten o’clock. It was hard saying good-bye. As we stood in the driveway, I thought I might cry. My mother saw it in my face. She hugged me. “We’ll see you tomorrow. You can show us around town. Just call when you wake up. We have all week.” She kissed my cheek.

  The next day, I telephoned my parents early. They came in their rental car to pick me up. There wasn’t much to see in Greeley, but I pointed out the Big-T Hamburger joint; Woodrowe’s Bar, where Jacob sometimes went with Early Bird; the fire station; the library; and the grocery store. Then, we went to Betty’s restaurant for lunch. Betty came out and shook hands with my father. She embraced my mother. “I love your daughter.”

  My mother whispered to me, “Your friend’s very bubbly.”

  Betty heard her. “They call me Betty Bubbles.” She smiled and hugged my mother again. “Better get back in the kitchen.”

  After we finished our meal, our waitress told us, “Lunch is on Betty.”

  “Isn’t she nice?” my father said.

  “She really is
.”

  The next day, my parents took me shopping in Washington City. They bought me a set of dishes and some new pots and pans. I told them that I didn’t need them, but they insisted. Later that night, Jacob said, “After your parents are gone, I’ll take all that stuff back to the store. We don’t need your parents’ charity.”

  I said, “They’re just being nice.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with what we have already.”

  I wasn’t going to argue with him.

  On my birthday, Big Mama came over early. She brought coleslaw and potato salad. Early Bird pulled up in a borrowed truck with a borrowed gas grill. He had a cooler packed with steaks. He and Jacob set up the grill and four tables they’d borrowed from the fire station. Around four, Betty arrived. She came into the kitchen, carrying a cake box.

  “My gift,” she said, untying the string and opening the box. It was a three-layer chocolate cake topped with toasted coconut. “Happy Birthday, Gloria.” She hugged me. “And I’m taking you shopping. And you’re going to like it.”

  “I want to pay for the cake.”

  “It’s my gift, as is our future shopping trip. I insist.”

  “It’s the most beautiful cake I’ve ever seen.”

  “Yay!” She clapped. She was wearing her faded bell-bottoms and a yellow shirt with cap sleeves. Along the hem were little green flowers. Betty was the only person I knew who looked really good in yellow. I often caught myself staring at her.

  Early Bird rushed into the kitchen. “I nearly forgot,” he said. “I got these expired potato chips for free.” He handed me two bags. “They’re only expired by three days, so no one’s gonna know the difference.” Then, he said, “Happy birthday.” The screen door clacked behind him.

  “Thanks!” I called.

  Betty burst out laughing. “He’s a hoot.”

  My parents arrived at five, and I introduced them to Big Mama and Early Bird. My mother said to Big Mama, “I’ve heard so much about you. Thank you for taking care of Gloria.”

  “Oh, she takes care of us. I’m so pleased that she and Jacob found each other.”

  My father helped Jacob at the grill. I had no idea where Jacob got the money for so many steaks. They weren’t skirt steaks either. They were nice cuts of meat. My mother and Betty were talking about their favorite books. Big Mama was shooing flies away from her coleslaw. Then, Jacob told the story of how we first met, how for him it was love at first sight. He said, “I couldn’t understand why she was selling nooses, and that’s exactly what I said to her, and she still agreed to go out with me. Then, after our first date, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I wanted to be with her every day.” He looked at me and raised his beer. “And I was. I love you, honey.”