Honey Beaumont

by Sara Bushway

  Anastasia put her hand on Honey’s shoulder and led him into the middle of the room.

  "We have a new boy," she proudly announced to the lounging men. "He’ll be staying with us from now on, and I would appreciate it if you could show him around and how things are done here." She patted him on the back and followed Gerig up the stairs.

  The man in the armchair put down his crossword puzzle and smiled as he approached Honey with an outstretched hand.

  "Hey, bud. I’m Dane."

  Honey gawked up at the man for several moments, taking in the enormity of Dane's stature, which only made his deep voice seem that much more intimidating. Honey was not tall by any means without his heels on, but he felt like a small child next to Dane. His skin was pale and creamy with just a hint of dingy yellow, and his eyes were golden rings set inside large watery orbs. His long, snow-white hair trailed down his back in a tight braid, bound at both ends by large, black bands of elastic cloth. Even through his black button-up shirt, Honey could see that his chest and shoulders were broad and muscular like that of a craftsman. Despite the eclipse-like shadow he cast over Honey, his smile seemed genuine and his posture friendly. Honey shook his hand and opened his mouth to introduce himself but quickly learned that it wasn’t quite his turn yet.

  Dane turned and pointed to the man in the other armchair, who was still tending to his nails with the tiny blade, as though not paying much attention but shifted his pale green eyes at the gesture.

  "That’s Etra," Dane said. "We call him Ettie." Ettie closed the blade into the handle and tossed it onto the center table. He ran his fingers through his short, black hair and folded his arms as he reclined into the plush chair and sighed with a hint of annoyance.

  Dane turned and pointed out the twins, who had already put down their respective leisure activities and sat up on the couch.

  "And those are Jez and Jaq," he continued. Honey felt far less intimidated by the pair, even as they approached. They were, in fact, uncannily similar. Though their hair and eyes seemed a bit off. One of them seemed to have long dark hair with yellow-blond streaks through it, while the other had golden blond hair with dark chocolate-colored streaks. The one with darker hair was dressed in a loose, black muscle shirt and black cargo pants with pockets all down the sides of the legs; the blond in a simple, black tank-top and tight, black jeans.

  And their eyes, Honey thought as he looked back and forth from one to the other. Each of them had a left eye of blue and a right eye of green. How strange.

  The dark-haired one stepped forward.

  "Jaq," he said somewhat stiffly, accompanied by a slight wave. His posture was a little off-putting, but his smile told Honey that he didn’t mean him harm.

  He’s probably just as uncomfortable as I am, Honey thought. He smiled at Jaq and nodded.

  "Jez," the other said and reached out to shake Honey's hand. His voice was a little softer than the other, and his handshake was loose and polite. Honey frowned as Jez pulled his hand away, having felt something odd against his skin. He looked down at the palm of his hand. It was clean and empty, but there was definitely something wrong with Jez's hand that hit Honey the wrong way. It felt sort of..leathery.

  "Oh," Dane said, tapping the palm of his hand against his forehead. "I’m sorry. I should have told you that they’re scarred."

  Jez held his right hand up and splayed his fingers wide, revealing a strange-looking polygon of scar tissue in the middle of his palm. It looked very old, but the thick skin around the border still had the rough edge of a scar that hadn’t begun to fade yet.

  Or perhaps it had been much worse and is healing nicely, Honey thought.

  Jaq then held up his left hand, revealing a mirror image of the scar on Jez’s.

  "Forcibly separated," Dane whispered to Honey. "They aren’t in physical pain anymore, but it’s still a ‘sore subject,’ so to speak." Honey stared in awe.

  Conjoined twins? He thought. How rare…and unfortunate.

  Honey had heard stories about conjoined twins, but he had never serviced or even seen a set before. They often didn’t live long, and if they did, their special needs often required them to be stewarded for the entirety of their lives, depending on where they were joined. It was rare to find a Medic of the People--a person who had been trained since their youth to heal wounds and treat illness using non-magical means--who could perform such feats of surgery and even more rare to find someone who would do it for a fair price. Such luxuries could only be afforded by the most affluent of parents, so twins were often killed or abandoned. On occasion, a desperate parent might find an "affordable" surgeon to try his hand at separation, but more often than not, that still ended in a double-wide casket under a bed of flowers. Based on what Loretta had told him, a cleric --a magic user like a wizard who specialized in healing magic-- may have been able to perform the separation as well, but more often than not, they were enlisted into the military at the end of their training. Their powers were reserved for use by the state.

  Even stranger, Honey thought, they look foreign…eastern. Everything I have heard about the far East has said that being a twin, conjoined or not, is terribly taboo. I wonder how they ended up here in Anastasia’s house.

  Honey nodded up at Dane, hoping he hadn't been dawdling in his own mind for so long that he had made the group uncomfortable and smiled.

  "Hi. I’m Honey Beaumont."

  A resounding "Ohhhhhh" was shared by the other males. Honey suddenly didn’t feel so good about making all of these new friends.

  Ettie grinned and leaned forward in his seat.

  "He’s a boy-toy," he said in an almost sing-song tone. "They gave him a cute little girl name because they sell better on the market that way. I’m right, aren’t I?"

  Honey glanced around at the others.

  "Uh. Well, y-y-yes," Honey stammered. "It’s not really a girl name. It’s a name that appeals to the ears. It’s just..one more way that..people like me can please others."

  Ettie devolved into a cynical cackle, but the others didn’t seem to see the dark humor in his revelation.

  "I think it’s nice," Jez said. "It makes me think of sweets like candy and cakes." Jaq nodded to him in agreement and smiled at Honey.

  "You don’t have to go by that name anymore if you don’t want to, Honey," Dane said. "I know that you don’t get to pick your name when you’re born or sold, but we won’t call you that if you don’t like it. You’re not one of them anymore."

  Honey shook his head and chuckled, "No, really. It's fine. I've lived my whole life with it, and it's never done me wrong. Just, please, no jokes. No, I don't take honey in my tea, my earnings weren't called 'honey money,' and let's not even get into the many connotations of 'honey buns.'"

  Dane and the twins laughed at Honey’s explanation. They each patted him on the shoulder and warmly welcomed him into the family. Ettie scoffed at Honey’s mild attempt at humor and snatched his knife from the table.

  "Anastasia must still be readying your room," Dane said. "I’ll show you around while she and Gerig finish things up." Honey nodded and followed Dane into the kitchen. It was mostly white with shiny, steel adornments here and there, no color to speak of except for the fresh fruit in a steel bowl on the counter. Honey eyed the fruit in the bowl and felt his stomach growl. There were shiny red apples, little green oranges, and a small bunch of pink-ish-colored bananas. During one of Betty's insightful talks about getting good nutrition, Honey had learned that apples were coated in wax to keep them fresh, which gave them their shiny appearance, and oranges used to be dyed the color orange to make them more appealing, a frivolous process that had been done away with when the war began to conserve power and shortened the time between harvesting the fruit and sending it out to the front lines to help curb disease among the ranks who had lost their healers early on. The bananas were a feat of genetic engineering. The species that had been the standard for many years died out from some type of fungus that had destroyed many of the trees. Whe
n it was discovered that the trees could not be saved and that the seeds were no good, steps were taken to obtain seeds from a very old, uncultured version of the banana plant and begin cultivating it again. The pink color supposedly came from a number of factors, including other species of plant that had to be bred into the banana plants to make them more resilient to the climate. After all, the world had been very different the last time those bananas had existed naturally, so it stood to reason that they would need some adjustment to thrive. Betty had brought him one once when he was very young, and it was one of the most delicious things he had ever eaten before he discovered cinnamon wrap cakes. He had even saved one of the black, marble-like seeds to suck on for some time after because it still tasted like the sweet mush that once encased it. Having access to fruit was a luxury in the middle of a country with so much barren land, but for those who could afford it, it came delivered to their door by armed guards to prevent any thievery and ensure it got to the buyer. Honey broke off his gaze from the bowl and glanced around, realizing that Dane was looking at him.

  I must have been inside my own head longer than I thought.

  "It’s so clean," Honey said, eyeing the counters and tile floor. Dane nodded and proudly looked around the spotless kitchen.

  "It’s one of our duties to keep the house clean," Dane said. "We share some responsibilities like cooking meals and tidying up the main areas. Dinner is at 8 o’clock sharp, so it’s best to be done with your other chores and such by 7 o’clock to ensure that there is enough time to set the table and cook a decent meal, lest the lady be less than pleased." Honey nodded and followed Dane into a small room off of the kitchen, which Dane explained was a laundry room; though, the lady of the house had to have her dresses professionally cleaned.

  "These are mostly so that we can clean our clothes and bedding as needed," Dane explained, gesturing to the laundry washer and ringer.

  "I've used a washboard before, but it was nothing like this," Honey said, the levers and barrel. "I’ve never used a proper ringer, though."

  Dane smiled. "There’s nothing to it. I’ll show you when you’re ready to run your first load of laundry through." Honey smiled and thanked him. He had a feeling that he was going to like Dane. He was big and, admittedly, quite intimidating, but he was also very kind and helpful.

  Dane went on to show Honey the sunroom, where Anastasia’s roses grew. Crammed into a corner of the sunroom was a lanky stalk with a single black flower atop it.

  "How unusual," Honey said, reaching out to touch the black blossom. Dane took Honey’s wrist.

  "It’s an orchid," he explained. "It’s very rare and very delicate." Honey took his hand back and continued looking into the flower.

  "She is a collector of rarities, huh?" Honey asked.

  "Actually, this one is mine." Dane seemed almost embarrassed by the admission.

  "We..aren’t allowed to have other things to care for like plants or pets, just her, but she never comes in here, so…" He trailed off and looked deep into Honey’s eyes. "Please, don’t tell her."

  Honey could feel the sadness in Dane’s eyes transferring from those big, golden rings into his own and flowing through his veins. He smiled, "Not a word. It’s none of my business. For all I know, it’s just a really fancy black rose. What do boy toys know about flowers, anyway?"

  Dane smiled again and shook his head.

  "You're no 'boy toy' anymore." It almost sounded like poetry in the deep timbre of his voice and felt like a relief when it hit Honey's ears. Dane continued the tour, showing him where the food stores were in the basement and the large deck out back where Anastasia held parties for her friends, whom the boys would all serve drinks and snacks they had prepared for the guests.

  Honey heard Dane open the door to go back inside and turned to follow him, but he was stopped by the fleeting glance of a person passing in front of the doorway. It hadn't looked much like any of the boys in the sitting room. It looked shorter and more feminine.

  "Uh, who...uh-what.."

  Dane turned to him.

  "That's just Ashelynn. It wasn't introduced because--well because it's complicated. Don't worry if you ever see it around. I'll explain it later."

  That hadn't done much to settle Honey's mind on the subject, but he hoped Dane would keep to his word. It was strange to hear him talk about that being as if they were an object.

  It, he thought. Why it?

  They returned to the living room, where the twins had returned to their positions on the couch they had been lounging on earlier, and Ettie still ignored everything and everyone else in the room.

  "Well, that’s it for this end of the house," Dane explained. "The bedrooms are up there. Hers is closest to the stairs. It’s the biggest. Mine is at the far end, and the others are in-between, and the shared bathroom is across from the bedrooms. Your room is next to mine."

  "That sounds great," Honey chimed. "I can’t wait to see it."

  Anastasia and Gerig descended the stairs to the living room. Gerig disappeared out the front door, leaving the lady to address her boys. Ettie put away the knife and stood. The twins followed suit. Dane leaned in close and whispered into Honey’s ear, "Gerig sleeps in the guest house, outback." Honey was somewhat taken aback by this notion. Anastasia's house was quite large. It seemed that living arrangements for Gerig could have been worked out in some fashion, but she had put him out to live on his own in the guest house.

  How odd, Honey thought. I hope he isn’t in some kind of trouble with her. How terrible it would be to have to live alone.

  Anastasia smiled at her collection of men and folded her hands in front of her.

  "Your room is ready," she said, her voice as smooth as silk. She turned and started back up the stairs, beckoning Honey to follow with a wave of her hand. He did so and waved to the other boys, unsure of what to expect. Would she really just take him to his room? Or was this some sort of pretense to enjoy his company in private? Honey wondered. She led him past the first door. It was a deep burgundy door with a fine brass handle that curved to fit a lovely lady’s hand.

  Her room, Honey told himself.

  And past the second, which was covered in posters of traveling performers, some of which Honey had heard of during his time at Beaumont's. They had occasionally come by wanting to perform in their lounge for a small fee or sometimes to try to rent rooms for the night, which Beaumont would not allow. They still came by from time to time and often played in front of the mansion's doors because of the foot traffic of the area, and Honey grew to know a few groups and their most popular songs.

  Scrawled across the posters in thick, black ink were the words "KEEP OUT!!"

  Most likely Ettie’s room, Honey decided, noting the angry lines in the graffiti.

  The next door was a very plain-looking wooden door. The wood was sort of reddish in color, and two little, metal mailboxes were affixed to it, side by side. Both had been white at one time, but now one had intricate designs of black fleur-de-lis all over it. The other had been covered in stickers that looked like autos, some whole and others in parts.

  The twins, Honey thought with a smile. They stopped in front of the next door, never making it to either of the plain white doors at the end of the hall, Dane's Door and one other, Honey guessed.

  Honey’s door looked to be made of old, reclaimed wood. The grain was the color of dried mud with smears of burnt sienna throughout.

  A very rustic choice compared to the look of the rest of the house, Honey thought. Still lovely, though.

  Anastasia opened his door and gestured for him to come inside. He stepped in and looked around at the simple, little bedroom. There was a small bed dressed in blue bedding, a simple dresser with four drawers, a small nightstand, and a door, which Honey presumed was a closet. It was about the same size as Honey’s room when he was top floor material in Beaumont’s house.

  "It’s wonderful," Honey said, almost in tears. "It’s perfect. So much space…So clean!" Anastasia stepped
in and chuckled, "Well, it’ll be your responsibility alone to keep this room clean. It’s your own space. I do expect you to come out of it sometimes and be a part of this household, but this is yours."

  Honey turned and pulled Anastasia into a tight hug. It was very clear in the rigidity of her muscles that his sudden attachment to her was unexpected, but he held on tight.

  "Thank you," he whispered into her dress, teary-eyed and nearly sobbing. She smiled and patted him on the head.

  "Alright, alright. That’s enough of that," she said, putting her hands on his shoulders and stepping back into his doorway. "Dane will be cooking dinner soon. It would behoove you to come watch so that you may learn some helpful techniques and where things are. Why don’t you clean yourself up and go join him?" Honey nodded and wiped the rogue tears that had escaped his eyes off his face. She turned out into the hall and closed his door behind her.

  Honey stood staring at his new room for several moments. The beautiful blue comforter atop his bed caught his eye, and he sat down on it. He almost felt foolish sitting on such a nice, comfortable bed. The ghost of Beaumont’s voice rang in his ears.

  Look at that dirty lil’ hooker sitting on that fancy bedspread. Might wanna wash that, lest it smell like everyone he’s had this morning, not to mention the nasty little critters in his craw.

  He pushed the man’s nasty, non-existent words from his mind and looked around at all of the niceties Anastasia had done for him, though he was still troubled by the idea that she hadn’t told him about the other boys.

  Perhaps this is normal, and I should have known better, he thought. She must think me so uncultured. I’ll learn, though. Dane can teach me. It’s going to be great.

  He smiled to himself and to his normal-looking room and furnishings.

  I have a family now.

  Chapter Six