The Dance

by Suzie Carr

  Colors of violet, pink and yellow come into view beyond the pond’s edge. You fly fast, all the way to the luscious petals of a purple Aster. Your heart is happy as you take in the light and airy flower with its pop of color and magnificent yellow pollen. Before your very eyes, you see the runway pattern, guiding you to land right in the exact spot where tender nutrients wait to be harvested. Its mouth-watering aroma plays a heartfelt tune on your senses, bathing you in a delightful sense of harmony. Your journey across the field and over the pond has been all worth it, as the figure eight dance of your sisters had promised.

  You look forward to returning. You’ll let the others know all about your incredible venture. They too will want to join in your travels the next day, accompanying you to this field of ecstasy where earth presents its most remarkable fruits. You will return and dance for the sake of sharing your new knowledge, hiding not one smidgeon of your story because that’s how we bees work. You will share it and let others indulge on a petal next to you. One for all, all for one.

  You fly back with a full belly and light heart, comforted that you are exactly where you are supposed to be. You fly past the big, black bird and he once again sings his song. You pass over the pond with its reflective ripples and joy tickles your heart. You spot the strong sunflower swaying in the air and connect to its strength. It lends you her nectar and it lands softly on your tongue where it is swept inside of you. Finally, you step upon the ledge of your beloved hive. You are safe and filled with nutritious sustenance. You settle into the evening for a well-deserved rest that will revive your spirit and send healing energy throughout the hive. You have lived an ultimate day, blessed by insights and beauty few are privy to experience. You are sleeping soundly now, one restful heartbeat after another lulls you into a deep slumber. You have lived a day of purpose, and tomorrow is even brighter.

  Brooke kissed her nana’s forehead. Her nana’s gentle breaths tickled her neck.

  She exchanged a knowing look with her pepe, one that told her they’d all be okay, eventually.

  Within three days, her nana woke up and her fever had descended to a manageable one hundred degrees. She sat up in her bed and ate scrambled eggs, begging for another bee tale.

  “Your story healed me,” her nana said in between sips. “You always ask me what I want for my birthday. Well now you know. I want more stories. I can picture myself sitting outside at sunrise and listening to them.”

  Her nana always supported and marveled over her. Since that day, in between running her bee apiary and nursery, Brooke wrote and narrated short five to ten minute visualization stories for her nana. She’d see her outside with a steaming mug of tea, earbuds in her ear, sunhat pulled down low over her forehead, waking up to her stories of bees, flowers, mountains, rain, sunshine, anything nature had to offer that could be related back to the human experience.

  She even decided, at her nana’s insistence, to educate herself. She earned her transformation meditation certificate in a home study program. If she wanted to soothe, energize and heal, she’d have to learn how to effectively write and record those meditation sessions. Nana encouraged her even further by paying for the certification program. Brooke folded into the encouragement, as she always did. Her nana lifted her up and took away the sting of abandonment she felt when her parents up and left the state. The result left her thankful and able to forgive and move onward, shedding fears and insecurities brought on by her ego and opening her up to the understanding that life was dynamic and free-flowing. Life worked itself out. Her parents ended up in New York. She ended up right where her heart was happiest, in the apiary and on the path to help herself and those around her heal.

  When Penelope came into her life, she recorded several for her. Of course, hers were more sensual in nature. Brooke handed her a flash-drive of them so she could load them into her iTunes. Penelope never did. She never once mentioned one single thing about those stories Brooke labored over for her, and for her only.

  “That’s okay,” Nana said. “I love your stories. And, you know what else?”

  “Tell me.”

  “A lot of people love them.” A sneaky grin bloomed.

  “You didn’t.” Brooke’s blood rushed from her face, leaving her naked and vulnerable. “You shared them?”

  “They’re good, Brooke.”

  “But I’m not a professional. I just wanted to learn how to make them special for you.”

  “Others could use them, too,” Nana said, rubbing Brooke’s arm. “You remember when Sally’s granddaughter got appendicitis?”

  Brooke nodded. She remembered alright because she and her nana were about to take off for Ocean City when Sally called. Brooke missed out on her first sailing lesson as a result.

  “I let her listen to the one about the butterfly in the field of lavender. It relaxed her, despite the roadway of staples the doctors had put in her poor stomach.”

  “Who else?”

  “Well, you know I’ve got a lot of sick friends. When you reach my age that happens. Honestly, Brooke they love them. They fall asleep to them each night. They share them at the nursing home where Pepe’s uncle lives. They trade them like candy.”

  Perfect strangers enjoyed the stories that revealed parts of her soul that, at times, even took Brooke by surprise. Yet Penelope, the woman who claimed to be in love with her, couldn’t bring herself to stick an earbud in her ear and have a listen.

  Back then, Brooke couldn’t swallow the hurt from Penelope’s rejection.

  None of that mattered anymore. She no longer feared being alone. She enjoyed depending on herself for a change, and even her stories took on a new vibe. She just finished recording one about the open road that morning. Just as she uploaded it to iTunes for her nana, her cell rang.

  It was Jacky Applebaum, and seeing her name light up on her screen sent a series of flutters through her tummy. She had been a very bad student. She had yet to lift the leash off the kitchen hook as she had promised Jacky she would.

  She took the call anyway. “Okay, so I did not take Bee on a walk this morning.”

  “Hmm.”

  “The reason isn’t because I caved on my homework. I have a very good reason.”

  “Let me guess. She wanted to sleep in?”

  Brooke relaxed into the warm embrace of the woman’s good sense of humor. “Would you believe me if I told you she could be lazy?”

  “Not a chance. So, it’s a good thing I’m not calling about that.”

  “To what do I owe the pleasure, then?”

  “My daughter has a school project, and when she saw the honey she got excited. Were you serious about the apiary tour for her?”

  A flurry of trills danced in her chest. “Absolutely. I love showing off my bees.”

  ~ ~

  When Sophie arrived home from debate practice on Monday, she found Jacky hanging upside down on her Hang-up machine.

  “I called the beekeeper,” she said.

  Sophie’s heart twirled. “And?”

  “We’re on for Saturday.”

  Her upside down face freaked Sophie out. “Cool.”

  She escaped before Jacky flipped right side up.

  She went upstairs to her bedroom and closed the door. Then, like every other time she sensed letting her guard down, she headed over to her Taylor Swift CD. She read the letter that she wrote herself two years prior and waited for the cold, hard facts to hit her.

  After five reads, she gave up and picked up her book, Bee Time: Lessons from the Hive, instead. She spent the rest of the night reading it.

  The next morning, Sophie gathered her books and headed downstairs for a quick trip to the cupboard for a granola bar and package of crackers. That day she would present her project idea to Mr. Benks, her science teacher and advisor. She would focus her research on colony collapse and ways the general public could help save honeybees. Hopefully, on Saturday when they toured the apiary, she’d get some concrete ideas straight from the beekeeper.

  Mr.
Benks would be stoked to know she would be conducting hands-on research with a real beekeeper and live honeybees.

  As Sophie headed out of the kitchen, she ran into Jacky. She was wearing checkered pajamas.

  “Hey kiddo. Want a lift?”

  “I’ll just take the bus.” She hurried toward the front door, and when she did, her books tumbled down around her feet. She kneeled and began shoveling them into her book bag.

  “Geez, you’ve got to be lugging around at least fifty pounds of books.” Jacky leaned over the kitchen counter so much so that her boobs threatened to dangle right out of the corners of her checkered flannels.

  Sophie glanced back at her books. “The bag I’ve got is just fine.”

  “That can’t be good for your neck and shoulders. I’m going to get you one with wheels.”

  A glow blanketed Jacky’s cheeks, like she had been pumping weights in the basement or running on the treadmill no one had used for two years.

  “I don’t want one on wheels. Thank you anyway.” She shoveled the last two books in her bag, then started gathering the pens that had scattered.

  Jacky rounded the kitchen island. “You sure you don’t want a lift?”

  “I’m good.” Sophie knew if she didn’t get her butt down the street, she’d miss the bus. If she missed the bus, she’d be late for her meeting with Mr. Benks. If late for that, then she’d likely get a drop in her grade. She weighed her choices as she wrestled to loop the book bag over her shoulder.

  “I’ll be home late today. I’m going to Ashley’s for dinner.” She rushed toward the front door, and halfway to it, her zipper broke. Suddenly, all her books and pens crashed to the floor again.

  “Let me grab you a tote bag,” Jacky said, rushing past her toward the staircase. “You can use that for now until we get you something sturdier.” She ran away up the stairs and out of sight. Her feet pounded against the floorboards, sending creaks and crackling noises through the silence.

  Just outside the door, she heard the familiar sound of the bus screech to a stop at the end of her street. Jacky would be stuck driving her. She probably had clients lined up and would run late.

  Moments later, Jacky reemerged downstairs with an oversized laptop case on wheels and dressed in one of her light blue training shirts and tan cargo pants. “This belonged to your mom. She’d want you to have it.”

  Sophie cautiously examined the black case with all its useful pockets and zippers, fearing she’d somehow ruffle her mother’s peaceful rest in heaven if she dared to grasp the handle and take charge of it.

  Jacky wheeled it toward Sophie. “Go on. It’s not doing anyone any good hiding in that big closet.” Jacky bent over and unzipped the middle compartment. “Look, it has room for your lunch tote and a change of clothes for your PE class.”

  It was a beautiful replacement. It would certainly support more books than her current bag. She wouldn’t have to leave her books in her locker overnight. She could take them home and reference them instead of relying on Ashley to look something up in hers.

  Jacky was right. Her mother would want her to have it. Her mother would not want her breaking her back each day. Her mother would approve. She’d nod her head the way she used to whenever Sophie choose a wise snack over junk food or offered her favorite toys to needy kids.

  Besides, to become independent and get a scholarship, she’d have to read a lot more books than she had been. That would require some heavy lifting.

  By accepting the case, she’d free Jacky to eventually live the rest of her life the way a single woman should, without a kid attached. What would she do when Sophie finally grew up and moved out? Would she still be offering Sophie beautiful laptop cases and pretending she loved being in her mother role? What choice did she have but to be nice? Dump the orphan and all her wife’s belongings onto someone else and scream fuck off, she’s not my daughter, as she sped away from the curb?

  Jacky was a good person. That reality saddened Sophie the most. How could a good person like Jacky not want her? Something fundamental had to be wrong on Sophie’s end. She had to work on herself to fix things. She had to keep her life as clutter-free from emotional and physical attachment as possible.

  She’d never be a burden.

  So, as much as it pained her to step on her mother’s grave by taking over her personal items, Sophie grabbed the handle of the laptop case and wheeled it closer to her dilapidated book bag with its stupid broken zipper. She needed the proper tools to succeed.

  Sophie kneeled. “I’ll just be a minute,” she whispered, as if in a church filled with people praying for her mother’s soul while they trampled on her former physical self by taking over her possessions.

  Jacky kneeled beside her. “Let me help you.”

  Together they moved her into a new paradigm where tiny bits of a once hardened wall weakened under the touch of what Sophie could only describe as sincerity.

  As Jacky drove her to school that morning, Sophie stared out at the sunshine sprinkling its colorful golden rays over the leaves. New flowers sprouted up from freshly-tilled soil beds. The air smelled like cucumbers, and the promise of longer days floated high above the still chilly early spring mornings.

  Springtime used to excite her.

  For the past two springs, though, she couldn’t have cared less about any of that. Springtime, fresh air, flowers, none of it mattered.

  “What do you want to listen to?” Jacky asked, turning the knob to the tuner.

  “Whatever. I’m not picky.” Sophie hoped to glide through the ride without wreaking any more havoc on the day. She knew Jacky had to have clients lined up for the eight o’clock opening at the school. Already the clock flashed seven ten. It would take her at least twenty minutes to drive her to school, and another twenty to get to the Inner Circle. That only left her with ten minutes to spare.

  Jacky continued to search for a song on the radio. They passed by the neighborhood park where the three of them would spend most of their weekends swinging, sliding, and pushing each other around on the merry-go-round. Sophie leaned her forehead against the window and looked up at the canopy of oak trees circling the park. She used to love watching them come to life. Back then, she didn’t have to masquerade around trite things. She didn’t have to force herself to eat dinner with Ashley’s family most every night of the week to avoid having to sit across from Jacky and listen in pain as she attempted small talk to rekindle what they once had.

  As Jacky finally settled on a James Taylor oldie, Sophie thought about her dream of honeybees the night before. She imagined herself covered in them, and fell asleep to their collective hum. Their buzz filled her with an energy that lifted her enough to see that, despite the remnants of their tattered lives, some beauty still echoed from the far reaches of the world and landed on her heart like a hug.

  She took another glance at the young leaves popping up on the trees. She loved when nature woke back up.

  “What’s putting that smile on your face?” Jacky asked, turning the corner into the school lot.

  “Just thinking about a funny cat video I saw on YouTube this morning.”

  As they drove past the line of busses in the school parking lot, Sophie spotted Ashley talking to Brian, her latest crush. If Jacky saw her too, she’d surely invite her over for dinner or something uncomfortable. “You can drop me right here.”

  “There’s a spot right up front. Don’t be silly.”

  “No.” Sophie gripped the door handle. “Right here is good.”

  “There’s a line of cars behind us. I can’t just stop here.”

  Jacky maneuvered ahead and parked right in front of where Ashley and Brian huddled. Sophie pulled the handle and jumped out. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you later on.”

  “Your bag!”

  Sophie doubled back the two steps, and reached for the back door handle.

  “Is that Ashley?” Jacky yelled out.

  Ashley spun and faced them. Her face turned red.


  Brian tipped his head and snarled up his lip in his usual stupid fashion, something Ashley found sexy and Sophie found just plain creepy.

  “My God, I haven’t seen you in ages,” Jacky said, leaning forward.

  “Oh, hey Mrs. Applebaum.” Ashley remained rooted near her boy crush.

  Good. Stay.

  “How’s your mom? I haven’t seen her in ages, either.”

  “She’s good. She’s getting along just fine now since her divorce.”

  Sophie groaned. The girl talked too much. She had no filter. This would cost her at least another five minutes.

  “Divorce?” Jacky’s face contorted.

  Ashley puffed up her cheeks and scanned the busy scene of students rushing past to get to their homerooms on time. She finally looked at Sophie.

  Sophie warned her with a flick.

  “I’ve got to go,” Ashley said, bowing away from Brian and his snarled lip and from Jacky and her twisted face.

  “Okay,” Jacky yelled after her. “Come by for dinner one night. We’ll make homemade pizza like old times.”

  Old times were old times because they no longer existed. No matter how hard they tried, they would never be able to go back to those old times and shine them up in this second version of life.

  Sophie grabbed her laptop case from the backseat and yanked it out.