The Dance

by Suzie Carr

  When Jacky returned to pick up Sophie, Brooke waved her over. “Why don’t you join us for a quick visit with the bees?”

  “Yeah, join us,” Sophie said in a small voice, kneeling down next to Bee. “You’ll like it.”

  A part of Jacky feared the honeybees. What if she freaked out in front of them both? Some dog trainer she’d look like, running from a bunch of honeybees in a fit of fear. “You’re out of your suits now. We can just do it another day.”

  “Oh come on, it’ll be fun,” Sophie said on a plea.

  She’s happy. If a fifteen-year old didn’t fear them, why should she? “Okay. I’ll try.”

  Brooke swiped her hands together and brought them up to her face, resting her beautiful dimples on them. “Excellent.”

  They ventured into the greenhouse, and Sophie went directly over to a cream suit hanging on a knob by some tomato plants.

  Drew would be so proud of her in her first job. It beat the hell out of Jacky’s first job as a busgirl at Louie’s Bar and Grill where she’d come home stinking like day old food and needing three doses of shampoo to not smell like a walking French fry.

  Brooke handed Jacky a jumper suit. “You’ll have to tuck your pants into your socks first, then slide right into the jumper. I’ll grab a net for your head.”

  Jacky placed the suit on a small table and began tucking her pants into her socks, and blurted out the first panicky question. “Do they sting much?”

  “If you anger them, yes,” Sophie said matter-of-factly.

  Jacky’s heart began to race. “How do I not anger them?”

  She shrugged. “You just don’t.”

  Brooke eased up to her side, placing her hand on her arm. Jacky waited on her wisdom. “She’s right. You just don’t.” She winked and walked over to her suit.

  Jacky climbed into hers, one clumsy foot at a time. “Is my heart supposed to beat like I just ran up ten flights of stairs?”

  “Yup!” Sophie raised her arms up and wiggled into her suit. “That’s the best part.”

  Jacky zipped up her jumper. “Will any bees be able to get inside of my jumper?”

  Brooke and Sophie looked to each other and laughed at her expense. “Novice,” they said in unison.

  Panic rose, the kind experienced right before the roller coaster began its descent. “What if I’ve become allergic to bees over the years and don’t know it, yet?”

  “That’s what the epinephrine pen is for,” Sophie said, placing her netted hat on her head. “We’ll just jab you in the leg with it and you’ll breathe again.”

  Brooke brought out Sophie’s jokester side, a side she’d missed way more than she’d realized. “Fantastic.”

  Brooke sashayed over to her. She guided the hat on her head. “Yup, we’ll just stab you right in the leg and open up that airway.” Brooke pulled on the net, bringing her even closer.

  She smelled as fresh as spearmint.

  “What’s up with that twisted glimmer in your eye?” Jacky asked. “You’re a beekeeper. Aren’t you supposed to be pleasant and earthy instead of mischievous and sadistic?”

  “Oh sadistic,” Brooke said with swagger to her voice. “I never pictured myself in such darkness before. It’s kind of cool.” She circled her shoulders as if trying out a new body.

  “You’re both freaking me out.” Jacky inhaled a nervous breath.

  Brooke laughed and placed her hands on Jacky’s shoulders. She stared straight at her as if talking to a child on a first day of school. “I’ll be right there with you. You’ll be safe. My bees are gentle, and they’re going to adore you. Just stay calm. Don’t make any sudden movements. Think slow motion. Just observe and stay in awe. And under no circumstance do you panic, okay?”

  “Why would I panic?”

  “Exactly.” Brooke circled around toward Sophie. Then, the two of them headed out of the greenhouse entryway.

  No. That question was not rhetorical. It requires an answer!

  Jacky scurried up to them to stay close, as if somehow their bee suits would double and triple protect her.

  They walked down the steep hill, which was layered in thick tree roots and random stones. They went to the edge of the property where yellow and orange wooden hive boxes lined the trees. Jacky’s breathing quickened as they approached. She had been stung ten times in the butt as a child, not by honeybees, but by yellow jackets. Her ass had stayed swollen for days. She did not want a swollen ass again. So, she stood a safe distance away from Brooke and Sophie as they practically hugged the hives.

  “You picked a great day to get introduced,” Brooke said over her shoulder. “The hives are happy today.”

  “What do you mean the hives are happy?” Sophie asked.

  “The collective energy is in harmony. The air feels happy just like a playground full of smiley kids.” Brooke lifted a cover off one of the hives and a bunch of bees flew out. “The communal nature among the bees is so tight that they are like their own breathing machine. Not one bee stands out from the rest. They work in tandem with the other. They’re at peace right now, deeply engrossed in their tasks.”

  Jacky leaned in, careful not to get too close. “Sounds like a fantastic case study for MBA students.”

  “I’m sure someone has used them as a model,” Sophie agreed.

  Brooke cocked her head and gazed lovingly at the bees. “They are the most selfless creatures on the planet. They work to bring out the best in each other. The hive is their priority and they’ll do whatever it takes to ensure its survival.”

  She picked up a tray and placed it in front of Jacky’s chest. “It beats as one. It sleeps as one. It comes alive as one. It’s its own body, with dedicated resources for various activities that need to happen to keep the hive happy and healthy. This requires honest communication amongst them. Each one needs to know exactly what the other is doing and thinking. It’s that honest cooperation that keeps it functioning. Without it, the hive would die.”

  Just like with her and Sophie’s symbolic hive, a breakdown in communication could shut them down.

  Sophie looked at the tray with complete peace. “How do bees keep their hive happy?”

  “Lots of love, nourishment, and of course, dance.” Brooke winked. “Really, it’s like with any unit, typically honest communication can restore it. The queen is the center of the hive, and her leadership can help guide the others to stay calm and focused in times of extremes.”

  Jacky continued to watch as Brooke and Sophie tended to the honeycomb and pollen trays. Not too long into her first trek into bee territory, she began to relax under their capable hands.

  Jacky inhaled the fresh afternoon air. The entire esoteric experience from the lullaby of their energizing hum, to the sight of them taking nosedives and then rising back up on the edge of a wisp of air, to the spicy smell of the honey and wax brought all senses alive.

  Peace rested on Sophie’s face. Among the bees, she didn’t have to put on a fake smile. She didn’t have to fight the tension between her and Jacky or worry about her homework. In this paradise, life slowed down to a pace that allowed healing and nurturing to unfold. Sophie tossed her stress aside, easing into the paradise.

  It was her second home.

  “Ah, look the queen,” Brooke said, pointing it out to Sophie.

  “Yup. There she is. The only fertile female of the hive.”

  “Seriously?” Jacky asked.

  “Yup. She emits this scent called a pheromone that tells the other female bees to stay sterile.”

  “What does it smell like?” Jacky stretched her neck to get a better view.

  “Only bees in the hive smell it,” Sophie said. “It’s their communications system. The queen alerts that she is alive and well by spraying it, which keeps the bees happy and together like a family.” She turned to Brooke. “Did I get that right?”

  Brooke nodded and gave her a thumbs up.

  “So no secrets,” Jacky said.

  “None,” Brooke said, jumping
into the conversation. “She’s well taken care of by her court. That being said, the hive can turn on her quickly as soon as they realize she is no longer producing enough eggs to sustain growth in the hive. They begin a sort of search to replace her. They usually do this by way of emergency rearing.”

  Sophie arched her eyebrow. “Emergency rearing?”

  “Let me explain.”

  “Please do. I haven’t heard this, yet,” Sophie said.

  “The worker bees begin a process of building queen-size cells in the hive.” She pointed to the honeycomb.

  Jacky still remained a few steps back.

  “You see, inside these larger, vertically-oriented cells, the bees know to feed these potential queens a special food called royal jelly. Ultimately, the developing queens raised in these cells might fight to the death to determine which one will become queen.”

  “What happens to her when they replace her?”

  “She usually dies,” Brooke said. She turned over her shoulder and glanced at Jacky. “Do you want to see the queen?”

  Fascinated, Jacky moved in closer. “Sure, of course.” She went in for a peek. She didn’t yet advance three steps and bees already clung to her net, buzzing right above her left eye. They were probably planning who would sting her and where. She closed her eyes and tried to still her nerves.

  Brooke held out a honeycomb tray. “Check it out,” she said, pointing to a cluster of bees on the right hand edge. See, this is her court. They spoil her all day long, always reminding her that she is the queen.”

  Jacky poked her head closer. “Which one is she?”

  “She’s right here,” Brooke pointed at her with the tip of her hive tool. “You see her body is longer and wider.”

  Bees began landing on Jacky’s sleeves.

  Brooke must have sensed her discomfort. “Just stay calm, and they’ll just observe you.”

  “Right.” Jacky nodded, then realized maybe she had nodded too quickly because a bunch of them buzzed around her.

  “Here,” Brooke said, handing her the tray. “You’ll love the buzz at your fingertips.”

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” Jacky backed up, and Sophie nudged her back forward.

  “She’ll loop a collar around a known aggressive dog with teeth the size of small sharks,” Sophie said, “but she won’t hold a two foot tray full of gentle honeybees.”

  “Oh?” Jacky turned slowly and caught Sophie’s cocky grin. “You think I’m chicken?”

  She arched her eyebrow. “You’re not giving us anything else to go on here.”

  Jacky would stick her head in the mouth of a tiger if that kept Sophie grinning at her and welcoming her into their new team. “Give it to me.” Jacky stretched out her gloved hand toward Brooke. Several bees crawled on it, so she pulled it back.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Brooke said through a giggle.

  She reasoned with herself that they were much smaller than her. She couldn’t even conjure up a mathematical number to describe the amount of size she had on them.

  Fuck it. Brooke had an epinephrine pen.

  Brooke handed Jacky the tray of honeycomb. Jacky gripped it like she would a bomb. Her head spun, and her heart clenched. Suddenly, she fumbled it.

  Bees flew everywhere. Jacky’s reflexes took over and she began swatting at them.

  Sophie came at her with the strength of ten bodybuilders, squeezing her hands around Jacky’s wrists. “Relax,” she said in a slow, authoritative voice. “Just breathe.”

  Jacky did as instructed. Sophie exaggerated her breathing. “In and out. Nice and slow.”

  She closed her eyes and imagined herself teaching a client how to relax in front of a dog. She breathed in and out, slow and steady until her heart finally caught up with her senses. Even the bees began to relax in her presence. They started to land on her arms and chest. They pinged the net in front of her face.

  Jacky braved and reopened her eyes.

  Sophie stared at her. “Better?”

  “I think so.”

  Jacky looked over her shoulder at Brooke. She was kneeling, fixated on the blanket of bees on the ground. “I found her.”

  “Who did she find?” Jacky asked.

  Sophie let go of Jacky’s wrists. “The queen. Without her, the hive wouldn’t survive.”

  “I almost killed a hive?”

  Brooke and Sophie looked to each other as if enjoying a private joke at her expense. “If you could’ve seen yourself.” Brooke began to laugh as she placed the queen back on the honeycomb.

  “You looked like a baboon the way you were flinging your arms around,” Brooke said in between laughter.

  Sophie busted out laughing, too.

  Soon, Jacky couldn’t help herself either. She began cackling with them as the bees buzzed and danced around them.

  After a few minutes, the laughing slowly rolled to a stop.

  “Okay, let’s move on further in our lesson here.” Jacky brushed off her embarrassment and asked, “So are all the bees female?”

  Brooke walked right back into professional mode. “The hives have males, too, called drones. Their one purpose is to mate with the queen. That’s it. They’re lazy little ones. They don’t contain stingers to defend the hive or the ability to collect pollen or nectar.”

  “The females must get pretty upset with them,” Sophie said.

  “Well, they’re the fathers, so no.” Brooke laughed. “Females do all the work. They do one task, and one task only for a set time period, then move on to a new task.”

  “So no multi-tasking?” Jacky asked.

  “Nope. Single-tasking only.”

  “Is that beneficial?” Jacky asked. She couldn’t imagine focusing on only one thing at a time. She normally had five things on her plate on any given moment.

  “Focusing on the task at hand is far more effective.”

  “So what are the typical jobs?” Jacky asked, intrigued.

  “Well the first job a bee will have is housekeeping. They’re immaculate and take their cleaning very seriously. They do this to prevent disease, to open up room for new eggs, and to store their pollen and nectar.”

  Brooke pulled out a tray and showed Jacky the empty cells. “Do you see how clean they are?”

  Sophie moved in and put her gloved finger up to it. “Jacky would be so proud of me if I could be this clean.”

  They all laughed.

  “I’m not much of a housekeeper either,” Brooke confessed. “I’m lucky if my bed gets made once a week.”

  “Exactly!” Sophie said with vigor. “We’re just going to mess it up again. I don’t see the point.”

  Brooke nudged Sophie with her elbow. “We’re on the same page, my friend.”

  Sophie’s face blushed at the reference. She admired Brooke, and Jacky could tell she probably wanted to be just like her one day.

  “So after they pass their proverbial brooms on to new bees,” Brooke explained, “they take on the next role of undertaker.”

  “Ewe.” Sophie crinkled her nose.

  “Yeah. This is about when they are only three days to sixteen days old too.”

  “A lot for a little one to take on, no?” Sophie asked.

  “They’re resilient. They learn quickly to remove any bees who have died, taking them out of the hive and moving them as far away as possible. If a new brood is suspected of being sick, they remove them too so they aren’t a threat to the entire hive.”

  “So no special care or attention when they’re sick?” Jacky asked. “Poor girls.”

  “Nah, just a quick way to maturity,” Brooke winked.

  “Yeah.” Jacky returned the wink.

  Sophie stared at a few honeybees crawling around the tray. “So what next?”

  “Well, they graduate to become nursing bees. They essentially become the babysitters only without the fringe benefits of junk food and video games.”

  Sophie laughed.

  “They feed and take care of the young dev
eloping larvae, checking on them about thirteen hundred times a day.”

  “No time for junk food and video games. They must be exhausted.” Sophie reached out for the tray.

  “Some of them get a break from that and become part of the queen’s court. They have the task of following her around the hive and taking care of her basic needs.”

  Sophie flipped the tray over like a pro and examined the underside. “That would be a pretty prestigious role.”

  “They’re basically a glorified babysitter until they go on from there and get down to the nitty gritty of hive work.”

  “What role is that?”

  “They collect nectar and pollen from foraging field bees that return to the hive after a day of collection. They deposit it into cells that are purposely set aside for food storage.”

  Sophie pressed on. “How old are they at this point?”

  “About twelve to eighteen days old.”

  “Geez they sound like they’ve lived an entire teenage life by then.”

  “To them, they have. They are ready to do an important job by this time.”

  “Which is?” Sophie asked.

  “Well, with all the fussing going on in the hive and all that food being stored, it gets hot. Someone has to keep the place cool. So, they turn into little air conditioners and fan the hive. They do this until they’re about eighteen days old.”

  “Or else arthritis sets in?” Jacky joked.

  “Ha, yeah, I guess eighteen days old would be our equivalent of getting up there in age.”

  “So what next?” Sophie asked, enthusiastically.

  “Once they’re eighteen days old, they’re considered mature. Now the fun begins. They can begin to produce beeswax. This wax is used to produce new honeycomb and also to cap off the honeycomb once the honey has ripened.”

  Sophie handed the tray back to Brooke. “They become like artists.”

  “Yes, artists. Of course then they turn into something less artsy and more gutsy. They become guard bees.”

  Sophie fingered a bee. “Sounds serious.”

  “Their role is to protect the hive. They ensure that when a bee arrives, they have a familiar scent. If not, they’re not permitted. Now just like in real life, there are always those who can be persuaded to let someone slip in, if the bribe is enticing enough. In this case, the bribe is usually in the form of nectar. These bees will typically come in, steal a little honey or pollen and then vacate.”