The Enlightenment of Bees

by Rachel Linden

  Maybe I’m being too shortsighted. Am I throwing away a perfectly good thing because of some idyllic daydream, the lure of the unknown? Maybe we can make it work, both get what we want from life. After all, he gave up moving to San Jose for me. We could still have it, the life we’ve dreamed of for so many years, with tweaks to accommodate this new direction I’m going, the new Mia. I do miss Ethan. I still care for him. I don’t feel the quicksilver in the veins like I do with Kai, but when I look at Ethan I feel instead a tenderness, a gentle familiarity. We’ve spent so many years together, lived so much of life side by side. He is a part of me, of my life, and I can’t ignore that.

  “Ethan says we can compromise, that we can make it all work.” I sigh.

  “But you’re not so sure,” Rosie correctly surmises, giving me a thoughtful look.

  I nod. “I have to think about it logically, not just give in to nostalgia and emotion. Could a compromise really work? Could we both get the life we want?” I scoop up a little frosting and consider the question. Yes, it could work if Ethan were more adventurous. If he could just develop his sense of social justice. If he longed for travel the way I do.

  And then suddenly I see it. The truth, pure and simple.

  If Ethan changed in all the ways I just listed, the ways I need him to change if we are going to make a life together now, he would not be himself; he would no longer be Ethan. With a jolt, I realize I am describing someone else entirely.

  “It’s not possible,” I say slowly, with a dawning understanding. “I can’t have Ethan and this new life. They don’t fit together.”

  Rosie looks over at me, her expression sympathetic. “I know, sugar,” she says gently. “I’m sorry.”

  Sitting in the empty patio that smells of spilled beer and cigarette smoke, my fingers sticky with hummingbird frosting, I know in my gut that I have made a decision. I want to share a grand adventure of a life with someone, but that someone is not Ethan. The life I want to live is no longer a life we can share.

  In an instant I see the entire timespan of our love flashing before me. The moment I first laid eyes on him in line at Wow Bubble Tea. That dimple and his endearing smile. The way he would kiss the corner of my mouth and hold me to his chest, spinning us in a slow circle, humming “How Sweet It Is” in his best James Taylor impression.

  I think of the little Craftsman cottage on Green Lake, waking up next to Ethan in the gray of a Seattle morning. Some other couple will live there now. Of Sunday mornings grabbing coffee and a morning bun at the Butter Emporium. Of the Frenchie named Butterworth. A life I will never have. A life I no longer want.

  I sink my head into my arms on the table, feeling slightly sick with grief and frosting. “It’s over,” I murmur softly, tears springing to my eyes.

  Rosie reaches across the table and places her hand on my head, a gesture of solidarity and comfort, a benediction.

  “What about Kai?” she asks me.

  I raise my head and look at her. “What about him?”

  She slants me a knowing look. “I’ve seen how you look at him when you think he isn’t watching. I’ve seen how he looks at you too. You’re like magnets. You can’t keep away from each other.”

  “We’re just friends,” I lie.

  Rosie rolls her eyes. “Girl, you think I just fell off the turnip truck? You just keep telling yourself that.”

  “I’m scared,” I admit bluntly. “I gave up everything for Ethan, including my own dreams. I’m scared I’ll do the same thing again for a different man.”

  Rosie licks a curl of shaved coconut from the tip of her finger. “But Kai isn’t Ethan,” she says.

  I nod. “I know, but I’m still so afraid I’ll lose myself again if I give my heart away. I think I might love him. I’m in trouble.”

  Rosie tips her head and considers me for a moment. “It’s only trouble if it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go,” she says finally. “Kai’s a good man. He put himself between you and a shark. Remember.”

  I nod. “I like Kai so much that it scares me, but I have to figure out what I want first, just me. And I have to tell Ethan it’s over.”

  As I say the words I feel a glimmer of relief, of excitement beneath the grief that lies like an oil slick on my heart. It fizzes up from the center of my chest like champagne bubbles, like joy. The buzzing in my ears stops abruptly, leaving a ringing silence, an empty calm. I know I have made the right decision. I cannot rewind time and go back to before, to who I was and what I chose the last time. And I cannot throw myself into another relationship before I know how to stand on my own two feet, before I know what this new Mia really wants in life.

  I crumple the cupcake wrapper and stand, brushing the bits of shaved coconut from my pajamas. I am exhausted but peaceful. I will tell Ethan the news in the morning. In my heart I know I am making the right choice. In saying no to this old, good thing, I am saying yes to something even better.

  Chapter 38

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” I find Ethan at the food tent during our midmorning break. The medical tent has been too busy for me to step away until now, and I’ve been dreading this conversation all morning.

  “Sure, of course.” Ethan sets down the apples he is sorting, his expression hopeful and a little nervous. I hate what I am about to do to him. He follows me from the tent, and I see Kai out of the corner of my eye standing at the drinks station watching us. We lock eyes for an instant before he turns away. I resolutely focus on the task at hand, ignoring all else. This isn’t about Kai. This is about Ethan and me and all that we were and are not and will never now be.

  It’s hard to find privacy in the camp, and we finally have to settle for a secluded patch of ground behind the Porta-Potties. It’s not the dignified setting I would have chosen. The end of a love should be poetic, not smelling like fetid human waste, not in a dry circle of grass next to two blue portable toilets.

  We sit side by side, and I take a deep breath. I think for one brief moment of the other life I could have had, the one I am about to destroy forever. I look up and meet Ethan’s eyes, those beautiful, familiar blue eyes. Ethan sees the truth on my face before I open my mouth.

  “Mia.” He puts a hand up as though to ward off what is coming, but I cannot be stopped.

  “No,” I say, my mouth trembling. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I can’t come back to you. Not now, not ever. It’s over.”

  He stares at me for a moment, and I see that he is both surprised and hurt. He thought I would return to him. Somehow the realization steels my resolve.

  “Our futures don’t fit together anymore,” I say. “We don’t fit together anymore.”

  “But we can compromise,” Ethan protests, spreading his hands, using his best negotiator tone. “We can make this work. If we want something enough, we can make anything work.”

  I look at him, really look at him. Six years have changed him, changed us both. I notice for the first time that his hair is starting to thin at the top. I swallow the hard lump in my throat, as big as a duck egg; this is so bittersweet. Choosing to let a good thing go in order to make room for something better is harder than I anticipated. And scary. So very scary.

  What if I never find love again? What if I am cutting myself free only to end up alone in this new life? It is a risk I have to be okay taking. No more guarantees, just wide open, endless possibility. And hopefully better things at last.

  “That’s just it,” I whisper. “I know we could probably make it work, limp along, neither of us quite getting what we want. Maybe it would be good enough. But I don’t want good enough. Not anymore.”

  He looks pained, suddenly comprehending the ramification of my words. It is truly over. I am guessing he never dreamed he’d be going home without me.

  “Are you sure?” he asks. He isn’t angry. He just looks sad.

  I nod. I don’t know exactly what I have just set in motion, but I know it is right. “Yes.”

  “Okay.” Ethan nods. His tone is quiet, d
efeated. He rubs the bridge of his nose and sighs. The gesture is so familiar I have to bite back a sudden sob. What am I doing, letting this good man go? How can I let him just walk out of my life?

  The only thing worse would be letting him stay.

  Ethan reaches for me then, and I lean into his arms almost without thinking, out of habit. He enfolds me in a hug, and I start to cry. He rubs my back, a brief, familiar gesture of comfort.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see Rosie flit by, casting us a sympathetic glance. A few seconds later Jake follows, his video camera pointed in our direction. I ignore him and bury my head in Ethan’s shoulder. This is not fodder for the public. This is a private moment, a farewell to this man who held my heart for so many years. He smells of butterscotch candy, of first love, of my youth.

  After a moment Ethan kisses the top of my head, then releases me and stands. I stand too. It is the last time I will feel his arms around me. I know this for sure. The knowledge makes me cry harder. Ethan’s eyes are suspiciously pink, but he holds it together. “Be safe, Mia. Be well. I hope this life is everything you want it to be.”

  I nod wordlessly, tears streaming down my face. “You too,” I manage to choke out. “Now you can move to San Jose. You can have the life you really want.”

  Ethan smiles sadly. “I would have given it all up for you,” he says.

  I nod wordlessly, crying harder. He turns and walks resolutely to the food tent. I see him talking to Laszlo, and a moment later he makes the rounds of the volunteers. It looks as though he is leaving. He gives Rosie a brief, awkward hug, shakes hands with Milo and Abel. When he gets to Kai he pauses, reaching up and clasping him on the shoulder. They exchange a few words, and then Ethan gets into the white van with Laszlo and drives away.

  I watch him leave with a feeling of disbelief. From the food tent Rosie approaches me, her shoes crunching over the dry grass.

  “You okay, sugar?” She stands next to me, and together we watch the van until it disappears from sight.

  “I told him I couldn’t go back,” I say, almost in disbelief. “It’s over.”

  She nods sadly and puts her arm around me. “Still think you did the right thing?”

  “Yeah, I do . . .” I swallow hard but don’t say anything further. In some way I feel like my heart is newly broken, but at the same time it is liberated too. Like a butterfly from a cocoon, a chick from an egg, my heart had to crack open to be set free.

  * * *

  Later that day I run into Kai as I leave the medical tent for a quick break. He’s just coming in the tent door, and we almost collide. I step to the side quickly, confused and disoriented for a moment by his nearness. I stuff my hands in my pockets and try to act normal.

  “Hey,” I say, going for nonchalant.

  “Hey.” He holds out a stack of thin fleece blankets. “Delphine asked for these.” He’s wearing his Willy Nelson T-shirt, and he looks so uncertain that my heart squeezes with longing. Stay strong, West, I tell myself sternly. Don’t go there.

  “Thanks.” I take the blankets and turn to go.

  “Mia.” His eyes search my face with concern. “Are you okay?”

  For a moment I don’t respond. “Yeah, I think I am,” I say slowly, still a little amazed. I meet his eyes. “I did it. I chose better things.”

  He watches me intently, as though trying to divine the meaning behind my words. “Good,” he says, but his expression is guarded.

  I hurt him when Ethan arrived, I realize. We shared a kiss, there was a promise of something starting between us, and then I abandoned him as soon as Ethan showed up. What did Kai tell me during our dinner in Mumbai? That his greatest fear was of getting hurt, of trusting someone only to be let down. I’ve let him down. The realization gives me a pang of regret.

  “I’m sorry . . .” I hesitate. How do I say this to him? “I’m sorry if I hurt you. I was so confused when Ethan showed up. I didn’t know how to handle things well.”

  He shrugs, dismissing it. “It’s okay. I get it.” He looks at me. “So what happens now?” he asks, and I know he means us.

  “I don’t know,” I say slowly, carefully. I want to be honest but not say too much or too little. Part of me wants to reassure him, regain his trust again, but I can’t make promises I cannot keep. “I just knew I couldn’t be with Ethan. Now I need space and time to figure out what comes next on my own. I spent so many years making decisions with someone else in mind. I have to learn what I want, just me.”

  “Are you sure?” he asks finally. His eyes are intent on mine, filled with questions he isn’t asking.

  “Yeah, I am.” I nod, hoping he understands. This is not a rejection; it’s a necessity. I have to know what I want before I can choose a companion for the journey.

  “Okay,” he says, a note of resignation in his voice, a wariness. Something shifts when he looks at me, something shutters in his eyes. Suddenly the inches between us feel huge.

  “I hope you find everything you’re looking for,” he says. The statement feels scarily like a goodbye.

  “Wait, Kai.” I suddenly panic that I have inadvertently closed the door too soon on him. I don’t want to lose him, but I know I cannot dive into another relationship, not yet. “I just need some time and space to figure things out,” I repeat.

  “Sure, I get it.” He meets my eyes. “But Mia, I’m an all-or-nothing kind of guy. I can’t do this halfway, you understand?”

  “Yes,” I say, feeling chastened and deflated.

  “I’d better get back to my station.” He turns to go.

  “Hey.” I stop him. “What did Ethan say to you when he left?” I’ve been so curious since I saw them together this morning, Ethan’s hand on Kai’s shoulder, his lips forming words I couldn’t decipher.

  Kai pauses, then looks up at the sky for a moment. “He said only a fool would let you go,” he says at last, turning his gaze to me, his own dark and inscrutable. “He told me not to be a fool.”

  I open my mouth but have no idea what to say. Wordlessly, he turns and walks away.

  Chapter 39

  “Your sister is improving but isn’t well enough to travel yet,” Delphine announces later that evening, draping her stethoscope around her neck after listening to Maryam’s lungs. Maryam is our last patient before Stefan starts his night shift.

  Yousef nods, looking discouraged. “I see.” They have been coming for daily checkups and hope to board a bus to Sweden any day now.

  “Perhaps another few days of rest and lots of fluids,” Delphine encourages. “She will be well soon.”

  I often see Maryam and Yousef around camp, standing in line at the food tent for breakfast or sitting together under their oak tree. Maryam always waves and smiles as though we are old friends. Yousef is constantly caring for his sister, plying her with bottled water and urging her to rest. Most of the refugees that were here when we arrived have moved on by now, but not Maryam and Yousef, not yet.

  After they leave, Delphine asks me to refill the supplies before Stefan starts his shift. When I return carrying bottles of water, baby wipes, and medicines, I find the tent unexpectedly empty. I restock the rolling supply cart and exit the stifling confines of the tent, searching for Delphine.

  The temperature has dropped after sunset, and a fresh breeze is blowing over the fields, bringing the scent of turned earth and growing things. The camp is quieting, people settling down for the night in tents or in the woods. I finally spy Delphine on a grassy knoll between the medical tent and a field of sugar beets.

  As I approach I see just her outline, a blotch of white doctor’s coat in the soft gloom. She is sitting with one arm slung over her knees. The glowing orange tip of a lit cigarette in her hand surprises me. She’s a doctor. Surely she knows how harmful a habit smoking can be. She doesn’t acknowledge me until I am just a few feet away.

  “You smoke?” I can’t quite keep the note of disapproval from my voice.

  She chuckles low in her throat. “I’m French,” s
he says. She gestures to a spot on the trampled grass beside her, and I sit facing the camp, clasping my arms across my legs. It feels good to rest. We spend long hours standing every day, and my feet ache constantly. Neither of us speaks. I hope I’m not intruding, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

  I see the white van roll slowly back down the lane. Kai and Milo returning from a Tesco run, bringing fruit and fresh bread for the morning. Kai turns the van so that the headlights shine on the food tent, and the other volunteers begin to unload.

  “So what are you going to do now?” Delphine asks me suddenly, breaking into my contemplation.

  “About what?”

  She takes a draw of the cigarette. “You said goodbye to the man you loved today.”

  “Oh.” I’m embarrassed that she knows about it. I’m sure the entire roster of volunteers was talking about it today, maybe the whole camp. “Yeah, I did.” I feel the prickle of hot tears and an unexpected swell of sorrow.

  “So . . . ?” She seems genuinely curious.

  “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I just knew I couldn’t go back to the girl I was and the life we’d planned together. I’ve changed, and now I’ve got to figure out what I want to do with this new life, this new me.” I blink and swallow hard.

  Delphine nods, grinding out her cigarette on the ground. “Well, whatever you decide to do, please do not consider medicine as a good option.”

  “What?” I gape at her, caught between a laugh and a gasp. “What do you mean?”

  She smirks. “Szilvia told me you were interested in medicine. It’s why she sent you to my tent. After two days I told Stefan I’ve never seen someone less suited to medicine in my entire life.”

  “Hey now,” I protest, but she holds up her hand.

  “But I also have rarely met someone as kind and selfless as you, Mia. It is a rare thing, a beautiful thing, to have a heart that is as open as yours is. Protect that gift.”