Майя Лунде - The History of Bees

We remained standing there outside the entrance. I stretched out my hand to Kuan but he was standing too far away. I couldn’t reach him. Or perhaps he didn’t want to be reached.

Then the door opened and two men dressed in white came out. Doctors? Nurses?

They took each of us compassionately by the arm and asked that we accompany them. I followed them with all of my questions. Where was Wei-Wen? What was wrong with him? Was he injured? Would we soon be allowed to see him? But they had no answers. Said only that our son, they said son , perhaps they didn’t even know his name, was in good hands. It would be fine. Then they just put us in here, and vanished.

I had been standing like this for hours when the door finally opened and a doctor came in. She introduced herself as Dr. Hio and closed the door behind her, without meeting our gazes.

“Where is he? Where is Wei-Wen?” I asked. My voice came from somewhere far away.

“They are still working on your son,” the woman said, and moved further into the room.

Her hair was gray, but her face was smooth, expressionless.

“His name is Wei-Wen,” I said. “Can I see him?”

I took a step towards the door. She had to take me to him. It had to be possible. I didn’t have to be at his side, behind a glass window would do, as long as I could see him.

“Working on him. What do you mean?” Kuan said.

She lifted her head and looked at him, while avoiding my eyes.

“We’re doing everything we can.”

“He will survive, right?” Kuan asked.

“We’re doing everything we can,” she repeated mildly.

Kuan lifted his hand to his mouth. Bit his knuckles. I felt the jolt of a sudden chill.

“We must be allowed to see him,” I said, but the words were so faint that they almost disappeared.

She didn’t answer me, merely shook her head gently.

That couldn’t be right. It had to be a mistake. Everything that had happened was a mistake. It wasn’t him lying in there. Not Wei-Wen. He was at school, or at home. It was another child, a misunderstanding.

“You have to trust us,” Dr. Hio said quietly and sat down. “And in the meantime, I need you to answer some questions.”

Kuan nodded and sat down on a chair.

She picked up a pen and paper and prepared to take notes.

“Has your son ever been ill before?”

“No,” Kuan answered obediently and turned to face me. “Has he? Can you remember whether he has?”

“No. Just an ear infection,” I said. “And the flu.”

She wrote down a few words on the pad of paper. “Nothing out of the ordinary?”

“No.”

“Other respiratory infections? Asthma?”

“Nothing,” I said firmly.

Dr. Hio turned to face Kuan again.

“Where, exactly, was he when you found him?” Kuan leaned forward, doubled up, as if he wanted to shield himself from her questions.

“Between the trees, near Field 458, or maybe 457. Right by the forest.”

“And what was he doing?”

“He was sitting there. Slumped over. Pale. Sweating.”

“And you were the one who found him?”

“Yes. It was me.”

“He was so frightened,” I said. “He was so unbelievably frightened.”

She nodded.

“We ate plums,” I continued. “We had brought plums. He ate the entire tin.”

“Thank you.” She wrote something down again on her little pad.

Then she turned to Kuan again, as if he were the one who had the answers. “Do you think he was in the forest?”

“I don’t know.”

She hesitated. “What were you doing out there?”

Kuan leaned forward again. Sent me a look, blank, a look that didn’t disclose what he was thinking.

The tension mounted, it became difficult to breathe. I was unable to answer. Kept my eyes on him, tried to plead, get him to cover up the truth. Say that it was our idea to go there, perhaps even his, when in reality it was mine alone.

My fault that we were out there.

Kuan didn’t respond to my gaze, just turned towards the doctor and took a deep breath. “We were on an outing,” he said. “We wanted to spend our day off doing something pleasant.”

Perhaps he didn’t hold me responsible, perhaps he didn’t blame me. I kept watching him, but he didn’t look in my direction. Revealed nothing, no answers, but neither did he make any accusations. And perhaps that’s how it was. Perhaps that was the truth. We were together in this, together in being out there. It was a decision we both made and an agreement, a compromise, not just my idea.

Dr. Hio didn’t seem to notice everything that lay between us—she just looked from one to the other, compassionate, more than merely professional. “I promise to come back as soon as I have more information.”

I took a step forward. “But what happened? What’s the matter with him?” My voice was shaking now. “You must know something more?”

The woman just shook her head slowly. She had no answers.

“Try to get some rest. I’ll see if I can have some food sent in.”

She disappeared out the door and we were left standing there.

There was a clock hanging on the wall. The time passed in erratic jumps. Sometimes when I looked at the clock, twenty minutes had passed, other times, only twenty seconds.

Kuan stayed at all times on the opposite side of the room. Regardless of where I stood, he was far away. It was not just his wish, equally so my own. It was impossible to get past the big thing between us. In the face of this, we were both transformed into thin ice, like the first thin sheets that formed on ponds in the autumn, which shattered at the lightest touch.

I took a sip of water. It was sour, water from a tank, water that had always been stagnant.

It had become dark. Neither of us turned on the light. What did we need light for? An hour had passed since the doctor had been here.

I checked the hallway once more. But nobody was at the counter.

I kept walking, but found only locked doors. Leaned my ear against one of them, but heard nothing. An intense humming from the air conditioner drowned out everything else.

Back again. Just stay here. Wait.

We had reached the hives by the Satis farm. I took those closest to the main road. I caught a glimpse of Jimmy and Rick, who were working their way across the field. I was tired, but not worn out, knew I was going to sleep as if somebody had pulled out the plug on me that night.

I was just about to lift the lid off the last hive when Gareth Green showed up.

His semitrailer truck thundered through the landscape. Three more followed behind him. When he saw me, he stopped. He actually stopped. And the semitrailer trucks behind him had to wait in line, stand there with the engines running and the sun beating down on the windshields and just wait for Gareth. It probably wasn’t the first time.

He got out of the cab with a huge smirk on his face, sporting mirror sunglasses and a suntan. And a bright green cap with the words CLEARWATER BEACH, SPRING BREAK 2006. Bought on sale down south, maybe. Gareth liked doing things on the cheap, but preferably in a way so people wouldn’t notice, because he also liked it if people were impressed. He left the door open and the engine running.

“So. Everything good up here?”

He nodded towards me and my hives, which were placed at irregular distances across the field. There weren’t many of them so they looked pretty sparse.

“Looking good,” I said. “A good winter. Didn’t lose many.”

“Good. Good. Happy to hear it. Us too. Not much waste.” Gareth always used the word waste about the bees. Made it sound as if they were plants. Farm crops.

He nodded towards the landscape. “We’re going to stop here for a round now. Pears.”