The Death of Bees (14 page)

Lorna was mortified. “It's more complicated than that.”

Kim goes, “Is it fuck.”

“Sexuality, politics, and religion, these are not things a polite person debates with another.”

“Religion,” says Kim. “Don't make me laugh. Bible is a lot of bull.”

I suppose it should be awkward two folk fighting about pussy and the word of God, but I'm used to it, people tearing lumps out of each other. Susie told them both to shut up. She probably didn't want the rest of the bus thinking she was a lezzy too. I know I didn't.

We thought we'd have to wait ages for Susie but she was back in about an hour looking kind of blank with absolutely nothing in her face to show how it went. Eventually we asked how her mum was, but she said she didn't want to talk about it. Lorna suggested we go get something to eat. We were starving and the bus back to Glasgow was still a couple of hours away, but Kim said it was inappropriate to eat. Lorna told her to piss off and stomped off to the nearest tearoom. I stayed with Kim, but I really wanted to go with Lorna. Susie just sat there, not saying a word, but after about ten minutes she starts to breathe funny and then she starts to cry. Kim gave Susie a big hug and held her for a long time. Something horrible had happened, that much we had worked out. At first I thought her mum was dead, but she wasn't. Turns out she's not even in the psychiatric unit. They didn't know who Ivy Murphy was and when Susie got home to her granny, her granny had to tell her the truth. Her mum lives in Croydon and has a new family. She has two boys, one called Noah and the other one Peter. She also has a husband called Mike. Her granny had wedding pictures and pictures of her mum with her kids and on holidays with her kids and on beaches with her kids. And there were letters, a ton of letters, but her granny didn't want Susie to read them. Susie went mental over that and so her granny gave in. I suppose they were nice letters really, the kind of letters a mother should get from a daughter. Her mum was obviously doing well in life. Talked about her kids and the house her husband had built, talked about the places they'd been and the places they were going to. Her worries about the future, about getting her kids into good schools and bird flu. She was really worried about bird flu. And there were loads of thank-you notes for gifts her granny had sent to her grandchildren. There wasn't a single word about Susie in any of the letters. Nothing, like she didn't even exist, and if that wasn't bad enough, there was one letter written last year about how brilliant it had been to see Susie's granny after such a long time, how the boys missed her, and how she hoped Susie's granny would visit them again. Susie went demented. Her granny told her she'd gone to Butlins. Susie started tearing the house apart, and her granny just sat there, letting her kick the shit out of walls, doors, and windows. It was a neighbor who called the police. Her granny was in a right state. Susie had to be pinned to the floor by Kim.

When I go see her the next day at her granny's Susie doesn't say anything for ages. Then she goes, “Where the fuck's Gene?”

“Don't know,” I say, but the whole time I'm wondering, Why does she want to know about Gene at a time like this?

“We're getting married,” she says.

“Excuse me?” I say.

“I said we're getting married, me and Gene, soon as I'm sixteen. We're in love, so I know he's not in Turkey with your fucking ma.”

“What are you talking about?”

She produces two plane tickets to Spain, one with her name on it, the other with Gene's.

I can't move.

“We were going to disappear, start a new life away from this shit hole. That's why I went to see my ma, to say good-bye.” She was sad then, but I didn't care. I wanted to wring her neck. I wanted to do a lot of things but in that moment I could barely move a muscle.

“When the fuck did this happen?” I yelled.

“Started last summer. I went to see you and you weren't in. He was. We have a lot in common as a matter of fact.”

“Shut up,” I says.

“He's not with her, Marnie, I know he's not, something's happened to him.”

“Nothing's happened to him, he's done a runner like he always does.”

“Then why's his stuff still in the house? Last time he texted me he said he loved me. We were meant to meet up the next day. Go to Spain. That was months ago. He bought the fucking tickets!” she screamed.

She started flapping them about in my face.

I didn't know what to say but I had to find something, anything to keep her from raising the alarm and going to the police.

“He'll be back,” I assured her. “But not for you,” I spat.

“I'm going to the police,” she says.

“You do that Gene gets done for rape of a minor. Abduction probably. You're only fifteen.”

“They don't have to know that.”

“You think I won't tell them? You can't be breaking up my family and expect me to do nothing.” Obviously I was a little wobbly on this point.

Susie cried like a baby after that and I wanted to hug her, but I couldn't. She made me sick to my stomach.

After the Susie bombshell I went to the library. Drowned my sorrows in algebra, I have prelims right now and I can barely think with everything going on. Anyway when I got home Kirkland was hanging around my gate, earphones on, black coat hanging around his legs and big smiles. I couldn't be arsed with him.

“What you doing here, don't you have to study or something or is that just me?” I says.

“Come to give you this,” he says and hands me a CD.

I say, “Thanks,” but really I'm thinking,
Another fucking compilation. Great
.

“Did you get my text messages?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“So do you want to go and see a film?”

“If I'd wanted to see a film, I'd have texted you back, but I didn't text you back.”

“How no?” he says, obviously not taking the hint.

“ 'Cause I don't want to see a film, Fannybaws.”

“Did I do something wrong?” he whimpers.

Now I feel like I'm pointing a shotgun at a puppy.

“Look,” I say. “You're a nice bloke and I feel like a bitch saying this, but I'm not into you, okay?”

He doesn't say anything for a bit, then he goes, “Got any jellies?”

“You need to see Mick for that stuff. I don't work for him anymore.”

“Can we at least be friends?”

“Aye awright.”

What else am I going to say?

Then he steps in for a hug and throwing him a bone, I hug him back, but then he moves in for a snog.

“Fuck off,” I says.

“I'm sorry,” he says, but he's not. Chancer.

“So you should be,” I say and then I stomp off. Very dramatic, but when I keek out the window I see him holding his head like he's in this big love drama and I've totally fucked him up or something. All this after one awkward shag, but that's how shags are the first time, everyone trying to impress and getting it wrong.

I knew I had to get rid of him then. I mean really rid of him. I don't want him thinking about me and decide to be brutal. When it comes to guys like Kirkland you've got to be. It's for their own good. So the following Saturday we're all out at this club, Kirkland in his finest goth attire, black suit jacket instead of the signature trampy mac he likes to wear. He even washed his hair, he actually looked smart and was wearing aftershave and nice stuff, he usually stinks of patchouli incense, an arse of a smell. Anyway I have a job to do and so I single out his mate Daniel and take him out back for a BJ, but I can't face it 'cause he reeks and I snog him instead. Kirkland thinks he's best friends with Daniel but that's the thing with Kirkland, you give him any attention whatsoever and suddenly he's your bitch. Anyway when we get back to the club I find Kirkland getting off with some random Indie chick with pink hair and it bugs me. In a very surprising fury I go and get myself a drink, mostly to get the taste of Danny out my mouth and Kirkland appears at my side.

“Awright,” he says. “Good night?”

“Great,” I says. “Your pal has a big dick.”

“Right?” he says.

“Who the fuck's she?” I say and like I'm annoyed. I want to kick myself for that, but it's too late, it's out of my mouth and he thinks he's got me all interested, but I'm not.

“What do you care?” he says.

“I don't.” Trying to take back any notion I give a shit. “ 'Cause I don't.”

“Good. Want a drink?”

“Okay,” and he buys me a drink. He's like that. Then he takes it over to the table for me and sits next to her.

His pal Danny's all over me of course and can't snog for shit and Pink's all over Kirkland, then I remember what a nice kisser Kirkland is and I can't stop looking at him. Then I notice he's looking at me while he's kissing Pink. It gets really sick then and we're kissing these people we obviously don't want to be kissing, our hands reaching past them on the sofa, playing with each other's fingers. I can't take it anymore and go to the toilet and see if Kirkland will follow me and he does. We just stand there, staring and suddenly I'm feeling this warm sensation from my loins to my lips and I jump him, I want to feel him everywhere and it's so red we have to leave the club or rather run away from Pink and Danny, who end up getting off with each other and bitching about us probably.

Anyway we got to Kirkland's house and we take a ton of Mick's drugs or Kirkland does and we fuck all night and it might be the first time in my life I actually want to do it with someone and it's different, naked, real, careful, and honest.

I can hardly believe it. I thought I hated him, but it was a lie and I told it to myself, why would I do that?

His parents were away and so I stay with him for two amazing days of eating and shagging, all the time some CD he's recorded for me, maybe five, spinning in the background. He tells me he loves me and has always loved me, he tells me he will always love me and I don't say it back and just laugh at him, but he doesn't care, he still says it and I want him to. When it's time to go, I want to stay, but I pretend I want to go and when I look for my clothes, they're all folded, even my pants, makes me a wee bit embarrassed, so I act cool and call him a soppy arse, but Kirkland doesn't know what cool means, he's so straight and then he does this really cute begging thing and taking the piss out of himself for wanting me to stay and that makes me want to stay more. But I can't, I don't want to make him like me too much or maybe I don't want to like him too much.

I don't have my iPod on me and so he gives me his.

Outside it's freezing, but it's a good cold. He walks me to the subway and we pass this window, it's all shiny and like a mirror, reflecting me and Kirkland holding hands. He's taller than me and we look quite funny together, then he says, “Don't you like how we look?” I don't say anything, but then he goes, “ 'Cause I like how we look.” Then he pulls me to his face and we kiss again.

On the way home I listen to everything he played for me over the weekend and even though it doesn't sound the way it did when we were together, it sounds like something I want to hear all the time.

Next day I go to see Susie but I can't ring the doorbell. I don't even know why I'm at the door at all to be honest. I suppose I want to tell my bezzy mate all about Kirkland, someone who won't say anything and be glad for me, someone who'll keep it a secret, but things are too fucked-up between Susie and me and so I leave. I decide to find Kim, but she's all gutted over Lorna, they've had another barney and so I end up comforting Kim and saying shite like “She's just not worth it” when I should be saying, “Take your fucking meds, you mental head,” but she's my bezzy so I don't say anything, I just hug her and hand her hankies. In the end I go to the garden and tell Izzy, she could never keep a secret before, but given her situation she's great at keeping secrets. So is Gene, but then again he always was.

Nelly

M
arnie has taken up with a boy. I've seen them from my window. He takes her home almost every night, a true gentleman. Sometimes they lurk in the shadows where I can't see them. I wonder at their secrets. He must be a very humorous chap, for she giggles and gasps at everything he has to say. She is positively smitten with the fellow. I have no interest in boys. They smell of socks and oil. Their teeth are yellow and their smiles too wide. I wish they'd look to their books, I wish they wouldn't whistle and gawk, I wish they wouldn't look at me at all. It is most vexing.

“Enjoy it while it lasts, hot stuff,” says Sharon.

“Don't call me that,” I tell her.

“Hot?” She laughs. “What's your problem? You're gorgeous. Could have any guy you want and you act like a freak.”

“You have a fellow no doubt,” I say.

“I have several fellows, my lady.”

“I have more important pursuits in life.”

“What can be more important than having a good time? You're not forty. You should hang with us sometime. It would be a laugh.”

I shrug.

“Suit yourself, freakoid.”

I was ever so relieved as she walked away, I returned to calm and rushed home to Lennie. We can play together and eat crumble. It's exactly what the doctor ordered. A crumble and a violin. It doesn't get much better than that.

Lennie

C
ouldn't believe the verdict. Brain tumor. Malignant. Aggressive. Too large for surgery they said. I didn't know what to say. I felt a strange tingling in my fingertips and my tongue went sour. My body felt heavy and my head light. I tried to stand up and go home, take what he said and fold it into a drawer, but I couldn't even stand and had to sit, someone handed me water while another talked to me of hospices on account of having no one to care for me and it's true there isn't anyone. I can't exactly lean on the girls, can I? They mustn't even know.