Of Bees and Mist

  At the same time that a chill entered Meridia’s bones, the wind picked up and stifled her with the intoxicating breath of the roses. She remembered Patina lying on the ground, her cheek burned by Eva’s hand and her voice hoarse from supplicating the dead. While the marigolds shivered, the roses had stood tall, silent like executioners. Pilar, as if seeing this same image, resumed her furious scratching.

  “And that’s not all,” she said. “That viper was so heartless she didn’t even allow the grave to remain in peace.”

  “The grave? What grave?”

  “Why, the one where Patina buried her daughter! It once occupied the center of the front lawn, because my sister couldn’t bear the thought of her baby being buried far from her. But after that snake wrested possession of the house, she had men tear down the gravestone—literally smash it to bits—dig up the coffin, and remove it to the Cemetery of Ashes. She complained that for years she hadn’t been able to sleep with that grave screeching in the front lawn—lied outright that the very thought of it gave her shivers and nightmares. Ha! But Patina let her do it. And that snake didn’t stop there. She planted red roses where the grave used to be and nursed them with her spite. Those abominable flowers bloomed and bloomed like nothing you have seen, erasing every trace that Patina’s true daughter had once rested inside that earth!”

  The chill in Meridia’s bones intensified as Patina’s words echoed in her memory. My child…my baby…Patina had been wailing on top of her daughter’s grave.

  Pilar stopped scratching and lowered her head in defeat. A drop of blood oozed from the birthmark on her chin.

  “For years I’ve asked Patina to come live with me. I’m a poor woman, but as long as I can put food on the table, she’s welcome in my house. She doesn’t have to lift a finger there, I’ll take care of her. But what does she tell me? ‘I can’t leave my daughter alone. She needs me, and I need her.’ I say, ‘What she needs is a heart, and nobody but God can give it to her.’ But she gets angry when I talk like that. All she’s willing to take from me is a little money, and even that I suspect she spends on her. You don’t know how much it grieves me every time I see her, my own sister, refusing to take help from me!” Unable to control herself, Pilar covered her eyes and sobbed.

  Gently, Meridia prodded, “What happened to her feet?”

  Pilar let her hands fall to her sides. The spot of blood grew and darkened.

  “She wouldn’t tell me. One morning when I paid a visit after the baby’s grave was torn down, her toes and ankles had already curled inward. It was as if someone had taken a hammer and smashed every bone in her feet.”

  The pain and outrage in Pilar’s eyes caused Meridia to shudder. “Why haven’t I met you until today?” Meridia asked.

  Pilar half laughed and half scoffed at the simplicity of this question. “Do you think I’m welcome here? For twenty-five years your mother-in-law hasn’t been able to bear the sight of me. She tells everyone I’m venom in her blood. There will be trouble if she knows I’ve been talking to you.”

  Meridia looked at Pilar a moment and then offered the only consolation she could. “You will let me know if I can help?”

  Blotting the blood from her chin, Pilar smiled bitterly. “All these years I’ve been asking Patina the same question. I don’t believe she will ever say yes.”

  She nodded at Meridia and hurried down the deserted street. The three o’clock sun glared off her bright yellow dress and left the image burning in Meridia’s retina long after her footsteps faded.

  On her way back to the house, Meridia covered her nose as she skirted the wilderness of the roses. Sitting on the terrace, calmly rocking herself in Elias’s chair, was Malin. Her stare smashed into Meridia before she got up with deliberate slowness and went into the house. Entering the front door, Meridia caught a glimpse of the girl’s feet at the topmost step of the stairs before they disappeared into Eva’s room.

  THIRTEEN

  Except for Eva’s lament that the marigolds’ stench was decimating her appetite, nothing happened until the following Wednesday. That afternoon, Meridia was sewing alone in the living room when she felt a pair of eyes watching her from behind. She looked around, but to her surprise, there was no one in the room. She cleared her throat loudly and was about to resume her task when the same pair of eyes tore a hole in the back of her neck. Meridia turned around more sharply, but again saw no one. Spooked, she put down her needle and went to the hallway. There was no one there. From the clatter of spoons she knew Patina and Gabilan were in the kitchen, and at that hour Eva would be resting upstairs. Suddenly, turning back to the living room, she heard Malin laugh, a cold, wet laugh that doused her like a pail of water. Outraged, Meridia walked the ten steps to the sisters’ door and flung it open. No one there. In that instant she remembered that Malin was at school; she had seen her leave that morning and the girl would not be home for another hour. Scratching her head in confusion, Meridia returned to the living room.

  From then on she felt and heard Malin everywhere. Whispering outside the bathroom door while she bathed. Glaring at her from across the dinner table. Sniggering when she turned her back. But no matter how quickly she moved, she could not catch the girl red-handed. When Meridia opened the bathroom door, Malin was not there. Looking up abruptly from her plate at dinner showed her sister-in-law staring in the opposite direction. When she swung around to catch her sniggering, Malin’s mouth was perfectly still, and no one took notice of the sound.

  It did not escape her that since Malin saw her speaking with Pilar, Eva began to treat her differently. As early as late October, three months after Meridia stowed her bridal dress in the sandalwood trunk, Eva’s initial warmth gave way to briskness. She no longer smiled and hinted when she gave orders. When Meridia accidentally dropped a spoon while setting the table, Eva did not refrain from scolding her in front of everyone. “Careful, dear!” she cried. “A husband has no need for a clumsy wife!” Now, when they went to the market, Meridia had to carry Eva’s basket in addition to her own. “Gout,” said Eva curtly. “I’m not to carry anything that might jeopardize my joints.”

  Eva’s brusque treatment extended to Daniel. She demanded that he contribute his share to the household expenses, now that he was married and had more responsibilities to shoulder. At the same time, she denied his petitions for a regular salary with mounting irritation. “I’ve spared every penny I can, son,” she said, fixing her eye on what she thought was a new pair of cuff links. “If you’re truly pressed for money, I’m sure Meridia won’t mind selling some of her jewelry. She hasn’t laid a hand on her dowry, has she?”

  Daniel shrugged off Eva’s refusal as “a passing tantrum,” assuring Meridia he would try again once his mother’s mood improved. His strategy worked at first, but as Eva’s tantrum persisted without passing, the newlyweds were forced to alter their habits drastically. They went out less and less, often having to choose between a meal from a street vendor and an inexpensive show at Cinema Garden. Daniel refrained from going to the barber until his hair swept down to his eyes. Meridia did away with purchasing lotions and perfumes. Still, Eva criticized them for spending too much. She frowned when she saw them leaving the house, even for just a stroll around the block. She scrutinized what Meridia wore from shoes to hairpins; if there was anything she did not recognize, she grumbled out loud that she wished she could afford such extravagance. Soon, Meridia learned not to browse at the market, for Eva would use this as ammunition when Daniel asked her for money.

  Increasingly, Meridia aired her uneasiness to Daniel. “How long can we go on like this?” she asked him. “You must make them give you a fixed income.”

  “Patience, dearest,” said Daniel with a smile. “Mama will come around. She always does. Besides, I don’t see us starving yet.”

  “It will be too late once we starve. Can’t you bring it up with Papa?”

  “It’s no use. Papa leaves every decision to Mama.”

  Malin, troubling Meridia furthe
r, stuck to Daniel like a shadow. The girl walked him to work every morning on her way to school. Waited for him when he came home from the shop. Sat with him upstairs while he fussed over the account books. Meridia was certain that Malin was slandering her behind her back. Through walls and across distances she could hear the girl laugh, feel her condescending glance flay her like a razor. It was this glance that brought things to a boil one Sunday afternoon, three months, two weeks, four days after Meridia’s arrival on Orchard Road. The battle that followed was simply inevitable.

  That afternoon, Meridia walked into the living room and found Daniel sitting with Malin on the sofa. A pool of shadows encircled them as they talked, their voices so low they might as well have been whispering. Noticing Meridia, Malin shot her a haughty glance. Something in the girl’s eyes pushed snow into Meridia’s blood. The thin snort that followed—Daniel’s—gave her the proof she needed.

  “Dearest,” said Daniel, sighting her for the first time. “Come and sit with us.”

  Without a word, Meridia left the doorway.

  “Meridia!” Daniel leapt to his feet and ran after her. “What’s the matter?”

  Halfway through the hallway she fixed him a look he had never seen before.

  “What did she tell you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just now. What did Malin tell you?”

  Daniel lifted his shoulders. “A boy has a crush on her. Everyone says she should be flattered. She thinks he should get a haircut and a new set of teeth.”

  Daniel laughed, rubbing his thumb on her chin. Meridia was not convinced.

  “Was that all?”

  He furrowed his brow in surprise. “Of course…what else?”

  “Be honest. Was she talking about me behind my back?”

  “Whatever made you think…?” His eyes suddenly beamed with glee. “Are you jealous of my spending time with Malin? Yes, you are! I can see that clearly. Very well. From now on, I’ll pay attention to you only.”

  Meridia stopped his teasing instantly. “Be serious, Daniel,” she said, her voice rising a little. “I’ve watched your sister and I know she’s been saying disagreeable things about me—”

  She did not finish. From the stairway Eva’s voice forced them to draw apart.

  “Has a war broken out here? Permony! I’ll toss your coat out myself if you can’t hang it properly. Son! Those account books aren’t going to settle themselves upstairs. Meridia! We’re going to the market. Silly Patina forgot we need flour to make bread. Malin, would you like anything from the baker’s, dear?”

  Darting up and down the hallway, Eva dissolved all tension from the air. The newlyweds traded stares, then separated as told. At the last second Malin came out of the living room. The look she leveled at Meridia was sharp and loaded with disgust.

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON, MERIDIA was dusting in her room when a pair of eyes again tore a hole in the back of her neck. This time, more to her relief than to her astonishment, she turned to find Malin standing at the door. The girl still had on her blue school uniform, her long hair secured by a band and her eyes the only things alive in her bloodless face.

  “If you have something to say, then say it,” said Meridia. “I know you’ve been talking to Mama behind my back.”

  A smile slow and calculating parted the girl’s lips. The liveliness in her eyes extended to her mouth, which now took on a delight almost too fiendish for her thirteen years.

  “You’re wearing her necklace.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “The necklace Mama gave you. You wear it three, four times a week.”

  Meridia looked down and touched the turquoise beads around her neck.

  “What if I do? I happen to like it.”

  Malin clacked her tongue as if something were caught between her teeth. “You’re just like the rest of them. So easily fooled. When I first met you, I thought you had it in you to stick it to her.”

  Meridia dropped the dust cloth on the floor and faced her squarely. “What are you talking about?”

  Striding into the room, Malin kicked the door shut behind her. “Can’t you see how cheap that necklace is? I wouldn’t be surprised if she fished it out of a garbage bin. And yet you wear it like it’s the most precious thing you own.”

  “I wear it because I like it. Mama was generous enough to give it to me.”

  “Have you listened to yourself lately? Every other sentence you say is Mama this and Mama that. It makes me sick to hear you go on! Well, she’s not your mother and she never will be. Why do you bend to her every wish? Why does everyone? If you only knew the things she says behind your back.”

  Rapidly, Meridia advanced toward the girl, but Malin did not flinch. The shrewd, calculating smile resurfaced, transforming the rest of her face into stone.

  “I don’t believe you,” said Meridia. “I know it’s you who has been saying despicable things about me.”

  Malin’s smile twisted deeper. “How can you be sure? Maybe it’s her voice you’ve been hearing all along.”

  “Why would Mama—your mother—talk behind my back? I’ve done nothing to displease her.”

  “Are you really this stupid? She’s resented you from the day she met you.”

  Meridia stopped short of seizing the girl by the shoulders. When she spoke, her voice did not betray the needles tearing at her skin.

  “What do you mean?”

  Relishing every second, Malin looked Meridia over from head to foot. Her cruel smile widened, compressed, then altogether vanished.

  “The evening after your first visit to the house, I stood outside her door and heard her complain to Papa. All night long. Your forehead was too proud, she said, your nose too uppity, your mouth too stubborn. ‘I suppose she could pass for pretty, if you go for that sort of look…” She said your hips would bury the family name on the spot—they were barely wide enough to pass a pea, let alone a baby. She said she could tell from your soft hands that your mother had spoiled you and never asked you to do anything in your life. “If they marry, she’ll waltz into this house all high and mighty and expect everyone to serve her. No, this one won’t do, so we might as well keep looking…’”

  The room had grown hot and oppressive. Clawing at her necklace, Meridia let each word fall heavily. “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe a single word you said.”

  Malin ignored this and went on with a greater relish. “The night of your wedding, she sat up till dawn fuming about your father. ‘What an arrogant man! He talks to no one, is stingy with the dowry, yet thinks we’re not good enough to wipe his boots!’ Your mother fared even worse. ‘Take one look and you know something’s come loose in her brain.’ In the morning, it was she who forced Papa to take Daniel to the shop. And later, after she showed you the wedding gifts and you dared ask for the rest, she almost wore my ear out by saying how ungrateful you were, how impertinent, that any other bride would be happy with half of what she gave you. Did you ever wonder what happened to the rest of the presents? I can assure you they were not donated to charities. What she hasn’t sold will reappear when she thinks you’ve forgotten. Just imagine, a few months from now, you’ll see your mother’s precious linens spread over Mama’s bed!”

  “Why are you telling me this?” demanded Meridia, her eyes tight with anger.

  The girl shrugged as if the answer could not have been more obvious. “To see what you’ll do. What will you do?”

  “For a start, I’ll march upstairs this minute and tell your mother everything!”

  Malin’s laugh rang with such contempt that Meridia itched to slap her.

  “What makes you think she’ll take your word over mine? Here’s what you’ll do. In half an hour, you’ll go out to the garden and stand under the sitting room window. Do not move until you hear everything she says. Do you understand?”

  This time it was Meridia who laughed. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’ll take orders from you.”

  “Then don’t,?
?? said Malin with a yawn. “But have the good sense to stop wearing that necklace. I’ve no doubt she’s had it bewitched by one of her fortune-tellers. You’ll never see anything clearly with it choking your neck…”

  THIRTY MINUTES LATER, MERIDIA went out to the garden and stood under the sitting room window. It was nearing five in the afternoon, and in a short while, Daniel and Elias would be coming home from the shop. Patina and Gabilan were preparing dinner in the kitchen, and from where Meridia stood, she could see Permony studying at her green desk. The garden—littered with leaves and overgrown grass—did not seem the same place where spirited feet had danced, where gold and emerald canopies had sheltered mountains of food. Now everything was yellow, crippled by autumn, and the only scent permeating the air was the drunken breath of the roses. Meridia fidgeted a moment. Convinced that Malin had deceived her, she was on the verge of leaving when the hinges of the sitting room window squealed. All at once Eva’s voice rolled down loud and clear.

  “Have you noticed how much fatter and lazier Permony has gotten since Meridia came here? I could hardly get her out of bed the other day, and last night at dinner she easily put away half a chicken by herself! Heaven knows what that woman does to your sister when they’re together—I once overheard her telling a story about flying cows and meditating giraffes and I was sure she was teaching Permony witchcraft! I hope to God she hasn’t laid a hand on your sister, if you know what I mean. It’s bad enough that she gossips with Gabilan around the clock, nosy about this neighbor and that, and neglecting their chores. I saw them whispering in the garden the other day, hiding behind the mulberry tree, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they were kissing, knowing she’s always in heat. Even your brother tells me he can’t keep up with her, if you know what I mean, although I’m shocked she can still stand and walk after all those noises she makes. From the way the walls rattle you would think she’s being impaled by a horse! No wonder your brother always looks wan and tired. Yet still it isn’t enough for her. It’s a shame her generosity doesn’t carry outside the bedroom. Did you see what she gave me when I asked her to donate a few measly things? Four ratty old dresses, when her closet is full of things she never wears! I’m telling you, she’s no good for this family. One of these days, if we don’t watch out, she’ll turn your brother against us. A woman like her is only happy when she takes what belongs to others…”