Of Bees and Mist

  NINE

  They were married in the summer of brides, two weeks after Meridia completed secondary school. On the afternoon of the banquet, when the sun was at its hottest, an enormous eagle descended on the roof of 27 Orchard Road and upset the abandoned nest that had roosted there for years. First to sight the disturbance, Eva rose from her seat in the garden, gathered the train of her champagne-colored dress, and rushed to assemble the waiters. Pewter with vivid speckles of green, the bird supervised the crowd from its eminence, refusing to take flight even when the waiters yelled and shook brooms at it. It was Eva, with her invincible hostess’s smile, who devised the idea of pasting a colorful paper onto a balloon and releasing it in view of the bird. The trick worked. The eagle soared, stabbed the balloon with its beak, and showed no interest in returning to the roof. The guests clapped. Eva bowed. Suckling pigs and grilled muttons were served.

  On Eva’s command, the exterior of the house had been subjected to an extensive makeover. The walls were coated pearl white, the bricks rid of moss and lichen, the wilderness of the roses in the front yard pruned to a charming disarray. Gold and emerald canopies dotted the back garden, sheltering tables of food and gifts, with one awning devoted to the stunning cream wedding cake that had taken Ravenna three days to bake. In the center one hundred guests sat at white linen tables decorated with candles and roses, while above them crisscrossed lanterns and balloons swayed in the gentle breeze. On the stage, a woodwind quartet played waltzes, their performance repeatedly interrupted by the conductor urging everyone to dance.

  Meridia went through the festivity with the conviction that she would awaken at any moment. The diamond ring on her finger did not feel real, and her exquisite wedding gown, made from twenty-four meters of Duchess satin and thirty-two meters of Chantilly lace, seemed to belong to another bride. Many times she was directed to pose for the photographer, to kiss when the guests demanded, and to shake hands with people whose names she forgot as soon as they were uttered. From this confusion only a handful of impressions emerged: One of the bridesmaids, Malin, had yet to crack a smile, while the flower girl, Permony, had sauce splattered all over her dress. Garrulous in his evening jacket, Elias the jeweler captivated the town dignitaries with his knowledge of gems and precious metals. Eva, dripping with diamonds, made her way from table to table, her face flawlessly made up, her long lashes quivering with laughter as she made sure that every plate was heaped to the brim.

  Gabriel and Ravenna were seated next to each other, but by some mysterious trick or illusion, they were never seen together. When one sat down, the other vanished. And despite the photographer’s persistence, he was unable to capture them in the same frame. In contrast to Elias’s liveliness and Eva’s hospitality, Ravenna and Gabriel kept their distance from the guests. Ravenna sat through the ceremony with the impassivity of a stoic, eating little, speaking even less, though she nodded often to herself. Gabriel talked only to his friends, ignored Elias’s attempts to introduce him to others. A number of Meridia’s teachers were also in attendance; as soon as they congratulated her parents, they all fled to seek the friendlier company of the groom’s.

  But none of this mattered when Meridia looked at Daniel. Her heart swelled at the sight of him, his thick hair slicked back, his face joyous, his long body graceful in a trim black suit. At a sign from the conductor, he took her hand and whispered something she could not hear. Before she knew it, the crowd was shouting and up she scrambled to her feet. On the stage, the blind violinist from the plaza had replaced the woodwind quartet. Later, she would remember nothing of their dance, only that she moved and spun with abandon. Whenever the thought nagged her that Monarch Street would cease to be her home at the end of the day, she smiled and held Daniel tighter in her arms.

  Despite Gabriel’s objection, Ravenna had made sure that Meridia received a suitable dowry. The sandalwood trunk displayed under one of the canopies was packed with money, four jewelry sets, two diamond watches, sterling silverware, antique laces, and luxury linens. The groom’s gifts to the bride were equally extravagant. Eva took care that every guest had a chance to admire the one hundred meters of fine silk, six pairs of pearl earrings, eight gold bracelets, ten evening gowns, and a magnificent sapphire brooch. Another canopy hosted the guests’ gifts, which included silk tablecloths, crystal flutes, enamel tea sets, bone white china, and lamps of hand-wrought gold. Presiding over these was the same matchmaker Gabriel had tossed out of the house, now calm and dignified as though success had come to him without a sweat.

  After the newlyweds were forced to share the same bite of cake, eight of the burliest matrons, led by Eva, stampeded toward Meridia and tied a blindfold over her eyes. The crowd went wild. Under a shower of rice and paper streamers, the matrons carried their quarry to the bridal chamber, pinched and tickled her without mercy before tossing her onto a bed perfumed with gardenias. Weak with laughter, Meridia submitted when strong hands unfastened her gown, unpinned her hair, and bundled her in a thick robe. Eva cautioned her not to remove her blindfold until Daniel arrived, and then laughing, shouting last-minute wishes for many healthy sons and daughters, the matrons departed and left her alone.

  No sooner had their footsteps died than Meridia ripped off the blindfold and slipped back outside. Evening had fallen, but the wind was still warm with the heat of the day. Ducking around the canopies, Meridia circled to the front of the house and hid behind the roses. The bright light from the terrace bounced off the petals without reaching the stalks. Gabriel, always the first to leave a party, appeared before many minutes passed, arguing loudly with his friends. As soon as they had vanished, Ravenna appeared. Midway through the lawn, she turned in Meridia’s direction as if she had known her hiding place all along. Before Meridia could reveal herself, Ravenna swept to the curb, wet eyes bent from the light, and walked quickly in the direction opposite Gabriel’s.

  “Thank you, Mama,” said Meridia, feeling suddenly more alone than she had ever been. As she crept back to her room, the wind turned cold and stung her own tearful lashes.

  WHILE DANIEL SLEPT, A rustling noise kept Meridia awake. The guests were long gone, the lanterns in the garden extinguished hours ago. Sweaty from their lovemaking, his face was buried in her neck, his breath on her collarbone slowly relighting desire in her blood. In the dark she walked her fingers across the taut plain of his belly. She kneaded his chest, teased the left nipple surrounded by a few hairs until she heard him moan. Lifting his hand from her hip, she recalled its salty taste in her mouth. Earlier, sensing her urgency with him inside her, he had moved his palm in time to stifle her cry. Only then, with her lips wrapped around his finger, had he groaned and shuddered his own release.

  She got up without waking him and put on her robe. The noise was getting louder, closer, as if coming from outside the door. Quietly she tiptoed past the bed and went out. The hallway was dark except for a dim moon seeping through the skylight. The rustling was by then a murmur, a low, monotonous droning of flies or mosquitoes. Meridia tightened her robe. Minding the piles of shoes and magazines that lined the hallway, she drifted past the sisters’ room to the foot of the stairs. The droning was coming from the second floor, where Eva’s sitting room and the master bedroom were located. Meridia gripped the banister and listened. There was no doubt about it. The noise was that of bees buzzing, hundreds and hundreds of them, needling each other in rage. Suddenly, before she could venture another step, the bedroom door opened with a jerk. A greenish light spilled down the staircase. Quickly, Meridia retreated to her room.

  SHE HAD SLEPT FOR two hours when a hammer struck inches from her head. Gasping, she awoke to discover the hammer muted into a knock on the door. Already Daniel was stirring, demanding the intruder to explain the disruption.

  “Your father wants to know if you’re going to the shop today.”

  It was Patina, the old servant, sounding sorry and uncertain. Daniel looked at the clock and grumbled.

  “Tell Papa I’ll go later.”
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  He burrowed his face on Meridia’s shoulder and fell back to sleep. Tottering steps receded in the hallway, but soon returned with another knock.

  “Your father says there’s too much work to spare you this morning.”

  Daniel grumbled more loudly but said, “Tell him I’ll be right out.” He wiped sleep from his eyes and rose from the bed. Meridia hastened to follow, but he stopped her. “Get more sleep,” he said. “I’ll be back for lunch.” At random he put on a white shirt and gray slacks, splashed water on his face in the washroom, stumbled toward the door, back to kiss her good-bye, and was gone.

  Not expecting to be separated from him so soon, Meridia returned to bed. The sheets, deprived of his heat, no longer smelled of gardenias. As she lay there with a blanket clutched to her breasts, she examined her surroundings for the first time. It was still Daniel’s old room, transformed into a bridal chamber by new linens, laundered curtains, and a fresh cream paint. Next to the bed was a wooden desk finished in dusty white, a cushioned chair with a high back, and prints of the seven wonders of the world on the wall. A door led to the hallway, another opened to the back garden. Kicking the blanket aside, Meridia was divining Eva’s hand behind the transformation when the lady herself burst into the room without knocking.

  “Good morning, blushing bride! Still sleeping when your husband is already off? I wish mine were as understanding. But he insisted on having me serve him breakfast come hell or high water. Now up, up, up! We have serious business to attend to.”

  Eva vanished as quickly as she appeared, betraying not the slightest hint that she had caught her daughter-in-law in the nude.

  Meridia got up in a hurry and performed her morning routine in the adjoining washroom. Ten minutes later, she emerged to the cluttered hallway in search of Eva. In addition to the two bedrooms, the ground floor consisted of a living room, a dining room, a kitchen, and the servants’ quarters at the back. Meridia was about to knock on the sisters’ door to ask them where their mother was when she realized someone was standing behind her.

  “The misses have gone off to school, Young Madam.”

  She turned with a start and saw a servant girl hardly older than herself in a dirty white uniform. The girl’s frank smile and guileless face made Meridia like her on the spot.

  “Could you tell me—”

  “Madam is waiting upstairs.”

  Meridia nodded and headed for the stairs. This time, there was no sound of rustling. In the vivid morning light, the creaky wooden steps were far from menacing, though they looked worn with numerous scratches. No sooner had Meridia reached the landing than Eva called to her, “Second door on your left, dear. What’s taken you so long?”

  Meridia walked past the master bedroom without spotting a single bee. The second door opened to a small room of mismatched chairs and hanging geraniums. Eva was sitting on a purple armchair next to the fireplace, smoking a cigarette attached to a long ivory pipe. Seeing Meridia, she expelled a blue stream of smoke and got up eagerly.

  “You look more stunning than a gem!” she exclaimed. “Daniel must have spent all night polishing you to perfection. I’m sorry he had to go to the shop this morning. I begged my husband—you must call him Papa now—to spare him, but there is just too much business to attend to today. Come to the table. All these beautiful things are your wedding gifts. Look at them!”

  Coloring a little from Eva’s comment, Meridia drew near. On the table was a set of gold jewelry, two scrolls of lace, a pair of pearl earrings, and a sapphire brooch. The jewelry set and the lace she recognized as part of her dowry, while the earrings and the brooch were Daniel’s gifts. She looked around for the other items—the luxury linens and sterling silverware, diamond watches, gold bracelets, not to mention the money lining the bridal trunk and the one hundred meters of fine silk. Baffled when she did not find them, she turned to Eva for an explanation.

  “This is all of them?”

  Eva’s smile instantly clouded with confusion.

  “Oh, dear, you’re not happy with the presents? Did Daniel not tell you? It’s the custom in our family that the groom selects what his bride should keep before the rest is donated to charities.” Eva drew on her pipe and furrowed her brows in concern. “Daniel will invest the dowry money as he chooses and he has selected these presents especially for you. I myself added the jewelry set and the lace because I thought you might like to keep something from your family. Oh, what a horrible mix-up this is! Should I tell Daniel you disagree with his decision?”

  Eva stubbed out her pipe on an ashtray, her matronly bosom heaving in her eagerness to be helpful. Meridia, red with embarrassment, silently reproached her own rashness. The last thing she wanted was to cast doubt on Daniel’s judgment.

  “Of course I’m happy with the presents. Thank you for your kindness, Mrs.—”

  “No, no, you must call me Mama. We are a family now.”

  Eva smiled broadly. Pinning the sapphire brooch on Meridia’s dress, she remarked that it was a priceless family heirloom, given to her on her own wedding day by Elias’s mother.

  “I’ll have Gabilan bring the presents to your room. Now, if you’d follow me…”

  They went downstairs arm in arm, Eva talking about how fortunate they were to have Meridia as a member of the family. When they entered the dining room, Meridia welcomed the thought of breakfast, for she had not eaten a bite since the previous night. But instead of inviting her to sit at the table, Eva guided her into the kitchen.

  Patina was hard at work. Her hooflike feet dragged from stove to counter, where she sprinkled sugar and marzipan over a pan of dough before inserting it into the oven.

  “Patina is dying to teach you Daniel’s favorite recipes,” said Eva. “As they say, a woman who is goddess in the kitchen will keep her husband faithful for life.”

  Meridia knew for a fact that this was not true, but kept her silence. One thing she had not noticed before had absorbed her attention: Patina’s hobble was becoming more pronounced the closer Eva came to her.

  “You’ll see there’s no better teacher than Patina.” Eva let go of Meridia’s arm and pushed her steel blue hair behind her ear. “I will be in the garden if you need me.”

  She left to oversee the workmen dismantle the canopies. As soon as the door closed, Patina offered Meridia a bowl of vegetable soup and a generous slice of bread.

  “You must be hungry,” Patina said with her toothless grin. Her brown eyes were as soft as a baby’s, yet something in those fathomless depths seemed ravaged by grief. Meridia thanked her and ate standing up. After she finished, Patina fetched an apron from the side of a cabinet and tied it around her waist. At that moment, Meridia began to understand her standing in the family.

  TEN

  Meridia began her new life with the best of intentions. After the cold of Monarch Street, Orchard Road was warm and bustling, practical in habits, definite in aims, and simple in structures. Although Ravenna had never trained her to cook, embroider, plant bulbs, or polish silverware, she picked up the skills readily from Patina and Gabilan. In early morning and late afternoon, the three worked together in the kitchen, making lunches and dinners according to Eva’s instructions. Midday was reserved for gardening, afternoon for cleaning, evening for sewing. Patina never said more than the necessary words, but her guidance was steady and reassuring. It was she who taught Meridia to bring Eva chrysanthemum tea every morning, and at mealtimes, to serve everybody in the family first before she ate. In this way, Meridia was inducted into a world of customs she now saw as the backbone of every family but Ravenna’s. Her victories, though small, were concrete: the smiles Eva gave her, Patina’s nods, the proud gleam in Daniel’s eye when Eva announced that his wife was to be thanked for the beautiful dinner they were about to consume.

  Elias, she thought, was a curious head of household. A short bald man with drowsy eyes and a lazy mouth, he deferred all domestic matters to Eva and desired nothing more than to be left alone. After work, wrapped in
a blanket and accompanied by the caged birds, he would sit in his rocking chair on the terrace and immerse himself in books. As hours passed and the birds grew hoarse from singing, he remained engrossed in his reading of metals and minerals, flora extinct and fauna exotic, volcanoes in faraway lands, and famed discoveries of oil and gold. With the same insatiable hunger he studied the topography of the moon, inspected ancient navigation charts, and devoured tales of heroic expeditions until the dinner bell rang. Eva, armed with a basket of knitting, often tried to speak to him, but it required a great deal of effort on her part to extract an answer out of him. It was not uncommon that she had to chase him across seas and continents, tunnel through layers of earth and labyrinths of caves, to impress upon him the fact that Malin had come down with a cold or that the roof needed replacing before winter. The only person who could rouse him from his trance was Permony. All the girl had to do was call him, and he would materialize from the most remote corner of the universe without delay.

  “Why do you bury your nose in books, Papa?” Permony once asked him.

  “So your mother can’t find me. The only problem is I can still hear her no matter where I am.”

  This bond between them rankled Eva to no end. Many times she complained to Meridia about how the two were always keeping her in the dark. “Every time I come near them, they act as if they’ll shoot me for trespassing. No doubt it’s me they’re talking about. It’s tragic, really. Malin is so much smarter and prettier, yet he gives her half the attention he gives Permony. Just look at them! From the way they stare at each other, you would think she’s the one who wakes up smelling his farts every morning!”