Chapter Twelve The Bee

CHAPTER TWELVE THE BEE

I stood on the street corner, my hands wrapped tightly around Nic’s neck as we clung to each other. We watched the pavement crack beneath our feet. The sound of rushing water roared against my eardrums as a chasm split the ground, giving way to flames that climbed out, licking the sky, and then suddenly Nic was gone and I was sinking. I screamed, but my voice caught in my throat. As air turned to sand that filled my lungs, my whole world turned black, like someone had reached into my head and flicked a switch.

And then there was nothing but my heart pummelling against my chest and the smell of Philadelphia cream cheese. Guided by a distant hum, I hurtled back into reality.

‘Sophie…’

The sunlight was bouncing off my eyelids.

‘Earth to Sophie…’

I squinted and waited for the ceiling to shift into focus.

‘Guess what day it is?’

I cleared the cobwebs from my throat in groggy squeaks and tried to blink away the memory of my dream – this was the second time I’d had it in as many nights. I propped myself on to my elbows.

‘Good morning, Birthday Girl!’

My mother was perched on the end of my bed. There were small crinkles at the sides of her eyes, and her mouth was curved upwards in a grin that could have put the Cheshire Cat’s to shame. I was glad to see her smile like that, even if she was just doing it for the sake of the day. I had missed the way it made her eyes sparkle.

In her lap she held a red velvet cupcake, lavished with cream cheese frosting.

‘Good morning,’ I croaked.

‘Happy birthday, sweetheart.’

She fished a Zippo lighter from her cardigan, flicked it open and lit the candle. ‘Make a wish!’ she said, shoving the cupcake so close to my face I could see tiny wisps of smoke rise above the flame.

I hesitated as it danced across my eye line, taunting me. Clarity , I decided at last. I just want clarity . I blew purposefully across the flame, extinguishing it in one tiny puff of air.

My mother produced a silver knife from her other pocket. She sliced the cupcake straight down the middle and the two halves fell apart from each other, toppling under the weight of the frosting. She scooped up one half and handed it to me.

‘Delicious!’ I said, taking a bite. ‘Thanks.’

Setting her half on her lap, my mother reached behind her and fished out a present wrapped in glitzy purple paper. ‘I made you something.’

I smiled as I wiped the residual cupcake grease from my fingers on to my duvet. I already suspected it was the dress she had been working on in secret. Carefully, I unstuck the tape around the edges and peeled away the paper so that the garment slipped out, perfectly folded, on to the bed. I unfurled it. It was structured but delicate, made from light gold silk that fell in soft waves, and adorned with sequins that glinted in the morning sunlight. I brushed my fingers along the thin straps and felt the dress curve in around the waist as I held it up. ‘It’s incredible!’

‘And it matches your hair!’ My mother smiled. ‘I thought you could wear it to the party at Millie’s later?’

‘Great idea.’ I felt a pinch of guilt knowing my mother was unaware of Millie’s parents’ absence. Still, what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her, right?

She clapped her hands together. ‘Lunch later?’ she asked, bouncing up from my bed. ‘I want to treat my seventeen-year-old daughter at the Eatery.’

‘Really?’ I reclined and stretched my body out in one long, angular yawn, blinking up at the ceiling. ‘That sounds great.’ And expensive .

My mother carried the dress across the room with her, hopping over old sweatshirts and unfolded jeans as she went. She hung it inside the closet and, with one final disgruntled – hypocritical – look at the floor, she edged back out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts, which turned to the strange dream I’d just had. Like a jolt of electricity, the feeling of Nic’s kiss took hold of me again and I felt my stomach clench uncomfortably at the memory of how he had left me so suddenly. I hoped I wasn’t doomed to relive his desertion in my nightmares too. There were still so many questions floating around in my head, and no way for me to get the answers I desperately wanted. I clutched at the red velvet uneasiness in my stomach and groaned. Maybe a party was exactly what I needed to take my mind off everything.

The black ponytail stuck out of Gino Priestly’s head like a noir mini palm tree. Beside him, the lights were dancing off Dom’s overly gelled helmet of hair. What the hell were they doing here?

‘What is it, sweetheart? Don’t you like the quiche?’

I refocused my attention on my mother, who was sitting across from me. ‘It’s good. I’m just a bit overheated.’

‘You’ve been so quiet since we got here. I thought you’d like this place. Is it too fancy?’

As concern etched across her features, a fresh heap of guilt consumed me. I shook my head more vehemently this time. ‘Are you kidding? This place is great.’ I gestured around at the Eatery’s monochrome décor: the black granite floors were inlaid with intricate floral designs; the tables were covered with expensive white cloths; and all around the restaurant, Romanesque pillars wound towards the ceiling. The walls were decorated with black-and-white photographs of twentieth-century Chicago and dotted incrementally with glass lighting fixtures. ‘Makes a welcome change from the diner.’

My mother smiled and took a sip of her Chardonnay. ‘Speaking of the diner, I wanted to talk to you about that…’

I let my attention fall on Gino and Dom again – or rather, on the backs of their heads – and wondered about the odds of us being at the same restaurant. It was miles away from Cedar Hill, right in the centre of Chicago, and since it was one of the best restaurants in the city, it was more of an eye-wateringly expensive, special occasion kind of place. The karma gods must have been enjoying the show.

At least Nic and Luca weren’t with their brothers. I tried to remind myself of how horrible Nic had been the other night, but it was difficult to forget all the other things about him: the softer, funnier, kinder things. The way he smiled, the way he had pressed his lips against mine… the way he drove away from me in the middle of the night without a second glance. I flinched.

‘Sophie?’

‘What?’ I took another bite of my quiche Lorraine, wondering why I had ordered it. Then again, I didn’t understand the majority of the fancy menu and I wasn’t convinced I would enjoy ‘truffle-infused fries’ as much as normal ones.

‘I want to talk to you about the diner.’

‘OK, shoot.’

Behind my mother, Gino was recoiling from something the bald man sitting across from him had said. Dom sat on his brother’s right and there was a narrow, taller man on his left, his back half-turned to me. It was Felice – I would have wagered my meal. Even though they were at the other side of the restaurant, curled around one another in a secluded corner booth, the faint smell of honey was hanging in the air. I was sure of it. Or I was going crazy.

I averted my eyes.

My mother was still talking, her hands flailing animatedly in front of her. ‘… placed unfair expectations on you. You need to get out more and spread your wings, don’t you think?’

A buzzing sound tugged at my attention. A bee had found its way inside the restaurant and was circling the table next to us.

‘Get out of where?’ I asked, dragging my gaze back to my table and scolding myself for being so distractible. I could still see it, though – a small blur of yellow and black in my peripheral vision.

‘The diner.’

I jabbed my fork into my quiche. ‘What about the diner?’

The man I didn’t recognize got up from the Priestly table. He was tall and bald, with a high forehead and a thick black moustache that dominated his angular face. He grunted as he passed a waitress, and then disappeared through the restroom doors.

‘I think you should quit. It’s too taxing on your energy and you barely have any free time.’

Now that I had heard it in its entirety, I was surprised by her suggestion. I set my fork down and swallowed the mouthful of quiche in one over-zealous gulp. ‘But it’s Dad’s. I thought the whole plan was for me to run it until he gets back.’ I didn’t know why I was fighting against her idea – the thought of running the diner when I turned eighteen had never excited me; I had always known it wasn’t my calling.

The bee whizzed past my face, missing my nose by an inch. My mother dropped her fork and released a small yelp.

‘Sorry,’ she explained sheepishly, regaining her composure. ‘They always give me such a fright.’

‘I think bees are kind of cute,’ I said, trying to put her at ease.

Across the restaurant, the bee was zigzagging towards the Priestly table. Probably returning to its ‘master,’ I thought, registering the back of Felice’s silver head again.

‘What’s going on with you today? You’re all over the place.’ My mother grabbed my wrist, tugging at me.

‘Sorry.’ I shook my head in a futile attempt to settle my wandering attention, and pulled my hand back. ‘What were you saying?’

‘Why not let your uncle continue to manage the diner after you graduate next year, until your father comes back. That way you can give college your undivided attention – and go to school in Chicago instead of staying here in the burbs. There’s a whole world out there, you know.’

I shovelled another forkful of quiche into my mouth. ‘I’m still saving for a car. I need the money,’ I said ineptly, covering my mouth as I chewed.

I flicked my gaze again. The bald, moustached man had come back from the restroom and was rejoining the Priestly table, sitting down with an audible grunt.

‘I can give you a little cash every week to put towards a car. You wouldn’t even miss the tips from the diner,’ my mother was protesting.

‘I don’t want to put that strain on you,’ I said, my mouth still half full. ‘I know we don’t have that kind of money any more.’

My mother pushed a square of feta cheese around her plate with her fork. ‘Sophie, I’d really prefer it if you left.’

‘Did Uncle Jack say something to you? Have you heard from him?’ I was starting to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach again. My mother was acting strange, like just about everyone else in my life.

‘No, but maybe we should put some distance between you two. He seems a little more unhinged than usual lately.’

‘I think he’d take it pretty badly if I ditched him now. Especially after his friend just died.’

She shrugged and skewered a thin slice of red onion, popping it into her mouth. ‘Jack’s not even around any more. And he can’t always get what he wants.’

My eyes slid across to the Priestly table again. Dom and Gino were arguing with the bald, moustached man. Felice – yes, it was definitely him, I could see now – was sitting perfectly still, his hands clasped on the table in front of him. He was quietly observing the bee that was now swirling perilously close to their table. As the others argued, their voices swelled and travelled through the restaurant.

‘What is going on?’ My mother swivelled around so she could catch a glimpse of the commotion, but it died down almost as quickly as it had begun and she lost interest.

‘Mom?’

She looked at me expectantly.

‘Is there something you’re not telling me about Dad and Uncle Jack? Or you and Uncle Jack? I get the feeling I’m missing something.’

She leant on to her elbows and knitted her hands under her chin. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, I don’t know what I mean. That’s why I asked…’

There was an almighty clap! We jumped in our seats.

‘Calvino!’ A scream so high it sounded like a woman’s. But it hadn’t come from a woman, it had come from Felice, who had sprung to his feet and was clasping his hands to his face. Now everyone in the restaurant was looking at them. The bald man – Calvino – sat back in the booth, casually lifting his palm from the table and wiping it with a napkin, his face placid. He had killed the bee.

Felice’s chest was heaving. He said something in amplified Italian, but Calvino didn’t bat an eyelid. He tried to wave Felice back into his seat. The calmer he acted, the more incensed Felice became. He began to spit vitriol as he gestured futilely at what I assumed was the squished bee carcass.

I gaped. I had never seen someone so calm flip out so quickly.

Felice reached into his suit jacket, prompting Gino and Dom to pull back in their seats. Calvino shot to his feet and held his hands up, like he was surrendering. He spoke quietly and quickly.

Felice pulled his hand from his pocket and clenched it into a fist by his side. He ran his other hand through his hair, stopping to squeeze the back of his neck, pinching at it.

Slowly, and without taking his eyes off Felice, Calvino sat down.

Felice remained on his feet. He raised his chin so that he appeared even taller than usual, and with one final curse word directed solely at Calvino – but heard by everyone within a one-mile radius – he stormed out of the restaurant like a graceful, seething skeleton.

‘What a strange man,’ my mother whispered, her hushed words mingling with everyone else’s.

‘Strange family,’ I muttered, watching Gino and Dom resettle themselves at their table, falling back into conversation. Maybe in this one case I was actually lucky to have been ostracized. The Priestlys obviously had a lot going on, and I had already reached my drama quota for one lifetime. It was probably for the best. Even if it didn’t feel like it.

I shifted back to my mother and found her chewing her bottom lip. ‘Sophie, there’s a lot you don’t know about your father and Uncle Jack,’ she said, returning to our conversation like the dramatic interlude hadn’t happened at all. ‘Sometimes I can’t help but think Jack deserves to be in jail more than your father does.’

This was the first time I had ever heard my mother play the blame game about that night – or speak about it willingly, for that matter. It was one of those unsaid, defining moments that was always bubbling beneath the dynamic of our relationship but rarely openly acknowledged by either of us.

‘But Jack wasn’t even there.’

‘I know that,’ she conceded. ‘But your uncle has always made friends with the wrong people, the sort of people who care more about money than family, and who encourage his paranoid delusions. When your father came to Cedar Hill, it was to make a new life with you and me – a better life than the one he had growing up. He was respectable and successful, but then Jack started coming around. He didn’t have a family of his own and so he looked at us like we were his too. It had always been just him and your father growing up, those two boys against the world, and I think your father felt like he owed him a piece of our lives too, so he wouldn’t be out on his own.

‘But then Jack started putting these thoughts in your father’s head. The same thoughts I can see him trying to put in yours – ones designed to make you afraid and anxious. It got to the point where Jack would question everything and everyone who came into the diner, and soon he was making your father paranoid too. The more I think about it, I can’t help but feel that if Jack hadn’t been getting under your father’s skin, then he wouldn’t have been so quick to believe that man was a dangerous intruder that night at the diner.’

‘And he wouldn’t have shot him,’ I finished coldly. ‘I don’t know if you can blame that on Jack.’

‘He gave your father the gun.’

‘He wanted him to protect himself,’ I countered. ‘They’ve always looked out for each other.’

She scooped a tomato wedge on to her fork. ‘You’re right,’ she replied quickly, shaking her head. ‘Never mind. I shouldn’t have brought it up on your birthday. This day should be about all the good things in your life.’

Suddenly the air between us was awkward and strained. I took a gulp of my Diet Coke and let my eyes wander back to the Priestlys, who had become uncharacteristically silent. Gino sat with his head in his hands, and Dom was leaning back, staring blankly at the ceiling. I knew how they felt.