Of Bees and Mist (9 page)

“Because he stopped loving me,” said Ravenna on the dot. Then jerking her eyes wide, she raised a hand to Meridia’s temple. “Are you unwell, child? You look rather flushed. What’s gotten into you? Why are you carrying on in this manner?”

Her heart sinking, Meridia understood that the veil, without her noticing it, had indeed fallen after all. Ravenna would guard her secrets to the grave. What happened next took place in a heartbeat. The sweet scent of lemon verbena, combined with Ravenna’s ghostly look, her shoulders thin as paper and her hair twisted so tightly in a knot, became too much for Meridia to handle. Against all instructions, tears spilled from Meridia’s eyes.

“I need to know why…you…and Papa…Why, Mama, why?”

“Child, you’re crying! Have I taught you nothing? Pull your shoulders up. Tilt your chin. Keep your spine stiff.” Ravenna was scouring her daughter’s face with narrowed eyes when the idea hit her like a bolt of lightning.

“Holy Mother of Heaven, you’re in love!”

Startled by the tumultuous mechanism of her mother’s mind, Meridia put her hand out blindly. Ravenna took it at once.

“You do love him, then? This young man the matchmaker proposed?”

Meridia nodded.

“Does he love you?”

She nodded again, propelling tears to slide from her chin.

Abruptly, Ravenna raised her eyes to the ceiling. Her long, pale throat contracted as she swallowed, and when her eyes returned to Meridia, they were not those of someone absent and forgetful, but of a woman strong enough to drive a stoop into a man’s shoulder.

“Stop crying this instant,” she commanded. “If it’s marriage you want, then it’s marriage you’ll get.”

Ravenna turned to the chopping board and pointed her implacable knot at Meridia. Before the knife resumed its beheading, she threw one last lesson over her shoulder.

“Whatever you do, do not repeat my mistakes.”

Too stupefied by the turn of events, Meridia could only watch as the dark and private language once again flooded the kitchen. In the midst of her bafflement, she realized that Ravenna had not asked for the name of the boy she wanted to marry.

THAT EVENING, AS SOON
as the yellow mist whisked Gabriel away, Ravenna went down to the kitchen in her plain black dress and stayed there for the next twelve hours. All night long the stove groaned and the oven rumbled, countless bowls clanged, knives clattered, skillets jangled. At midnight, awakened by the commotion, the two maids appeared in the kitchen with metal pokers in their hands, but Ravenna shooed them away with a stern warning not to disturb her. More terrified of their mistress than of thieves, the maids scurried to their beds and drew the blankets up to their heads. The steep drop in temperature told them that the house was bracing for something momentous, and they did not sleep for fear of missing it. Upstairs in her room, Meridia heard nothing, though she spent the night anxious without rest.

In the morning, when the blue mist delivered Gabriel in his long coat and top hat at the door, Ravenna was waiting for him in the dining room. In sixteen years he had not missed a single breakfast she had prepared for him. Although it was never voiced, their pact went as follows: As long as she still cooked and served him breakfast without the aid of her maids, and he still ate whatever she gave him without burying some in his napkin (these dishes, after all, might contain poison, ground glass, urine, or anything else Ravenna’s resentment and Gabriel’s suspicion could think up), they would remain as husband and wife. During this exercise, neither one spoke or looked at the other. In sixteen years they never modified or questioned their habit, so inured to its rhythm that they no longer knew who held the upper hand on a given morning.

Gabriel took his seat, spreading the napkin on his lap in one lordly gesture. Ravenna brought the first dish from the kitchen, a broiled snow fish sprinkled with nutmeg. Gabriel raised a quizzical brow, missing his customary ham-and-paprika omelet, but the flat line of her lips silenced him. No sooner had he raised his fork than
Ravenna swept up the dish and dumped both plate and content into a large trash can she had set up for that purpose.

“One year of lies and illusions,” she said calmly without looking at him.

Before Gabriel could object, Ravenna vanished into the kitchen. A few seconds later she reappeared with a steaming bowl of lentil and octopus soup. Gabriel was about to dip into the creamy surface of the soup when Ravenna snatched the bowl and hurled it into the trash.

“Two years of sheer and utter waste,” she said.

Gabriel sat still, uncertain which was troubling him more—the fact that his wife was speaking to him, or that she was discarding good food and expensive china without the slightest pang. A succession of rock cod in lemon-and-pepper sauce, veal garnished with peaches and palm sugar, and cubed chicken simmered in coconut milk soon joined the mass burial in the wastebasket. When Ravenna reached the ninth dish, Gabriel leaned back against the chair. For the first time in years, he stared openly at his wife.

“Is there a point to this inanity?”

“Nine years of misery, futility, and devastation,” retorted Ravenna, letting each word sprout its own blade as she relegated the roast lamb to rubbish. Then, serene as a dove, she sailed impassively toward the kitchen.

Gabriel waited until the next dish met its doom before roaring, “I’m asking you, is there a reason behind this madness?”

“Ten years of deceit, treachery, and disappointments,” returned Ravenna icily. “What other reason do you need?”

Gabriel slammed his fist against the table, causing the silverware to leap in trepidation. “What do you want, woman?”

Ravenna did not shrink, but fixed him a look that drove nails into his eyes. “She wants her freedom, and you will give it to her even if it’s the last thing you do.” And then without wasting another breath, she swept majestically into the kitchen.

When she reappeared, Gabriel struck again. “I won’t let her marry that good-for-nothing boy. His whole family reeks of commonness and mediocrity.”

Ravenna slapped a tureen of boiling lobster broth onto the table, prompting Gabriel to retreat lest it overturn. Her eyes blazing with intensity, she told him, “Eleven years of pain and disenchantment. Eleven years of shame and despair and absolute humiliation. She’s a grown woman who knows what she wants, capable of bearing children, responsible enough to merit freedom. Do you think you have the right to decide her life for her?”

“I most certainly do!” shouted Gabriel, but Ravenna ignored him. She baptized the trash can with the broth and solemnly withdrew into the kitchen.

For the next six courses, Gabriel fumed while Ravenna remained indifferent. When she placed the eighteenth dish before him, the customary ham-and-paprika omelet, he immediately understood that it was the last. Eighteen dishes, one for each year they had been married.

“Eighteen years of grief and regret,” said Ravenna. “You owe me that and much more.”

“I will not deliver her into the hands of these people!”

Ravenna waved her finger with a withering ease. “She won’t end up worse than I am. Nobody can be damned as low as you have damned me.”

Gabriel recoiled as if she had exploded a hole in his being. Without thinking, he picked at the omelet, expecting it to be whisked away, but Ravenna made no move.

“I don’t approve of this,” he said at length. “Don’t expect me to give her money or blessings.”

Ravenna leaned in and told him in her iciest voice, “What you owe me, I will use to buy her freedom. I will add up all the damage you’ve caused to purchase her passage out of this madhouse.”

It was at that moment when their eyes met, and the great wings of a feathered thing began to beat in his stomach, that Gabriel felt
deceived by the fickleness of his own memories. For sixteen years he had not allowed himself to think of his wife as anything other than vengeful, but at that inexcusable moment of nostalgia, she again became the woman he had loved before the cold wind blew and froze the house over. Despite Ravenna’s older and more gaunt appearance, those were the same lips he had kissed, the same arms and legs that had twined him so intimately that he knew the location of every vein and freckle. Slowly, mournfully, like a man savoring every moment before death, Gabriel dragged the fork to his mouth. In this way, Meridia became engaged to Daniel.

T
hey 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 cano
pies 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.”

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.”