The History of Bees

Chapter 21 GEORGE

I couldn’t fall asleep. The pitchfork was still there vibrating in my heart after my conversation with Tom, his words rattled around in my head, again and again. Received a scholarship, won’t cost you a cent, John’s taken care of everything.

Emma lay quietly beside me, breathing almost without a sound. Her face was smooth. She looked younger when she was sleeping. It was almost rude, that she could lie there like that and just sleep while I lay beside her struggling.

A bulb out in the yard blinked. One of the floodlights was about to go out, or perhaps there was something wrong with the wiring. The flickering became a disco light. A strobe light flashing through the window penetrated my eyelids. I pulled the duvet over my head, but it didn’t help, it just got even harder to get the air down into my lungs.

Finally I got up, tried to adjust the curtains, was able to cover up the crack on the side where the light came in.

But it wasn’t enough. The light flickered through the curtain, too. Maybe Emma was right about how we should get some of those completely lightproof blackout things. She’d shown me some in a magazine, they looked like ordinary window shades. But that would have to be later. Now the light had to be repaired. Right now. It couldn’t possibly take long, a simple and manageable job, something that could be fixed quickly. I actually needed to fix the light in order to sleep.

It was a warm night. I didn’t put on my jacket, just went out wearing the T-shirt I’d worn to bed. Nobody saw me anyway.

The light was hung high up on the wall, I had to get a ladder. I went to the barn, lifted the longest one down off the wall, walked out, put it in place, checked that it was stable and climbed up.

The glass dome over the bulb was good and stuck. Couldn’t be budged. It was hot, too. Just warm enough that I managed to hold on to it, but not for too long at a time. I tried with my T-shirt, held the dome inside the fabric while I twisted, but it didn’t work. Finally I pulled off my T-shirt.

The bulb flickered at irregular intervals, erratically. Wouldn’t surprise me if there was a problem with the switch. Emma objected every time I did electrical work myself, but honestly, electricians charge you just for looking at them. They must be raking it in—maybe that’s what one should have become. Or maybe that was what Tom should have become. Would have been much better, a short education, well paid.

Scholarship. Won’t cost you a cent. John’s taken care of everything.

It was a disappointment, but not enough to scare me.

There I was, bare-chested, wearing boxer shorts, socks and shoes on my feet and twisting the dirty light dome. Finally it loosened. I held it and the T-shirt in my left hand while I tried to attack the bulb.

“Dammit!”

It was burning hot to the touch. I had to climb down again with the dome, put it on the ground and then go up again. Luckily the bulb was easily unscrewed. But it occurred to me that if the problem was with the voltage, perhaps the entire light should be taken down, the entire socket. Leaving it like this was a fire hazard. It could not possibly be all that difficult.

Back into the barn to find my tools. Up the ladder again.

I hated cross-head screws. It didn’t take more than a few turns before the cross-head had become a hole that the screwdriver just spun around in, unable to get a grip. And these four were of the extrastubborn, rusty variety. But I was even more stubborn. Wouldn’t give up, not this guy, no sir.

I leaned in and screwed away with all of my might.

Finally all four were out. The light was still stuck to the wall, painted into place. But that much I would manage, a little resistance didn’t scare me. So I grabbed hold and shook away.

It came loose. Just the wires dangled there in its wake, sticking out of the wall like earthworms. I poked at one with my finger.

“Hell!”

The shock wasn’t strong enough to knock me off balance. Not by itself. But in the other hand I held the socket and screwdriver. And the ladder wasn’t particularly stable, either.

I lay on the ground. Don’t know if I’d passed out as I fell. Had an unclear image of the ladder swaying midair, with me on top, like some cartoon character. I became aware of pain in several parts of my body, it hurt like hell.

Way up there I could see the wires creeping along the wall, downwards, towards me. I focused. They came to rest.

Then Emma’s face appeared. Pale with sleep and her hair tousled.

“Oh, George.”

“It was the light.”

She lifted her head and discovered the wires splaying out of the hole in the wall.

I sat up. Slowly. My body responded, luckily. Nothing broken. And the light was down. I’d done it.

She nodded towards the ladder.

“Did you have to take care of that in the middle of the night?” She extended her hand towards me, pulled me up. “Couldn’t it wait?”

I took a couple of steps. My leg ached, but I tried not to show how much it hurt. Should be embarrassed, but was actually just relieved that I had fixed it. I was a stubborn devil. Not the kind to take off when the going got tough.

She handed me the T-shirt. I was about to pull it down over my head.

“Hold on a minute.”

She started brushing off my back. Now I noticed for the first time how filthy I was. Covered with dust and gravel from my socks to my scalp, hands full of sticky, black muck from the light.

I twisted out of her hands and pulled on my T-shirt. I could feel how a number of pebbles still stuck to my back, caught now between my skin and washed-out Chinese cotton. It was going to be painful to sleep on, like walking with pebbles in your shoes. But what was done was done—the light was down, that was the most important thing.

I put up the ladder and walked towards the barn again. Had to finish what I’d started.

“Have to get the electrical tape,” I said. “Can’t leave the wires hanging and dangling like that.”

“But can’t you do that in the morning?”

I didn’t answer.

She sighed. “At least let me turn off the power for you.” Her voice was louder now.

I turned around. She attempted a smile. Was she being ironic? Because I’d forgotten the electrician’s first commandment?

“Go on up to bed,” I just said.

She shrugged her shoulders. Then she turned and walked towards the house.

“And listen, Emma,” I said.

“Yes?” She stopped. Turned around.

I straightened up, summoned my strength.

“Florida is not gonna happen. Just so you know. Not for me. You’ll have to find yourself somebody else. I’m going to live here. There’ll be no Gulf Harbors.”