Beecoming a Man
“You know when I told you that thing.”
“What thing?” “Nothing.” “COME ON.”
Janet was extremely volatile nowa- days. She slipped into a fury like a seal into water, and like a seal, found it very difficult to get back onto dry land.
“That thing about me and Beatrice.”
“YES I REMEMBER. WHY ARE YOU BRINGING THIS UP NOW, JER-”
“Can you stop shouting please?” “Jerry, our problem doesn’t concern Beatrice.”
But it did. Years ago I’d had a brief encounter with “Beatrice”. It was a purely sexual affair that lasted no more than, let’s say, ten minutes.
But that pseudonym covered up my shame no better than Adam’s fig leaf. I told Janet what actually happened that day, and who with.
“You mean to tell me-”
“Yes. My love for the bees extends further than you previously thought.”
Sick fuck. Beedo. Beelzebub.
I woke up the next morning to find my suitcase next to the hive. This was it. My decision made for me. I gingerly pressed my lips to the wood and whispered:
“It’s going to be alright, hunny”