Excerpt from Livvy & the Queen Bee…flying in from the hive November 2017 – Copyright © 2016 Annie Carpenter
The morning baby Grace died was the moment my mama’s spirit got stuck between earth and heaven. My sister’s heart went thump – thump then quiet. The quiet felt loud. Daddy turned the colour of grey snow clouds leaving cold drops on his brow. His blue lips were moving but his words were stuck; like mama’s spirit, so was his air, because only a gasp came out of his mouth. A picture forever frozen in my mind. Grace’s tiny hand gripping my finger felt loose all of a sudden. It scared me. Grace always held my finger so tight that I didn’t know what letting go felt like until that moment…and I didn’t like it. It hurt my insides. And then, at age 6, I met Ms Queen Bee the stinger of death who burrowed and burrowed into my chest until she got to the very middle of my heart and stuck me with her sharp stinger. Daddy says only sorrow can bring that kind of pain, a sure sign Ms Bee had moved into my heart and made it her hive.
So, we were all stuck somewhere Mama, Daddy and I. One between two worlds, one without air, and the other in the heart.
Daddy and I have sorrow bees. Mama doesn’t – she doesn’t feel anything anymore. Her eyes used to remind me of tiny crystals that sparkle off the water at the beach. The bluest he’s ever seen my daddy would always say and wink at her… but now they are pale like someone took the sun out of her sky. Her voice doesn’t sound the same either, not happy, no laugh. Daddy says the bottle she always drinks out of is numbing medicine and I should never drink from it. It makes her breath smell like the strong clear stingy water daddy poured over my skinned knees when I fell off my bike. I won’t drink it; the smell makes me feel sick. I can’t image swallowing it. Unless, of course, it would kill the queen bee, maybe then I might think about it.
I don’t like that her stinger is still in my heart. Sometimes out of nowhere that sharp pain happens and I remember that letting- go feeling of Grace’s little hand. Daddy says Ms Bee’s goal is to bring up memories that make you laugh or cry depending on what mood she is in. That’s why they say the “sting of death” because Ms Bee reminds you even in the good times that death never leaves the living alone no matter how old they are. He apologised for saying that. He says I’m too little to hear about those kinds of problems. Hmm, I agree. But it got me to thinkin’ that maybe Mama’s lucky, stuck between the worlds, drinking the numbing medicine, she wouldn’t feel any stings.
Annie Carpenter ©