Bill said, “Oh fascinating. That’s cool. I think everyone should know more chemistry.”
And he meant it.
My girlfriend said, “Yeah, science is cool.”
I said, “How much spinach can you make with science.”
Lately I’d been using “spinach” to refer to money.
“So much spinach,” she said.
The tone of her voice suggested she didn’t enjoy my company right then.
What a shame!
“So, with science,” I said, “basically, you get that spinach.”
“My wife has magnificent spinach in her garden,” Bill said. “It really is a lovely thing.”
I said, “Oh, she got that spinach?”
The beekeeping instructor began trying to use the microphone and someone said the volume made her ears feel “absolutely awful” so the instructor said he wouldn’t use the microphone but then someone else introduced herself alongside her mother and said her mother couldn’t hear well, and the bee instructor asked the mother if he should use the microphone and she smiled and nodded — not hearing what he’d said — and the daughter said, “Just go without the microphone, it doesn’t matter,” and he stepped away from the microphone and began the lecture.
*
Shortly after he began, I considered raising my hand and saying,
“Yeah, I can kick your ass,” while leaning back in my chair — maybe then look around at others to see what they thought about that.
Maybe point at someone and raise my eyebrows, “You” getting off my chair, letting it hit the floor loudly, “you think anything about that.”
And everyone would know then I could kick his/her/anyone’s ass.
The instructor delivered a long speech about beekeeping and I drew pictures on my complimentary beekeeping packet.
The instructor seemed very worried the whole time.
I kept expecting him — after everything he explained — to say,
“But I mean, who gives a shit, right,” and then look around shrugging and doing this laugh that’s more like sniffing.
Some of the phrases I heard while drawing pictures on my complimentary beekeeping packet:
“…which is a very gentle time in a honeybee’s life.”
“…can anyone speak to that: apple-scab spraying.”
“…he’s a third-generation Bosnian beekeeper.”
“…I get stung about once a week, although sometimes I won’t get stung for three or four weeks then I’ll get stung four or five times at once (sniffing laughter).”
I stopped drawing and pictured him out working with bees — getting stung — saying, “Ow”—getting stung again — saying, “Ow”—getting swarmed — screaming — and his scream is the scream of a person you don’t think matches how he looks.
*
One of the people attending the class kept asking questions and/or introducing himself to the conversation.
He kept referencing having lived in Hawaii.
I wrote, “He’s from Hawaii,” next to some drawings in my bee packet.
Then I tapped my girlfriend on the shoulder and tapped the pen against the words.
She read it and nodded.
I wrote, “I want to fuck your hot pussy,” and tapped her.
She read it and said, “Shh,” smiling.
Then I wrote, “Sorry for being such an asshole sometimes, I care about you,” and tapped her, but she didn’t look.
Hawaiian guy was still talking.
Hawaiian guy was really intense and earnest.
Everyone was really earnest.
Made me think.
What was wrong with me.
Why couldn’t I get excited about something like beekeeping.
Get really excited.
Just come to the class today and enjoy it.
Why couldn’t I live like that.
Viewing almost everything with excitement/enjoyment.
Why couldn’t I just enjoy something.
Why instead did I always envision my own corpse, smileless and rotten.
Smileless and rotten.
Just, terrible.
At the end of our table there was an overweight kid who’d been making faces at me the whole class.
He held up a picture he drew — of a horse — and crossed his eyes at me.
I thought about holding up a piece of paper that read, “Fuck you, bitch”—and raising my eyebrows up and down a few times.
Another person at the class was American Wilderness.
In the back sat a concerned-looking man wearing an “American Wilderness” sweatshirt, who began to dominate the question-asking.
His sweatshirt had “American Wilderness” airbrushed on the front — over an airbrushed bear, which was over an airbrushed American flag, which was waving.
American Wilderness kept asking questions, with a very stern look on his face, his hands gesturing as if opening a combination lock.
I imagined him eating a cookie — only he wasn’t wearing the American Wilderness sweatshirt, he was shirtless. And cookie crumbs fell into his dense chest hair, dissolving.
Almost every question he asked was — according to the bee instructor—“Going to be addressed later.”
*
When all the questions were done, the bee instructor showed some slides of poorly maintained bee boxes.
He showed slides of all the ways someone can ruin a beehive.
The last slides were bee boxes destroyed on purpose.
He said, “And — I guess — here’s some random vandalism from teenagers.”
Everyone said, “Ohh,” and seemed upset.
I thought — These…these are my bees.
*
On break, Bill told us he’d already ordered his bees.
The bees had to be ordered from somewhere.
Bill said, “They told me to call the post office to let them know they’re coming.”
He was talking to my girlfriend, but I said, “That’s a scary thing to call someone and tell them. ‘My bees are coming.’”
He looked at me for maybe six seconds and said, “Right yeah.”
My girlfriend said, “That’s exciting, that they’re already on their way. I’m jealous.”
Bill said, “Oh I know, I’m just falling in love with bees.”
And he really was falling in love with bees.
My girlfriend was too.
They were two people who loved everything.
And excited and polite people who love everything find and keep each other.
*
When break ended, the instructor went around the room and asked each person to introduce him/herself then state his/her reason for taking the class.
Bill had his legs crossed, hands clasped with fingers together around the knees.
He said, “Well, I’m Bill and I guess I’m just — and I was telling these guys earlier — I’m really just, falling in love with bees to be honest.”
Everyone said, “Ah,” or, “Uh huh,” or, “(agree in some way).”
Another person introduced himself and said he too had always been fascinated by beekeeping.
Then he referenced living in Hawaii numerous times in astounding succession.
Hawaii Man again.
When it was my turn, I said, “I’m here because my girlfriend asked me to come with her and said she’d pay, and also because I want to control nature.”
The overweight kid at the end of the table said, “Control nature!?” really loud and crossed his eyes then held up a game of tic-tac-toe he’d drawn on his bee packet.
When it was his turn to introduce himself, he got real nervous and said, “Um yes, hello, I’m Eli. I like bees uh, because um, because they’re my favorite thing to love because I like them and I’m an artist.”
Then the next person began her introduction.
Eli made a face at me, biting a muffin he’d acquired during break.
Fuck you, bitch.