“Yes, the bees.”
“I don’t know. They seem okay with me.”
“You’re wearing a suit. I never saw your grampa wear a suit. When I walked past here, I mean.”
“He was braver than I am.”
For the first time since I’d seen her, she cracked the slightest of smiles. “What did you want?”
“Nothing. I saw you walking past and thought I’d say hello.”
“Why?”
Why? I hadn’t expected the question and for a moment, I couldn’t think of a response. “Just being neighborly, I suppose.”
She seemed to stare right through me. “We’re not neighbors,” she said. “I live a ways down the road.”
“You’re right,” I said.
“I have to go,” she said. “I don’t want to be late for work.”
“Fair enough. I don’t want you to be late, either.”
“Then why did you stop me to talk to you?”
I thought I’d answered that with the whole being neighborly thing, but I guess to her mind, I hadn’t. But feeling as though she wanted to end the conversation sooner rather than later—again, like Natalie at the farmers’ market, which made me think how similar they were in temperament—I took a step backward toward the wheelbarrow.
“No reason,” I said. “Have a great day.”
She waited until I’d retreated a few steps before starting to walk again. And though I didn’t turn around to check, I was certain she didn’t cast so much as a single glance my way. Not that it was any of my business.
I put on the hood and gloves, then moved the wheelbarrow closer to the first of the hives. I got the smoker going, puffed enough to calm the hive, and waited another minute before removing both lids. I added the excluder to the top of the upper deep, put the shallow upper super on top of that, and put the lids back on. Same things with the second, third, and fourth hives. I refilled the wheelbarrow multiple times, lost in the routine and remembering my grandfather, until all the hives were done.
Fortunately, all the queens were still in place—eating food and laying eggs, doing their thing—and I was able to finish in under three hours. By then, it was coming up on lunch, and thinking my morning had already been exceedingly productive, I treated myself to a beer with my sandwich.
Sometimes, it just hits the spot. Know what I mean?
*
After lunch, there were two more things on my agenda, both of which I considered important for my own peace of mind.
Natalie had been right about the possibility of finding answers in my grandfather’s truck. She was also smart to suggest that I call the hospital first. For all I knew, my grandfather had been transported from another county. I found the phone number on the internet and spoke to an older lady with an accent so thick it could have been bottled, who had absolutely no idea how to help. After hemming and hawing for a couple of minutes—in addition to her drawl, she spoke incredibly slowly—she finally landed on the name of one of the hospital administrators and offered to connect me. While she was doing so, unfortunately, I was cut off.
I called again, asked for the appropriate name, and then was connected to voicemail. I left my name, number, a brief message, and asked him to return my call.
Maybe because of the experience I’d had with the first lady, I wasn’t all that certain I’d receive a call back. Even so, I felt like I’d just taken the first step on a journey to find the answers I needed.
*
In the various phases of my life—high school, Annapolis, medical school, residency, and the Navy—I became friends with some extraordinary people. In each of those phases, I became particularly close to a small circle of individuals, and I simply assumed that I would remain close with them forever. Because we were hanging out then, my thinking went, we’d hang out forever.
But friendships, I’ve learned, aren’t like that. Things change; people change. Friends mature and move and get married and have children; others become doctors and deploy to Afghanistan and have their careers blown up. Over time, if you’re lucky, a few—or maybe just a couple—remain from each of the various phases of your life. I’ve been fortunate; I have friends who date back to high school, and yet, I sometimes find myself wondering why some people remain in your life while others drift away. I don’t have the answer to that, other than to observe that friendship has to flow both ways. Both of you have to be willing to invest in the friendship in order to maintain it.