Ch. 5: The Bee’s Knees

• Gin
• Honey
• Soda Water

            I was pulling weeds in my client’s yard when I noticed a boy entering the house next door. He’d gone there every day for the past couple of days. In fact, I might say he’s the only person I’ve ever seen enter the place more than once.  I decided to follow him inside.

            As I entered the house, the boy was putting on an apron. He turned around at the sound of the door.  When he saw me, he jumped.

            “Oh- Hello!” he said. His smile was obviously fake. He continued, “Welcome to Mon Astre. You can sit wherever you’d like.”

            I sat down in the back, near a window. I looked out and, to my surprise, saw that there was a garden. Some of the plants were recognizable, but most were strange and new.

            “A fan of our herb garden, I see.” I jumped and turned around to see a man standing behind me. This man was not the boy I followed in here. His smile covered his entire face, but there was something almost sinister about it.

            “I’m a gardener by trade,” I explained, “but I’ve never seen half of those plants.”

            “I see,” the man said. He placed a drink in front of me.

            “It’s called the bee’s knees,” he said. It looked kind of fizzy. I took a sip.

            “What brought you here?” he asked.

            “I’d only ever seen people come and go once, but recently, there’s been this Tulane kid coming and going all the time. I got curious,” I explained.

            “So you followed him in?” The man’s smile now held a bit of amusement.

            I hesitated. “Yeah,” I admitted.

            The man chuckled a little and went back to the bar.

            I sipped my drink, watching as the garden fell into shadow. I hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed.  My clients next door had probably come home to a half-weeded garden.

            This time, the kid approached me.

            “Is everything alright?” he asked, concerned. It was the first genuine expression I’d seen from him. I smiled up at him.

            “Yeah,” I said, “The drink is tasty. I’ve been here for a while though.”

            “You have,” the kid confirmed.

            He added, “You know, usually, when people come here, they’re unhappy for some reason. We try to make them happy.”

            That startled the smile right off my face.

            “What--what do you mean?” I asked.

            He leaned in, staring at me intently. “Are you happy?” he asked.  I tried to smile again, but it was way more awkward.

            “I think I’m ok,” I said. “I should probably get going.” I got up to leave.

            “Just think about it,” the boy said. I rushed out the front door, thinking about what he’d said. Was I happy?  No, I realized I wasn’t.  But why was I unhappy? I had no idea. 

            Something told me I was going to be back to Mon Astre in the future.