Grey Bees by Andrey Kurkov

Author:Andrey Kurkov [Kurkov, Andrey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Deep Vellum Publishing

37

The onset of summer slowed the passage of time. There was more noise in nature now, the birds sang more loudly in the morning hours, yet the ringing of bee-wings was not lost amid it all. Sergeyich considered that ringing to be not only proof of the presence and health of his bees, but also proof of his own presence. He wasn’t merely the owner of an apiary, after all – he was the representative of the legitimate interests of its bees. The bees, of course, had just one interest: gathering nectar and pollen. Sergeyich regarded the internal rules of their life (relations between the worker bees and the drones, all that petty, everyday nonsense) to be their personal business, the same as with people. It was no concern of his. The only thing that would concern him would be the unexpected death or loss of one of the queens, but, thank God, all was well on that score; the queens lived, reproduced and died as and when nature ordained, passing their batons to their replacements, who were born in the same hives. Sergeyich only kept watch over the health of the bees, driving out and exterminating wasps, who repeatedly tried to move into their hives; using a metal scraper to uncap the honeycombs, so that he could extract the honey and pour it into jars; collecting wax and bee pollen. It was by these means that his work and his life’s meaning were bound into a single whole – and there was more meaning in it than work, since most of the latter was carried out by the bees themselves. They never asked his advice on what to do or how to do it. They didn’t need his advice, or his permission.

Galya’s commercial fabrication – the claim that his honey was “anti-alcoholic” – proved successful even in the neighbouring villages. Money began to accumulate in the glove compartment of his Lada (which played the role of a wallet and could be locked with a small key), allowing him to look to the future with greater confidence. Galya would ride her scooter to his campsite whenever she hadn’t seen him for more than three days. But she did not come often, because he tried to pop into the village two or three times a week. He would fill up his water canister, have dinner at Galya’s, and stock up on tea, sausage and cheese – no longer using the honey credit, which had long ago run out. After Galya sold the first batch, she began to pay for the supply in advance, using cash. But this did not change their relationship into a business arrangement; it remained warm and friendly. Galya herself felt out an acceptable distance with her mind, so as not to seem clingy, while getting everything she needed, emotionally and bodily, from the man she had chosen. The beekeeper put up no resistance. He would have accepted more, but the state of semi-independent equality that had been established between them was entirely to his satisfaction.

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