The Bees and the Cracked Pot

The note was under Joss's door when she came down from the roof. It was written on the back of a receipt, in small, careful letters.

Your bees are in my flower pot. Please come and see it today. Gil, flat 4B.

Joss read it twice. Then she sat down on the bottom stair with her veil still hanging from her hat. She kept two beehives on the roof of the building. The residents' committee had agreed to them last spring, but only after a long and tense meeting. One man had said that bees and blocks of flats did not belong together. Joss had promised that nobody would ever have a reason to complain.

Now someone had a reason.

She did not know Gil. She knew only that flat 4B was on the floor directly below the roof. Its balcony was full of pots. She had seen them from above, a crowded row of green. She had never imagined that her bees might visit them.

"They are not even mine," she muttered. "They belong to the sun and the flowers."

It was not a very good argument, and she knew it.

She went upstairs and spent half an hour preparing. She found the committee's letter and the minutes of the meeting. She put them in a folder. Then she filled a small jar with honey from her best hive. It is difficult to shout at a person who is holding honey. She checked her reflection in the hallway mirror and took a deep breath. Then she went down two flights to flat 4B.

Gil opened the door at the first knock. He was a tall man in a faded music shirt, with a pencil behind his ear. He looked tired, and he looked relieved to see her.

"You came," he said. "Thank you. I was afraid you would be too busy."

"I got your note." Joss held the folder in front of her like a shield. "I want to say, before we start, that I have all the permissions. The committee approved the hives. Everything is legal."

Gil stared at the folder. "I'm sorry?"

"The bees are registered, and they are checked every month. I can show you the papers." Her voice sounded sharper than she wanted. "If one of them has stung you, I will pay for the doctor. But I would like to say that bees do not sting unless they feel threatened."

"Stung me?" Gil shook his head. "No, no. Nobody has stung me. Please, come in."

Joss followed him through a small, bright flat full of books and half-finished drawings. A guitar leaned against the wall. A door at the far end opened onto the balcony, and Gil walked straight out. Joss hesitated, then followed.

The balcony was small, and it was full of plants. Lavender grew in a long box. Mint and thyme spilled out of old tins. In the corner stood a large clay flower pot. A crack ran down its side, from the rim to the base. A thin line of dark soil showed through the gap.

Around the pot, a dozen bees moved slowly in the afternoon light.

"There," Gil said quietly. "That is what I wanted to show you."

Joss looked. The bees were not on the lavender. They were crawling along the crack, one after another, drinking from the damp earth.

"I water that pot every morning," Gil said. "The water leaks out through the crack and makes a little wet line. Your bees found it last week. Now they come all day long." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm worried, because I made a mistake. Ten days ago I sprayed the lavender, because it had small green insects on it. I didn't know about the bees then. I read the label afterwards, and it said nothing about them, one way or the other."

Joss turned to look at him. "You sprayed the lavender?"

"Yes. And I have been awake at night, thinking that I poisoned your hives. I haven't seen any dead bees, but I wouldn't know what to look for." He looked at the folder in her hands. "I'm sorry. I thought you ought to know as soon as possible."

For a moment, Joss did not say anything. She looked at the folder. She looked at the jar of honey in her other hand. Then she began to laugh. She had to lean on the balcony rail, because her legs felt weak.

"What is funny?" Gil asked.

"Nothing. Everything." She wiped her eyes. "I thought you wanted to complain. I spent half an hour finding my papers. I even brought a bribe."

"A bribe?"

She held out the jar. "Honey. For emergencies."

Gil started to laugh as well. It was a low, surprised laugh, like someone who had not laughed in a few days. They stood together on the narrow balcony, laughing, while the bees went on drinking from the crack.

"I had no idea you were worried about them," Joss said at last. "Most people only worry about being stung."

"I like them. They are very polite." Gil looked at the pot with a fond expression. "I painted a picture of them yesterday, but I couldn't finish it. I kept thinking about the spray."

"What was it?"

He fetched the bottle from under the sink. Joss read the label slowly. It was a mild soap spray, safe for most insects once it dried. The bottle was nearly full.

"It's all right," she said. "It dried days ago, and soap spray washes off in a few hours. I checked my hives this morning, and the bees look healthy. If anything had been wrong, I would have seen it by now."

Gil let out a long breath. "I am very glad to hear that. I'm sorry about the note. I wrote it quickly, and I think I frightened you."

"You did. But it was my mistake. I read what I expected to read." Joss put the folder under her arm. "You know, bees can drink from a lot of places, but a damp crack is perfect. They land on the edge and do not fall in. That pot is better than the bowl I put on the roof."

"Then I should not fix it."

"You should not. But you could move it." She pointed upward. "On my roof, they would not have to fly down to your balcony for every drink. And you would not have to worry about your lavender."

Gil thought about this. "Could I come and visit?"

"Whenever you like. I will lend you a veil. It's an excellent one, with a very small hole."

"A hole?"

"It's a joke," Joss said. "Mostly."

They picked up the pot together, one hand each on the rim. They carried it carefully through the flat. It was heavy and cold, and it left a thin trail of soil on the floor. On the stairs, a bee followed them all the way up. She seemed to want to be sure of the route.

On the roof, Joss cleared a space beside the hives. Gil set the pot down in it. Then he filled the small jug at the roof tap and tipped it slowly over the soil. Water ran into the crack, and the first bee landed.