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I ask the question not because I’m trying to feel him out, but because I’m genuinely curious. I’ve never lasted more than a year in a relationship, mostly because I tend to get bored. A part of me wonders if I’m even cut out for something that lasts. Maybe I’ll always just be a restless soul. I never expected to last more than a year in Napa, thinking I’d be on the move before long, not ever being able to settle, but here I am two years later and not even considering moving on. Maybe I’m ready for something more serious or maybe I need someone who is just as restless as me.
C.Grizwold: It was five years, but she wasn’t present for most of them and I knew that. It was easier to stay than to leave, I think.
Me: I’ve been there. Sometimes you just go through the motions so you aren’t alone.
C.Grizwold: I don’t think I mind being alone.
The bubbles pop up immediately after his last message and I don’t respond, waiting for what he has to say.
C.Grizwold: That came out wrong. I don’t mind being alone, but if I met the right person I think I would feel differently.
He’s back peddling and it’s kind of cute. He’s worried he insulted me and all the time we’ve spent chatting, but far from it.
Me: I understood what you meant. Being alone is easy. It’s the relationship I have a hard time with. But I think if I met the right person I would feel differently.
I quote his words back to him, teasing him just a little and as I do, I try to picture his face. It’s far harder than I ever thought it would be, but I imagine he’s pensive and serious, a cautious pessimist that can change when presented with something that makes him happy.
Me: I think you’re a little jaded by the world and that’s so fucking great. I don’t really trust people who are inherently happy and can’t find the bullshit that floats on the surface of everything.
C.Grizwold: Glad to find another jaded soul.
We end the conversation there and I get back to my mead research, wanting to make sure I’m prepared to share what I’ve learned with Tommy tomorrow. I want this to work, and I know my main goal of all of this was just to draw the bees away from the orchard, but it has morphed into so much more. I feel like I have more of a purpose at Somerville’s now, and not that my job in the tasting room isn’t important, it is, but this is something that could possibly lend itself to bringing more revenue and bringing in more people. It’s a bigger contribution than I’ve ever made to anything in my life.
I wake up early the next morning, going for a run and then I head over to the vineyard. I have no idea if Tommy will be there already or how long any of this will take. The one thing I do know is that I have this weird nervous excitement coursing through my body. It’s a feeling that I’m onto something new and different and big. It’s the same feeling I had when I left Massachusetts, a feeling that I was bound for something bigger, something better than the crowdedness of Boston and the hum of the city that never let me think. It feels like it just took me this long to find it.
I round the corner and find Tommy waiting for me by Melrose Hive, he’s decked out in bee gear, making me laugh just a little as I approach him. His face is serious, a concentrated look that’s pensive and dark, but when he looks up, it melts away revealing an effortless smile that blankets his face.
“Hey! You ready to do this?” he asks, and it takes me a second to catch up. I’m wrapped up in his features and the sudden perfection his smile brings to this moment.
He lifts his hat, looking directly at me, his head cocked to the side as he watches me. I take several oddly cautious steps toward him, almost like I feel a shift in who we once were. Something about us is different and I now see it far more clearly than I have.
We’ve grown closer over these last few months and what was once a work acquaintance relationship has formed into a friendship I never saw coming and it makes me realize I’m not as alone as I thought I was last night.
“Yes,” I finally reply, picking up my step and aligning with where he’s standing. He has several plastic tubs and in one of them is the bee-proof suits we ordered a few weeks back. Most of the supplies we already have here at Somerville’s, but there were some things we needed to pick up, like a honey extractor, which should be interesting. It’s this hand crank machine that neither one of us has ever used.
“I guess we put these guys on,” Tommy says, his face now turned up in a bothered smirk. He hands me a suit and I slip it on over my clothes. It’s still cool here given it’s early and the suit actually helps warm me up a little.
“Okay, let’s do this,” I announce, with Tommy standing in front of one of our hives while I’m holding the smoke can.
“Why don’t we start here since this hive is the largest,” he suggests as he begins to remove the top. We move the bees lower into the hive and any remaining ones we push off with smoke, causing them to fly away. As we pull the super out, we have to force a few more bees away, eventually getting it so we can put the super into one of the tubs Tommy brought with him.
We repeat this step until we’ve collected all the supers from the hives, but by now the sun is beating down on us and I’m sweating like my body is fucking crying for me to pull this damn suit off and jump in the lake.
“This fucking suit is killing me,” I call out, as we finish up the last of the collection. It feels like I pissed myself, my clothes so wet that I’ll need to peel them off of me.
“I’m sweating like I’ve spent ten hours on a treadmill,” Tommy calls back, his words a little muffled behind the hat.
“They say success is ninety percent perspiration,” I joke with him, laughing a little as I catch a glimpse of his shiny face. Good thing we’re wearing these full suits, because I’m glad he can’t see exactly what I look like right now.
“Dude, I fucking sweat like this opening a beer. Do you think people see me and think, ‘Man, that guy’s really made it big.’ Or do I just look like an alcoholic?”
I can’t control the hard laugh that leaves my mouth, stopping me in my tracks. He’s a totally different person than who I ever thought he was and it’s refreshing. There’s a reason Lauren and Ellen have remained friends with him for so long and I’m finally getting a glimpse of it.
“You do not. I’ve seen you around and you’re in great shape.”
“Thanks. I think that’s the first compliment you’ve ever given me,” he says, and I swear he could be blushing behind that hat just a little.
“Are you fishing for compliments, Tommy Andrews? That’s pretty cheesy of you if you are,” I tease. “Oh, Tommy, you’re so strong and manly. Maybe one day you could rescue me from a burning building or from drowning,” I croon, my voice breathy and sugary sweet.
