Page 8 of Unlikely You

My parents were affable and charming to everyone except for their own daughter. No one would have believed me if I’d told them how my parents had treated me, so I just hadn’t said anything. It had been easy when they’d been off on trips to invite friends over and pretend that my parents just really trusted me and that my independence was exactly what I wanted.

I’m sorry. Do you wanna play our alphabet game?Melliferal had told me about the game she played with her family when we’d first started talking and I’d eagerly participated. One of us would pick a letter to start with. Then we’d have a conversation, but each answer had to start with the next letter of the alphabet. So if she started with E, she’d sayEven my teeth hurtand I’d respondfuck, that sucks, and so on. It was fun and a little challenging sometimes. It was also a great distraction if you’d had a shitty day.

Yes please. You can start.

I wiggled my fingers and tried to come up with something good.Let’s start with H. Have you ever heard of vampire hedgehogs?

There was no way to hear her laugh, but I really wished I could have known if that had made her laugh.

I have not.

Just go to Vietnam to see them.

Kindly, I think I’m good.

Little friend, you’re missing out.

We went back and forth like that and my face hurt from smiling. I’d never had a bad or uninteresting conversation with her. It was remarkable. Even when we’d disagreed on things, it had been civil and we’d acknowledged the other’s point.

Melliferal and I were so different, but we understood each other in ways that made everything else not matter.

I wondered sometimes what she looked like. Exactly how old she was. It was strange, knowing so many intimate things about someone, but not knowing their face. Were her eyes blue or brown or green or something else? Was she taller? Or shorter?

Those questions were going to remain unanswered. Not after what I’d gone through with my last internet friend that I got close to. Melliferal was nothing like her, but that didn’t mean anything. People could turn on you in a second and you’d never see it coming.

I knew from experience.

Who won?Melliferal asked.

You didI answered. I almost always let her win because she got all happy and cute about it.

She sent me a bunch of flower emojis.

You always let me win.

I have no idea what you’re talking aboutI responded.

Yeah, sure. Ugh, I’m so tired. I think I need to shut everything down early tonight. Good mice.

I tried not to be too disappointed when I answered her.

Good mice, Mel.

Chapter Four

Honey

When my parentsbought the farm and decided to turn it into an apiary, I’d done a massive amount of research on bees. They’d read some of it, but mostly they corresponded with a few people online and said they’d figure the rest out as they went.

That wasn’t the way I wanted them to do things, but they were the ones in charge, so I did what I could to help.

My reading took me down all kinds of interesting paths. I learned about telling the bees, a tradition of telling bees about important milestones in the lives of their keepers. My parents had thought that was a lovely idea, so we all started telling the bees about all kinds of things.

I might have gone a little overboard, because anytime I had a problem, I’d tell the bees first. It was much easier to inform my parents about a bad grade or a mistake I’d made after telling the bees and listening to their soft buzzing comfort. I told them good things too. Like when I had my first kiss. The bees knew more about my sex life than anyone else. I hoped they appreciated it. They seemed to.

My parents also had us sing to the bees, thinking that it was a gift to give them in thanks for the honey.

Sometimes when I couldn’t sleep and it wasn’t too cold out, I’d go sit with them and tell them all my troubles. The bees never judged or yelled or tried to offer advice. They were good like that.

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