melissaphilia
Mother of Bees
Longwood Place used to be an elementary school. Now there was just a bunch of old people living here. The three story brick building overshadowed the back parking lot. Alice got out of the car and looked up at the structure. Blue and yellow balloons bounced and swayed where they were tied to the framework of the awning that led up the stairs and to the entrance. Someone had tried to bring a little cheer to the place. It didn’t work. Alice wondered if the building was disappointed with its sad history. To be a school children didn’t want to go to, and then to be a home for people who were just waiting to die. Pathetic.
“Come on,” Margie said to her. Alice looked at her older sister. She looked elegant in a soft pink dress with scalloped hemlines. Her hair was carefully twisted into a top bun, shiny and smooth with hairspray. She clicked up the stairs in her white heels. Alice looked down at herself, managing to look somewhat presentable in a blue lace romper with a peter pan color and black flats with ankle straps. It wasn’t as “formal” as the invitation had strongly suggested, but it was all she could find in her closet. Alice huffed and followed her sister. A flyer was taped to the door. A pixelated photo of a tea cup and a colorful swirly font read “3rd Annual Tea Party.”
“This is going to be boring,” she said under her breath as they entered the foyer. Margie heard the grumble and glared down at her younger sister.
“Don’t you dare let Mom hear you complain.”
Alice crossed her arms and bit the inside of her cheek. The room to their left was a sitting area. Vintage wingback chairs were arranged around an electric fireplace, which wasn’t on. Piano music and voices came from the dining room through the open door to the right. Everybody was already seated and enjoying themselves. Alice and Margie wove through the room and found their mother and grandmother seated near the piano in the corner.
“Hi, sorry we’re late. We had trouble deciding what to wear.” Margie said, kissing both women on the cheeks before taking her seat next to their grandmother. Alice sat between Margie and their mother and tried not to look too guilty. Their mother looked at Alice knowingly anyway.
“I’m glad you could make it,” Gram said, smiling at them. The tables had been decorated with alternating clothes the same colors at the balloons outside. Every setting had a delicate china tea cup and matching plate and silverware. A flower arrangement adorned the center of every table, and a long desk at the back had been designated for desserts. Three-tiered trays with tarts and a silver platter with cakes and baskets full of cookies. Alice got up from her seat and took her plate with her. Over at the desserts, a woman around her mother’s age placed a single petit four on her plate. An older gentleman with shaky hands went for one of the tarts. Alice grabbed two of everything and then turned to observe the room.
The living assistants were going around offering tea with pitchers of cream and sugar bowls. The pianist was a young man in a suit and a look of almost pained focus on his face. Out in the hallway two kids ran by, their high-pitched laughter echoing after them. Alice checked to make sure her family wasn’t looking after her before she slipped around the corner and disappeared from the party.
“Come on,” Margie said to her. Alice looked at her older sister. She looked elegant in a soft pink dress with scalloped hemlines. Her hair was carefully twisted into a top bun, shiny and smooth with hairspray. She clicked up the stairs in her white heels. Alice looked down at herself, managing to look somewhat presentable in a blue lace romper with a peter pan color and black flats with ankle straps. It wasn’t as “formal” as the invitation had strongly suggested, but it was all she could find in her closet. Alice huffed and followed her sister. A flyer was taped to the door. A pixelated photo of a tea cup and a colorful swirly font read “3rd Annual Tea Party.”
“This is going to be boring,” she said under her breath as they entered the foyer. Margie heard the grumble and glared down at her younger sister.
“Don’t you dare let Mom hear you complain.”
Alice crossed her arms and bit the inside of her cheek. The room to their left was a sitting area. Vintage wingback chairs were arranged around an electric fireplace, which wasn’t on. Piano music and voices came from the dining room through the open door to the right. Everybody was already seated and enjoying themselves. Alice and Margie wove through the room and found their mother and grandmother seated near the piano in the corner.
“Hi, sorry we’re late. We had trouble deciding what to wear.” Margie said, kissing both women on the cheeks before taking her seat next to their grandmother. Alice sat between Margie and their mother and tried not to look too guilty. Their mother looked at Alice knowingly anyway.
“I’m glad you could make it,” Gram said, smiling at them. The tables had been decorated with alternating clothes the same colors at the balloons outside. Every setting had a delicate china tea cup and matching plate and silverware. A flower arrangement adorned the center of every table, and a long desk at the back had been designated for desserts. Three-tiered trays with tarts and a silver platter with cakes and baskets full of cookies. Alice got up from her seat and took her plate with her. Over at the desserts, a woman around her mother’s age placed a single petit four on her plate. An older gentleman with shaky hands went for one of the tarts. Alice grabbed two of everything and then turned to observe the room.
The living assistants were going around offering tea with pitchers of cream and sugar bowls. The pianist was a young man in a suit and a look of almost pained focus on his face. Out in the hallway two kids ran by, their high-pitched laughter echoing after them. Alice checked to make sure her family wasn’t looking after her before she slipped around the corner and disappeared from the party.