A Clover and a Bee

It’s a windless day, cool and still. Steam rises off the geothermal lake, carrying with it the faint smell of sulfur.

It’s Leisure Day in Aurora Skies, a holiday usually reserved for rest and relaxation. But there’s no way Lark can unwind--she’s several days past her due date, and she has come to the irrational conclusion that she’s going to be pregnant for the rest of her life. It’s a dismal prospect, and the thought of it is taking a toll on her already fragile morale. In a misguided attempt to cheer her up, Nikolas persuades her into visiting Björn Café. But the walk to the café tires her, and none of the expensive, fatty drinks look appealing. Citing the need for fresh air, she excuses herself to the balcony. It overlooks the eastern shores of the island, providing an endless view of the sea, a sublime sight of deep blues and greens. But even the view, a normally reassuring sight for Lark, can’t take her mind off her discomfort. Nikolas follows her to the balcony, a look of concern on his face. “Are you okay?” “Fine,” she replies, “I just feel like shit” He pulls her in for a h...

How can three minutes be so long? That’s hardly any time--it’s more than enough time to microwave a burrito, for example, or be disappointed in bed. But in this instance it’s inching by at a snail’s pace.

It’s the first day of spring, but the island is still covered in snow and ice. And even though it’s slowly melting in the afternoon sun, the snow sucks any warmth out of the air, driving most sims to stay indoors if possible.

Sheba has been very lethargic recently, worryingly so. She sleeps constantly, and moving seems to strain her. Quentin--her de facto caretaker, despite Sheba’s obvious preference for Lark--has started to grapple with the idea she might need to be put down soon. Thus, he isn’t surprised when one night, Sheba begins to moan and pant. This is it , he thinks grimly, I guess I should call the vet.  

"I can't believe this is happening," Luna smiles weakly at her husband, "it seems like they were babies just yesterday." "I know," Quentin agrees, "time makes fools of us all." It's finally time for the twins to age up to teens. Luke and Lydia are thrilled, but Luna can't bring herself to accept that her children are so close to leaving the house. Just four years of high school, and then they'll be off to start their lives. Luna snuggles into Quentin’s arms as she tries to acclimate to the thought of being one step closer to an empty nest.

It’s an early weekday morning, and the Bees are awake and buzzing around the house: the children are getting ready for school, Luna is quickly making a somewhat healthy breakfast, and Quentin is on a conference call with the director of an upcoming film for which he composed the score. Lark is the last child to get to use the bathroom, the privilege of being the youngest and easiest to push around. She’s been dancing cross-legged all morning, waiting for one of her older siblings to take mercy on her. The relief at finally being able to use the facilities is unquantifiable. But when she flushes the toilet, it begins to overflow. "Poop," she mutters to herself. This is the fourth time this week this has happened to her.

Polaris studies her oldest granddaughter. Lydia looks unbearably like Quentin, but her voice reminds her so much of Luna when she was a child: surprisingly deep for a girl, with an intelligent sounding timber. “I don’t know if mom told you, but I’m on student council,” Lydia brags, “I beat out Anatol Svard for president., and his parents paid for actual printed campaign posters.” “Wow,” Polaris replies, “that’s impressive.” “And I have the highest grades in class.” “Is that so?” Lydia deflates a little. “Well, I’m tied with Luke. But my extracurriculars should count for more! He’s just in the stupid chess club, but I’m president of student council.” “I see. Are you always this competitive?” Lydia blinks, “Life is a competition, and I’m going to win.” Polaris smirks, “that’s the spirit.”

The last time Polaris Bee had seen her daughter, Luna had been in tears. She had just informed her mother that she was moving across the globe with her boyfriend, a man who--while she liked well enough--Polaris hardly knew. Like any mother, Polaris’ first instinct was to protect her daughter. She asked all the questions that Luna should have asked and answered herself before she decided on this move: “Are you sure he’s the one? Do you think you should consider options closer to home in case it doesn’t work out with him? Will Aurora Skies be accepting to someone who looks like you (or Quentin for that matter)?”  Luna responded with a single sentence that has stuck with Polaris for all these years: “How could you possibly even think you know what’s right for me when all you’ve done is endanger me?” She followed up by letting loose years of grievances on her mother, accusing Polaris of a number of misdeeds: jeopardizing  the lives of her children with her indecisions and ...

“I don’t understand why you brought that filthy dog into our house,” Human Female wrinkles her nose at Human Male. “‘That dog’ has a name, and it’s Sheba,” Human Male runs his hands through Sheba’s fur, “and I adopted her because homes with dogs are statistically safer from break ins.” “I don’t think a dog could have stopped,” she stops mid-sentence and yawns loudly before continuing, “Mercury from waltzing into Lark’s room.” Human Female’s eyes are bloodshot, and there are bags under them. Every movement seems to demand a great amount of her energy. “I’m going to train her to guard Lark,” Human Male says, “and she’s a good guard dog. Aren’t you, Sheba? Aren’t you the best guard dog?”

Luna isn’t exactly shocked when she sees her little sister’s Simstagram post: a glass of wine with a fittingly somber black and white filter, followed by the description “should have seen this coming. #cursed” According to their brother Solaris, Nova’s boyfriend Mercury disappeared, leaving Nova no explanation for where he went. While Luna feels for her sister, she isn’t exactly surprised. Mercury didn’t seem like the reliable type the few times she met him. In contrast, Luna’s life is quite boring. She’s fine with it, though. She might be nothing more than a baby warden right now, but at least her life is uneventful. She’s more than happy to settle for uneventful--she’s seen the other side of that coin and she doesn’t care for it.

Luna managed to published her fantasy novel-- The Cursed Fae --before she gave birth to Luke and Lydia. And now Crimson is greedily devouring it while reclining comfortably in front the fireplace at Elysia’s house.  It’s been awhile since he’s had his sutures removed and he’s completely capable of taking care of himself at this point. But at night--when Clover’s absence is felt the strongest--Crimson texts Elysia and asks if he can go to her place, where there are no memories of his sister. She always says yes. Even if they aren’t in the same room, it’s comforting knowing someone is nearby. Tonight, he is reading while Elysia takes a long bath, part of her nightly ritual. He’s so engrossed in the book that he doesn’t notice the bedroom door open, or Elysia’s footsteps behind him.

Luna and Quentin cast long shadows as they stand on the beach. They decided to get married barefoot, next to the sea. It might not have been the most pragmatic choice--even though it is summer, the breeze blowing off the water is chilly and bitter--but it certainly looks romantic