Bee Labas

Bee’s here!! I scarcely believe it. It’s been more than 5 years! My sister Bee! She flew in from LA this morning. Long hoped for. Then half expected. But definitely last minute. This is great. This is doubly great. This is greater than great.

I picked her up at Schiphol this morning. She skipped into the arrivals hall, trolley case in tow, with her halo of frizzy hair and her golden league jacket wrapped around her waist. LUI, she shouted like a skinny space-bird and then she skipped onward to greet her glowing brother. This is great. This is doubly great. She’s great. . Lui and Bee. Brother and sister. Once inseparable. Sometimes good. Sometimes bad. The bald spot on the back of my head is from a rake she combed my hair with when I was ten. But her greatness is galactic, so I forgave her.

She’s staying in the guest room. It’s small, but so is she. Brendan’s still injured, stretched out on his back from his carnal experiments with Katrina. Note: I take this as a gesture from God. There is no doubt he would have hit on my sister one way or the other - feel this tricep, go ‘head , go ‘head – and then there is no doubt that that would be the last muscle he flexed for the rest of his life. Quiet Croat turns vengeful, knife-wielding Sicilian.

But in truth, Bee needs no assistance at all. She’s all tap-dance, waffles and feta-cheese, when all’s well, but if you cross the line (the lion, as she says) that’s it. It’s over. First the eye-venom (figurative as yet, but who knows how that will evolve.. ) then the projectile-to-crotch: flip-flop, sandal, clog, wristwatch – and her aim is frightening. You stand no chance.

Bee’s galactic– intergalactic – she’s on loan from a better place, a place gold-laced and light-footed. I would take ten more bald spots to the head just to have her here a little longer.