The Secret Life of Bees

Deborah?

Where you been? I'm sorry. I'm sorry, T.

Are you cheating on me? No, no! I'm not cheating on you.

What— Stop it! What are you doing?

T! Stop it! You ain't leaving me!

Who is it? Nobody! It's you! I hate you!

T. Ray, just let me go!

- - No!

T. Ray, damn it! Get off me!

Lily!

I killed my mother when I was four years old.

That's what I knew about myself.

She was all I wanted, and I took her away.

Nothin' else much mattered.

T. Ray! What?

There's bees in my room! Hundreds of 'em! You've gotta see!

What is it? Jesus Christ, Lily. They're in my room! Come see.

What?

Goddamn it, Lily. This ain't funny.

But they were here. They were flyin' everywhere.

You wake me again, I'm gonna get out the grits.

You hear me?

Goddamn it.

The bees came the summer of '64—

The summer I turned 14 and my whole life went spinnin' off into a whole new orbit.

Lookin' back on it, I wanna say they were sent to me.

I wanna say they showed up like the Angel Gabriel appearing to the Virgin Mary.

I know it's forward to compare my small life to hers,

but I have good reason to believe she wouldn't mind.

So, um, my birthday is tomorrow.

Most girls want...

one of them little silver charm bracelets they have down at the mercantile.

But I was just thinking you could tell me about my mother instead.

All you ever said is she's from Virginia and she's an only child like I am.

I don't even know what her favorite food was...

and what she liked to do and— nothin'.

You wanna know about your mama?

Mm-hmm.

She used to spend hours lurin' roaches and whatnot out of the house with graham crackers and marshmallows.

Swear to God.

She was a lunatic about savin' bugs.

Here you go.

Hey, Lily! Nice ass!

Oh!

Gotcha.

Rosaleen. Look at this thing fight.

What you doin' with that? Catching bees to show T. Ray.

He thinks I'm making it up.

Get yourself stung, don't come cryin' to me.

Come fix this. For the future—

What'd they do? Drop the atom bomb or somethin'? Hush.

It does say that there are those who are equal before God...

shall now also be equal in the polling booths,

in the classrooms, in the factories...

and in hotels and restaurants and movie theaters— Holy shit.

And other places that provide service to the public.

Today, July the 2nd, 1964,

President Johnson signed the Civil Rights bill into law.

Fifteen, 16, 17, 18,

19, 20, 21, 22.

When's my hair gonna look like yours?

I bet mine used to drive you crazy the way it goes off in 11 wrong directions.

I bet you used to brush it a hundred times a day just to get it to lay down.

I bet you did.

Lily!

Lily!

- Who you out here with? - What?

- Who's out there? - Nobody. There's no one here but me. It's just me.

Get up from there.

Get in here.

No! You think you're grown? Huh?

Out there doing God knows what.

You'll get yourself pregnant and then what? Huh?

Huh?

You can go.

Mornin'.

How long your dad keep you on these grits?

Hour.

Look at ya.

Happy birthday.

I didn't know you made me a cake.

Of course I did. It's your birthday.

How big a piece you want? Real big.

You should be in the stand already.

It's a big peach day.

- Takin' her to town with me. - What for?

She needs a training bra. She gots to get measured.

How much something like that cost?

Happy birthday.

So what's in town anyway?

I'm registerin' to vote.

Rosaleen, news said a colored man in Mississippi was killed for doing that.

Good thing we ain't in Mississippi then.

I saw you scribblin' one of your stories in the stand yesterday.

Go on. Tell it.

All right.

But she blocks the oven and she says, "I'm the lead singer, and it's done when I say it's done."

So I don't know what to do. The Supremes are having a fight in my kitchen.

- But then suddenly we hear-- - Hey.

Ain't you Terence Ray's little girl?

Yes, sir. Lily.

Daddy know you out here with her?

Rosaleen works for us.

Whole lot of niggers been coming through here today.

You wouldn't be going to that secret meetin', would ya?

Well, hell, we ain't gotta worry about this one.

Can't register to vote if you can't write your own name.

Tell me, Lily. She a smart nigger or a dumb nigger?

- Please, mister, we really need— - Answer me, girl.

R-O-S-A-L-E-E-N.

No!

Rosaleen! Stop! Put her there!

- Apologize! - Rosaleen, just apologize!

- Help! - Apologize!

Somebody help! Quiet.

- Can somebody help? - Your black ass gonna apologize one way or the other.

Thank you, Sheriff. You have to help her.

- Get in the goddamn truck. - I ain't restin' till your nigger apologizes.

I'm sorry, Frank! I promised her!

Get in the goddamn truck.

She dumped snuffjuice on a white man—

on Frank Posey, for Christ's sake.

I wouldn't be surprised if he flat-out kills her.

You don't mean that. He wouldn't really kill her.

Sheriff's gonna take her to the hospital. She'll be fine.

Goddamn it. What the hell were you thinkin'?

Don't you leave this room, you hear? I gotta settle payroll with—

You don't scare me.

- What'd you say? - You're a coward.

My mother would never let you touch me!

That goddamn woman give a shit about you.

She loved me.

I hate you!

Now you listen here.

Truth is, your sorry mama, she ran off and left you.

On the day she died, she come back for the rest of her things— not you.

That ain't true.

It's not.

Dr. Cash, please call the page.

Dr. Cash, please call the page operator.

Rosaleen.

They beat you again?

We gotta get you out of here.

I can't get out of here. I'm in jail. You shouldn't be.

That's gotta go.

Rosaleen.

This is crazy. Oh, it'll be all right.

It'll be all right.

Shh.

A white girl come by here? Uh, no, sir. Nobody. I ain't moved from this spot.

Let me get this straight.

You got us goin' to Tiburon...

'cause your mama got a picture with that town written on the back?

That's it?

T. Ray said my mother left me way before she died.

Well, it's not true.

He only made it up to punish me. I know he did.

Knowing your daddy, he could do a thing like that.

And my mother could never do what he said she did.

Huh.

I get it.

You ran off 'cause of what he said, didn't you?

It ain't had nothin' to do with me being in jail.

And here you got me worrying myself sick about you getting in trouble 'cause of me.

So what you fixin' to do? Go door-to-door askin' folks about your mama?

That's your bright idea? I don't exactly have a plan, all right?

Well, you sure had one back at the hospital.

Comin' in there and sayin', "We gonna do this, and we gonna do that."

And I'm supposed to follow you like some dumb nigger like they said.

Well, you are dumb pouring your spit on that man's shoe like that...

and dumber not to say you're sorry if sayin'' it will save your life.

That man was gonna come back and kill you or worse.

And I go and I get you out of there, and this is how you thank me?

Well, fine.

Are you all right?

I feel like I've been beaten with a stick.

You have been beaten, remember?

But not with a stick.

I know you can't understand.

Apologizing to those men would've just been a different way of dyin'',

'cept I have to live with it.

If I can find some place open, I'll buy us some food.

What we gonna do for beds?

Find a motel, I guess.

Lily, there ain't gonna be a place that'll take a colored woman.

Well, what about the Civil Rights Act?

Ain't nothin' but a piece of paper.