"The key is to be gentle, yeah? Ya gotta be calm. If you're calm, bees'll be calm. You're agressive, bees'll be ten times aggressive," Uncle Ray explains as we make our way towards his beehives.

Somewhere along the way I started regretting coming with him. Not because he is a bad company, but because I am one. I don't have the will or energy to reply with things other than "Oh", "Hmm", "I see", "That so?", "Ah", and "Makes sense". I'm sure Uncle Ray isn't really enjoying having me around. Moreover, he gave me a sandwich to eat on the way since I skipped breakfast, and in spite of having an extremely low appetite, I couldn't refuse him again out of a sense of debt. I somehow managed to eat the thing without throwing up.

However, my curiosity does begin to grow a little as we get closer to our destination. I've only read a little about beekeeping and honey-harvesting in a book of Lucy Maud Montgomery, and even that I don't remember really well. Even if I did, it can never be the same as watching with your own eyes.

"Awright, there it is!" Uncle Ray points at the little wooden hut nearby. "That's my beekeeping workshop, yeah? Also kinda like my safe haven. I feel at home there. Not like I don't feel at home at home, this is jussa different kinda home!"

"Ah, I see."

Uncle Ray leads me to the backyard, which is covered by a myriad of fragrant, colourful flowers. I only recognize the fresh white jasmines, one of Dawn's favourite flowers. Uncle Ray himself takes care of this garden, and sometimes Aunt Sayra helps him out. That's where I then see four long wooden boxes all covered up and swarmed by little brown creatures. I thought he is going to show me a real beehive, but I guess it's just a made up one.

We first go to the beekeeping workshop. It's too small to be called a workshop, so maybe just a storeroom. We first put on the beekeeping suits, which is basically like the Walmart version of a space suit. As if the sun isn't scorching enough already, it's burning here inside this space suit. My clothes are already starting to feel sticky, though we haven't even started working yet.

Uncle Ray hands me a tin jug that he calls the Smoker, which will apparently drive the bees away from the hive for a while without harming them. Then he hands me a long brush, which he called the Bee Brush, and it will help gently brushing off the bees sticking to the "frames", whatever that is. Finally, he takes a box and a nylon blanket, and together we head to the hives.

There are too many bees swarming the place, so I hesitate a little before going close. Uncle Ray laughs and assures me that nothing will happen as I'm wearing the suit. So we go and stand on either sides of one of the first box hive. There are probably four boxes stacked on top of each other over one brood box, though I don't know why yet. I stare at the bees hovering around their home. Never realized bees are that big. Their size is a little less than half of my pinky finger.

Uncle Ray takes the jug from my hand, does something with it, and then suddenly there's smoke coming out of the mouth. The fragrance it diffuses is a pleasant one, and oddly familiar too, though I can't pinpoint from where.

After handing the Smoker back to me, he says, "Awright, help me take this lid out, yeah?" He takes out a knife-like thingy from his pocket and uses it to separate the lid from the top box. I'm pretty sure he can take it off himself, but he is trying to make me feel included and useful.

So we take off the lid. That's when my excitement starts to bubble up more intensely.

The inside of the box is divided into a total of 10 long, rectangular sections, which are apparently called the "frames". These frames serve as the honeycomb, where the bees store the honey. Those little honeymakers are everywhere all over the frames, diligently doing their business.

Uncle Ray lets out a satisfied grunt. "Awright, lessee how hard my babies been workin'." He carefully takes out the central frame first. When he does, I realize it isn't really the box that's divided into sections, it's just a bunch of square-shaped boards standing one after the other like books, the length and thickness making them look rectangular sections from the side angle.

Just like he instructed me earlier, I bring the mouth of the jug closer to the frame, and see most of the bees flying away. The ones that still remained, uncle uses the Bee Brush to brush them off. He says, "A lotta beekeepers like to shake off the bees, but not me. If someone invaded my home and shook me away, I'd be pretty darn sad about it. But if they just gently brush me away? I think I'd be okay with that. Don't ya think, yeah?"

I laugh. "Yeah, you're right." Seeing me laugh, he returns it with a louder one. What a friendly person.

After all the bees have left the frame, he shows it to me properly. I see a lot of hexagonal cells inside the wooden frame, some filled with brown nectar, others covered up with something white.

Worried I ask, "What's the white thing all over? Fungus?"

He giggles. "Oh nay, not fungus! It's wax, son, wax. After collectin' the honey, bees tend to seal the cells with wax so we pesky humans can't have access to it. But too bad, humans can find the solution to just about everythin'. We're actually gonna keep all this wax too. To make candles. Beeswax candle, best candle. Your aunt Sayu makes them. We sell both honey and candles in my shop."

Brows raised, I ask, "So you make candles too?"

"Aye, aye."

"Will you- will you show me how?"

"Sure, why not! We're gonna make them in a few days, so you can learn it from us, yeah? Maybe you can make some yourself. Of course, of course."

"Okay." I smile. Another thing to look forward to. I wish July was here. He would've enjoyed this so much.

Uncle Ray shows me the opposite side of the frame. "As ya can see, son, both sides' been almost fully filled with honey. Bees always start fillin' from the center and move towards the sides next. So we can take this frame for ourselves." He puts the frame inside the box he brought from the storeroom, then covers it up with the blanket, probably to prevent the bees from getting back to it.

"All their hard work's gone to waste . . ." I can't help but say.

Uncle Ray lets out a chortle. "Don't worry, don't worry! Bees are super hard working, kinda like the Japanese people. They awlways make more honey than they'll need, and we are doin' them a favor by takin' away the extra!"

I'm pretty sure the thing about Japanese people is just another stereotype, but I don't tell him that because it might ruin his hearty mood. I only say, "Oh, that's a relief."

He nods. "Awright, let's check the other ones." He takes out a frame from the side, and we repeat the same process of repelling the bees. Then he shows me both sides of the frame and says, "Ya see here, these cells are all still empty. The bees are still workin' on 'em. So we gotta let the bees work. We won't take 'em." He puts it back. He examines some more of the frames before deciding one is enough for this box. He then uses the knife to separate this box from the one below. I take and put it on the ground; it's pretty heavy.

I feel my brows raise when I see there's another hive right under, looking the same as the one before. I ask, "So all of these boxes have a hive each?"

"Aye, that's right. But, the second and third ones are called brood boxes. This is where bees lay their eggs, so many of them are filled with larvae right now. So if we take a frame from here, we gotta make sure there ain't no brood on 'em. If ya count every box, there are a total of 16 here. I might add some more next year if the colony starts doin' better."

"Wow," I only say.

I try to help him out the best I can by assisting him with the little things. He teaches me about how to understand how many frames you can take at most from a hive to make sure you're only taking the excess honey. He teaches me how to understand which frames have brood and which frames don't. He also teaches me how to guess how long it will take for a certain frame to be done. I listen to everything attentively and commit it to memory, though I'll probably never do this again. I'm mainly keeping it all in mind so I can tell it to July later. If he wants to listen. Maybe after going back home, I will also tell Edgar and Louis about it. Alex and Ayesha too. I'm sure none of them have done this before.

"Do ya wanna stay to watch how we extract the honey from the frames?" uncle Ray asks. "Ya can leave after this if ya wanna. I understand it gets borin' after the first few times."

I vigorously shake my head. Boring is out of the question. I'm having more fun than I imagined. "I want to stay and watch. If that's okay with you?"

"Oh! Of course!" His mouth produces hearty laughters. "Of course, of course. I'm lovin' the enthusiasm, son. None of my kids are interested in my bee stuff. I don't feel like a lonely beekeeper anymore!"

I smile. We work on some more boxes, collecting frames that have been fully filled up with honey and mostly capped with wax. Meanwhile, he tells me various stories about his days as a beekeeper. He also teaches me how, contrary to popular belief, beekeeping is not at all harmful for the bees, at least if it's carried out properly. While I listen, I also eagerly wait to see how the honey comes out of these frames we're collecting.

The longer I do it, the more invested I get, and the more I start to enjoy this new experience. All other thoughts get pushed out of my mind temporarily, and I feel my energy slowly coming back. Despite the afternoon summer heat that would usually be draining, I feel lively. Maybe that's exactly why when we're working on the 3rd hive box, only one more to go, I somehow place my foot on the ground in a wrong angle, and end up spraining it.

I let out a yelp as a jolt of pain shoots up to my thigh. The Smoker drops from my hand. On an instinct, I bend to quickly pick it up, but that makes it worse and I fall over. My heart starts beating in my ears while my leg feels like my bones are getting twisted inside. Grabbing my ankle tightly, I struggle to keep in my groans to not worry Uncle Ray. I realize it's the same leg I sprained back when I stepped into the snake hole. Of course.

"Cedar!" Uncle Ray drops everything rushes over to me, checking my leg. "Moses, how did that happen? Are ya okay? Does it hurt?" A great amount of worry resounds in his voice. For a moment, I wonder if mom would feel the same if she was here.

Pushing the thought away, I say, "Ah it's just-ugh, it's just a sprain. Nothing to worry about."

"No no no no." He shakes his head. "It's definitely serious! I do know a few ways to deal with sprains, but I'm afraid they might be too painful for ya. Aye, we'll have to take ya home. Ya need some ointment on that!"

"But . . . the honey . . ." The disappointment is clear in my voice. I feel a bit embarrassed about the childishness of it.

He laughs and pats my shoulder. "Don' worry, don' worry! I'm comin' back tomorrow. There are some more hives behind my Bee Workshop! After we collect those, we'll also extract from those, yeah? Finally, we'll pack 'em all up. Princess Tiara will help with that too, yeah? So don' be sad!"

"Oh, okay." He helps me get to my feet. I tell him that I can go by myself, and he should continue working. The sun is almost setting now, a gentle yellow haze falling over the world. Because of me, the work got more slowed down instead of the other way round, and I don't want him to go to the house and walk back here again in this heat.

"Are ya sure ya can go?" he asks.

I nod with an assuring smile, though the throb in my ankle isn't so assuring. "I am." After a hesitant pause, I add, "Thank you for bringing me here today, Uncle Ray. I . . . I wasn't feeling so well. But now I feel better. Thank you."

He blinks at me, evidently flustered. Then he lets out some loud, awkward laughs and waves his hand dismissively. "No need to thank me! It's just one of our ways of showin' we're glad to have you here with us, Cedar."

I simply nod, mentally noting down the fact that he isn't the best with compliments. "Then, I'll head back."

He nods, and I start the walk the way we came through, trying to put as less pressure on my left leg as possible. After I walk a few steps, he calls me again. I turn back.

"Did ya . . . did ya really have fun today?" he asks a little shyly.

I nod with certainty. "Lots of fun."

The kind man chuckles. "Remember, there are awlways fun things to do in life!"

-----------------------

As I approach the log cabin of the Emmens once again, I notice another new detail. And that is a small, white-painted shed standing just a few feet away from the house. It's of a moderate size, perhaps twice the size of the room I'm staying in. I wonder what's inside. There's not exactly a garden over here, so I don't think there are gardening materials in there.

After I get closer, I notice July sitting by the window of the room.

He is staring out, but he looks distracted. The look on his face is something along the lines of worry. I start walking slightly faster in the hope he wouldn't see me, but my limping makes a noticeable sound anyway. His absent gaze becomes present when it drops on me.

Hesitantly, I raise my hand and wave him a hi, not expecting one in return. But then he does the same, much to my relief. He stops midway when his eyes land on my legs. Then he moves away from the window. Now that I think about it, he told me to be careful right before I left. He knows me too well.

I get back into the house, finding July standing in front of the living room. There is no one else here. Aunt Sayra went out to pick Aris from school, Grandpa is probably sleeping in his room, and Tiara is probably somewhere zoning out again.

Feeling somewhat guilty, I limp over to my room, July's eyes staying on my legs the whole time. He opens the door for me and stays at a safe distance as I make my way to the bed. On the way, I almost stumble and was about to lose my footing when July's hands instinctively thrust towards me. I grab the bedside table to stable myself, while July's arms remain raised mid-air, though he couldn't have held me even if he wanted to. Without realizing, he came very close to me.

As if suddenly coming back to his senses, he swiftly takes a few steps back, hands raised in a surrender position.

"S-sorry," he says.

"Huh?" Oh God, why is he apologizing again? Because he came too close to me? "July-"

"Sit on the bed, Cedar," he says in a soft voice. This one doesn't hold any kind of passive-aggression. It's simply the July-voice, the one that shows his kindness.

Biting my lips, I do as he says. While I struggle to bring the sprained leg on the bed, he runs out of the room to get something. He comes back with a tube of ointment in his hand.

Keeping the ointment in front of me, he gets up on the bed and tells me to gently massage it all over the injured ankle using the top portion of my fingers. I do that, feeling the places where the jelly-like medicine touches burning a little at first, then cooling down. Then July spreads his own left leg in front of him and takes his ankle on his hand.

He says, "Follow me," and begins to twist it in certain angles and massage in certain ways. I follow him movement by movement, but as I'm doing that, an unsettling feeling clutches onto my gut. This is so weird. The July I know would have scolded me, sighed ten times, said at least one sentence in British accent, and make several dirty jokes by now. His behavior has been unsettling me since yesterday. It feels justified, yet a bit off somehow.

Have I really ruined everything between us?

The sound of that thought aches.

"Feeling better?" he asks after we're done.

I nod, not perceiving how exactly it feels.

He mutters in a half-sarcastic tone, "Guess the studies for med school finally paid off." Then he holds out his hand, eyeing the ointment tube.

I take it by the mouth and hold it out to him. He grabs the other end of the supposedly half-feet long tube. When I don't let go of it, he glances up at me. All I can think of is how in a way, with this object, we're physically connected once again.

Another sense of dread washes over me, not for the first time today. I find myself calling his name again, and trailing off again. "July . . ."

His gaze remains firmly on me, holding a strange look of challenge. Once again, he is giving me the chance. Once again, he is giving me the time. The sky outside through my peripheral vision is painted yellow as the sun moves to the retire for the day. The dull late-afternoon haze pours into the bed through the window. In that ominous lemony dullness, he watches me with eyes that perhaps say, I still deserve some respect.

And that's when it suddenly dawns on me.

The reason I can't apologize to him, is simply because the apology will require me to come in terms with all the feelings I buried on the night I went out to get a coffee with Autumn. The apology will require me to look at the answer of all the questions I didn't dare to answer. The apology will require me to verbally demolish rule number 3, and acknowledge the fact that I can't bear to stay away from him. The apology will require me to be truthful about all the false conclusions I made myself come to before. The apology will require me to explain why I did what I did and said what I said.

And after that explanation, I will no longer be able to pretend my feelings don't exist.

Everything depends on this apology.

I let go of the tube, my head feeling slightly dizzy. I barely notice him leave the room and come back a minute later. I keep staring at my sprained ankle. The first time I sprained it, he had mischievously offered me a piggyback ride. The difference between that July and this July is like the sky and ground.

"Does it still hurt?" I hear him ask in a low voice, almost as tender as it always is.

I slowly move my head towards him, and give him a weak smile.

"There are things that hurt more than a sprained ankle, July."

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1.06.2021 (why tf is it June already 😐)

hello everyone :) how is the heartache? :)

These are the two videos I used for research. I honestly had so much fun knowing about how honey is collected, harvested, extracted, etc. Hope you could learn some new things from this chapter too. But if I still made some sort of mistake, please let me know.

Well, now that Cedar has realized why he can't apologize, you know things will head to a better direction soon :) needless to say the "apology" will mark the biggest step in July and Cedar's relationship.

Also, I made a Goodreads account, finally! My name is Sumaiya S. Halim. If anyone is interested in adding me there, to give me book recs and stuff, or see the books I've read/rated/reading, etc. you can drop your username here (though I still can't figure out how to add friends there without using Facebook). Honestly making an account there got me daydreaming about having my own Author's Profile there one day. Talk about being a hopeless romantic 😐

Anyways, hope you liked this chapter. Thanks a lot for reading. Take care and eat delicious honey (if you're not vegan)!

- love, Poma