The Wings Of A Caged Bird | First Draft

chapter 32: beeswax candles

A/N: Oh man i suck at writing romantic scenes

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7th August, 2019

"Is it done?" I ask, leaning over Tiara's shoulder to have a peek.

I notice the colour of the melted wax is darker than the wax was. The wax is in a jug, which is floating in a pot filled with boiling water, since wax ends up burning when melted directly. Aunt Sayra and I have already worked on placing the candle wicks in the middle of the jars. Now all we have to do is pour the melted wax into it and wait for it to harden to a beeswax candle.

She doesn't reply.

"Uh, Tiara?" I tap her shoulder, and she jumps a little.

"Huh?" She whirls around, blinking rapidly.

I sigh. "Is it done?"

"Ah." She looks inside the pot. "Almost. Just have to add the coconut oil now."

"Oh, why coconut oil?"

"Helps the candle to like, hmm . . . burn slower, I guess? Like the wax melts slower."

"Ooh."

But then I see her grab a plate of what looks like vanilla ice cream with an unusual texture and scoop a spoonful of it before throwing it in the pot.

"Eh?!" I exclaim. "What's that you just put in there?"

"Huh? Coconut oil."

I frown. "That's- that's oil?"

"Ah." She laughs and shakes her head. "It's cold-pressed," she says, as if I'm supposed to know what that means. Maybe I am.

While she waits for the solid coconut oil to melt fully, I glance behind over my shoulder. Aunt Sayra is sitting on the floor of the empty place right beside the dining table, surrounded by all the empty jars. Baby Aurora is peacefully sleeping on her lap. I've been avoiding her quite skillfully the past few days, but I couldn't today. I still feel somewhat unsettled whenever she is near me.  Because whenever I see her, I subconsciously think of Dawn. And with thoughts of Dawn come pain. I don't want that. But I also feel guilty for feeling like that towards a little child. After everything that's happened with me, I suppose I'm starting to mix up reality and fantasy. 

July, sitting across from aunt Sayra on the floor, seems to be staring unblinkingly at the baby in her lap. He's been staring like that for a while now. I wonder what he's thinking. Once again, my head connects that baby with Dawn, and I think about how July has talked with Dawn once, after he passed away. July was the last person to ever see Dawn. And I wasn't even second to last.

The thought is stupid, yet it makes my heart clench. And then one thought rapidly leads to another, and once again the regrets resurface. If only I had been more pushy, maybe I could've met him in those last days. Maybe I could've seen the pain in his face even though the words coming out of his mouth were lies. I'm sure I could've. I've spent my whole life with him, after all. And then I could've forced him to tell me what's wrong. And he would've told me everything. And I'm sure I would've been distraught at the news, but I would make sure to tell him that he should keep trying. That I'll stay with him till his last breath. That I'll treasure him forever.

But none of that happened.

Just as the thought is rolling too far and my breath starts to get stuck, I feel my shoulder being shaken. Blinking, I turn to Tiara, whose brows are creased.

"You always zone out when I'm around . . . am I a virus?" She looks quite genuinely worried at the thought.

I chuckle. "Maybe you just make people feel comfortable enough to zone out. Here, let me take that." I grab the handle of the wax-filled jug and take it out of the pot. The water that was inside the pot has vaporized already.