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The two of us
It’s about two hours past the time Miwa’s work day is supposed to end. She drops her keys to the ground twice while attempting to unlock the front door to her home, and her head is pounding. The ambient sounds of Tobio somewhere past the genkan – normally soothing – grate on her already fried nerves. It’s an ugly feeling that quickly turns to guilt when he calls out, “Welcome home, Nee-chan!”
He isn’t doing anything wrong; he just happens to be existing on a day that has worn Miwa’s patience to a thread threatening to snap.
She takes a deep breath to center herself and exhales as much stress as she can. Very little is able to actually escape, but it’ll have to do. She can’t ignore him any longer.
“Hi, Tobio-kun,” she sings as she pads into the kitchen, a smile plastered on her face, and she hopes it will keep her headache tamped down and from bleeding into her voice.
Tobio shoves his hands directly in front of her face, and once she takes a step back and goes almost cross-eyed looking at it, she sees a bag of frozen gyoza resting in his upturned palms.
“How long does this need to cook?” he asks.
Miwa glances from the bag to her brother’s face and then back again. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know how long I should heat this up.”
“It’s…it’s on the bag?” she says, her voice lilting in a question. “The cooking instructions should be on the back of the package.”
“I mean, yeah, but you know how to do it better.”
And the dull throbbing between Miwa’s eyes grows louder, her chest grows tight, and she grinds her teeth with the effort of holding her thoughts in, thoughts like he is 15 years old and why should I have to do this for him?
She bites down on all of that frustration and – though she hates to even think of this word – resentment. She does this because she must, because he’s looking at her with such genuine earnestness in his eyes, because it’s only the two of them and she needs to take care of him, because he’s her baby brother.
Miwa sighs and grabs the gyoza out of his hands. She musters up a weak smile. “I’ve got it.”
“Okay. Time for the gift exchange!”
Miwa brushes her hands off on her pants as she stands from the dining chair and follows her aunts, uncles, and cousins – their parents couldn’t get off work for this holiday gathering – into the living room. She’s stopped by a light tugging on her sleeve, and she turns around to catch Tobio’s pale face.
“I, um, didn’t bring a gift,” he whispers urgently. “What am I going to do?”
She chuckles and reaches up (higher than the last time she did this, she notes begrudgingly) to ruffle his bangs. He’s too distressed to even duck out of her way.
“I brought two gifts, one from each of us. They’re already on the gift table. It’s fine, Tobio.” She smiles, and it seems to melt away at least some of his worry.
But then his brows furrow. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” It’s an odd thing for him to say.
“I know I didn’t.” Though she wishes she could smooth out the line between his eyebrows, she instead opts for messing with his hair again, and this time, he does take a step back.
“Nee-chan,” he groans. She laughs, leading him into the living room to join the rest of their family.
The pop music that’s reserved only for when Miwa’s alone flows through her body, massaging her brain and making her feel so relaxed, more relaxed than she’s been all week. She folds their clean laundry without even thinking, letting her instincts guide her as she loses herself to the music. It’s nice, not feeling like she’s drowning for once.
She doesn’t hear the lock to the front door click open, but she does hear Tobio’s, “Hey, Nee-chan,” as he enters the kitchen.
“In the laundry room!” she calls out, but she pauses the music and heads around the corner into the kitchen. She staggers to a halt at the sight that greets her.
“Hey, Tobio-kun,” she starts gently. “What is all this?”
He keeps his head bent and his eyes trained on the grocery bags he’s unpacking, but she catches the blush that rises to his cheeks. “I saw your shopping list on the counter before I left for school this morning,” he says, as if that’s enough of an explanation for why her brother is surrounded by several shopping bags – bags that must have been very heavy for him to walk home with all on his own.
“You…you got everything on the list?”
Tobio doesn’t roll his eyes at that, but because Miwa knows him well enough, she knows that he almost did. Her shock is momentarily interrupted by amusement.
“Yeah, it’s – I wanted to help,” he says. “You don’t have to do everything all the time. I can – I can be useful, too.”
And still, he hasn’t made eye contact with her. Oh, boy, she thinks. Better tread lightly.
Although she desperately wants to know what the hell is going on — why her little brother who has never gone into a grocery store on his own went into one today, why he said that word useful as though he isn’t that — she also realizes she has to be gentle. If she pushes too much, he’ll shut down. She’s not as skilled at getting him to open up as their grandfather always was.
She walks over to one of the shopping bags and begins unpacking, and they both move around in silence for a few moments, until Miwa finally musters enough courage to break the silence.
“I’m the adult here, ya know,” she starts, casually, conversationally. “I don’t mind taking care of things.”
“That should be Oto-san and Okaa-san’s job,” he grumbles.
Oh, that hurts her. Miwa herself has come to be at peace with her parents’ general absence. She’s had no other choice, really, and neither has Tobio. But she reminds herself that Tobio is younger. He’s still a child, and maybe he misses their parents more than she realized.
She nods. “That’s true.” She gestures at his school uniform, a sight that sparks a bittersweet, fond pang in her heart. “But your job right now is to be a student. A kid. The best high school setter Miyagi has ever seen,” she grins.
“I’m not the best setter,” he mumbles. Of course volleyball was the one thing he picked up on.
They finish putting all the food away into the cabinets and refrigerator, and as Tobio excuses himself and makes his way to the stairs, something tells Miwa she needs to stop him. A tightness consumes her as though a fist is closing around her heart, and she knows that if they don’t acknowledge what he’s feeling – inadequacy? some need to take on more responsibility? – she’ll regret it.
Their grandfather would know exactly what Tobio-kun is feeling, and he would know exactly the right thing to say. Kazuyo-kun had a knack for that. And now it’s not only Miwa’s chest that feels tight, but her throat, too.
Maybe Miwa doesn’t totally know what she’s doing here, practically raising her brother on her own. Maybe she can’t always intuit the right thing to say or do, but she can try to follow Kazuyo-kun’s example.
He took care of her and Tobio, yes, but he didn’t baby them. He taught them things; he involved them. After all, that’s how she learned how to get a job, pay bills, do chores, function as an adult. It was their grandfather who taught her. It was their grandfather who helped guide Tobio through those first years of his life.
Perhaps I do too much for him, Miwa thinks. But it’s not too late. Perhaps – perhaps she can be the one to help guide Tobio now.
And it’s with that thought that she understands what she needs to say to her brother.
“Tobio-kun,” she begins softly. He halts and turns to meet her eyes. “I know I’m not Kazuyo-kun, but I’m always here for you.”
Something lights up his eyes, something positive, she hopes. There’s shock there, too, but she can’t discern what else is running through his mind. Then, she catches the way his jaw flexes from holding it so tightly, the way his nostrils flare, the way his eyes start to glisten. She clenches her fists at her sides to keep from rushing over to him, from crowding him.
“You’re not. You’re not Kazuyo-san,” he says. He clears his throat and blinks rapidly a few times. “No one is.”
Miwa is now on the brink of tears herself, and she has no idea what the hell she’s supposed to say to that .
Then Tobio takes a shaky breath and continues, nearly yelling the next part in an effort to rush out the words. “But maybe the two of us together can be like one Kazuyo-san!”
Screw holding back. Miwa takes three long strides to collide with her baby brother and wraps him in a big hug, an embrace into which she pours all of her love and grief and appreciation. She does appreciate Tobio so much, and she misses her grandfather so much, and she mourns what she wishes their parents would be. She tightens her arms around his neck – seriously, when the hell did he get so tall? – and vows to work on sharing these things with him. He’s hugging her just as strongly, long arms wrapped around her back. If she opens up more with him, shares some of her burdens, maybe he’ll do the same with her.
They’ll always have each other. No matter what, it’ll always be the two of them.