When Hotaru woke up from her nap, Father put away the photo book. He told us to go outside and play while he finished his repair work. Out in the sun, the heat wasn’t any better, but at least it wasn’t as stuffy as indoors. The breeze was gone, so it was up to us to find ways to cool ourselves. Not that the summer breeze would have done much.
We crouched under the shrinking shadow of the house. Leaning over our knees, overlooking the patch of dirt that we kicked up yesterday. There was still a lot of weeding to be done. Only the middle was cleared from the big stalks. Even then, there were still small patches of sprouts sprinkled here and there. The results really did not show how long yesterday felt. My palms twitched as I surveyed.
“It looks so different now!” Little Sis exclaimed.
“Right?” I dismissively agreed. Then, seeing where she was looking, I took a closer look at the dirt.
Though the surface was dry, there were actually portions that were still a little wet from last night’s storm. Particularly in the shade. I could see a carpet of small holes scattered across the naked spots. I leaned forward in between my legs, bringing my face close to the ground. This close to the dirt, I noticed it was particularly different from the dirt I usually saw around our house. It wasn’t packed down, flat, like the rest of the fields. It was more intriguing this way. Less bland. More texture to it.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Little Sis copy me. She spread her legs to the side and ducked her head down. I somehow knew what was going to happen and sharply raised my head. Hotaru leaned too far and fell forward before I could grab her. She was quick enough to catch herself, but not without smacking her forehead into the dirt. Palming the ground, her hands took the brunt of her weight. Her fingers clawing the dirt in a flash of panic.
“What are you doing?!” I grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her backwards. Her hands still planted in the dirt, she stared up, cross-eyed, trying to glance at her forehead. When she reached up, I grabbed her hands, stopping her.
“Don’t” I sighed. “You’re not going to make it any better.”
Hotaru continued to stare upwards. “Wipe it for me.”
“… Then stay here.” I got up.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m not using my shirt to wipe your face.” I stopped and turned back. “And don’t use yours.”
“I won’t,” she promised. I didn’t quite believe her.
I ran to the well and grabbed the rag that was there. Soaking it in the bucket, I squeezed it dry and went back. Hotaru was leaning over the patch again.
I crouched down next to her, raising the rag to her head. “Let me see your face.”
“Look!” She suddenly turned around and raised her hand dangerously close to my face. I flinched backwards. She was clenching a fistful of dirt.
“What are you doing?!” I exploded, almost smacking her with a flailing hand.
“I found a worm!” Hotaru opened her fingers and revealed the slimy little creature. It wriggled a little bit as the dirt crumbled out of her hand.
“Don’t shove it in my face!”
Her excitement disappeared, the smile leaving her face. It was quickly replaced by distress as her eyebrows raised and her lips drew back. She frowned, not in anger, but in displeasure. Her eyes gleamed, ready to match my ferocity.
“You don’t need to yell!” Hotaru’s hand fell, spilling the rest of the dirt to the ground. She pouted in a way that was different from her usual senseless frustration. A genuine expression of anxiety.
I was taken aback by this reaction. I said nothing, holding myself back from escalating any further. I examined her expression in silence, which remained steady, even if she was blinking rapidly. A sort of mix of pleading and frustration. Finally, I took a deep breath and avoided her gaze.
“Look, I was surprised, okay?” I took the rag to her face and wiped off the mess. My sister shut her eyes and squirmed as I wiped over and over.
“Why are you so angry?” she whined.
There was that question again. I stopped, leaving my hand pressed up against her forehead.
Hotaru drew away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Don’t be angry all the time. I don’t like it.”
“…” I sighed and took her hand, lowering it from her face. I began to clean it. “Don’t wipe your eyes with muddy hands.”
She didn’t say anything else. After I cleaned her up, I returned the rag to the well and returned back to her side. We crouched in silence out in the sun. Her attention remained focus on the patch as I stared out into the rest of the back yard. Eventually, Father went out onto the back deck and called for us to come inside.