Short Story: Onii-chan

The young girl sitting across from me is asking me this as she sips her coffee shop coffee. If memory serves me, I believe "onii-chan" is Japanese for sibling, but I'm not 100% sure because my Japanese is as good as my Korean. And the only thing I can say in Korean is "I don't speak Korean." I can also say "I don't speak Japanese" in Japanese, but that doesn't really apply here. I wonder from where she picked up "onii-chan." Perhaps it's that anime craze from Japan that has been spreading like a plague of big eyes, small mouths, and giant robots. I guess she got into the art because it was the trendy thing to do. But if I need a Japanese to English dictionary to figure out words like "kawaii" or "moe" or "onii-chan," I may just terminate relations here. Nevertheless, she's waiting for a response. "Yes, I am... onii-chan," I reply. Judging from her giggle, I must have used the term incorrectly.

"Silly onii-chan," she playfully scolds, "you just called me your brother." Damn, I didn't think that term would be gender specific. I may not not fully comprehend my family tree, but I am positive there is no way the coquettish girl staring at me with her brown eyes is not my brother. I also know that despite having the same colored eyes and dark hair, she is not my sister either.

She was three years old and I was five when her family moved across the street from my house. My mother introduced herself and me to the new neighbors. While the two mothers gossiped, I was stuck playing with this little girl. The first game we attempted to play was football. Lacking a football, I used her as one. I only got one good punt in-about a distance of two yards-before both mothers heard her crying and began the obligatory yelling at the older child for making the younger one cry. As punishment for mistreating a fellow child-even if she was just a girl toddler who might have had cooties-Mother ordered me to "look after that girl like she was my little sister."

Since mother never told me told me to stop, I had a little sister for the next 13 years. We played our parts well and managed to convince most casual observers that we were siblings. Given the differences in our facial features, I claimed I looked like our father and she looked like our mother. We walked to school together, ate lunch together, and sometimes joined the same after school clubs to make carpooling easier. On occasional weekends our families would visit each other and I was stuck finding something to do with her that didn't involve punting the football. Once I got my license and later my car, take a wild guess who would ask me for rides to the mall or to visit her friends.

I admitted to enjoying some of the fringe benefits of having a relatively popular younger sister. With her popularity came a lot of female friends of hers I could easily break the ice with by being her brother. But there was a flip side to the coin. Guys would often try to use me to get close to her. I would swat them away less out of protection of this non-blood related sister but more out of not wanting to deal with a bunch of horny teenage boys. One boy in particular-I'll call him Dumas since it kind of sounds like what I really want to call him-with the tenacity of a parasite still clings to me hoping for a piece of her.

Our sibling dynamic changed once I turned 18 and left town to pursue some job opportunities. I would get emails and the occasional phone call from her, but I had my own stuff to take care of like getting that next dollar. She was still a sister to me, but pretend was over. Out of sight, out of mind. But after two years on the road I returned home for the week because work sent me back to that neck of the woods and I was too cheap to get a hotel. Dumas was quick to greet me when word of my return spread. Before I could tell him to leave me alone, he told me about yet another attempt of his to win my sister's heart. He asked her out on a date for Friday afternoon but she refused because she already made plans with a guy she actually liked that day. I wave him off so I could go home and change.

Now I find myself at a coffee shop having a couple cups of coffee with my non-blood related sister who I have not seen for two years.

On a Friday afternoon.

Well, damn.

"Onii-chan, are you listening?"