Thirteen Months

Family

"Mizuko, how could you not tell us about this?" Mrs. and Mr. Sawamura sat across from Mizuko and Daichi at the kitchen table. Both adults had their brows furrowed in concern, hands folded in front of them. Daichi gave Mizuko's shoulder a squeeze of encouragement, but she continued to stare at her lap. Her leg bounced up and down due to the stress, and her shoulders tensed up.

Mizuko opened her mouth. Closed it. Swallowed. Opened it again. Nothing came out. No matter how much she tried, she just...couldn't.

Mrs. Sawamura sighed in a defeated tone, "Okay. Okay, sweetie. We'll figure something out."

Mr. Sawamura nodded in agreement. "We've got you, kiddo. We promise." Daichi noticed Mizuko's slight cringe at the words. There was something she wanted to say, he knew it. If only....

Daichi shot up from the table. "I'll be right back!" He ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, to his room. "I know it's here somewhere," he mumbled to himself. He opened a desk drawer and found what he was looking for. He raced back downstairs and resumed sitting at the table with the rest of his family. "Here," he handed Mizuko a whiteboard, one of the handheld ones he had used for drawing up volleyball tactics with his team. He gave her a marker and pointed to the board saying, "Now you can write what you need to tell us."

Mizuko smiled softly as her way of saying thanks. Taking the cap off the dry-erase marker, she hovered over the board. Then she wrote three simple words: I feel guilty.

"Why's that?" Mr. Sawamura asked, reading the words.

Mizuko erased the words and wrote: You're all very nice. I am a burden.

"No, sweetie, of course you're not!" Mrs. Sawamura insisted, looking at Mizuko with sincerity in her eyes.

I punched Ichika. I can't talk. I keep Daichi up late with my nightmares. I can't fend for myself. I am weak. 

"No you're not," Daichi argued. "Remember the thorn?" Mizuko nodded. "Mizu, people who have thorns...they just need help. That's normal. We want to help you."

But I don't deserve it. I can't do anything right. The one thing I'm good at, I hate now.

"Sweetie," Mrs. Sawamura said softly. "Nobody deserves anything. We all have our issues. But we want you here. Fostering you was a choice we made because we wanted to. Not because we felt obligated or because we wanted the money. No. We just wanted to help."

"I agree," Mr. Sawamura said. "What's this thing you hate? Volleyball?"

Yes. I don't like crowds. I don't like loud places. I don't like talking to people that aren't safe. Volleyball is great, but I don't want to play for the team.

"Mizuko, you're really good. I thought you playing on the team would be good for you. I didn't mean to force you into something you don't enjoy. I'm sorry." Daichi looked ashamed of himself.

I did enjoy it. It's not your fault. I did like playing. I just don't think it's for me. Please don't feel bad. I made my own choice to join.

"Still, if I hadn't pushed so hard," Daichi pressed.

Mrs. Sawamura waved her hand. "That's not important. Mizuko, we want to help you however we can. If that means you don't want to play volleyball, that is completely fine. Maybe you should just consider taking a break for a week or two and then deciding if you want to quit?" Mizuko nodded.

Don't blame yourself Daichi. It's not your fault.

Daichi sighed. "Okay."

"Mizuko," Mr. Sawamura said. "Is there anything else you'd like to tell us?" Mizuko nodded, picked up the marker, and started to write. Halfway through the sentence, she stopped. Writing it down wouldn't be enough. This needed to be said. They needed to know.

She gulped. Took a deep breath. Exhaled. Opening her mouth, she let the words fall out in a voice just above a whisper. "I...so grateful...letting me stay here," she managed. "Thank you." Slowly, she reached a hand across the table, palm up. Mr. and Mrs. Sawamura stared at it in shock. Gingerly, Mrs. Sawamura reached across and placed her hand in Mizuko's. Mr. Sawamura then reached his hand and placed it on top of his wife's. Daichi smiled, proceeding to place his hand on top.

"We are so glad you can be here, with us," Mr. Sawamura said. Mrs. Sawamura nodded in agreement.

"I know it's different, but we really do see you like family," she said with a smile.

"You're my little sister. Always will be," Daichi added. 

Mizuko managed a smile too, despite the nagging doubt at the back of her mind. The maximum amount of time she could have with the Sawamura's was only thirteen months. Whether or not they saw her as family didn't matter; she would be gone soon.