Rie and I sit down at my veranda, drinking the last of the tea Mom brewed. There were the five of us earlier; Shizuo and his sister came by, on Mom's insistence, but left early because…"It was getting late," they said. That depends on one's definition of 'late', I suppose. They left at 9 PM, and when I went to see them off, Shizuo winked at me and twittered at my flushed face. I pushed him away, but—I hate to admit it—I appreciated what he had done.
At the center of the yard is the bamboo tree that we tended to for the past few weeks. Colorful papers hang from the branches, all containing our wishes. Pinks, yellows, blues, and greens…adorning colors of the quiet night. I couldn't help but think of the wishes I had written, and I glance at Rie to see where she's looking. Her hair falls down on one side of her shoulders in a side ponytail, wearing the ribbon that I'd given to her earlier on her birthday. I realize how long her lashes were, and the glistening gloss in the moonlight.
"The moon's bright tonight," I say in an attempt at conversation. She nods without looking. I add, "What are you thinking about?"
She finally looks at me and shakes her head with a smile, dismissing her reverie. "Nothing. Just something my grandma used to tell me a few years ago."
I lean closer, showing interest. She continues, "There's this old story, you see. About a weaver from heaven who descended to earth, and the cowherd that she fell in love with."
I don't say anything. I'm too interested to comment. She goes on, "She was the most talented weaver to have ever graced the heavens. She descended to earth with her sisters in hopes of some inspiration. While bathing, a passing cowherd and his bull found her and her sisters bathing, and he immediately fell in love with her. Did you know that he decided to steal her robes to prevent her from going to heaven? Funny enough, she also fell in love with him then, and soon, they got married, and had two children. But the weaver missed her home, thus she decided to return to heaven for a while, only to be met with her raging mother. The Queen Mother tore the sky into two, to prevent the lovers from reuniting."
We are touching shoulders now, and Rie switches gaze between the moon and me as she recounts the story.
"But the bull offered to help the cowherd. You see, before the weaver returned to heaven, the bull was dying, and he told the cowherd to use his pelt in times of great need. Thus, the cowherd placed his two children in a basket and covered the three of them with the bull's pelt. They began to float to the sky, eventually stopping at the other end of the tear."
She pauses, drinking the tea. "Do you see the three stars there, Shoko?"
Rie points at the three stars that form the triangle. I nod. She says, "They're the Summer Triangle. That's Deneb, Vega, and Altair. You see, there's a milky way that splits between Vega and Altair—that's the tear that the Queen Mother made. Vega is the weaver, and Altair the cowherd. But every year, on the seventh day of the seventh month, a bridge would form from the Deneb star and across the milky way, and the lovers and their children would reunite there for a day."
There's a hopeful smile on her face. Then, she looks at me and I think my heart might fall out of my chest.
"Thank you for inviting me to Tanabata," she says, somewhat apologetically. "I wouldn't really mind spending Tanabata alone but…I'm glad you and your mother asked me to join you."
"Don't mention it," I say. "I'm really glad you're here. And I'm sure Mom prefers more company since it's just the two of us, anyway."
She only nods to that. I sigh internally. I look at the Summer Triangle and I wonder what the weaver, the cowherd, and their children are up to now. Are they laughing together? Are they watching over us? Are they looking at the lonely souls in Tanabata who wish for love and connection?
My mind trails off to a thought and suddenly, I see some eerie resemblance to the story and to my own situation. I switch my gaze to Rie, who's refilling her tea and munching on some cookies. I think about a wish that I had written and hung on the bamboo. I wonder if Mom would tear the sky into two if she found out who I really am. I wonder if a bridge would form and my feelings would get across.
But now, there is only silence. There is only the nightly breeze of the changing seasons. There is only the Summer Triangle looking from above.
There is only the moon.
"The moon's really pretty," I say.
Me and Rie stare at each other after that. My heart races, wondering if she got the message. But she simply smiles the way she usually does and agrees.
"Rie," Mom calls. We both turn to see her standing behind us while wiping her hands. "Why don't you stay the night? It's getting really late, and your apartment's far from here, right?"
"Oh, I can't possibly trouble you any further. You've been really kind to me, Mrs. Yamagiri."
Mom laughs. "Oh, come on. I'm sure Shoko would love to have a roommate, wouldn't you, Shoko?"
I feel my face flush. Rie looks at me for an answer, and I nod meekly. "I can't let you go on a train alone this late at night, anyway." I say.
"Alright, then it's settled. I'll prepare the futon."
"Oh, let me—"
"No, Rie. You make yourself comfortable. I don't want any leftovers by tomorrow."
Mom strides to her room to get an extra futon. Rie sits next to me awkwardly, perhaps bewildered by the amount of kindness my mom was showing.
"Don't mind her," I assure her. "Mom's like that. But it's true, what I said. I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight if you go home alone."
"Shoko, I've been going home at this hour since I was a kid."
"My point stands. Besides, you'll get some breakfast in bed tomorrow."
She laughs. "You know how to make an offer I can't refuse."
I shrug, "You're just easy to bribe."
We finish Mom's cookies after that while looking at the moon and the Summer Triangle. The cold dread I felt earlier had dissipated into relief, somehow. I glance at Rie, ever graceful like the weaver in her story. Even when the cowherd stole her robes, she fell in love with him anyway, and I wonder if I have to go through such measures to get her to see me like that. Or do I have to wait for the bridge to form across the Milky Way to finally be able to tell her?
I think about the time we've spent together. The three of us, with Shizuo, and the times when it's just me and her. How she helped me get through my worst days, how I made her favorite cookies after she failed an exam, how we helped each other study and spend long hours at the library trying to decipher a single question.
"Will you," she begins, "will you invite me to Tanabata again next year?"
She looks at me pleadingly and closes the distance that our shoulders touch. I breathe.
"Of course! We'll even invite you to the moon viewing festival. And Christmas, too."
She chuckles, "That's…a bit much, but as long as I'm not causing too much trouble for you and Mrs. Yamagiri."
"Hey, what did I say? We love the company."
She smiles and holds my hand. "Thank you, Shoko."
I return her grasp. I smile to myself. Is the bridge forming, I wonder? Even if this isn't that bridge, I wish that my feelings will be as luminous and everlasting as the stars and that they'll give me hope in dark times.
