Chapter Twenty Satoshi
Tasting today: sencha green tea.
Familiar, homely, comfortable – a hug that might make you feel better, even if it won’t fix a broken heart.
When I woke, I was in Isamu’s bed. Sun was streaming through a gap in the curtains, and Yquem was basking in it. She was draped across Isamu’s lap in the armchair, and they were both fast asleep.
The last thing I remembered was the hospital. How had I got from there to here? Had Isamu carried me, like a child?
And had he stayed here with me, the whole time?
I eased myself up to a sitting position, trying not to wake him. My arms trembled, my body ached, and my thoughts were coming too slowly – although it was more groggy than foggy now, the kind of exhaustion that came from sleeping too much rather than too little. How long had I been out?
I reached for my phone, which someone – Isamu? Okāsan? – had placed on the nightstand. It was half-past one in the afternoon, my battery was nearly dead, and I had a missed call from Fiona.
Fiona.
It came flooding back all at once, the pop of a cork from the bottle. I flung the covers back and got out of bed. I had to go to her – I had to fix it – I had to—
‘Sit down.’
Isamu’s voice was like the crack of a whip. I tried to resist, but my body wouldn’t obey me, and I was powerless to do anything as he shoved me back into bed. When had he woken up?
‘You’re not going anywhere.’ He rearranged the covers over my knees. I was wearing pyjama pants that were too broad in the waist and too short in the legs, clearly a pair of his. ‘Or doing anything.’
‘But—’
‘The bar is closed.’ He showed me an Instagram post on his phone, which read, Due to a family emergency, Tsundoku is closed on Sunday 3 February. ‘You have nothing to do and nowhere to be. And you are going to stay in that bed, Sato, so help me God.’
‘But—’
‘Don’t move.’ He plonked Yquem on my lap. ‘I’ll get you some tea.’
I exhaled, scratching her behind the ears. ‘That is the ugliest social media graphic I’ve ever seen, princess,’ I muttered.
Isamu was back quickly, carrying a tray with a pot of green tea, looking visibly relieved that I hadn’t tried to mount some kind of daring escape. ‘Here,’ he said, pouring me a cup.
My fingers shook as I accepted it, and he paused. ‘Have you got it? I can help—’
‘I’ve got it!’
The line of his jaw tightened.
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I – um – thank you.’
He poured his own cup, turned away, and didn’t say anything.
‘For last night, I mean,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Do you know how scared I was?’
He hadn’t turned back around. I could only see him in profile, the severe lines of him silhouetted by the window. ‘I thought you’d had a heart attack. I thought I was going to have to watch you die.’
‘I’m fine, though.’
‘No, you’re not.’
He was right. I might not have had a heart attack, but it felt like I had gone through open heart surgery anyway; like Fiona had cut me open and ripped something essential out of me.
‘We have to talk, Sato. And you have to listen this time. Because I can’t – I can’t—’
‘Isamu,’ I said softly, as a tear tracked down my iron brother’s cheek.
‘Don’t make me watch.’ He looked at me at last. ‘I can’t do it again. Okāsan can’t do it again. We already lost Otōsan. We can’t lose you too.’
I sighed. It wasn’t exasperation this time, but resignation, surrender. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Nothing.’ He thumbed the tear away. ‘I want you to do nothing. Just rest.’
‘What about the bar?’
‘I’ll worry about the bar.’ He sat back down in the armchair, cradling his teacup between his palms. Yquem mewed, looking at him longingly, but – perhaps recognising how badly I needed her – stayed where she was. ‘At least for the next little while.’
‘But you’ve got your own job to do. And vintage’ll start any minute now.’
‘I’ll bring in help if I need it.’ He exhaled. ‘I called Noriko. She’s agreed to cover shifts at Tsundoku if I’m stuck in the winery.’
I blinked. ‘Isamu—’
‘We won’t have to see each other.’ The way he looked at me was almost apologetic. ‘But she said to tell you that she’s happy to help cover until you find a new junior somm.’
He sipped his tea. ‘Speaking of,’ he went on, his tone more businesslike, ‘I’m going to take over your search.’
‘No.’
‘Yes.’
‘No. They’ll be working for me, not you. Besides, that’s the one bit of my job I can do from here.’ I tapped my hand against the bedspread.
It took him a long moment before he gave in. ‘Fine. But if this one is anywhere near as unreliable as Birdie, you’re going to fire them – or I will do it for you.’
‘Isamu, you know this is the shit I hate, right?’
‘What?’
‘You steamrolling over the top of me. Like you don’t trust me.
’ I sighed again. ‘I know I don’t have a leg to stand on when I’m in this bed, but I know how to do my job.
I’m really fucking good at it, actually.
But whenever you do shit like this – whenever you sail into the bar because you’ve got some “meeting”—’ I put scare quotes around it with my fingers ‘—you make me feel like a child who needs constant supervision. And then I have to try even harder to prove myself to you, and—’
‘The meetings are real, Sato!’
I rolled my eyes.
‘They are,’ he said. ‘They’re… it doesn’t matter what they are. But they’re real. I’m not checking up on you.’
I scoffed.
‘Well, not as much as you think, anyway. The Birdie thing… you have to admit you were much too accommodating. You always are when your feelings get involved.’
‘It’s not like I was in love with her,’ I muttered, toying with a loose thread on the bedspread.
‘I know. You’re in love with Fiona.’
I didn’t say anything.
‘Which is why you’re going to hate the next thing I have to say.’ Isamu finished his tea, setting the cup down. ‘I want you to choose. Between her and the MS.’
I opened my mouth automatically, but all the words in every language I knew had deserted me.
‘I know how badly you want to be a Master Sommelier,’ he said.
‘But you don’t need to prove how good you are.
Not to anyone, but especially not to me.
I know I’ve been… suffocating you a bit, but it’s not because I think you can’t do your job.
The opposite, really. You’re too good at it.
You got our father’s ambition and his obsession along with his talent, and – I know where that can lead. ’
He put his hand over his heart. ‘This, though, is different. The way you love, Sato – Otōsan never had that. And that’s what scares me the most, because all he was obsessed with was being the best, and it still killed him.
You’re obsessed with being the best and you’re obsessed with Fiona.
I know you’d do anything for her, that you’d throw yourself headfirst into being a stepfather for her kids if she’d let you, but you can’t do all of it, you physically can’t, and this cannot happen again. ’
He dropped his head almost to his knees. ‘I can’t force you to choose,’ he said, a crack in his voice, ‘but please, Sato. Please don’t make me watch this happen again.’
I wanted to go to him – to hug my brother – but even if my legs would hold me he’d probably tackle me back into bed, so instead, I just drained my teacup. ‘It’s all right, Onīsan.’
He looked at me.
I set the cup on my nightstand, my fingers still shaking, my heart aching in my chest. ‘It’s all right,’ I repeated. ‘There’s no choice anyway. Fiona made it for me.’