The Quiet on the Top Shelf

The two glasses sat beside my English workbook, but Natsuki kept looking anywhere except the door her sister had closed. Noticing her gaze, I slid one of the glasses toward her and gestured for her to take a sip. She gently picked it up and took a large sip. Looks like she was a bit too thirsty.

"So, let's start. Are you really struggling that much in English?" Natsuki asked, her face resting on her hands on the table.

"I wouldn't say struggling, but I have a hard time understanding and forming sentences."

"I see. No problem." She said that in English, for whatever reason.

We opened up and went through some of the exercises. Natsuki has always been an honor student, and since many of the students came up to ask for help she had gradually honed the art of teaching someone. Her way of explaining felt more like a tutorial in a game, guiding you from the basics to the harder stuff but letting you emulate the steps yourself. She would make a good teacher!

My eyes drifted back to the bookshelf, with a lot of books of varied genres. It had everything from fiction, non-fiction, science, history, and even manga to boot. But what really caught my attention were the picture books at the top shelf, neatly arranged one after the other.

"Aren't you a bit old for picture books now?" I said as I pointed to the top shelf. Surely the curiosity won't kill this cat.

Natsuki carefully followed my finger. Her face slightly relaxed at the sight of those old, dusty books.

"Oh, those." She reached for the workbook instead of the shelf. "They're old."

"Did you used to read them a lot?"

"Yeah, before" She relooked at the shelf lovingly, with her eyebrows slightly drooping.

I noticed that the picture books were lined up better than the textbooks, better than the manga, better than anything else in the room.

She rested her head on the table, now completely lying there. I tried to change the subject, just to ease out on this heavy atmosphere. I shared her some of the bread that we bought on the way.

"So what were you talking about with that junior of yours?"

Her hand stopped while she struggled with the wrapper.

"Ah, just some small talk regarding the club. She invited me again for the friendly match in the cultural festival, but I was a bit conflicted about whether I should join or not." Why did it feel like she was holding back on something? Obviously, I was aware that she left the club to focus on her studies. But the festival was after the exams?

"Why don't you play the match? Didn't you used to enjoy playing basketball in your first year?"

She went silent. As I waited with bated breath for her answer, her posture felt immensely heavy. Like she didn't want to answer the question at all. She stared at the bread and continued.

"It's... something in the past."

The wrapper crinkled when she folded it close.

We studied until the juice went warm.

Natsuki explained conditionals with the same patience she used for everything that was not herself. When I made a mistake, she corrected the sentence. When I looked toward the shelf, she corrected another one before I could ask.

By the time I packed my workbook, the bread wrappers were flattened into neat squares near her elbow.

"Thanks for today," I said.

"Anytime," she answered too quickly.

At the door, her sister's slippers were still beside the wall.

Natsuki looked past them.

"Text me if you get stuck again."

"I will."

I stepped outside with the workbook against my chest.

The picture books, the basketball match, her sister's face at the door.

I thought back on what she said. Did you have another "falling-out," even at the basketball club? This time around I didn't press her for an answer, as I didn't want to continue hurting her with my probing questions. I just wanted to understand her better. She never spoke about any of this on her own.

Why do you feel so distant, Natsuki, even when I am always right beside you?