As an only child I've always been quite independent in what I do. I've developed a resistance to the need or want to interact with others - I read, talk to dolls, dress them, make them talk to each other, then think up lives for them in my head. I quite enjoy it. Or perhaps I think I enjoy it as I had little choice. In any case, I've never wished for a sibling.

Well, maybe I had, once, for an older brother or sister who would take me to cool places with their older (and therefore cooler - I was at that age) friends, but I didn't dwell on it. As for a younger sibling, I'd always thought, why? The parents would always spoil them, I'd be the guinea pig for all their unproven theories of parenting, and they'd always skimp on me to save for the younger one. But recently I witnessed something that made me realise a younger sibling isn't just someone who takes more than their fair share of the cake and eats it, s/he's actually a subject of love, as in someone you can direct your love towards.

N is a good friend of mine. We've known each other since high school, and while I'd always known she has a younger brother, and even met him a few times, I'd never really thought about their relationship. It doesn't help that N rarely talks about her family, but recently we were having dinner with a few other school friends and she got to talking to one of them about the pitfalls and merits of a particular mobile phone model. Initially I thought this was because she was looking to buy one for herself, but then she mentioned that she wanted to buy it for her brother. Now, it's not surprising that a sister wants to buy something for her brother, but considering he is now also a fully grown young man with earning powers that exceed possibly all of those sitting at the table that night, I thought it rather tender.

There were many similar occasions - none revolutionary or outstanding that made me realise that among N's daily or habitual events, many were related to her brother. Every time I notice this, it makes me extremely envious of the fact that she has someone to care for in her life. Someone that she feels responsibility for, but no burden. It's different from the love and care directed towards parents, as they are forever fussed about you more than the other way around. So for the first time, I felt envious of someone who has a younger sibling. Perhaps it's an age thing...  

Cantonese is such a funny language. In case you can't read Chinese, the title of this entry says "Love explode you" - meaning love you very much (so much that it could cause an 'explosion', I suppose). Violence haha...

"The next train arrives in 3 minutes," said that over-courteous voice that reminds Cara of plastic daffodils. She stared at her dreamy, lop-sided smile in the reflection. The day had gone well. It wasn't anything special - she woke to the reassuring sound of her landlord shouting at the plumber, electrician or laundry man, flipped through her stack of grossly expensive 'lifestyle' magazines and met up with Jae and Abbie in the afternoon, cafe- and bookshop-hopping the day away. When dinnertime came around they weren't exactly hungry, but went anyway to the Farmer's Market to pick up whatever the vendors had left (pumpernickel, gruyere, half an organic lettuce, kurobata sausage), then set themselves up at Abbie's with a ten year-old soap series. The wine flowed with the conversation - from patisserie to politics, there was nothing they didn't share.

As the train pulled into the station, Cara plugged in her iPod. Doors opened and closed, children fell asleep in their parents' arms, lovers cooed in the darker corners of the car, but Cara was in her own cosmos. All she could see was Jae making fun of her clumsiness at the bookstore, Jae pulling her 'retard' face when she didn't get her too-obvious joke, Jae telling her about the interns at her office... She suddenly felt a rush, an urgency to give all the love she had to Jae, to drown her in this intense feeling that was boiling inside her like a rattling kettle about to burst into a screeching whistle. Her heart was beating at Formula One speeds.
 
She had felt this before, but never with such vehemence, shocking even herself. This is the Cara who had refused to even toy with the concept of falling in love with another girl, let alone one of her best friends. It would be akin to wearing five-inch Louboutins on a cobblestoned Italian street - nice on the silver screen, painful in real life. Just imagine: your soul mate, the childhood friend who already knows every quirky, ugly nook in your personality and adores them - this was the perfect relationship, minus alienating all your other closest friends, and oh, being the same sex. She exited into the cold winter air, taking deep breaths that she hoped would numb every muscle in her body, including that relentless, pulsating one.

Excerpt from The Living Field