King of Wands (Reversed)

Unachievable Expectations

‘Eldest Daughter Syndrome’, a term coined by netizens, refers to the personality and mental health challenges exacerbated by the unique expectations and responsibilities placed on the eldest daughter. 

Being forced into adulthood from a young age, eldest daughters carry many different roles: caretaker, sibling, and role model. Their maturity places them between ‘adult’ and ‘child’, in a constant dichotomy between holding onto the childhood experience and acting as a caretaker for their younger counterparts. 

The Moon (Reversed)

Confusion

I am three and a half years older than my brother. When he was eight, he spent his time riding his bike around the condominium and playing with wooden train sets, filling up the indefinite free hours that grade three offered him. I spent my days catching up on mathematics tuition worksheets which supplemented the simple multiplication and division offered by my school. Inevitably, textbooks and papers piled up. I dismissed the misplaced hair ties and dolls around me, the evergrowing stack of rubbish, and the scattered stationery. 

“What is this?” my mother walked in to check on me, but instead of focusing on the full score practice papers, she focused on the evergrowing landfill that surrounded me. “Girls should be organized,” she picked up pieces of discarded revision papers to show me, “Clean all of this up please.” She continued to pick up the fragments of my discarded work, sighing and murmuring distressed sounds as she threw them away. 

All I could think to myself was, I can’t wait till my brother has to deal with this too, then he will finally understand. 

The Empress (Upright)

Motherhood

I hurriedly scooped the scattered worksheets into my bag, twined a charging wire into a roll, and swiftly fit my laptop and iPad between the mathematics and physics papers for today’s library study session. Still, ten minutes till the bus arrived, I ran towards the door before being interrupted by my mother’s voice. “Bring your brother, give him something to do while I’m at work. I don’t want him on his phone all day.” I looked at the glowing digits on my phone to see another minute pass by. “Fine. IF YOU DON’T COME IN THREE SECONDS I’M LEAVING YOU HERE,” I yelled. I began walking to the diverging elevator doors and instinctively pressed the ‘close’ button. Between the gradually narrowing gap of the elevator doors, I saw a frantically moving figure rush towards me with panted steps. 

Suddenly, the elevator doors widen and unfortunately, he slips through successfully. 

Queen of Cups (Upright)

Compassion

I tried to fixate my gaze away from my laptop and to afar. I suddenly noticed him, the boy in front of me wearing a familiar frown. His gaping mouth and furrowed brows reminded me of someone: my brother. He saw me look up and locked eyes with me, making sure I could see him mouthing the words: “Help. Me,” in repetition. He beckoned me to get up and walk to him. 

“What do you want,” I whispered.

“Can you help me find this book?” I glanced back at my half-finished paper and back at the digital clock: another minute had passed. 

“No. Find it yourself. I also have things to do.” Without hesitation, he shifted his laptop screen to show me a photo of a yellowed World War II book. I shrugged, gave him a smirk, and went back to my seat to continue my work. 

After a few minutes, I decided to take a break and walk towards the abyss of neverending shelves to rid the sleepiness that was about to consume me. I traveled past isles of bookshelves, their numbers and topics passing my peripheral view with disregard. 

Social Studies. 

I instinctively stopped to see what I had uncovered. Perhaps my brother’s book is here. Maybe I should take a look. Just out of curiosity, nothing else. I walked into the section of towering bookshelves and inspected each row. World War II. The words protruded amidst the scene of “History 101” and “Civil War” books. The slight yellow tint separated it from the other grey books. I took it out and fanned out the pages, then set it back.

 At least I know it’s here for him to find. 

The Chariot (Reversed) 

Lack of control, Lack of direction

I bring my brother out of the tuition building with his makeshift popsicle stick catapult in one hand and his palm in the other. We traveled into the metro station while balancing the clanging sticks in my hand: they were bound to break. From where I was, I could still hear the pockets of pokémon talk amidst the sound of busy passersby getting off work. With his hand still in mine, I reached for my metro card and dragged our connected hands towards the sensor. 

“I need to go to the bathroom,” he whispered suddenly. The weight of the passerby's shoulders slightly pushed me off balance. I tripped but thankfully cupped the catapult in my hands. 

Scanning the bustling station, I failed to find a bathroom sign. Perhaps if I bought something from the convenience store, the receptionist would let my brother use their restroom. I looked down at the catapult once again to see if its base had crumpled in my hands: thankfully, it was fine. Suddenly, the white noise of annoying pokémon rants was gone and so did the weight of his hands. Within the sea of unknown faces, I tried to search for a pocket of space, perhaps a bathroom he could have gone to, or just the four-foot bowl-cut kid. He was too young to have a phone and worse, he did not know any numbers for him to call from a stranger’s phone. I should have just thrown the catapult, traded it for his hand, and reversed the events that had unfolded before me. My head was empty, filled with nothing but fear: not because of the consequences but because, without him, I was lost too. 

Strength (Upright)

Insecurity, weakness

Alex Dunphy is the middle child of Claire and Phil Dunphy from the American Sitcom, Modern Family. She is the oldest sister to her brother, Luke, and the younger sister to Haley. While she is the youngest of her family, she is the most intelligent and mature. Her ability to independently care for herself makes her parents place less attention on her, and more on her siblings. Although she may seem condescending at times, it stems from a need for academic validation and approval. 

She is everything the eldest sibling is meant to be, yet she isn’t one. 

Justice (Reversed)

Injustice, Unfairness

He was gone. 

The room was empty with nothing but the faint scent of sweat and detergent. The notebook I had given him the other day seemed to still be on his desk, opened: he must have actually used it when I was away. I still remember offering that notebook—filled with carefully drawn biology notes and diagrams—and being faced with rejection. “Who would want that,” he said with disgust, shoving my hand away. 

I was still faintly holding on to his newly found wallet, leaning on his door while I scanned the room. Half-drank flat cokes, a McDonald's bag, and condensation-soaked homework were scattered across the room. I had just gotten off a bus chase, tracked down bus 168, ran from stop to stop, and paid a fee of $1.20 just to get his lost items and this is what I come home to. 

I wish my mom had paid more attention to him, and perhaps built up the same principles I had grown up on. Instead, I was the one delegating the work, picking up fragments of his math worksheets and throwing away his McDonald’s dinner. 

While he is out with his friends doing god knows what, I find solace on his bed. It reeks of skin ointments: poor him. His digital clock blinks 9:48 PM—that was my call to leave. I toss his wallet on his table and leave the room.

“Girls should be organized,” she told me, but what about him?

Judgment (Upright)

Reflection, Reckoning, Awakening

It was my twelfth year doing this and it was his ninth. Perhaps he would have known by now what to say during Chinese New Year: a few greetings, a quick bow, and a smile. It was the year of the rat, and I had already memorized a selection of greetings just in case my brother took some of mine. 

I watched him walk up to my grandmother, turning his head every few seconds, his eyes going astray. “吉 (fortune)-” he muttered. It was like the pressure of a hundred eyes was on him as mom, dad, grandma, and I watched his every move. 

I mentally filled out the gaps in his chosen greeting in a split second. Knowing him, he would have chosen the simplest greeting, the most common greeting: “大吉大利 (great fortune and luck).” However, to the eyes of my parents and grandma, he was just “nervous.” Looking at him, our eyes suddenly interlocked; somehow his wandering eyes knew to meet mine for help. “Help. Me.” The slight raise of his brow and the way his eyes widened—a familiar sighting—signaled the two words. It seemed like I was always the one he would turn to for help, even when he often took shame in it. I knew him better than anyone in this household, unfortunately. 

I remember the time when my mom asked about our day. Again, when it came to my brother, the same expression was imprinted on his face. “我們去了（We went to)-”: the same pause. He was going to talk about the music concert he went to, however, couldn’t find the correct Chinese words for “concert.” He turned to me again with the same look. I responded with indifference, as if signaling, “I don’t know. This is up to you this time.” For a few minutes, I watched him stutter and move, trying to describe a concert to my puzzled mom. It felt like this scenario, the same scenario of him struggling to fish for the right words, was history repeating itself. Perhaps it didn’t matter that I had the advantage here. Perhaps it wasn’t his carelessness in his Chinese classes that brought him to this point. Perhaps the reason I’m here, playing translator, is because I know them better than anyone else. If not for my decade-long stay in this family would I have known about the concert, about my mom’s tendency to fail to comprehend my brother’s English and Chinese hybrid language? If not for the stress and the independence, would I have been able to live up to the role I was given from birth? 

I watched as my brother fiddled with the string on his hoodie, as his gaze repelled that of grandma’s. 

“大吉大利 (great fortune and luck),” I mouthed.