That day, I saw Asha off at JFK as she left for Paris.

When we parted at the gate,
she said, “See you.”

I said, “Yeah, you let me know, anytime, if you need help,” and waved. Asha didn’t look back, kept on walking, and disappeared from my view.

We didn’t talk about our promise after five years, not one word. Because to us, five years was simply too long.

Can we actually keep a promise for five years? Despite having this overwhelming doubt, we had to make a promise or we simply could not bear the sheer pain of being separated.

On my way back from the airport, I thought about the smile Asha showed me before we parted.
“Five years…” I thought to myself.

From that point on, I buried myself in my work. Just as Asha was working hard to learn about fashion in Paris, I decided to dedicate myself to the antique book trade business I luckily encountered, and I thought about brushing up my skills in this profession.

I simply had to believe that we would come through for each other in the end.　

For the next five years, I worked hard while flying back and forth between New York and Japan. The only letter I got from Asha was a birthday card, once a year, to my address at Jack’s apartment. There was always the message, in small letters, “Savor each day…” I can’t recall how many times I felt so lonely that I’d pick up the phone to call her, only to put it back down again. I knew that if I heard her voice, I would want to see her. This was the same feeling I had for my parents in Japan. Once you voice your emotions, “I want to see you,” that is all you would think about. That’s why I carried around the birthday card Asha sent me like a talisman and immersed myself in work and studies.

It was probably around year four. Our mutual friend, Rowena, told me that Asha had gone back to her home country of Ethiopia. She told me that Asha had written to her about it recently.

“Asha apparently left Paris and is now living in Ethiopia. I asked her when she was coming back to New York, and she hadn’t responded,” said Rowena.

As for me, I was literally spending half of the year in New York and half of the year in Japan. My antique book business was going really well.

Then, it was the end of year five. We promised that if we still wanted to see each other, we would meet up once again. It was the anniversary of the day we first met.

I had absolutely no idea whether Asha would actually show up, but I knew I had to be there on that day, at that place. At three in the afternoon.

My feelings for Asha had not changed, even after five years.