With a friend of 40 years, for the first time in 4 years

I had been close with her since the first year of junior high, and in my mid-20s, she shared her place with me in New Jersey so we could live together.
The person who had originally invited me suddenly said, 'Actually, it's not going to work out,' and just as I was feeling terribly down, she made the suggestion. 'The landlord gave us permission to live together without changing the rent, so let's live together.'

She was also the one who introduced me to the man who would become my husband right after I arrived.
After our date, maybe the third or fourth one, she said, 'I want him to be with someone with a good personality,' and I thought, 'That's terrible. So you're saying I'm not good enough?' But later she laughed and said, 'I meant that I thought you would be good for him, Kasemi-chan.'

I have written about that friend here a few times, but she also lived in New Jersey during her childhood.
We met in the first year of junior high without either of us knowing that about the other.
'Being a returnee student was lonely, wasn't it?' was a starting point for connecting our feelings, but regardless of that, she and I loved to goof around. She would often double over, and I would collapse at the knees, both of us holding our stomachs and laughing.
Even when we were in different classes, if we passed each other in the hallway, we would burst into laughter just by making eye contact for no reason at all. That was the age we were at.
When we were in the same sewing class, we would stand by the window on our own and sew things like the yukata we were assigned. We were often scolded by the teacher because we were goofing off and laughing more than actually working.
She was popular with everyone, so I kept a little distance during breaks, but we kept in touch even after graduation. Since there were no smartphones or internet back then, we exchanged letters.

One day, when I thought the letters had stopped for a while, we bumped into each other during a road lesson at a local driving school. 'Oh? A-chan!' 'Kasemi-chan!' 'Are you going to ride in that car?' we laughed together.
Even after I decided on a university, I didn't go to driving school right away, aiming for a time when it wouldn't be crowded. Since she was supposed to be living alone at a university far away, I wondered why she was here now. When I talked to her after the lesson, she said she had quit university and wanted to go back to New Jersey.
She didn't tell me the circumstances, so I couldn't ask, and we went to driving school together for a while.
When I got my license, I insisted that she send me a letter once her address was decided, and a letter arrived about six months later.
She sent them occasionally, and each time I wrote a lot about myself and sent it back as a reply.

Around my senior year of university, I gave up on job hunting and went to New Jersey during summer vacation, and she showed me around everywhere. That was when I decided that instead of getting a job, I would save money and live in New Jersey myself.

Her life in New Jersey was also filled with all sorts of thoughts, but for me, the film that had been over my eyes for 15 years cleared, and I finally experienced the feeling of my mind and body being together. For a long time, I had lived with mild depersonalization.
After graduating from university, I worked part-time at a cake shop, couldn't stand it and went back to New Jersey, and because I didn't have enough money for that, I ended up working as a quasi-regular office employee.

When I was 24. I only got a 3-month tourist visa, but I headed to New Jersey anyway, partly to study to be a Japanese language teacher.

As they say, it's better not to share a room with friends you are already close with, so it was indeed difficult to maintain the relationship. I would rely on her too much, and she would try her best for my sake, so she ended up getting tired.
I wanted to attend the Japanese language teacher course to complete it, and it was painful to be away from him, so I repeatedly went to New Jersey on a tourist visa.
She had her studies, so stress built up, and I began to shrink away, and we both thought it wasn't good.

Even so, we would sometimes massage each other's shoulders and talk, go on road trips together and laugh out loud in the car, or talk at a diner while running the washing machine at the laundromat. Many times, we were able to rethink, 'Let's try to have fun again.'

We couldn't hide the parts of each other we didn't like, and yet I think we managed to keep the friendship going by the skin of our teeth. While repairing the awkward moods and each other's slips of the tongue, there was a desire to somehow not break this relationship.

When I got married, I had to move out of her place, and both she and I felt relieved.

A comfortable distance returned.

At the wedding, I rejoiced in our reunion after just one month. There are even photos left of us laughing so hard I wonder what it was about.

At the end of that year, when I invited friends to my new home, I enjoyed preparing for it with her.

I returned to Japan soon after, but I continued to keep in touch with her. She isn't a good letter writer, so I was grateful for the existence of email.

She got a job and had spent about 10 years living locally and settling down, but she had to return to Japan suddenly due to her father's illness.

She came to Sapporo, and she also came to visit the place where I live now. When I waved to welcome her, she approached me while doubling over with laughter, saying, 'I thought, Kasemi-chan is wearing brightly colored clothes and waving with a huge smile.'
I also met up with her somewhere whenever I went to Takarazuka to talk.

She also got married, had a daughter, and then got divorced. After that, I stopped hearing from her, and I waited impatiently. I was worried that she might not want to hear from me, but I continued to support her as she worked hard, which was different from my temperament.

When she finally got back in touch after several years and we met, she laughed and said, 'I'm really glad I got divorced. I don't want to go back to that life.'
She is still as cute as ever, with eyes that turn into crescent moons when she smiles, and her daughter, who has grown a little, has a smile just like hers.

Since then, I met her every time I went to Takarazuka.

But from 2020, we couldn't meet for a while.

We talked remotely once or twice, but our schedules didn't align.

Meeting up for the first time in four years felt natural.
But we had both gone through menopause, and I worried there might be big changes in our physiques or hair (especially mine). We had never seen each other in masks, either. I was worried about the meeting itself.

Ah, but. The posture and angle of the neck and shoulders. You can tell by things like that.

I thought, and took a step closer.

Whoa. Wrong person!

Not knowing what to do with my smile, I wandered around aimlessly.
Partly because my eyesight has gotten worse, I can't see people's faces very well. I made excuses to myself while looking at my smartphone.

"I've arrived at the meeting spot."

After I sent the message, a little while later, she finally came walking toward me with a smile.

No matter how long it's been, you can still tell, right?
When I told her, "The person I just walked up to smiling was the wrong one!" she laughed so hard.

Yes, exactly. This smile. The way she carries her body.
The specific way she waves her hand when she says "No, thank you" to a shop clerk.
The way her fingers arch when she points at something.
I couldn't help but want to imitate her, so I did the same and said, "So nostalgic!" and she laughed out loud again.

Once we were full, we found a place to sit nearby, and while we talked about this and that, we also enjoyed the moments of silence.
It reminded me of the time about 30 years ago when we would chat while watching the crowds at a fast-food restaurant on our way home from driving school.

"You're the only one I talk to about everything, from the most important things to the most trivial," she said, which was rare for her. Since we don't usually keep in touch, I was happy to realize she felt that way about me.
I don't have to worry about topics or the silent moments. I don't have to worry about how she'll take what I say or if I'll be misunderstood. We can just accept each other's words as they are. There's no hidden meaning in our words, and we don't want to hurt each other anymore.
After all, we lived together even though we were such good friends.

While expressing my gratitude, we also reminisced about those days.
When I said, "My youth wasn't my student days, but the days I spent with A-chan in New Jersey," she replied, "I know. That was my time, too."

She wishes to live in New Jersey again, even if just for a short time. It seems she wants to confirm those precious days that she had abruptly ended.
She is working hard in the present for that reason.

My daughter has reached the age we were when we first met.
My son has reached the age she was when she started living in New Jersey.

You know.
I don't know why, but it's amazing.

A-chan is already 52 this year. I can't believe it. I'm 52 too!