When the next scene starts playing, the mood changes.Jasmine is sitting in a hospital bed. She’s staring absently out the window. Mom is recording on her phone as Dad comes through the door. He surprises her with her keyboard to help her feel more at home. He places it on the bed, asking her to play a song. Dad is speaking in Vietnamese, like he usually does. The subtitles read,Play us a song. One more time. Mom wants to hear.Jasmine smiles a little as she begins to play something. You can hear Mom holding back tears from behind the phone. When the song is over, Jasmine blows a kiss to Mom’s phone and the screen goes black again. The music completely stops. There’s a long beat of silence until an audio track comes on. It’s Jasmine’s recording she left me. Her voice plays over the black screen.
It’s Jasmine… I know you’re probably still sad about everything. So I thought about what I could give you that would make it feel like I was still there. What’s a piece of me I could leave behind? Then I remembered, the song I used to play for you. The one you inspired. You don’t know this, but you’ve inspired a lot of my songs. I never got the chance to play them all for you. So I want to play them for you now. Who knows, maybe they’ll inspire you the same way you did for me.
Anyway, this is for you. I hope you like it…
As the song begins, a montage of scenes I filmed play across the screen. Flowers blooming in the botanical gardens… the sweeping skyline from the top of Willis Tower… water lapping against the rocks on the lakefront trail… crowds passingbeneath the marquee of the Chicago Theater… cherry blossom petals falling from the trees in Jackson Park… a sunset I recorded through her bedroom window… images of a city we grew up in together.
The song ends and the screen goes black again.
An audio of Jasmine’s voice comes on one last time.
I want you to promise something, okay? That you will live life to the fullest and put your stories out there, because they are pieces of you that the world should see. And even if you don’t believe this yourself, I want you to know one thing. I am your greatest fan, and I am always rooting for you.
The film ends.
When the lights come on, half the auditorium is in tears. My heart is still racing as I’m facing the screen. The applause is louder than I anticipate, a few people rising from their seats. It’s strange seeing a live reaction to something you’ve made yourself. A piece of you that’s put on display. I finally glance behind me and see Mom and Dad crying, too. I smile back as I look around for the others, but it’s hard to see past the crowd. There’s Simon and Alex in the aisle, holding roses as they cheer for me.
The house is full, except for one empty seat beside me. It’s reserved for someone who couldn’t make it tonight. Someone who will always hold a special place in my heart. I close my eyes and think about Daniel. I made a promise to save theseat next to me for my “big premiere,” as he called it.I know you would have come if you could. I saved a seat just for you.
I turn around again. As I glance to the back of the theater, the air goes still for a moment. Jasmine is sitting in the second-to-last row. She smiles as we look at each other. Then someone walks in front of her and she’s gone. Just like that. I stare at the empty seat for a second, knowing how proud she would be. Then I turn back, smiling to myself a little. A part of her will always be around, fluttering like the paper wish in the air.
I stare at the screen one last time as I think of her.
You’ll always be a part of my life. This story is for you.
Epilogue
TWO YEARS LATER
My pen moves across a piece of paper, signing a lease fora new apartment. I stack boxes in the middle of the room as sunlight streams from a single window. Subway trains pass back and forth like threads weaving through the city. It’s the beginning of summer. I’ve started an internship in New York City, assistant to the marketing team of a small media company. It’s not exactly the job I went looking for, but sometimes you learn to pivot in life.
I’ve been living in the city for two weeks. My days consist of sending emails and editing videos for our marketing campaigns. I think of it as another form of storytelling, meant for a different audience, challenging me to step outside of myself. Then there are other days when I’m carrying six iced coffees and a bag of sesame bagels up and down Fifth Avenue, trying to catch a meeting that’s been moved to a different building.
Thankfully, I have a lot of free time on the weekends. I spend the afternoons exploring the city, trying food from different trucks, walking along the paths in Central Park. I bring my camera with me, filming random shots that I’ll figure out what to do with later. It’s become my creative process. Piecingtogether a story from the everyday, finding the heartbeat beneath it.
It happens to be the first week of July. This time of year always makes me think of the Star Festival. Someone once told me the story of Orihime and Hikoboshi. The two were separated after falling madly in love, and the couple is only allowed to see each other once a year. The festival was created to celebrate their love and reunion. Paper wishes flutter through my mind as I continue down the street, thinking about them.
I left my phone in the office this morning. I’m on my way back to grab it, carrying some mail in my hands. The subway is full this afternoon, packing people in like sardines. As usual, the Q is running a little late. I stare at the floor absentmindedly. Another train approaches the platform. As I lift my head, instantly, I see him.
Time freezes for a moment.
Haru is on the train, standing there, no more than a few feet away from me. His hair is a little longer than I remember. He’s staring at his phone, unaware I’m on the other side, looking back at him. For a second, I swear I’m imagining this. That can’t really be him, right?
Then the train starts moving.
A gasp escapes me as he disappears from view. I look up and down the platform, wondering where he’s headed. My heart is racing fast. This is the R Line, heading uptown. What’s the next stop again? If I run fast enough, I can catch up to it. I don’t have time to look it up. I turn immediately, dashing out of the subway.
The streets are crowded. My body breaks into sweat as I’m running. The next stop is seven blocks from here. I cut straight through traffic, moving between passing cars. I need to get there before it leaves again. Hopefully there’s some delay. Then I see the subway entrance. I hurry down, reaching the platform just as the train appears. The doors open. I look everywhere, wondering which car he’s in. Is he getting off at this stop? I catch my breath for a second, feeling light-headed, about to hop on the train.
And then I see him again.
Haru stands on the platform, looking right back at me. For a moment, the rest of the world curves away from us. A long silence passes as I take him in, wondering if he’s really there or if it’s all in my head again. So I don’t say anything at all. Then Haru looks down, noticing something. He bends over to pick it up from the floor.
“You dropped this,” he says, holding it out for me.
It’s one of Jasmine’s letters. It must have slipped out of my hands. As I reach for it, our fingers touch slightly. For some reason, he doesn’t let go right away. He takes me in and says, “I don’t know if you remember… but we’ve met before.”
I swallow my breath. “Yeah… I remember.”
