Can't Let You Go

Chapter 5

"Who the fuck are you?" I'm feeling more sympathetic now, but traces of my earlier irritation tinge my words.

Neither of us had turned on the light when we came inside her studio apartment in one of the lower rent areas of Seoul, but there is a pale orange glow filling the room from the sodium street lights. The strange girl's head rests on the front of my shoulder, her temple on my collarbone. My shirt is wet with her tears. I feel the slight motion of her shaking her head and she clears her throat. My fingers stretch over the knit pants I'm wearing, looking for something to pick at, but there are no pills on the expensive fabric.

"What do you mean 'who are you?' I'm Honey Cohen, you know that." She wipes the snot off her face.

"Honey. That's a ridiculous name, by the way." I can't help but scoff.

"I can't help it, I didn't name myself. My mother did. My missing mother."

"I guess I'll grant you that. Anyway, Honey Cohen," I say her name pointedly, "why did you tell the police I was your brother? I don't want to be involved in your mess."

"Wait a second." Honey sits up and looks me in the eyes. "Why did they let me go like that? Did you pay my bail? Oh god, I don't have any money left. How am I going to repay you?"

"Relax. First, bail money is returned once everything is complete, provided the accused doesn't run away. Sec--"

"I won't run away. I swear. I don't have anywhere to run to." She opens her eyes wide in an obvious attempt to appear innocent. For some reason I believe her.

"Fine, I know. Second, they don't require bail for everything here. There was no bail for you. The justice system works a bit differently. You really should have done some homework before you came over," I scold.

"Excuse me for not planning ahead for what to do if I was framed for drug possession." She huffs and crosses her arms.

"Speaking of that. Why would you be framed for a crime? What's so special about you?" My eyes travel up and down, evaluating her demeanor and attire.

"Nothing. In fact, I'm so unspecial that I've been abandoned by my whole family. It doesn't make any sense. Maybe it's a case of mistaken identity?"

"Mistaken identity? Exactly how many young..." Peering at her a bit more closely, I'm unable to make a certain statement, so I hedge. "... non East Asian women live in this area? It's not like there's a large pool of candidates for them to pick from. If it weren't for the fact that they came in with you and that there wasn't a large amount of marijuana, I'd think it was more likely a drug mule scheme gone wrong. Unless... Is this some sort of elaborate scam?"

"What?! No!"

"Tell your sob story to some wealthy looking guy and then fleece him for all you can?"

"Doesn't that sound just as far-fetched? I've told you the truth from that first day. Look, I'll show you." Honey rises and digs through the top drawer of the dresser. "Here." She hands over an envelope with her name written in script on the front. I've barely started reading the letter when she snatches it out of my hands. "Wait, this is all you need to see." She gives back the last page.

"Well, that is my address and home phone number, but this doesn't really prove anything. You could have written this yourself. You may have a dozen of these." I also rummage through the drawer she just retrieved the letter from, turning on the lamp as I do.

"I'm telling the truth. But it doesn't matter anymore. Thank you for helping me tonight. I'll figure the rest out after I can get in touch with someone at the embassy on Monday. The day before I'll be forcibly evicted." Her tears flow again and she flops face first onto the bed. While she's still crying, I cross the short room and open the front door.