Can't Let You Go

Chapter 5

I should have stepped outside as soon as I opened it, but I make the mistake of looking back at her. I let the door close with me still inside. Her back shakes as she cries. Hell, her whole body shakes. In all the interactions I've had with her over the past six weeks, she's never cried. Not even that first time, which I think would have left most people in tears.

One Saturday afternoon a few weeks ago, she rang my doorbell. Looking at the security monitor, I saw her face for the first time with a huge smile, which she was trying to suppress.

"Hello," I had answered in English based on her appearance.

"Um, hello. I'm looking for my mother, please." She rose up on her toes as she spoke.

"She's not here."

"When will she be back?"

"No, I mean, she doesn't live here."

"But, this is the address I have for her." She read it out to me, "Correct?"

"You're at the right place, but I'm the only one who lives here."

"Can I have the phone number of your landlord so I can see if she left a forwarding address?"

"There's no landlord. I own this place."

"You must have bought it recently. Can I have the contact for the former owner, please?" She was persistent, but I couldn't really blame her.

"I didn't buy it recently and have personally lived here for a year. Alone."

The mix of emotions playing on her face was evident even on the smallish screen. "That long? Okay, thank you." We stayed standing on opposite sides of the door for a while, only one of us able to see the other. Finally she turned and went down the stairs. Moments later my rarely used landline rang.

"Yeoboseyo," I answered in Korean without checking the caller ID.

"Um, hello. May I please speak with Athena?"

I recognized her voice, but couldn't believe she had my phone number at first. Then I realized it made sense if she had the address since the number was already in place when I moved in. She didn't seem to realize the connection though or she wouldn't have called after having been turned away at the door.

"No English," I said, trying to approximate the accent I've heard before.

"Wait. Umm... Geogi Athena ya?" Her sentence was terrible, probably from a sloppy online translator, but I knew what she was intending to ask.

"Ani. No Atena." I hung up the phone expecting that to be the end, but it wasn't.

She'd called a few more times the next week at different times of the day. I guess she was hoping for a different person to pick up and give her a different answer. I wasn't home some of those times, so she left messages asking for her mother to call her back. After that, she began to only call late at night when she was drunk. Finally, I came clean.

"You've got to stop calling me," I said annoyed.

"Wait, you speak English?" Her voice perked up, but was still slurred with alcohol.

"Yes, this is the same man you spoke to at the apartment your mother doesn't live in."

"How am I calling you?" It was loud where she was.

"That's a good question, but the number you have is the landline for the apartment. I'm sorry, but she's not here. She never was."

"Why didn't you tell me that the first time I called?" She sounded a little more sober, maybe, annoyed, definitely, but she disconnected the call.