Who Has A Real Castle Where I Can Hide?

“Wash your hair yourself and don’t do that again. I was only trying to help. Don’t you say I wasn’t, you hear?”

When the soldiers came out of the base they didn’t hit anyone or kick them. The first soldier…the second soldier…the third soldier…different kinds of friends. Candy, a comb, words:

“Hey, what’s up? Where you been, sweet pea?  How about a little kiss? You smile okay. What else you do? Pretty hair, pretty girl, I your guy? Call me Charlie. What’s your handle?  Na Cheon? Where’d you get that name?”

A general’s car drove past. She pointed at it. Knew what it was.

“General gave you that name? Really?”

She nodded.

“Well, fuck me square, a little general’s girl. Tomorrow I come back, okay? Show you a little something. See this? Money. Know what you can get with it? All the candy you want. Make-up. Clothes. Ain’t just generals got it in America. We all do. They tell you that? Someone did? Who? I got to teach you to say what’s on your mind. All this nodding and smiling. Something about you, I know that much. You look odd. No one feed you when you was little?  Didn’t hurt your teeth none. Guess you didn’t use them much, huh? You a runaway from North Korea?  Yes?  Whoa, baby, watch your behind. Them Northie gooks come sweep you right off the street and ship you back to what?  Nothing, they got nothing. All the something is here. We got it in the PX. South Koreans got it, too, and who gave it to them? Yep, me, you got that right. Whatever you want, any kind of music or car, you name it  cartoon shows! came from America. We run the world, honey. This place is ours.”

In the classroom, they taught her the words the soldiers used. The women in the house talked that way, and the girls liked it, talking American. Very special. Who could do it best? They all tried. Bathroom. Wee-wee. Poop. Over the top. Give me some. Who came from North Korea?  Three did: Na Cheon, Park Pok-sun, and Hei Ryung. Each learned magic phrases: We’re from the countryside, we lost our parents, we don’t know how. No mother, no father, no brother. These magic phrases made it easier to get a soldier to be your brother daddy and give you whatever you wanted and take you to America. And when Na Cheon got bold enough, she offered rabbit sex in the alley. She liked the money Charlie gave her and how he laughed that he was fucking a general’s little girl.

“Tell you what. He can have his as long as I get mine. Men say they can fuck all night but women’s the ones. Why be selfish? I say spread the wealth. Girl knows a lot can give you a lot.”

She had money so she bought clothes. She had money so she bought presents. The North Korean girls taught the South Korean girls about rabbit sex. Two or three Americans and two or three girls in the alley or a basement across the street. Quick fuck, quick money.

Some Seoul women caught them and chased them and yelled at the soldiers to give them business, not these girls. Na Cheon and her friends hid and watched. Not so rabbit. Beautiful breasts, eyes and hair. Different sex, different ways the men liked.

“Oh, sweet pain, mama, sweet, sweet pain!  Spread your legs wide ‘cause here comes the train!”

A Korean man grabbed her and Park Pok-sun and pulled them into an elevator. Then he pushed them off the elevator into an apartment where he said, “You love these Americans?”

They said yes, they did, very much.

“Well, I have news for you: men in Pakistan pay ten times what these guys pay. You work once, twice a week, the rest of the time you eat and do your hair, whatever you want. I can make that happen. Interested?”

Park Pok-sun asked what kind of work.

The Korean man laughed. “What you do right now but in a great big bedroom with a real soft bed. No basements, no alleys, all cushy as can be. You like it, it likes you!  The Punjab, sweeties, boat ride to paradise. What about it?”

How could they know? There were women old as mothers on the ship, a big room where everyone waited, and little rooms where they went with the sailors. How old was Na Cheon?  Didn’t know. Not every sailor wanted her. No titties yet. Where was her period?

“What is period?”

“The blood between your legs,” an older woman explained.

“I have no blood between my legs.”

“Don’t tell me you’re pregnant, Na Cheon. Where did you come from, you and Park Pok-sun?”

“The countryside.”

“Oh, come on. The truth. You came from North, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I don’t know. Seoul, like you, like everybody.”

“All right, say that if you want, but here’s what we’ve learned and you will too: all men do the same thing to all women wherever they’re from. You can be rich and work in hotel, you can have a little house, you can be here, but it’s all the same. They do what they do because they have to. Men worship us. Remember that. Bow down, bow down, praise your holy queens and princesses, you bastards, and seek entrance to our sacred temples. They get out of line, you tell their little dicks that.”