Night Moves

I take a deep breath before I push open the bathroom door. I keep my head down and my long black hair shielding my face like a thick curtain of protection. These nights at places like SILK, which sits at the core of Tokyo’s club scene, can get…intense with the fans, especially after one of our concerts.

As one-half of the most celebrated and popular K-pop duo in all of Asia, my privacy was sent to the sacrificial chopping block when I agreed to do this with Han 15 years ago. I had no idea how much that sacrifice would cost. I was just a 15-year-old kid back then with big stars in my eyes and a love for Han I thought would be forever. Boy, was I wrong about so many things back then.

Yet, here we are. Han and Min-ji. Our names go together like…how do Americans say it? Ahh, yes, our names go together like peanut butter and jelly.

I cringe to myself, picturing that absolutely foul American delicacy. I let out a laugh. That’s exactly what Han and I’ve become: a foul Asian delicacy. Well, at least, that’s how I feel. That’s why I’m in this bathroom. I look around. I look under each stall door to make sure I’m alone. Luckily, with the modern black and gold design, it’s already dark in here. Perfect.

I slip into the stall that was highlighted in Cody’s instructions, the one with its own mirror and sink. I have them memorized by now. This has to go off without a hitch. For my sanity. Plus, I can’t get Cody’s voice out of my head.

“If you don’t follow my instructions to a T, as the best night mover in Japan, you’ll be trapped forever.”

I can’t believe it was only 6 months ago that I learned about the concept of “jouhatsu,” or night moving. People help other people vanish on purpose into thin air. Ironically, I learned about it from the plot of a K-drama that’s popular right now. When I saw our tour would be in Tokyo for a week, I started doing research to find people who are in the night moving business. They help with everything. Setting up a new life. New identity. Secret travel to your next destination. Disguises. Bank accounts. Passports. Visas. It’s like Min-ji, the famous pop star, will never have existed.

At this point, I don’t care about the consequences. The search and rescue that will inevitably start once everyone thinks I’m missing. The tributes. The private investigation that Han will spearhead for the sake of caring appearances. I don’t care about any of the blowback. I just want out of this life.

A life that inspired an eating disorder. A cheating husband. Verbal and mental abuse from our evil manager, Kiki. The stalking fans. The relentless paps that never allow me a moment of peace. Han promised this wouldn’t be forever. That there would be an end where we could just coast. But with this new tour and never-ending greedy ways to make more money from our brand, I forgot who I was. Who I am. There are things I want that this life won’t allow. A stable, healthy home. A family, maybe. Things I never had as a child and things that were promised but never delivered by Han. Are we wealthy and well-loved? Yes, but none of it’s real or fulfilling. No one knows the real Min-ji underneath all of the glitz and glam. Not even me.

I look into the mirror at my face and laugh as I think these ranting thoughts. This rant in my head mirrored the impassioned and tearful speech I gave Cody at our first meeting. He assured me he doesn’t judge his client’s reasons or motivations for disappearing.

He gets done what has to get done for them to vanish. But deep down, I instinctively knew he was judging me. Just like everyone will if they ever discover the stunt I’m about to pull.

“Poor, little rich famous girl. The girl who had everything. Boo-hoo.” Insert deep eye-roll here.

Well, looks can be deceiving, and if Cody is worth the 1.5 million I paid him for the extra special vanishing package, then he will prove that point to the utmost with his deceptive ways.

I take in my appearance as it is, probably for the last time. I won’t ever look this way again. I’m becoming okay with that.

I push my silky black hair behind my ear. I reach to the other side to gather it up and roll it up in a bun so it will fit under the blonde wig I’m about to put on. With the wig fitted specifically for my head to ensure little chance of it shifting or falling off, I can see how I’m transforming into someone new just with that tiny adjustment. Wig in place. Check.

Now it’s time for the harder things. My dark, almost black eyes will now be an alarming shade of forest green with the help of contacts.

Next, I scrub my concert make-up off. I reach into the bag that was left behind the sink by Cody and his team and pull out the industrial-strength make-up remover, or I should say, glitter remover. There isn’t a product I have on that doesn’t contain the egregious stuff. I scrub and I scrub until the water mixes with my tears, and I can’t tell the difference between the two.

I reach even deeper into Cody’s Mary Poppins bag for the case that holds my prosthetic nose. It’s much bigger than my real one. This will be the sixth time I’ve put it on. Cody wouldn’t move forward with the plan until I had this down to a science. I smooth it on like I practiced. I pull out the new makeup that’s a shade deeper than my normal skin tone and blend, blend, blend. That’s a trade secret of any great makeup artist. It’s all in the blend. Maybe this can be my new profession in my new life.

Glasses come next. And for now, a small artificial baby bump. I slip off my skin-tight sequined red dress and let it slip down to the floor. I fold it up with care. It was my favorite of all the clothes I own. I can feel a tear start to seep down below my new black frames. Of all the things to get misty-eyed over. It’s not Han or my fans or my love of music. Nope, it’s this stupid red dress that I’m having a hard time letting go.

Maybe because the clothes felt like armor. A protection of sorts from all the shots being aimed at me. All of the expectations and pressure to be a certain way. My style was always mine. That was the only thing that was mine.

I take another deep breath as I place the dress with a gentle hand into the bag. I pull on the baby bump prosthetic. It’s not a full-on 9-month bump but something in between. Something to make me so drastically different from Min-ji. Then I pull over the black dress and lace up the black combat boots that complete the look. No one’s going to mess with a pregnant blonde woman at a nightclub in combat boots.

I pull my new passport out of my crossbody bag to make sure my look matches the photo exactly like we planned and practiced. Blonde hair, green-eyed Suki Lee, Japanese citizen. I shove the bag with my old self inside behind the sink just as instructed. I take one last look at Suki before I exit the stall. I saddle up to the eloquent row of black marble sinks to wash my hands like any normal bathroom goer would do. That was also deeply embedded into my instructions from Cody. Be cool. Act normal.

Blend. Blend. Blend.

I catch a glimpse of the girl beside me reapplying her cat-eyed liner on her lids. I hold my breath, thinking she will recognize me somehow.

But no, I’m Suki. I’m Suki. I’m Suki. Min-ji is gone.

The cat-eye girl whips around to open the door to get back into the thick of club excitement, and her high, slicked-back ponytail slaps me in the face with her movement, almost knocking off my glasses. I grab them before any damage is done. She doesn’t even acknowledge me. At first, I am appalled. Rude. People don’t treat me that way. Ever. But then the rewiring that has to start happening in this new skin starts to kick in. I smile to myself. It’s working. If it means getting hit in the face by some girl’s ponytail, then so be it.

I make my way out into the hallway of the dark club. The teal blue strobe lights whirling around and slicing people into odd geometric shapes start giving me a headache immediately. I take a few steps and stay along the wall that frames the dance floor.

50 feet until the exit.

I look around to see if anyone is paying attention to me.

25 feet.

At 10 feet, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I hold my breath and slowly turn my head around.

“Miss! You dropped this.” The backlit random person who was holding Min-ji’s signature silk handkerchief she always carried shook his hand at me so I would take it.

I look down at it and back up at the person.

“Miss?” He repeats, thrusting the garment at me with more force.

I take it. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He turns back to the throng of people sweating and dancing. The bass thumping aggravates my head even more.

I turn around and speed up my pace as I finally make it to the exit. I push open the door and take the biggest inhale I’ve ever taken in my entire life. The first garbage can I see, I toss the hanky. That was a close call. My ears are buzzing from the noise even though it’s much calmer on the street.

I continue to walk down the block from the club and order up a car from the local rideshare app. Something I could never do as Min-ji. I punch in the address to the Tokyo airport, and the car appears right around the corner.

“Yumi? I ask, matching the name of the driver in my app and the license plate number to make sure this all checked out. Another lesson from Cody.

“Yup! That’s me! I see we are headed to the airport. No luggage?” she asks with a broken Japanese accent.

“Nope. I’m heading home for a family emergency. There’s no time to pack.” I swallow the lie. Something else I’m going to have to get used to.

“Oh! Okay, I’ll get you to your terminal as quick as I can!”

“Thank you.” I turn my eyes from her's in the rearview mirror.

Luckily, she’s focused on her driving, and there is little need to engage further. Thank goodness. I’m clutching my passport and old-school paper ticket as Yumi weaves in and out of late-night Tokyo traffic. I won’t feel free until I’m on the plane.

The glaring light’s speed past the car window streaking across my vision just as my life for the past 15 years is also speeding past my memory. Our first tour. Our wedding. Creating music. The television appearances. Constantly being pulled in so many directions to the point of exhaustion. The last years were rough, though. The silence. The cheating. The isolation. The front. Some good. Mostly bad. But all in the past now.

I narrowly miss hitting my new blonde head into the front passenger seat as Yumi screeches to a stop in front of the terminal. I hop out and end the ride, giving Yumi a very generous tip. One more thing I need to get used to.

I walk into the airport and check my ticket one last time. First stop: Singapore. Then Thailand. Then Laos, and finally, Cambodia. The goal is to get lost in major cities and then settle into a small Cambodian village so I can do what I really want to do. Write novels. In peace.

6 months later

I’m hoping Min-ji is all but a long-forgotten memory in Korea. I wouldn’t know. I have no way of checking the news. I switch up burner phones every couple of weeks while I’ve been traveling around city-hopping. I haven’t felt so free in my entire adult life.

I push up my duffle bag on my shoulder. Yup, that’s all I need now. A single duffle bag with only the essentials. I look up at the spacious porch as I make my way up the steps of the small cabin in my new village in Cambodia. I look under the woven welcome mat for the key as instructed. Hopefully, the last set of instructions I’ll ever need.

I unlock the door and step into the open very simple space. I remove my shoes and drop my bag near the double front door. I can see over the minimalist living room onto the deck that wraps around the back of the cabin. I do a double take as I catch a shadow movement across the sliding glass door. I approach the door cautiously, ever ready to use my Aikido training Cody had me do 6 months before I left my old life behind.

I open the door, and the figure I notice is leaning against the deck railing. The sliding door squeaks on its track, and the figure turns around.

“Cody! What are you doing here?” I breath a sigh of relief.

“Min…I mean…Suki. I know this isn’t a part of your package, but these last few months, connecting with you over the burner phones, I had to make sure you were okay. I had to come see you in person.” Cody says, insinuating there’s something deeper to his visit.

We did connect. That’s true. He was the only deep connection I made in the last 6 months. The only person who bore witness to who I am becoming. Even if it was over cryptic text messages and phone calls on burner phones. His eyes are piercing right through me like I’m transparent rice paper.

“Cody,” I whisper. “I am just learning to be on my own, figuring out what I believe about myself for the first time in my adult life.”

He nods and looks at his feet his dark hair hiding his eyes. But I didn’t miss the hope leaving them just as quickly as it came.

“Okay.” He looks sheepish.

“I’m always here for you. You can believe that,” He continues.

I smile and go to hug him. This man. He will forever be my angel who saved me from a life of entrapment.

“Thank you, Cody. For everything.” I whisper into his warm down coat. “For absolutely everything. You gave me a new life.”

He pulls back to look at my face.

“Hey now, after all this, those better be happy tears.”

I nod as he turns blurry.

His hand cups my head back to his chest.

“You’re safe. And free. Forever.”

That makes me sob even harder.