Lifeguard Jeon

° S E V E N °

Eomma calss every other day. "Hey sweetie, how are you doing?"

I avoid feelings and go with activities: Drawing, walking, eating. I tell her about Jin and his cooking, his restaurant. Kimchi, stew, good things.

"Does Irene like him?"

Where is she heading with this? "I don't know, Eomma." I exhale hard.

"I mean, you know, as a boyfriend."

"They're friends . . .I can't tell. Um, what's the difference?"

That gets me thinking about eomma and the other men. Are there any others? I never met any. There was only appa until now. Would she start going out again?

Is there anything grosser than thinking of your mom or dad in bed with someone else? I remember asking Sulli.

"What about them doing it with each other?" She laughed. "That isn't gross?"

Only my parents probably weren't doing it - with each other anyway. I stop my head from going there.

Anyway, I refuse to meet their new girlfriends or boyfriends. I won't be home if they bring them over. I'll sleep someplace else, even the back of the car if I have to.

New topic. "What's happening with the house?"

"I think we finally found a buyer," she says, "but we haven't closed yet. It'll take couple of months."

"Months?"

"It's a long process."

"And then?"

"We're both looking at places. Prices are crazy . . . it's going to be a while."

Silence. We're both holding on, breathing on the life line between us.

"I'm glad you're in a prettier place," she said, finally.

The beach or my state of mind?

"I miss you," she adds. 

"I miss you too," I say.

"Are you okay there?"

Is she going to cry? "I'm fine," I say, the parent reassuring the nervous child.

° ° ° ° °

Irene goes to the grocery store for dinner, so Joy and I walk to the beach. There's a leash law, at least that's what the rusted metal sign on the fence says, among other things.

No alcohol.

No loud music.

No spitting.

No glass bottles.

No ball playing.

Dog on leashes.

I've seen other dogs running on their own so I let Joy off the leash and she runs. I have a whistle in my pocket that Irene says bring her back if she goes too far. Joy is in better shape than I am and she races along. She's having the time of her life running free in the sand, digging holes and then jumping back and forth in and out of the water, as if she's in tune of its power and mystery on her special dog frequency. After a few minutes of trying to keep up with her, I slow to a walk.

Somewhere behind me a whistle blows. I look out to see if a swimmer went out too far, but I don't see anyone. It blows again. Joy turns and start running back toward me. To her it's a command.

"Good girl, Joy," I call out. I raise my hand and wave to show her where I am. Only when she gets closer, she doesn't run up to me. She heads toward - no.