Lifeguard Jeon

° S E V E N °

The lifeguard.

Obediently she kneels at his feet, head raised.

JOY! How could you do this to me? This is the last time I am letting you off the leash.

I suck in all the air I can hold and head over to get her. I glance at the lifeguard and then look away. "Sorry," I say. That seems to be the operative word around him.

He stands there silently, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes stares into mine, that unswerving gaze. Does he even blink?

"Come here, Joy." I fumble, suddenly uncoordinated, trying to attach the stubborn clip of the leash to the ring on her collar as she edges away to avoid it. Coordination 101 and I'm failing. No chance of passing.

"What?" I shoot back. He's still staring.

I look away, and then glance up at him again after I manage to clip the leash to the collar. I won't bring up what happened. What would be the point?

I want to be cool, detached. This is so not a big deal. But it's impossible to look away. I'm drawn to him as though a magnetic field surrounds him. It isn't something I can get past and I'm filled with wonder again the way I was the first time I saw him. He must know that. How could he not? Everyone around him has to feel flawed. Could that not go to your head?

What I want most is to stop and objectively study his face to separate what it is exactly that makes him so exclusive. Two eyes, a nose and a mouth - same as every other human being. Only nothing about him adds up logically. He's got an aesthetic personality. He isn't like anyone else and it eats at me. I'm surprised he doesn't walk on water. Instinctively, I resist the power and sway he holds over me.

He bends down and scratches Joy's head, then lifts his eyes up at me. "There's a leash law on the beach, Suzy," he says, softly.

How does he know my name?

"But nobody really follows it, do they?"

He stands up and lifts his chin slightly. "When I'm on duty they do."

"Why can't Joy run free? She isn't bothering anybody."

He shrugs. "Not every dog is as friendly as Irene's."

"Has there ever been a problem?"

He shakes his head slowly. "Not while I'm on duty."

I ignore that and start to walk away with Joy.

"How's your face?" he asks, pulling me in.

I stop and turn back to him. Without noticing, I rub it. "Still bruised."

He steps toward me and studies the side of my face, reaching out and slowly running his fingers slightly on the side of my jaw, his eyes grazing my lips.

"Still swollen," he says, almost to himself.

A caring gesture, showing concern, nothing more. Only my body registers it as something else entirely. I resist the urge to take on small step that would close the space between us. I look away and trying to stop a giggle from the idea that's absurd and out of the question.

Does he see what he's done to me? Feel it?

How can he not?

I'm suspended, as transparent and brainless as a jellyfish in its watery skin, reduced to feeling and sensing, floating along without thinking.

What do I saw or do?

I want to grab Joy's leash and run somewhere quiet to sit alone and collect my thoughts and go over what really happened, what it meant.

Or didn't mean.

All the touches of normalcy, familiarity, and sanity have disappeared. I've lost my center of gravity, sinking into a hole of helpless longing with an aching, cliched crush.

Does his face say I'm imaging this?

It's expressionless, giving nothing away. What did I expect? He isn't short of breath. He's very calm, controlled, supremely confident, guarding the intimate thoughts in his head, and I am so totally out of his league. His face reveals the mildest curiosity, if anything.

"What about you?" says another me, who magically appears to rise the challenge. My hand reaches up and strokes the side of his jaw.

Is he real? I need to touch his perfect skin and find out what he feels like. My fingers lightly caress the spot where I landed on him. His skin isn't warm, it's hot, as if the heat of the sun inside him.

"Here, right?"

A corner of his mouth curls up slightly. There's the slightest flicker in his cool eyes. He shakes his head. "I don't bruise," he says, dismissively. His eyes offer a silent challenge to figure him out.

I tilt my head, not understanding. "What do you mean you don't bruise?"

He shrugs. "It never happened."

If he were human he'd have skin and blood, and being slammed in the face ruptures blood vessels and causes bleeding and bruising, at least that's what I learned in anatomy & physiology and I got an A. No one ever said any of that was up for discussion.

What do I say to that?

I stand there awkwardly, the silence widening, creating a larger divide between us. I sigh and look up at him questioningly, instantly sorry I've given him a hint of reaction. He smiles slightly, enjoying putting me on the edge. It's so clear. I hate that. This time he holds my gaze.

Now he's determined to win the staring contest.

Until Joy comes to my rescue, breaking the deadlock, convincing me she's not only smart, she's brilliant. She totally gets it. She jumps up on me and barks. It's time to take her home and feed her. She knows in her bones when it's supper time and her animal alarm clock has gone off. I start to guide her away.

"Well, then, you're more than a lifeguard," says that other me from where I don't know. "You're Superman."

He shakes his head slowly. "I can't fly," he says, raising an brow. "At least, not yet."

I stand there and stare for another minute, and that sets Joy off again.

"She's jealous," he says, amused.

I shrug. "Probably just hungry."

He smiles slightly. It doesn't distract him. Not the least hint that he felt the slight.

I lead Joy away, waving my hand. "Bye, Superman."