Lifeguard Jeon

° T W E L V E °

"How was the hospital?"

I look up from reading. "Oh . . . okay."

"What did you do?"

"They showed me the pediatrics floor and I went to the library and picked out books to read."

Irene waits, expecting more. She gives up. "So when do you go back?"

"Tomorrow, I guess, in the morning."

"I have an appointment, otherwise I'd drop you, but you can take one of the bikes in the garage. It's a quick ride."

I like the idea of getting around by myself. I nod and go back to the book. The plot has everything set out for them.

And me? One more of college, then a small-time job, and I'm not sure how far away to go. I can't help thinking now of camp visiting day when my parents came up together. What would happen how? Would it feel awkward and depressing for them to visit me after college together when they're weren't a couple anymore?

I read a book about a girl with divorced parents who grew up in the 50s. It said she came from "a broken home."

Now that's me.

Broken home, broken life, broken spirit. Like the children's song, my heard starts to sing.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

All the king's horses and all the king's men

couldn't put Suzy together again.

Irene looks over at me. I pretend not to see. She shakes her head, finishes drying the dishes, wipes her hands on the towel and goes into her office. I go upstairs carrying milk and two donuts, the unhappy girl's default snack. I take out my pale pink stationary box so I can write to Sulli. I bought it two years ago just before camp. I remember standing at the stationary store trying to decide which I liked better, the paper with the red hearts or the one with pink ribbons, as if things like that truly mattered in the world.

Now for the first time in six years, only Sulli is away for the summer. "I'm in a great bunk," she said in her first letter. "And guess what? I already have a part in the camp play."

YES!

She's obviously fine without me. She's a CIT and it's her last year unless she goes back as a counselor. We thought we'd be together, that we'd end our six-year tradition at the banquet at the end of August with plastic glasses of "champagne." I had a fake ID and we even talked about sneaking into town for a six-pack - something real to toast with.

I make a lame effort to sound happy.

Hey bestie, camp sounds so cool - and wow, being an CIT - OMG, congrats!
Things here are close to comatose. Let's see. No socials, but there's a fairly hot - no, take that out - God-like lifeguard at the city's beach. Only don't get excited, he's already taken, and anyway, even if he wasn't, he's so high on himself and uninterested in me - long story: I save it. Otherwise . . . I started volunteering at the local hospital.

I put the pen down. Should I tell her about today? As soon as I start writing, everything I wanted to forget pours out.

I was in the hospital - my first day, Sulli - and, while I was there, just on my way downstairs to get a soda, a man holding a small boy in his arms rushed through the doors. His clothes were soaked with blood - it looked like he was shot. Then I saw the boy's head. He couldn't have been more than six or seven. Black curls hung off the side of his face - encrusted with blood. I felt like I couldn't breathe when I saw him.