Lifeguard Jeon

° S I X T E E N °

I bike to the hospital to see how Tae is doing, even though I'm off for the weekend. I stop at the library to pick out books for him and then make my way along the hall to his room.

The walls of the children's wing are decorated with crayon drawings done by the kids. I love the spontaneous way they express themselves and the youth in their work. the pictures of happy kids are oversized, filling the paper with images of themselves and their families with zany ear-to-ear smiles. In one, the sun is the size of a basketball with straight lines like spokes of a wheel poking out in all directions. The colors are bright and bold, the strokes free and open.

Then there are the sad kids, the troubled ones. Their figures small and cryptic. There's a darkness in their eyes, as if their creativity is locked inside a prison of pain.

I get to Tae's room and thinkI'm in the wrong place. The balloons at the foot of the bed are gone. So is the stuffed animals surrounding his TV. Everything is lifeless and clean. I check the number next to the door.

It's not the wrong room.

It's like he never existed.

I run to the nurse's desk. "Jisoo, where's Tae? What happened?"

She looks at me sympathetically. "Back in the ICU, Suzy." she says in a whisper. "There were complications."

"Like what?"

"He started having seizures and vomiting."

I'm not a doctor and I don't understand this, but her face tells me all I have to know. "What's going to happen to him?"

She shakes her head. "We just don't know. It's hard to tell at this point."

"He's just a little boy."

She reaches out and touches my hand. "I know, Suzy. It's never easy working here, especially in Pediastrics."

I walk back into his room and sit in the chair near the empty bed, my arms crossed over my chest, my eyes closed. Finally, I get up and walk to the window. Birds are flying around as if they smell food and is ready to swoop down, making me think of the pterodactyls. One creature surviving at the expense of another. The coldness of nature. Where does a little child fit in? To whom would he fall prey?

Just outside the door I see Jungkook. Why is he here? He steps into the room and looks around.

"Where's Tae?"

He's been caught off guard, setting off a rush of nervousness and uncertainty in me.

"I . . . He's back in the ICU, I heard."

His eyes are shadowed with worry. "Since when?"

"This morning . . . He started having seizures."

I expect to hear him say something reassuring to give me hope; instead he disappears into the hallway.

° ° ° ° ° ° 

On my way out I pass a church. I've never been inside it. I can't remember the last time I was in church. Now I should be fist in line at confession.

You're a thief, Suzy.

Is this my punishment?

I pull open the door of the heavy wooden doors. No white clean rooms and life-support machines here. The room is bathed in warm, golden light. Candles flicker on the alter. Diffused light pours through a stained glass window. I feel like I'm inside a painting.

I slide into a cool bench, lean back, and close my eyes. This has to do with serenity than religion. I think of sanctuary and the power of prayer.

Is there anything I can do to help him? Some people are convinced that praying for others can heal them, even if you don't know them personally. Others swear it makes no difference. What would Irene say? Science, science, fiction, or in the middle?