Lifeguard Jeon

° T H I R T Y - T H R E E °

Irene drives my parents to the airport. They're caught in the middle. They don't want to stay or leave, and the hardest decision is what to do with me. Drag me back with them, going against my wishes? Or let me stay with the risk of something else happening that they could've prevented? 

Irene has the final say in convincing them to let me finish the summer with her. She trusts me, in spite of everything. On top of that, it's hard to argue for going back to Gwangju with nothing to do without Sulli.

So the beach wins out. And so do I.

Appa rarely shows emotion, but I swear that tears well up in his eyes when he kisses me good-bye at the airport. "Allergies," he comes up with, out of nowhere. "Take care of yourself," he says. "No more stupid stuff, okay?"

Stupid stuff? Does that mean going swimming when there are riptides, following the lifeguard to deserted beaches, or all of the above? Not sure, exactly, but to make it easier for appa, I don't ask for clarification.

"Promise." He needs to hear that.

"be careful," is all eomma says. The umbrella advice. "Take care of yourself."

"I'll be fine. Don't worry, please."

Eomma holds out her hands. "Me not worry? It's in the genes," she says, studying me as if it's for the last time.

Irene and I wait at the gate until they both disappear to the plane.

"That was easy," she says, as we head to the car.

° ° ° ° °

When I hear her voice on the phone it caught me off guard. "Sulli?"

She starts to laugh. "Did you forget already?"

"Omo, how did you get to use the phone?" In a rush I realized how much I've missed her.

"I made up a story, at least I think I it's a story. I told them my best friend nearly drowned."

There's silence on the line.

"Omo, you did," she says, her voice dropping. "Are you okay now? You're scaring me to death, Suzy."

"I'm okay, I am," I say, my voice cracking. "But . . . there's so much to tell you. "It was just . . .so scary. I got pulled out by the riptide . . ." I leave it at that.

"I knew something was wrong. I knew it. It was first time that you didn't write. and you sounded do down." She pauses. "What happened?"

"The water was rough and it pulled me out."

"Why did you go in? I mean, don't they keep everybody out when they it's dangerous?"

"I thought I'd just cool off . . . It was hot."

"He was the one who saved you?"

"He heard me calling for help."

"You were testing him," she says.

"What?"

"You were making him prove himself to you."

"It was the riptide, Sulli . . ."

"I know you, Suzy."

"I didn't mean for anything to happen," I whisper. "I had no idea . . ."

"It's over," she says. "Thank goodness, you're safe."

° ° ° ° °

Irene has a library with a wall of science books. I get on a ladder and reach to the top about sea life. I turn to the index: Stingrays.

"Stingrays are most often found in shallow waters of temperate seas," it says. Not mentioning Busan or South Korea. It goes on to talk about the type of stingrays and how they're shy and nonaggressive, unless they're threatened - in my case, pounced on. Reflexively, they lash out with their serrated tails, causing a laceration from the teeth of the spine. To make it worse, the underside of the tail injects a venom that immediately causes excruciating pain and can be fatal to humans.

Now I understand.

The unimaginable pain, the paralysis. That was the last thing I remember as I sank to the bottom.

"Unlike most other fish toxins," the book goes on, "the venom of stingrays can be broken down with high heat." The wound should be immersed in very hot, but not scalding water for to 90 minutes, it says.

I think of Jungkook and how his hands sent deep, penetrating heat surging through me. Not only did he pull me out of the water, he detoxed me. I close the book and put it back into the shelf. The pieces  of the mystery are coming together, only one question remains. There aren't any stingrays in Busan.

So how did that one get there?

° ° ° ° °

I take a bath before I go to bed, drying myself and then smoothing lavender scented cream over my legs. The marks where they took out the stitches are barely visible. The pink, jagged scar is so faint it's hard to see anymore. I put more cream on the leg, caressing it with my hand because it ties me to Jungkook. I need to see him again, to learn more about him.

But before I do, I want to go to the beach and find Yoongi. I'm convinced that he played a role in saving me, but I can't help wondering why he didn't come see me int he hospital. He's old and it's probably hard for him to get around, but I thought he'd visit. I thought he'd be there. I haven't seen in almost two weeks.

Even though I'm still a little stiff, I put on my helmet and take the bike. It's more of an effort than I expected, but I keep going, determined to build myself up again. When I manage to get to the spot where Yoongi usually sits, I see his chair is there as usual and he's in it. The umbrella is opened up next to him, but under it is someone else - someone I'm stunned to recognize. the hair first. Then the body. And when she turns toward me, her face.

The petite girl.

I know it's stupid, but the first thing I feel is jealousy. I've been replaced. I get ready to start pedaling away. He has other company, he doesn't need me around. I'm crazy, I know, but I can't help it. He's eighty-years-old. Still, I wonder if she's drawn to Yoongi the way I am. Before I can turn, Yoongi senses me there and waves.

"Suzy," he calls. "Come, sit with us."

I stare back and stand still, caught. Not knowing what else to do, I drop my bike on its side and take off my helmet.