"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Irene smiles slightly and tilts her head left, and then right, like half yes, half no.

Yes, Jin is a boy, actually a man. He's even hot for twenty-five or so. And he's her friend. In my mind that equals boy-friend. He lives in the next town and owns a restaurant where everyone goes for meals. Irene is such a fan of the food, she says, that Jin joked he'd have to either make her a partner or start taking her out.

"Jin moved to Busan after his wife died," she says. "He needed a small change from his old place.

Maybe I identify with that.

Right away I feel for him and like him. Mondays the restaurant is closed so Jin comes over. He drives a red truck with his restaurant's logo on the door. He walks in carrying fish wrapped in brown paper.

I remember seeing a real life for the first time in the grocery store. "EOMMA, IT HAS EYES!" I'd yelled. Eomma just laughed. but how wasI supposed to know? We didn't live near the water.

Jin heads for the kitchen to cook dinner. "Without work," he smiles. "I'm like a fish out of water."

Irene is happy to give him the job. She opens a bottle of wine and washes a bunch of spinach. Jin does everything else. It's a a Food Channel, the way he moves, first reaching for the lemon juice, the soy sauce, then chopping the garlic and the ginger with short, precise using his own knives. Without raising his head, he looks up and watches me watching him. He enjoys the audience, I think. But he's cool. he doesn't say anything.

Jin doesn't use measuring spoons like Eomma; just seems to know how long to shake each of the bottles lined up on the counter. I remember one of my vocab words - intuitive. You just know things, it means.

Even when he isn't smiling, Jin's face looks amused. The crinkles around his mouth and eyes, probably because he uses his eyes so much when he smiles. He wears jeans and a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up. On the chest pocket in red stitching it says, "EatJin." If he didn't own a restaurant, Jin would be a fireman, I think. If someone was in trouble, he's the type who would be there to help.

Which makes me think of the ghosts again. Did Irene ever talk to him about them? I could imagine both of them going upstairs with a flashlight like amateur detectives. I don't bring that up though because they'd laugh at me for being spooked.

When he finishes mixing everything together just right, he pours it over the fish and covers the container. he flips it over so both sides get equal time in the saucy bath. He sets it aside to soak, then turns to me.

"So you like it here?"

"I like it . . . It's just so different from Gwangju."

"I was there once," Jin smiles. "Went to the ACC, ate their cuisine ."

Something in my face must tell him what I'm thinking. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans across the kitchen counter toward me.

"Life changes, Suzy," he says, his voice almost hoarse, "and you can't help it. But your life isn't over when your parents divorce."

I shrug.

He tilts his head. "How old are you?"

"Twenty."

"You'll be moving out soon, then."

I nod.

"And what they're going through doesn't change the fact that they love you. In fact, they'll both need you more."

I try to stop my eyes from tearing up. "I know." It comes out breathy. I can't help it. It's easier to let your feelings out with some people more than others, and Jin listens with his heart.

"Don't spend time feeling sorry for yourself," he says, rubbing his neck. He stares into the distance as though thoughts of his own life tug at him. Abruptly he turns back to me. "Think about the good things ahead of you."

"Like what?"

He opens a white box on the counter and slides it over to me. Inside there's a chocolate cake with fruits on the top. He scoops chocolate frosting onto his finger and dabs it on the tip of my nose.

"Like dessert."