Moonglass. Part 5

"Unlock it. I can't talk to you right now. I can't. Unless you want to explain what this is. Why we came here, why James knows more about my own family history than I do ... why we don't talk about her anymore. I don't get it, Dad."

He was silent, and I stared through the blur of my tears and reflection at the now dark beach cottage that had been my mother's.

"That's what I thought," I said. "Let's don't talk about it, just like always." My hand found the unlock b.u.t.ton, and I burst out the door, just as he finally responded. It wasn't until after I had slammed the door shut that I really heard what he'd said: "You stopped asking."

CHAPTER 10.

It was a day for kites. The lifeguards watched over empty wind-whipped water from inside their towers as sand filled in the small valleys and smoothed itself over. I hoped none of them had been at the party the night before. I pulled my hood over my head and tied the strings so it would stay on, then headed up the beach to where I could see rocks strewn all over the sand in piles in front of the abandoned cottages. I hadn't been up this way yet, but I wasn't in the mood for sightseeing, so I kept my head down. The less I moved my neck around, the less the champagne ache wrapped itself around my head. It came in waves, alternating with nausea that made me squint behind my sungla.s.ses. I walked the waterline like this, hands shoved into my pockets, not really paying attention to anything. I just wanted to be out of the house, where my dad and I moved around each other, silent and not knowing where to start.

A few paces ahead a freshly uncovered rock pile spread out in front of a falling-down cottage. Grateful for a distraction, I picked my way over to it but then stepped on a pebble that jabbed painfully into the arch of my foot. My foot jerked up reflexively, and as it did, I saw my first piece of gla.s.s for the day. It was a thumbnail-size green shard, still wet from the receding tide. When I lifted it and held it up to the light, it showed a deeper almost turquoise green. I rubbed its smooth edges between my thumb and forefinger inside the warmth of my sleeve and turned my attention to the surrounding sand.

"I didn't think I'd have any compet.i.tion out here on a day like this," said an unfamiliar voice. I turned around. An older woman wearing only shorts and a Ts.h.i.+rt stood behind me, smiling. The wind whipped her waist-length brown hair around her, and she made no effort to control it.

"Oh, um, are you looking for sea gla.s.s too?"

"Yup." She motioned to the rocks. "We haven't had rock piles like this in quite a while. Yesterday's waves uncovered them." I nodded and pulled my green piece out of my pocket. "Yeah, I just found a pretty little green one."

"May I?" she asked. I handed it to her, and she held it up to the sun between rough fingers. "Yep, that's a beauty." I smiled, and she handed it back, then reached into her pocket. Her hand rummaged around, making sure she got all of what was in it. When she brought it out and uncurled her fingers, I leaned in closer. Scattered over the palm of her hand were some of the most vibrant colors of sea gla.s.s I had ever seen. Turquoise, cobalt blue, and purple all mingled like jewels.

"Did you find all those right here, today?" I looked around my feet, hoping for some of her luck.

"Yeah. I told ya. It's like somebody cracked open a treasure chest." She chuckled a little. "I suppose I can share my rock piles with you for today. You seem to be someone who has an appreciation for what the ocean can uncover." She stuck out her hand. "Name's Joy. I used to live here, but now I just visit it when I can."

I wondered if when she said "here" she meant she'd been one of the residents. Who'd been forced to leave. By the state, which my dad worked for. A little wave of nervous guilt went through me, but when I took her hand, it was warm in spite of the chilling wind, and I relaxed. She had no idea who my dad was or where I lived.

I shook it. "I'm Anna." She held on, just a moment too long, her eyes studying mine, until I unclasped my hand from hers. I tucked my arms over my chest.

"Aren't you cold?"

"Honey, look at me. I'm old. I haven't been cold for two years, if you know what I mean." I laughed a little, sure there must be some small joke in her comment, and thankful the strange moment had pa.s.sed. "I'm gonna head up that way"-she motioned with her head-"so we don't cross paths and have to fight over the same pieces." She stepped effortlessly in her bare feet over the stones and continued on with her back to me, head down in quiet contemplation, like the rest of the world didn't exist. I stood watching, and an image of my mother walking the beach the same way opened up in my mind.

I was little, maybe four or five, but the memory was vivid and one I held close and dear.

We walked together in the warm afternoon light, and every so often she would stoop to pick something up. She'd smile as she rubbed the sand off a piece of sea gla.s.s, hold it up for me to see in the sunlight, and drop it into our special blue pouch that she kept for these walks. Our walks had gotten more rare by then, but I'd wait for the days when she'd light up and ask me to join her, and we'd walk for hours.

The first piece I ever found by myself was on a walk like that. She walked ahead while I trailed a stick in the sand, watching the wavy path it made. A translucent triangle lying in the waterline caught my eye, and I bent down to investigate. White water rushed up almost to it, and I s.n.a.t.c.hed it up quickly and then held it up, yelling to my mother that I had found "A beauty," just like she always called them. She turned and broke into a proud smile, then picked me up and squeezed me tight.

"This one is yours, Anna. We'll start you your own jar." I dropped it into the special pouch and carried it the rest of the way, searching for another piece, hooked on the treasure and the happiness it had brought to my mother's face. Out of all the pieces of sea gla.s.s in the jar in my room, I could still pick this one out effortlessly. It sat in the bottom of the jar, buried beneath the pieces collected over years of walking the beach without her.

Water rushed up around my feet, and beneath it I caught a flash of a slick surface. I didn't reach with my hand but put my foot down hard over the spot and waited until the water receded, leaving an indentation in the sand. I lifted my foot and bent down to retrieve the piece of gla.s.s. I didn't much care for the brown ones, but always picked them up in case they were actually red. In the sunlight I could see that it wasn't. I was about to throw it back when I saw Joy out of the corner of my eye.

"You ever heard of mermaid tears?" she asked, eyeing the piece of gla.s.s poised in my hand. When she said it, I saw my mom again, this time seated next to me while we buried our toes in the sand. She told the story while I imagined beautiful, lonely women swimming beneath the waves.

"Sea gla.s.s, right? Something to do with mermaids and sea gla.s.s."

She nodded reverently and took the piece of gla.s.s from my hand, then held it up in the wind and the sun. "The story is that each piece of sea gla.s.s that washes up on the beach is a crystallized tear that a mermaid has shed for a lost love." I could hear my mom's lyrical voice telling the same story as I sat next to her, my arms around my knees. I hadn't thought of it in forever, but the memory took shape as I listened to Joy.

She went on, turning the brown gla.s.s between her fingers. "They come from the ones who are unfortunate enough to fall in love with humans, and the mermaids are in for a lifetime of sadness because they can never be with their true loves. Only on the nights when a full moon s.h.i.+nes on the water can they come to sh.o.r.e." She looked from the gla.s.s to me. "And those nights are magical, but as soon as dawn comes, they have to swim back into the ocean, leaving a trail of rainbow-colored tears behind them."

I bit my lip, silent, as images of these beautifully lonely creatures entangled themselves with flashes of my mother.

"You should never feel sorry for mermaids, though," she went on. "They've been known to take that beauty and that sadness and pull down the object of their love in a second, if given the chance. There's a poem by Yeats: A mermaid found a swimming lad, Picked him for her own, Pressed her body to his body, Laughed; and plunging down Forgot in cruel happiness That even lovers drown."

She looked out over the water, and I followed her lead. I could remember being little and thinking that mermaids were gorgeous and strong and free, because my mother had told me so. I'd gone to bed many nights wis.h.i.+ng I would grow a tail as I slept so I could go find her, out among the waves, waiting for me.

Joy handed me back the piece of brown gla.s.s and curled my fingers around it, then looked directly at me. "I always loved the story of the mermaid tears best, though. It's stories like that that make the little things beautiful."

I blinked and swallowed a lump. "I knew that one. My mom actually told it to me a long time ago, and I kind of forgot until just now." I looked down and traced a circle around a rock with my big toe, hoping she wouldn't notice my watery eyes.

Joy put her hand on my shoulder. "Honey, I told Corinne that story, many years ago, almost in this same spot." Air rushed out of me at the mention of my mother's name. I whipped my head up to face her. "You knew my mother?" Her face softened. "I sure did." She stopped for a moment. "She was around here a lot in the old days, and we got to know each other, on account of us both liking to walk the beach."

I stared at her, a million questions surfacing in my mind. But I didn't trust my voice to ask any of them. Joy started walking, and I went with her, pulled, like the tide to the moon. She turned to me and laughed softly. "You know, she learned all she knew about sea gla.s.s from me-from the best places to find it, to the rarest colors, to the story of the mermaids. She learned it from me, walking this same stretch of beach." I could only nod, willing her to go on. I ceased to be aware of the wind and cold and walked as if I was underwater. Joy's voice and the prospect of hearing more about my mother were the only things that filtered through. She looked over at me, and I saw sympathy and concern, the two hardest things in the world for me to take. "You look a lot like her, you know? Except for the brown eyes. That's your dad in you. Hers were the truest green I have ever seen. Sea green."

"That's what everyone says." I wiped my nose with my sweats.h.i.+rt sleeve. "I wish I could really remember, on my own. We have a million pictures, but I feel like I don't have her in my mind without them. Just little bits, here and there." Joy squatted down to pick up a frosty white piece of gla.s.s, and we kept walking.

"You do, somewhere in there." We took a few steps in silence, and I wished that I believed her. "You know the clearest picture I have in my mind of her?" I raised my head, interested. "It was a day when we were walking around out here. She had come back for a visit, pregnant with you." She smiled. "She could barely bend over to pick anything up. All of a sudden she let out a scream, and I just about thought she was going into labor right here on the sand." I felt the lump in my throat recede. "I turned around, ready to holler for help, and saw her squatting down on the sand, arm stretched out behind her, like to steady herself."

"What was it?"

"Well, it wasn't labor that she was screamin' about. She had found herself a red piece of sea gla.s.s." A split-second image flashed in my mind. My mom letting me hold her red piece of gla.s.s, her telling me it was the rarest color. "It wasn't just a crumb, like I've found. It was a real beauty. She had a lucky eye that day." Joy's sunburned face creased as she smiled, and I saw her for someone genuine who had probably meant something to my mother.

"Hm." I brought my hand to the thin chain around my neck. "I have a piece of red. Did you ever hear of moongla.s.s?"

"Can't say I have."

"Well, I think it's something we made up, my mom and me." I pulled out the red pendant and held it away from my neck. Joy stopped walking and let the gla.s.s rest in her hand, just beneath my chin.

"It's beautiful," she said, rubbing her thumb over the smooth surface. "No rough edges at all. Moongla.s.s?" she asked, letting it fall to my sweats.h.i.+rt.

"Yeah." I looked down at it. "When we lived up in Pismo and my dad worked nights, my mom and I would sometimes go for walks when there was a full moon and the tide was low. And one night I bent down to pick up what I thought was a rock, because I used to like to collect those, too, but it was a piece of sea gla.s.s. Since we were out at night, we called it moongla.s.s."

"I've never thought to look for it at night," Joy said. "But that makes sense. A full moon brings the lowest tide, so that'd be the perfect time to look." She nodded at the necklace. "Was that the piece you found? Don't tell me you found a red piece of gla.s.s on the beach at night."

"No." I looked down at the sand. "Not that night. But it is a piece of moongla.s.s." I paused. "I found this one on another night. Just lying out in the middle of the wet sand, all by itself. The lights from the pier were s.h.i.+ning off it." I moved it from side to side on the chain and looked down at the ground. "My dad had a hole drilled in it and made it into a necklace a while after. It's the one and only red piece I have."

Joy stooped down to pick up another green one, just as I saw it. "Well, honey, you keep that one close to you. That's a lucky treasure indeed. Probably was fresh from a mermaid on her way back out to sea." A wave of nausea washed over me just as the cool water rushed up over our feet. I shut my eyes for a moment, willing it away. When I opened them, a movement just in my peripheral vision made me turn.

It was the crawling man. He was just as I had seen him before, bent in a painful-looking bear crawl, head down, crosses swinging and pulling at his wrinkled neck. Joy noticed me looking and shook her head sympathetically.

"Never misses a Sunday. It could be pouring rain with waves thundering down onto the beach and hurricane winds, and he'll be out here, as predictable as the moon or tides. Every Sunday."

He didn't acknowlledge us as he pa.s.sed by but kept on his slow, methodical pace with resolve. I tilted my head to try to get a glimpse of his face, but it was shadowed except for the silver stubble on his chin. "Have you ever talked to him?" Joy chewed her lip and continued to watch him. "No. He doesn't talk to anyone. I figure he doesn't think he deserves to. See that? His s.h.i.+rt?" I nodded.

The single word stood out, bold and black in the wind. REPENT. "He blames himself for something, and in his mind there's no other way that he can make up for it besides reminding himself. And this is how he does it." We both watched him. "Everyone has their cross to bear, but his are right out there for us all to see. It's his guilt, strung around his neck." I didn't say anything, suddenly aware of the weight of the red sea gla.s.s around my own neck.

"I've thought of talking to him," Joy went on. "Thought, all he needs is someone to tell it to, whatever it is. Let him get it off his chest so he can move on." I stood, silent, watching the crawling man make his way, slowly, painfully, up the beach, doing his penance for something only he knew about. I knew the feeling. Nausea rolled hard through my stomach, and I turned away from Joy and dry-heaved over the sand. I felt a warm hand on my back as I stared hard at the sand in front of me.

"You better be getting back to your house. tell your dad I said h.e.l.l o. And be good to him." I stood up and wiped my mouth. "What do you mean?"

She looked down the beach toward our cottage, then back at me. "What I mean is, it can't be easy for him to be back here. I could see it all over him the other day. So give him some time."

I looked at her in disbelief. I'd appreciated a story about my mom, but this was overstepping. She had no idea. And no place.

"Well, thanks," I said curtly. "Thanks for enlightening me. I'll give my dad your regards." I turned and walked hard, wind at my back. As I did, a twinge of guilt worked its way around me like a corkscrew, but I didn't slow down.

CHAPTER 11.

A woman's laughter, followed by a familiar male voice, drifted down the steps from the backyard as I approached. I stopped midstep and listened, wavering between being peeved that someone was at the house and grateful for a distraction. And then I recognized a voice I had known since childhood.

"Holy s.h.i.+t!" Andy blurted out as I paused on the top step. "She jumped from the top of it? Dude ..." My dad just shook his head and swallowed a hard swig of beer.

I leaned casually on the corner of the house and tried not to smile, proud that Andy seemed impressed. He saw me. "Anna Banana! We were just talking about you." He strode over and lifted me up, squeezing until I felt my headache returning. "Guess you had some night last night. Huh, kiddo? Chip off the old block! You know, back in the day your dad-"

My dad cut in. "I think she got her little dose of history last night." He glanced at me and offered a tentative smile. A smile that asked if we could drop it for now. I looked away. "Besides, you were supposed to back me up and tell her how dangerous that jump is. And with lifeguards, too."

Andy put on a stern look and raised his index finger at me. "No sixteen-year-old girl should be jumping off rocks, drunk, in the middle of the night. With lifeguards. How's that?"

Judging by their tone, they weren't on their first beers. The mood felt genuinely light with them together, and I was too tired to stay mad. I raised an eyebrow. "Just so you have the story right, I wasn't drunk. And I think it was only midnight or so. And I thought you were always supposed to swim near a lifeguard. But you're well on your way to being a strict disciplinarian."

My dad took another swig and rolled his eyes. Andy held up his beer, tipping his head. "Well said. Joey, I think the girl can hold her own. Anna, don't go jumping off any more rocks. You'll give your old man a heart attack. Now. Let's call it done and get out there." He looked from me to my dad, who I could tell was almost ready to let it go. He probably thought he should make me sweat it, so I obliged and walked over to him, doing my best to look remorseful. "Dad ... I'm sorry I jumped off the rock that you made legendary. I was just trying to make you proud." I gave a little shrug and looked down, knowing it had a pretty good chance of working, since Andy was there.

He tried to keep a straight face for a second, then shook his head and turned, trying to hide a smile. "You smart-a.s.s. You're lucky I didn't drag the rest of the underaged off the beach too. That woulda made you a real hit with everyone." I silently thanked G.o.d or fate or whatever that he hadn't.

"Who's a hit?"

I turned around at the sound of the female voice and saw, coming out of the kitchen carrying a gla.s.s of wine, a woman that had to be Andy's. She was exactly what he liked. Tall, blond, big b.o.o.bs-fake-and tan-also fake. She was definitely enough to match his tall swimmer physique. I bet she had fall en for that and the wavy hair. She stepped gingerly over the uneven paver stones of the patio and stopped in front of me.

"You must be Anna. well, you are gorgeous. Remind me not to stand next to you for too long." She looked over at Andy, waiting for him to introduce her.

He abruptly clunked down his beer and walked over to us, stifling a burp. "Anna, this is Tamra." I smiled politely and stuck out my hand. "Nice to meet you. So ... you're Andy's new girlfriend?" Andy coughed. Tamra clutched her wine. My dad glanced over at me, and I knew I shouldn't have said "new." Andy was always in search of the love of his life, and he met them over and over. His string of girlfriends stretched long over the years that he had come to visit us. Every time, it was a new one. That was just how I thought of them.

Andy regained his composure, wrapped his arm around Tamra's shoulder, and grinned. "Yeah, sure. I thought you two ladies could get to know each other while we dive. Tamra has lived here in Newport Beach her whole life and went to Coast High. I thought she could fill you in on school and shopping and all that stuff, you know?" Tamra had smoothed her face over and now wore a polite smile that I guessed she had perfected a long time ago. Even my dad looked a bit hopeful.

I bit my bottom lip, trying not to smile. Just as Andy thought it was highly important to have women in his life, he also seemed to think that I needed them, as role models or something. Never mind that they were almost interchangeable. His intentions were mostly good, but I also figured it was because he wanted someone to take the women off his hands every so often so he could still hang out with my dad. I looked at him, falsely sweet. "Oh, that's so nice. But, um, I think I'm actually gonna dive with you guys." I looked back at Tamra in her tight dress and heels. "You should come. I have an extra wet suit."

She s.h.i.+vered a little, then let out a laugh as if I had suggested something ridiculous, which I had. "Honey, I'll be up here in that living room of yours with my gla.s.s of wine and Cosmo, waiting for some fresh fish." She nudged Andy. "You said you'd get me a halibut, right?" He nodded confidently. "Sunday Poke-N-Eat, baby." She looked puzzled. He grabbed up a three-p.r.o.nged pole spear and jabbed at the air. "You know, poke ... and eat. Old cove tradition, back from the good ol' days when we all -"

"Hey, catch!" My dad threw Andy's wet suit at him and then walked over to the shed and started pulling out our collection of dive gear. Tamra smacked Andy on the b.u.t.t and then disappeared back through the kitchen door. I looked out at the choppy water, not entirely sure I wanted to go diving, but sure enough that I didn't want to spend the rest of the afternoon making small talk with Barbie incarnate.

I fished my wet suit out of the pile that had been thrown out of the rubber tub, and started turning it right side out. It was completely dried out and stiff with salt from whenever I had gone out last, so putting it on involved a mix of pulling and hopping and cursing under my breath. Once I was zipped in, I pulled the hood over my head and tried to adjust to the squished cheeks it gave me. My dream was to be able to dive with no wet suit, but I had yet to make it to water warm enough for that, so next I put on gloves and then grabbed my fins and mask and followed the guys down to the water.

We made a silly-looking procession that drew the looks of a couple of kids playing in the late-afternoon glow near the waterline. My dad carried his spear gun and a take bag and looked like serious business. Andy followed him, dragging his pole spear behind. I had shot my dad's spear gun before and liked the muted thunk it made when I pulled the trigger underwater, but I didn't have any interest in shooting fish. I just liked to be out there and getting a look at the things most people never did.

The wind had died down almost completely, and I stood at the water's edge watching the remaining choppiness rollwith each swell . My dad walked back to me and spit into his mask, then rubbed it around. "We're going to work the rocks just beyond the tide pools and go south a ways. Try your best to stay near us." He smiled and pulled his mask down over his eyes, leaving the snorkel hanging off to the side. "If you get separated or get spooked or something, you know which way the sh.o.r.e is. You're gonna love it out there. It's gorgeous." I nodded and spit into my own mask, then used my thumbs to rub it around. I could see Andy's head out beyond the surf line already. My dad waited while I put on my mask, and we walked out together into waist-deep water, pausing to put on our fins before we submerged our faces into the choppy water.

The surface water was still all stirred up from the wind, so at first I saw only tiny particles suspended in hazy blue, and the bubbles that came up from my dad's fins kicking in front of me. We kicked straight out and then made a turn so we were parall el to the sh.o.r.e, headed for the outer rocks of the tide pools. The only sounds I was aware of were my own rhythmic breathing, exaggerated through my snorkel, and the occasional gurgle of air bubbles rising to the surface. The rest was a kind of quiet that only existed underwater. I settled into it, brought my arms down against my sides, and scanned the water below me.

We came to an area of rock covered in eel gra.s.s that promised a bit more clarity. My dad stopped ahead of me and let his legs sink down below him so that he hovered, vertical. He was watching something. I saw nothing but the gra.s.s that waved and rolled languidly with each swell, like a woman's long hair. He stayed still a second longer and then shook his head and began to kick again. Directly below me a bright orange Garibaldi darted out from under a rock overhang and swam right under me like I was invisible. That wouldn't have been what my dad was looking for, and I wondered for a second what else he had seen.

I floated there, watching the gra.s.s slip back and forth with the swell, and I caught a glimpse of what looked like it could be an abalone sh.e.l.l , about the size of my head, clinging to the rocks below. I took a deep breath through my snorkel, then pointed my head straight down at the bottom, kicking hard above me with my fins. Diving down, I was aware of two things: the almost immediate pressure in my ears, and how much light I lost in just a few feet of water. I plugged my nose and blew gently, releasing the pressure. It wasn't far down, maybe ten feet or so, but it was noticeably darker. And cooler. I grabbed a handfull of eel gra.s.s in each of my hands and moved along the pitted surface of the rock as far as my anchors would let me. The dim light made it hard to see the bright colors that I knew were there, but I was able to make out the small, curling fronds of a cl.u.s.ter of Spanish shawls, tiny plants that would wave bright purple and orange in better diving conditions. Just as I found the abalone again, my lungs started the burn that I knew meant I only had another few seconds before I'd have to surface and take another breath. I ran my gloved hand over the b.u.mpy surface of the ma.s.sive abalone and tugged just a bit to see if there was any give.

As I did, I caught a flash of what looked like blond hair moving by the periphery of my mask. I startled and kicked hard for the surface. Above me, I could see weak daylight, waving and distorted. It didn't take more than a few kicks before I broke through and blew hard to clear my snorkel. I lifted my mask to my forehead and looked around the now calm surface of the water, and then below me, my heart rate slowing. Then I saw it on my shoulder and had to laugh, though the laugh wasn't absent of nervousness. My ponytail had somehow snuck its way out of my hood and was now trailing over my shoulder and down my arm.

All of Joy's mermaid talk had me a little spooked. Stupid. I took a deep breath and scanned the surface of the water for some sign of the guys-bubbles or fins or something. They were nowhere to be seen. The sun was now almost touching the silhouette of Catalina, and I figured there was less than a half hour of good light left, so without completely deciding to go in, I put my mask in the water and kicked with slow, exaggerated kicks back over the rocks and headed to our originall path. There wasn't much to see in the haziness, and for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel completely at ease in the water.

Something had s.h.i.+fted in me, and as much as I tried to shake it off, I couldn't help but sweep my mask back and forth as I swam, checking to make sure that nothing was following me.

Beneath me, on the bottom, a dark band of small rocks and bits of sh.e.l.l came into view and moved millimeters back and forth with the swell . On a low tide this would be a good spot to look for sea gla.s.s. Now it was too dark, and starting to feel too cold. I popped my head up and found that I had made it back to the water directly in front of our house. In the light of the living room window, I could see Tamra in my green chair, winegla.s.s in hand, looking out in my direction. To the right of our house, my mother's cottage stood shadowed except for one last corner of sunlight glinting on the dusty upstairs window. For a moment I tried to picture her on the balcony, golden and warm, but I couldn't see her. I put my head back down and kicked in.

I got out of my dive gear as quietly and slowly as humanly possible, hoping to buy enough time for the guys to show up so I wouldn't have to make small talk with Tamra. I still felt a little bad about the "new girlfriend" comment. I also didn't really have anything to say to her that wouldn't sound totally forced, so I was hoping for a buffer. No such luck. I snuck in through the back door and locked myself in the bathroom.

Steam rose up in curls around me, and I closed my eyes and stuck my face directly into the hot streams of water. I felt a mild regret for not sticking it out and staying with my dad. We'd spent countless summer days swimming around in the ocean together exploring, and when we finally dragged ourselves up onto the sand, sunburned and noodle-armed, he couldn't have been happier. We couldn't have been happier. It had always been our way of being close without having to talk about it, and for a while it had suited us both. But that closeness felt like it was slipping away, separated now by the s.p.a.ces between what we said to each other. I finished was.h.i.+ng the smell of salt and wet suit from me and shut off the shower, resolving to try to talk to him about it. Somehow.

When I shut off the water, I expected to hear the voices of the guys, just in from the water, but they weren't there yet. There was no avoiding Tamra at this point. I walked out to the living room, towel wrapped around my head, and found her looking at a black-and-white picture of my mother and me. In it my mom stood in her bathing suit and a big floppy hat, holding me above her head, my tiny legs stretched out behind me like I was flying. My dad must have snapped it at the perfect moment, because although her eyes are hidden under the shadow of the hat, her mouth is open and smiling, like she's laughing or talking to me as she swings me high in the air.

Tamra turned, sincere concern on her face. "You must miss her, huh?"

I shrugged, but didn't move my eyes from the picture, so she looked back at it too. "I guess so," I said casually. "She's been gone a long time, since I was seven, so it's just how things have been for a long time. I'm used to it."

She swirled her winegla.s.s a tiny bit, then took a sip and turned to me again.

"Yeah, but, honey, you're coming up on a time in life when you are gonna need another woman, a mom, to guide you through all the craziness." Her voice broke off at the end, and she sniffed.

I looked at her more closely, realizing with amus.e.m.e.nt that she had actually gotten teary. She sniffed again, then finished off the last of the wine in her gla.s.s, which was probably the last of the bottle, if I had to guess. She walked over to the window, empty gla.s.s in hand, looking forlornly at the water. I breathed in deeply through my nose and pressed my lips together to keep from smiling, then walked over to stand next to her. This wasn't the reaction I was used to.

In the twilight I could see one of the guys, probably my dad, walking up from the water with a large fish in tow. Andy's dark head bobbed in the water beyond him. Tamra was still sniffing and looking pitiful, so I put my hand on her back and patted. "We're fine, my dad and me. Honestly, we're good. And if I need a woman to talk to, I can always get a hold of you through Andy, right?"

She smiled, then turned and pulled me into a hug, which was awkward for a few reasons, two of which pressed hard like rocks into my own chest. She pulled back and held me by my shoulders, breathing sweet wine breath on me. "Good. You call me anytime. Prom, dating, birth control, whatever." Just when it couldn't get any more awkward, I heard the back door to the kitchen open up. My dad's voice came through, obviously happy at what he'd brought in. "Hey, Anna? Could you grab me my filet knife? I gotta get this guy ready to throw on the grill. Fish tacos tonight!" I pried myself from Tamra's arms, and she went to fix her face. Out the window the sun had disappeared completely, leaving the last hint of a glow behind Catalina. I thought of Joy and the mermaid tears, the Crawler and my moongla.s.s, my mother having lived yards away from where I stood. Joy had been right about stories making things more beautiful. I watched the gray surface of the water roll with the swell s, and I came up with a new story. I told myself that maybe the years she was with us were like when the full moon shone for the mermaids, when they could walk on land and be with the ones they loved. And that maybe, like them, she'd had no choice but to go back.

I dive deeply into crystal blue water. I don't wear a mask or snorkel or fins or a wet suit. I don't need to. I belong here, below the surface. All around me the ocean is radiant with life. Bright blue fish dart in and out of giant coral fans, and towering columns of kelp wave gently as I weave my way through them. The water is far too deep for me to see the bottom, but below me what looks like a tiny spark at first begins to expand into an eerie glow.

Suddenly the water around me grows cooler and I want only to be in the warmth of the glow, so I angle my body downward and kick. The farther down I go, the more I need to find the source of light and warmth, so I kick harder, propelling myself into what should be cold, dark water.