Moonglass

by Jessi Kirby

  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 shivered 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 glass 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-pronged 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 butt 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 roll with 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 shore 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 parallel to the shore, 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 grass 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 grass 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 grass slip back and forth with the swell, and I caught a glimpse of what looked like it could be an abalone shell, 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 handful of eel grass 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 cluster 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 bumpy surface of the massive 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 original 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 shifted 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 shell 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 glass. 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, wineglass 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 spaces between what we said to each other. I finished washing 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 wineglass 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 amusement that she had actually gotten teary. She sniffed again, then finished off the last of the wine in her glass, which was probably the last of the bottle, if I had to guess. She walked over to the window, empty glass 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 fillet 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 moonglass, 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 swells, 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.

  And then I see her, and I stop dead, suspended in the liquid stillness of the water.

  The mermaid’s long blond hair flows and curls around the luminous curves of her body as she swims, inches above the sparkling ocean floor. I stay still, afraid that if I move, she’ll disappear. Her movements are fluid and strong as she hovers over the sand, pausing briefly at a large rock before moving on. Without thinking about it, I know she’s searching for something, though I’m not sure what it is. I want to help her find it, so I bring my feet together and give a tentative kick, disturbing the stillness of the water.

  She freezes, startled, then turns and fixes her sad green eyes on me. Her face is distressed at first, but softens when our eyes meet. There is a pang in my chest, somewhere between deep sorrow and shining hope.

  My mother.

  And then, as if the same realization hits her, she shoots upward, toward the surface, leaving me behind in a dark whirl of tiny bubbles.

  I am paralyzed at the bottom of the ocean as the last of the bubbles swirl up and then disappear into the blue above me. I sink down onto the sand, alone and suddenly cold. I am there only a moment before I have the sensation that it is raining underwater. Something lands beside my foot, creating a tiny, momentary puff of sand.

  I lift my chin slowly, and the coldness that I feel gives way to silent wonder. All around me gleaming drops of color make their way down through the fluid smoothness. They move in slow motion, spiraling down, catching and throwing light as they descend. I reach out my hand to catch a cobalt drop, and as it slips between my fingers, I recognize its smooth, solid surface.

  At that moment I am conscious of the sound that I somehow know has been there all along. As it gains strength, the ocean floor explodes with tiny puffs of sand, drops of sea glass settling down into it.

  Above me, my mother is weeping.

  I didn’t go near the water for nearly a week. Instead I left in the morning for practice, where I ran hard enough that Jillian had a hard time sticking with me, and Coach Martin reminded me repeatedly to save my legs for the upcoming meet. After practice I went to the shopping center across the highway and aimlessly wandered the stores, even when I could tell that the shopgirls were completely irritated. I spent hours on end at the Starbucks, listening from behind my magazine to people order, and talk on their cell phones, and gossip. I came home after dark, so I didn’t have to look at my mom’s cottage or decline my dad’s invitations to surf before he had to go to work.

  On the weekend, when we finally passed in the hall, Dad paused and grabbed me gently by the shoulders. “Hey, stranger! Haven’t seen much of you since I switched over to nights. Feels like I’m living with a ghost.” He looked me over carefully. “Everything okay, kiddo?”

  I shrugged his hands off. “I know. Sorry. I’m just busy with practice, and school starts tomorrow, so I wanted to do a little shopping …”

  His mouth fell open. “Oh, jeez. I’m sorry, hon. I didn’t realize it was tomorrow.” He pulled out his wallet and handed me a crisp hundred-dollar bill. “Here. Why don’t you go out with Ashley or something and pick yourself up a few new things for school then?”

  I didn’t answer at first. I hadn’t actually meant I wanted to go shopping.

  “You know … here. Use this instead.” He took back the hundred and handed me his ATM card. “Just in case you need a little more. You know the PIN.”

  I twirled the card slowly between my fi
ngers before tucking it into my pocket. “Thanks, Dad, but you don’t need to give me this.”

  He laid a heavy hand on my head. “Hey. I realize it’s not easy starting out someplace new. But you’re gonna be fine. Don’t sweat it.”

  “I know, I know. Thank you.” I forced a smile he could believe, then turned to go before he could see it slip away.

  “Have fun,” he called after me. “Go big if you want—it’s your one chance. This promotion’s gotta be good for something.”

  I sat on the edge of a fountain that shot water high up into the air in predictable rhythmic intervals. Each time it did, two little girls who were hanging over the edge of it screamed with delight as mist fell over them. Their mom sat a few feet away, texting, and shushed them without looking up. At least they had each other.

  The mist felt good on my skin in the heat of the day, and I tried to soak it up. When I’d gotten to the mall, Dad’s ATM card in hand, I’d perked up a bit. He’d never just handed it over like that. Definitely not with instructions to “go big.” Either he was feeling guilty or his promotion really was worth something. Whatever it was, the little mood lift it gave me faded when I couldn’t get ahold of Ashley and had to go shopping by myself. I thought of Shelby and Laura and how we would have made a day of it. We would’ve passed clothes back and forth over the dressing room walls, stepped out to show each outfit, critiquing all the while, and talked each other into the things we loved and wanted to borrow later on. Then we would have sat here together at this fountain with coffee drinks or ice cream cones, dissecting what the first day of school would be like—which teachers we’d end up with, who’d be completely changed over the summer, and where we’d be having lunch. As it was, I’d half heartedly picked a few sundresses off a surf store sale rack and grabbed a new pair of sandals without even trying them on, and now I sat staring at the center of the fountain, feeling pitifully alone.