Moonglass

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 moonglass?”
    “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 glass 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. Moonglass?” she asked, letting it fall to my sweatshirt.
    “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 glass. Since we were out at night, we called it moonglass.”
    “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 glass on the beach at night.”
    “No.” I looked down at the sand. “Not that night. But it is a piece of moonglass.” 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 shining 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 passed 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 shirt?” 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 glass 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 hell 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