Moonglass

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 handfull 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 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 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