Moonglass

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 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 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 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