Moonglass

together. We can go get a big breakfast after.”
    I smiled over at him. “Sounds good.” It did, but I was wary. We were going to have to talk about things at some point, and I could tell it was gonna be today, out in the water.
    He took a slow sip of his coffee and watched as a set lined up. Aside from the waves, it was so quiet I wondered if he was thinking the same thing. He swallowed and nodded decisively. “All right. Let’s go.”
    My board hit the water with a slap. I jumped on, letting it glide for a long moment before I dug my arms in to paddle. My dad was out in front of me and I concentrated on trying to keep up with the powerful strokes he always made look easy. No matter how much time had passed since he had last surfed, his strokes were sure, fast, and smooth. And no matter how in shape I thought I was, I always had to push to keep up with him. By the time I caught up, he was already straddling his board as it bobbed gently in the glassy morning water. Arms burning, I pushed myself up, and we sat, just the two of us, in the shadow of Ab Rock.
    “Great morning to be out here, huh?” he said happily. “Did you see that last little set that came through?” I nodded, and he motioned for me to paddle closer to him. “If you wanna get any of ‘em, you gotta be right over here, almost on top of the rock.”
    I slid back onto my stomach and paddled over, eyeing the base of the rock we had both jumped off. We sat for another moment, with only the gurgling sounds of the water between us. It was peaceful, but I knew the weight of our “talk” hung over us. I also knew that my dad probably didn’t know how to start, so I figured I’d just throw it out there.
    “So. This is it. The place where you and Mom met.” I watched him carefully for a reaction as I spoke. “Something about you being sloshed … jumping naked … off a rock …” I gestured up at the sheer rock cliff above us and smiled, trying to keep the tone light for as long as I could. “We never did get to talk about when you did it. You know, with you yelling at me and all.”
    He gave me a stern look that lasted only a second before it turned into a slow smile. “No, I guess we didn’t. There are a few things we didn’t get to talk about, on account of you yelling at me , too.” I looked down at the bumpy white wax on my board but didn’t say anything.
    A swell passed under us, providing a moment, and questions bounced off each other in my mind. I decided to start small, and looked up into my dad’s face. “So did you really meet her that night? When you kissed her?”
    He grinned the grin that made him look young and happy. “Yeah. I spent all summer watching her on the beach, working up the nerve, and when she showed up at the party, I knew it was my last shot, because she’d be leaving soon.” He smiled down at the water, remembering. “I half-expected to get slapped, but she was a good sport about it. She didn’t have a choice but to fall for me after that. From that night on, if she was here, we were together.”
    “Hm.” I watched my foot swirl around under the water, and I enjoyed the thought that they had once been young, and reckless, and happy. It was encouraging, even though I knew how the story ended.
    “So she didn’t live here? She just visited?”
    He nodded. “The cottage belonged to her grandma, Louanna, who you’re named after. She lived here permanently. Your mom and her parents lived up near San Francisco. They came down summers, but rented a house on Balboa Island. Only your mom stayed here, at the cottage. Louanna always had a room made up for her.” His tone hardened slightly. “Her folks didn’t care for it down here, though. It was too …” A pause. “It wasn’t good enough for them.” He shook his head, and in the tightening of his jaw, I started to understand. “But your mom loved it. She loved it like she’d lived here all her life. So she stayed here with her grandma. Every summer, every vacation she could.”
    I’d never met her parents. Had never even heard them mentioned. Growing up, my dad’s mom had been my only grandparent. She lived a few blocks over from where we’d lived in Pismo Beach, and she was as much a part of my life as my parents. I never questioned it, before or after my mom was gone.
    Now, though, a reason took shape. Another wave passed under us, and I waited a beat before asking.
    “So … did they not like you , either? Is that why I don’t know