Moonglass

always wear it.”
    I looked down at the glass, then let it fall back to my chest. “I was proud of this one, because it was actually me that found it, not my mom.” I paused, surprised by what I was saying, but then went on, unable to stop. “She actually didn’t even know I was on the beach when I found it.”
    “What, you snuck out or something?”
    “Sort of.” We resumed our walking. “I kind of followed her out one night, without her knowing.” I kept talking, even as I wondered what I was doing. “I used to lie in bed and listen to her move around the house before I fell asleep, you know? Wash dishes and all that. My dad worked nights back then too, so it was always just us.” It sounded almost nostalgic, put that way. “Anyway. I was listening, and I heard the front door open and close, and then it was quiet. I peeked out my window and saw her walking down the path to the beach, and it was a full moon, so I knew she’d be looking for glass. That was like our special thing.” I looked down at the sand for a moment. “I got really mad that she hadn’t taken me, so I ran out after her.”
    I was conscious of omitting details as I spoke. How we hadn’t taken any walks together for a long time because she’d insisted on being alone. How I had wished every night that my dad didn’t have to go to work and leave us alone together, because I never knew what kind of night it would be.
    Some nights we cuddled together on the porch watching the sunset, then she would sit me up on the kitchen counter and tell me stories of mermaids while she hummed and flitted around the kitchen making dinner. I drank in her warmth on those nights, tried to save it up. Others, I would have to muster the courage to approach her as she lay, sullen, in her darkened bedroom, long past dinnertime, and ask her for something to eat, because she had forgotten I was there at all. Some nights she was so angry with me that I didn’t bother and I lay awake until exhaustion trumped hunger and I fell asleep. I was used to leaving those kinds of details out. I had practiced since I was little, because every morning, between my dad and the sun, things didn’t feel so bad after all.
    She seemed herself when he was around, so I never told.
    But now I was. Sort of.
    “The dumb thing was, it was January, and I just ran out in my jammies, following her down the beach.” My voice came out casual, and Tyler laughed softly. But I hugged my arms close to me, because as soon as I said it, the warmth of the evening fell away and I was back in the icy wind, chasing after my mother. Tyler just looked at me, waiting to hear how I found the red piece of glass, so I kept telling.
    “Anyway, I went running down the beach after her, but she was far ahead and I got tired, so I started walking.” It was easy to go back to the same details I had changed so many years ago. really, I had purposely hung back from her. Something I had done earlier in the evening had made her so angry, she’d screamed, then cried, then left me alone in my room. But I tried to walk next to her footprints, so it was almost like we were walking along together. Even that had felt hopeless, though, because the water rushed up and washed them away in front of me as I went along.
    “She never turned around and caught you?”
    I hesitated, trying to decide in my mind what I really thought. I wanted to believe that she hadn’t, that she really didn’t know I was there behind her. There had been a moment when she’d paused and I’d thought she’d turned back and seen me. But then she’d kept going.
    “No. She thought I was sleeping.” My smile was hol ow. “She had no idea that her seven-year-old snuck out of the house and was wandering the beach at night.”
    Tyler nudged me softly with his shoulder. “So you started that habit a long time ago, huh?” I had been looking out at the water, caught up in my own memory, worlds different from the one I was telling. But now I turned and let my eyes meet his, and I didn’t say anything else. Instead I stood up on my tiptoes and kissed him, and when I did, everything that was about to break the surface lingered a moment before it receded into inky blackness, under the weight of his lips on mine.
    Tyler slowly pulled his head back, and we stayed there, quiet a moment. “Wow.” He rubbed his lips together. “I was right about you not holding back.” We laughed until I saw his expression change to one of concern. “Here we