Moonglass (11 page)

I looked at her in disbelief. I’d appreciated a story about my mom, but this was overstepping. She had no idea. And no place.

“Well, thanks,” I said curtly. “Thanks for enlightening me. I’ll give my dad your regards.” I turned and walked hard, wind at my back. As I did, a twinge of guilt worked its way around me like a corkscrew, but I didn’t slow down.

A woman’s laughter, followed by a familiar male voice, drifted down the steps from the backyard as I approached. I stopped midstep and listened, wavering between being peeved that someone was at the house and grateful for a distraction. And then I recognized a voice I had known since childhood.

“Holy shit!” Andy blurted out as I paused on the top step. “She jumped from the
top
of it? Dude …” My dad just shook his head and swallowed a hard swig of beer.

I leaned casually on the corner of the house and tried not to smile, proud that Andy seemed impressed. He saw me. “Anna Banana! We were just talking about you.” He strode over and lifted me up, squeezing until I felt my headache returning. “Guess you had some night last night. Huh, kiddo? Chip off the old block! You know, back in the day your dad—”

My dad cut in. “I think she got her little dose of history last night.” He glanced at me and offered a tentative smile. A smile that asked if we could drop it for now. I looked away. “Besides, you were supposed to back me up and tell her how dangerous that jump is. And with lifeguards, too.”

Andy put on a stern look and raised his index finger at me. “No sixteen-year-old girl should be jumping off rocks, drunk, in the middle of the night. With
lifeguards
. How’s that?”

Judging by their tone, they weren’t on their first beers. The mood felt genuinely light with them together, and I was too tired to stay mad. I raised an eyebrow. “Just so you have the story right, I wasn’t drunk. And I think it was only midnight or so. And I thought you were always supposed to swim near a lifeguard. But you’re well on your way to being a strict disciplinarian.”

My dad took another swig and rolled his eyes. Andy held up his beer, tipping his head. “Well said. Joey, I think the girl can hold her own. Anna, don’t go jumping off any more rocks. You’ll give your old man a heart attack. Now. Let’s call it done and get out there.” He looked from me to my dad, who I could tell was almost ready to let it go. He probably thought he should make me sweat it, so I obliged and walked over to him, doing my best to look remorseful. “Dad … I’m sorry I jumped off the rock that you made legendary. I was just trying to make you proud.” I gave a little shrug and looked down, knowing it had a pretty good chance of working, since Andy was there.

He tried to keep a straight face for a second, then shook his head and turned, trying to hide a smile. “You smart-ass. You’re lucky I didn’t drag the rest of the underaged off the beach too. That woulda made you a real hit with everyone.” I silently thanked God or fate or whatever that he hadn’t.

“Who’s a hit?”

I turned around at the sound of the female voice and saw, coming out of the kitchen carrying a glass of wine, a woman that had to be Andy’s. She was exactly what he liked. Tall, blond, big boobs—fake—and tan—also fake. She was definitely enough to match his tall swimmer physique. I bet she had fall en for that and the wavy hair. She stepped gingerly over the uneven paver stones of the patio and stopped in front of me.

“You must be Anna. well,
you
are gorgeous. Remind me not to stand next to you for too long.” She looked over at Andy, waiting for him to introduce her.

He abruptly clunked down his beer and walked over to us, stifling a burp. “Anna, this is Tamra.” I smiled politely and stuck out my hand. “Nice to meet you. So … you’re Andy’s new girlfriend?” Andy coughed. Tamra clutched her wine. My dad glanced over at me, and I knew I shouldn’t have said “new.” Andy was always in search of the love of his life, and he met them over and over. His string of girlfriends stretched long over the years that he had come to visit us. Every time, it was a new one. That was just how I thought of them.

Andy regained his composure, wrapped his arm around Tamra’s shoulder, and grinned. “Yeah, sure. I thought you two ladies could get to know each other while we dive. Tamra has lived here in Newport Beach her whole life and went to Coast High. I thought she could fill you in on school and shopping and all that stuff, you know?” Tamra had smoothed her face over and now wore a polite smile that I guessed she had perfected a long time ago. Even my dad looked a bit hopeful.

I bit my bottom lip, trying not to smile. Just as Andy thought it was highly important to have women in his life, he also seemed to think that I needed them, as role models or something. Never mind that they were almost interchangeable. His intentions were mostly good, but I also figured it was because he wanted someone to take the women off his hands every so often so he could still hang out with my dad. I looked at him, falsely sweet. “Oh, that’s so nice. But, um, I think I’m actually gonna dive with you guys.” I looked back at Tamra in her tight dress and heels. “You should come. I have an extra wet suit.”

She shivered a little, then let out a laugh as if I had suggested something ridiculous, which I had. “Honey, I’ll be up here in that living room of yours with my glass of wine and
Cosmo
, waiting for some fresh fish.” She nudged Andy. “You said you’d get me a halibut, right?” He nodded confidently. “Sunday Poke-N-Eat, baby.” She looked puzzled. He grabbed up a three-pronged pole spear and jabbed at the air. “You know, poke … and eat. Old cove tradition, back from the good ol’ days when we all —”

“Hey, catch!” My dad threw Andy’s wet suit at him and then walked over to the shed and started pulling out our collection of dive gear. Tamra smacked Andy on the butt and then disappeared back through the kitchen door. I looked out at the choppy water, not entirely sure I wanted to go diving, but sure enough that I didn’t want to spend the rest of the afternoon making small talk with Barbie incarnate.

I fished my wet suit out of the pile that had been thrown out of the rubber tub, and started turning it right side out. It was completely dried out and stiff with salt from whenever I had gone out last, so putting it on involved a mix of pulling and hopping and cursing under my breath. Once I was zipped in, I pulled the hood over my head and tried to adjust to the squished cheeks it gave me. My dream was to be able to dive with no wet suit, but I had yet to make it to water warm enough for that, so next I put on gloves and then grabbed my fins and mask and followed the guys down to the water.

We made a silly-looking procession that drew the looks of a couple of kids playing in the late-afternoon glow near the waterline. My dad carried his spear gun and a take bag and looked like serious business. Andy followed him, dragging his pole spear behind. I had shot my dad’s spear gun before and liked the muted
thunk
it made when I pulled the trigger underwater, but I didn’t have any interest in shooting fish. I just liked to be out there and getting a look at the things most people never did.

The wind had died down almost completely, and I stood at the water’s edge watching the remaining choppiness rollwith each swell . My dad walked back to me and spit into his mask, then rubbed it around. “We’re going to work the rocks just beyond the tide pools and go south a ways. Try your best to stay near us.” He smiled and pulled his mask down over his eyes, leaving the snorkel hanging off to the side. “If you get separated or get spooked or something, you know which way the shore is. You’re gonna love it out there. It’s gorgeous.” I nodded and spit into my own mask, then used my thumbs to rub it around. I could see Andy’s head out beyond the surf line already. My dad waited while I put on my mask, and we walked out together into waist-deep water, pausing to put on our fins before we submerged our faces into the choppy water.

The surface water was still all stirred up from the wind, so at first I saw only tiny particles suspended in hazy blue, and the bubbles that came up from my dad’s fins kicking in front of me. We kicked straight out and then made a turn so we were parall el to the shore, headed for the outer rocks of the tide pools. The only sounds I was aware of were my own rhythmic breathing, exaggerated through my snorkel, and the occasional gurgle of air bubbles rising to the surface. The rest was a kind of quiet that only existed underwater. I settled into it, brought my arms down against my sides, and scanned the water below me.

We came to an area of rock covered in eel grass that promised a bit more clarity. My dad stopped ahead of me and let his legs sink down below him so that he 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 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.