Moonglass

I gestured at the giant picture window framing the moon and the water. “I don’t think we should put curtains up there. It’s too pretty to cover up.” We looked out at the water, quiet, and it felt like one of those moments that was heavy with the things we didn’t want to say out loud.
    “Well, come on. I’ll give you the full tour.” He put a hand on my shoulder and steered me through a narrow doorway, then flipped another light switch.
    “This”—he swept his arm over a bare room with a bed in the middle—”is my room.”
    “Wow, Dad … this is depressing.” I glanced around. On his ancient dresser was a plate-size abalone shell he had found on a dive in Mexico. Another attempt at decorating. Above it hung a black-and-white picture of my mom, from when they had first met. At this beach. In it she stood at the waterline looking down, like she was unaware of the camera. She wore a white sundress and a calm almost-smile. I squinted to see if I could glimpse any of the cottages in the background, but then felt my dad looking at it too, starting to get lost in the thought of it again.
    I clapped my hands together and looked around. “So. Where’s my room?”
    “Well, you have to go through my room to get to yours, but you have an outside door too.” My mind hummed at the potential of this as I followed him past his bed and to another doorway. He stopped, hand on the doorknob to my room, and turned abruptly to face me, so that I almost ran into him.
    “Listen.” He took me by the shoulders. “I know I asked a lot of you, to pick up and move.” My eyes welled up instantly, for too many reasons to name.
    “And maybe you don’t understand all the reasons I decided to take the transfer.” Maybe I didn’t understand?
    I kept myself from saying anything, because I knew exactly how it would come out. I was too tired to start it all over again, so I let him go on.
    “Honestly, I’m not sure I do either. But I think, if you give it a chance, you’re gonna love it here. It’s a pretty special place. Wait til you wake up in the morning and look outside.” He squeezed my shoulders, searched my eyes for an answer.
    I sniffed and nodded, trying to smooth it over for now. It couldn’t be easy for him, either. “That beach out there is the only thing you have going for your case, you know.”
    He smiled and opened the door to my room. All of my furniture was there, unpacked. He had even made up the bed.
    “You arrange it however you want. I just didn’t want you to come home to an empty room.” He cleared his throat. “Most of your stuff is still in those boxes, but I got a few things out. You still have plenty of time to get settled in before school starts.” I stood in the middle of my new room, amidst my things, and tried to feel it. The word “home.” But it wasn’t there yet. For me, anyway. When my dad said it, though, it had a ring of old familiarity to it, and that was somehow comforting. I sat down on the edge of my bed, which felt the same as it had back home, ran my hand over the same worn-soft quilt.
    He rubbed his neck. “I gotta open the park in the morning, so I won’t be here when you get up, but I’ll leave some money on the counter if you wanna walk up to the Shake Shack for lunch. We can go for a dive or a surf or something when I get off.” He walked over and kissed the top of my head. “Good night, kiddo. I love you.”
    “Mm-hm. You too.”
    When the door closed, I stood up and looked around again. On top of my dresser sat my jar of sea glass, full with the greens and blues of countless hours spent combing the beach. I walked over and examined it, wondering what the ocean might uncover here, on this beach. Maybe a rare piece—purple, or yellow, or red. I set the jar on my nightstand, where it belonged, then changed out of my wet swimsuit.
    Any other day I would have opened my door to the outside and sat on the step, breathing in the night and listening to the ocean. But this day had been long and heavy, and the only thing I wanted was to start over in the light of the morning. I climbed into the cool of my sheets and switched off the light. For a long time I lay there listening to the sounds of my new home. The most noticeable was the rhythmic smack of waves on the shore, and then the static-like sound of their foam rolling up in disorganized ripples. The rest of the night outside was silent.
    I wondered what Laura and Shelby were doing at this moment. Thought of