Five summers ago, I fell for it. It wasn’t a call center or some pyramid scheme. It was the summer sales pitch that I fell for. For the last three months, I had been living on my own for the first time ever. I had grossly underestimated how expensive rent would be. I quickly signed some foreign guy from Hong Kong to the other bedroom next to me. I never saw him around, but that was fine by me.

I was committed to making it work alone. No way I was going back home. The fights with my dad (they were more like inebriated brawl sessions really) they weren’t healthy for anyone in the family. My poor sisters and mom. I don’t feel the least bit of remorse about driving dad away from the house. Good riddance. I know it was my fault he left, but I’m glad he did. I don’t want him around me or anyone I care about. I just couldn’t stand to look at the girls every morning. Sitting at the table before school, slurping milk and Cinnamon Toast Crunch with their pleading eyes. Begging me to make things okay again and bring dad back. I couldn’t stand it anymore.

So I was on my own, eating cheap noodles and hungry for something better. The guy that pitched me summer sales was a friend of a friend. It was out of courtesy for my buddy Gunther that I said I would go to lunch and hear out this “killer summer gig”. The pitch man was handsome, in great shape, and had a beautiful girl at his side as he clicked the lock button on his BMW fob and walked towards the restaurant where Gunther and I sat waiting. This guy clearly was doing something right in his life. I’ll admit, and I know the good book says I shouldn’t, but I wanted the life this dude had.

His name was Guy. The only flaw about him if you ask me. What kind of guy is named Guy? Other than that, he was dapper, charismatic, and funny. I mean, the Guy was smooth. The Guy was butter. It only took about 30 minutes, and I was signing papers he’d brought with him to sell insurance in some place called Fort Bragg, California. I’d never heard of the place.

“Kinda risky selling life insurance to soldier though, right?”  I asked.

“Oh, no no. Fort Bragg is just a coastal town full of rich people….. erm, I mean there is a huge opportunity not only to help those that need insurance, but also this is a unique opportunity for you.” Guy smiled at me with perfect, white teeth.

Turns out, summer sales blow. I’ll never do it again. I had been in Fort Bragg for two weeks without a single sale under my belt. I was actually losing Guy money by being there. I figured Guy would be calling again tonight and telling me to pack my bags. That my services would no longer be needed. To salvage this whole experience, I turned my focus toward checking out Fort Bragg. I found a place called Sea Pal Cove, a little dockside shack that sells the best fish ‘n chips you will ever slide down your gullet. I was eating there daily. I squeezed a dollop of ketchup on my plate, and asked the owner where I should take my dinner tonight. He directed me to a place called Glass Beach.

The story goes that long ago, sailors and fisherman of Fort Bragg would haul in their fish, tie off their boats and gather together on the sea cliffs to watch the sun set over the Pacific. They would laugh, tell stories about sea creatures, and drink. Ludicrous amounts of drinking occurred. Imagine drinking so much from so many bottles that if you were to throw all the bottles off the cliff, they would cover an entire beach with broken glass.

Well, they did just that. Through the months and years, thousands of bottles had tumbled and shattered on the rocks below, creating a beautiful scene of dazzling green, brown, blue, red and yellow. What’s more is that you could walk on it. Over time, the sea had smoothed out the sharp edges, leaving only soft colorful glass pebbles. It’s like every catholic church in the world sent all their stained glass window pieces to this very spot and scattered and mixed them in with the sand. If I had the time, I could make the Lord himself appear out of the fragments.

I took off my Nike’s and carried them in one hand, my fried fish in the other. The smooth glass and sand still radiated heat from the hot day, even now at sunset.  I found a spot to sit where the waves would dance just far enough up the beach to tickle my toes before retreating back to the ocean. It reminded me of the games of tag I used to play with my sisters growing up. I decided to play hide and seek instead and wiggle my toes deep into the sand. A sharp pain struck me right in my left sole. I winced, and drew my foot out of the glass. Blood dripped off my heel. The top of a bottle, mostly in tact, was the culprit. I ripped it out of the sand in frustration. A note written on pink paper was scrunched up inside. Figuring smashing the bottle further on this particular beach wouldn’t be an issue, I bashed it open.

To the Sea,

Why did you do it? Is it because he took so much from you? Your demand for recompense need not be so high. You were cold and cruel when he was only gentle and kind to the rest of us. Why did you take him? Please give him back. I’ll wait.

~  Sarah

I tucked the note into my front pocket, stuck my wounded foot into wetter sand, and dunked another fish stick into a blob of ketchup.