Never Forgotten

by Kelly Risser

  "Sharon Quinn?” An elderly nurse with brassy red hair stood in the doorway, a clipboard in hand.

  “Should I come in with you?” I asked.

  Mom patted my knee. “No, honey, I’ll be okay. Just wait for me here.”

  I leaned forward and sifted through a stack of magazines on the table. Most were from last year and looked rather sad with soft, torn covers.

  “That your mum?” I looked up to find a girl sitting across from me. I hadn’t noticed her before. Her coppery curls fell past her shoulders, and her nose was splattered with freckles of the same shade. She eyed me with wide, green eyes. She looked about my age, but she wore bell-bottom jeans and a Bob Marley t-shirt.

  “Yeah,” I said and sat back. None of the magazines interested me.

  “First time here?” she asked. Her voice lilted. Was she Irish? When I nodded in reply, she said, “That’s rough.”

  “What about you?” I asked. “Why are you here?”

  “Me mum,” she said. “Like you.” She inclined her head toward the door where my mom had gone. “She’s in there now.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I changed the subject. “I’m Meara,” I said as I extended my hand. She looked at it briefly before she shook it.

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Ula.” She gave me a tentative smile. Her name was so unique. She pronounced it Oo-la. “Do you want to see something?”

  Curious, I asked, “What?”

  “Er, rather, somewhere.” When I hesitated, her eyes filled with understanding. “It will be hours before she’s done. Trust me. We’ll be back here in plenty of time.”

  She stood up and threw her brown leather backpack over one shoulder. Her jacket was army green and frayed on the edges. Her entire outfit looked like something from 1970.

  “Where you’d find such vintage clothes?” I asked as I hitched my own backpack on my own shoulder and followed her to the exit.

  She looked down at her outfit. A look of surprise crossed her face before her checks tinged pink. “Oh, you know. Shopping.”

  “Are there good resale shops nearby?”

  “Um. Yes? Uh. No?” She sighed. “I don’t know actually. I got this in Ireland.”

  I should have figured good vintage clothes would be from somewhere else. I loved old t-shirts. Hers rocked. “Are you from there then?”

  “Around there, yes.” She beamed at me. “Have you ever been?”

  “No,” I said. “This is my first time out of the United States.”

  “Is that where you were…um, from?” she asked. We were crossing the parking lot now, walking to the park next door.

  “Yes. Wisconsin,” I said. “Have you been there?”

  “No,” she said. “I’ve never been there. Is it nice?”

  “I liked it,” I answered distractedly. A rhythmic beat pounded in my ear, and my mouth filled with a brackish taste. My senses sharpened as my nerves were soothed.

  “Meara?” Ula was watching me closely, a worried look on her face.

  “Did you ask me something?” I focused on her face. The noise subsided slightly.

  “Do you like it here?” she asked.

  “I do,” I said. “Where are we going?”

  She grinned at me and skipped a little. “I found this spot here. You won’t believe it. We can sit near the ocean.”

  “The hospital is that close?”

  “I was surprised too.” She took my hand and squeezed it. “I like to come here. I hope you do. It’s nice to have a friend.”

  “It’s been lonely, huh?” I felt bad for her. I couldn’t imagine just sitting in that waiting room, day after day. That would have happened to me, too, if Ula hadn’t come along.

  “It has,” she said. “But not anymore, right?”

  A narrow path led us down to the coastline. We sat on flat rocks about five feet above the water. Close enough that a slight mist filled the air when the waves broke, but high enough not to get wet.

  Ula used her backpack as a backrest. She leaned back and crossed her legs at the ankles. Her face was serene. “I love it here. It calms me.”

  She stared up at me as if wondering what I thought. I looked at the water. It was wild and frothy, nothing calming about it. I couldn’t see anything but whitecaps on the horizon. “Is it always this rough?” I asked.

  “Usually,” she said. “If you want peaceful, try the Pacific. The Atlantic? She’s all feisty and fierce.”

  I laughed. “You talk about the ocean like a person.”

  Ula quirked a red eyebrow at me. “In many ways, she is.”

  “I suppose.” I dropped down onto the rock next to her, crossed my legs, and rested my arms on my knees. “It’s all new to me.”

  “You’ve never been in the water before?” Ula asked.

  I shrugged my shoulder. “Lakes, but never the ocean.”

  Ula leaned close. “And, I’ve never been in a lake.”

  “No?”

  “No,” she confirmed. She leaned back against her pack again. “We’re quite a pair then, aren’t we?”

  “Do you go to school here?” I asked. I liked her, and it would be nice to have another friend at school.

  “I’m homeschooled,” she said, almost as though she was apologizing. “We move a lot.”

  “I bet that’s rough.”

  Ula studied me for a minute. “It’s okay. After all, I get to meet all kinds of interesting people. Like you.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not that interesting.”

  Ula looked surprised. “Yes, you are.”

  She said it with such conviction that I almost asked her what she knew that I didn’t. In the end, I just laughed. “You apparently don’t get out much.”

  She looked like she was going to argue with me, but she laughed instead. “Maybe you’re right.”

  We stayed at the park for several hours. The path down to the water was nearly impossible to spot. Wispy vegetation and leafy trees camouflaged the opening. I was surprised Ula ever found it, but then again, she had plenty of time to explore while her mom received treatment. No one joined us all morning, and the seclusion was calming.

  “Do you want a sandwich?” Ula held something wrapped in wax paper out to me. “I brought two.”

  “Why two?”

  “I never know how long I’ll be here.”

  “Oh.” I hadn’t thought to bring anything with me this morning. I took the package from her. “Thanks.”

  “It’s vegetarian,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind. I don’t eat meat.”

  “No problem. Thank you.”

  It was good. Cucumbers, sprouts, tomatoes, and shredded carrots with a hummus spread.

  “Water?” Ula handed me a bottle.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I forgot that, too.”

  “It was your first time,” she said. “You’ll remember next time.”

  “Let’s hope so!”

  We both laughed. Ula stuffed all the wrappers back in her bag and then stood.

  “I’m sure me mum’s almost done,” she said.

  “Of course,” I said. “Thank you again, Ula. You made what could have been a long, boring day fun.”

  Ula looked pleased. “My pleasure.”

  We returned to the hospital, and I excused myself to use the restroom. When I got back to the waiting room, Ula was already gone. Her mom must have been waiting for her. Hopefully she wasn’t waiting too long, and Ula didn’t get in trouble.

  Resuming my previous spot, I pulled out my book and waited for my mom. I was in a much better mood. I had a new friend and a secret hangout spot.