Never Forgotten

by Kelly Risser

  I awoke completely disoriented, with no idea what day it was. When I realized it was Monday, Thanksgiving Day, I had two thoughts almost simultaneously. Please let my mom come home from the hospital today, and where in the world is Kim? She wasn’t in my room.

  I got up and went to look for her. It didn’t take me long. I found her in my mom’s room, fast asleep. Confused, I stood there for a minute and vaguely remembered. When we got back last night, Grandma Mary changed the sheets in Mom’s room and insisted that Kim sleep in there so she could have more space. Mary promised we’d both sleep better. As usual, she was right. I might have slept too deeply.

  I decided to take a shower and clear my head. Yesterday felt like a blur, and I swear I could smell the hospital chemicals on my skin. I stood under the hot stream of water for the longest time, not thinking about anything until I heard an impatient knock at the door. I shut the faucet off.

  “Yes?”

  “Meara!” came Kim’s frustrated voice. “Are you going to be in there all day? Some of us need to pee out here.”

  Oops. Only bathroom in the house.

  “Be right out!” I grabbed my towel and wrapped it tightly around myself.

  Kim sprinted in the minute I opened the door.

  “Sorry,” I said, closing it behind me. The house was cool, bordering on chilly, so I hurried to my room and got dressed. I was combing the knots out of my hair when Kim came back to the room. Her hair hung in damp curls. “You showered already?”

  “Some of us know how to shower quickly.” She gave me a sweet smile. I stuck out my tongue in reply. She threw on her clothes, a pair of jeans and a light blue sweater.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked.

  “Starved.”

  “I’m sure my grandma made breakfast.” We went to the kitchen. Sure enough, pancakes and sausages waited on the table for us with a fresh pot of coffee. My grandpa was reading the paper.

  “Good morning,” I said. Grandma Mary tried to smile. The effect was lost since her eyes were bloodshot from crying. My grandfather’s greeting came from the other side of the paper; he didn’t lower it to look at us. Were his eyes puffy too? I couldn’t imagine it.

  “Can I take the car in a bit to pick up Mom?” I asked.

  Grandpa Jamie lowered the paper. His eyes were red. He looked at me for a long moment. “I’ll bring her home.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Your grandmother needs to finish the cooking for tonight, and you have your friend visiting. I am perfectly capable of picking up my daughter, Meara.”

  “I know that, but…”

  “It’s settled then,” he said, snapping the paper straight and disappearing behind it once again. I was a little irritated at his response. Okay, so I was a lot irritated, but what was I going to do? He did have a point. Kim didn’t come all this way to visit me only to spend half of her time in the hospital.

  Since we were standing just inside the kitchen, Grandma Mary gestured to the table. “C’mon girls, sit down and eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

  I sat and let out a sigh. Kim reached for the coffee, pouring a full mug before sitting down and turning to me. “What are we going to do this morning, Meara?”

  I wasn’t sure. It was her last day here, and I knew we were going to Evan’s house around three o’clock for Thanksgiving. I turned and asked Grandma Mary, “Do you and Lydia need any help?”

  “Not really,” she said. “We’re pretty much ready to go. I’m going to help her get the table set, and the food’s all ready to go in the oven.”

  “Oh.” I had no idea what to do for the next few hours.

  “For the love of the Lord,” Grandpa Jamie muttered, folding his paper and putting it to the side. “If you two are that bored, you’re welcome to come along with me.”

  I looked at Kim. Her mouth was full, but she shrugged at me as if to say “your call”. I thought about it for a minute, and then told him we’d go.

  I ate quickly, and so did Kim. I guessed that, like me, she had a plan. I wanted to discuss it with her before we got in my grandfather’s truck. When she was almost done, I said, “Kim, we should probably finish getting ready.” I looked at Grandpa Jamie, who was reading the paper again. This time it was flat on the table. “What time are you planning on leaving?”

  He glanced at the clock above the stove. “Oh, probably in about a half hour.”

  “Okay, we’ll be ready.” With that, Kim and I left the kitchen and raced back to my bedroom.

  “What do you have planned?” she asked as I closed the door.

  I frowned a bit. “I haven’t talked to my grandfather that much. He works long days and gets home late. You saw what he was like at breakfast. Anyway, I want to see if he’ll tell me anything about David or that summer.”

  “Could be a touchy subject,” she mused, wrinkling her nose before saying, “He seems a bit crabby, too.”

  “He’s not.” I waved it off. “He’s all bark and no bite. I can handle that.”

  She grinned. “This could turn out to be an interesting ride after all.”

  Grandpa Jamie was true to his word. Exactly a half hour later, he was ready to go, standing at the door with his coat on and a worn tweed hat on his head. “You girls ready?”

  We hurried out the door after him. The first ten miles or so we drove in silence. Kim and I looked out the window while Grandpa Jamie watched the road. He didn’t have the radio on. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. In a way, after yesterday’s excitement, it was a welcomed bit of peace.

  Kim kicked my ankle, hard enough that I knew it was deliberate, but not enough for my grandfather to notice. I sighed. The peaceful moment was over.

  “Grandpa,” I began tentatively, “do you remember much about my father?”

  “Your father.” He snorted. “As if he even deserves to be called that—the man did little more than provide half of your genetics.” He paused a moment, and then added. “I try hard not to think of him.”

  “Did you and grandma know him well?”

  He looked at me suspiciously. “Why the sudden interest?”

  “He is my father.” I tried not to make it sound defensive. “And, Mom met him here, right?”

  My grandfather sighed. It was a long-suffering sigh. He picked up his coffee and took a deep drink. He looked at me; I tried to keep my face innocent and inquisitive. It must have worked. He sighed again, and then said, “The first time your mom told us about David was the day she brought him home to meet us. She’d been seeing him for about a month.”

  “What’d you think of him?”

  “He surprised me.”

  “How?” Kim blurted it out before I could. It was an unusual thing to say about someone. Kim’s cheeks reddened, but my grandpa just laughed.

  “He had old eyes.” He shook his head. “What I mean is, he looked like he was in his early twenties, but he was too mature. Too worldly…” He took another sip from his travel mug and adjusted the heat. I think he was stalling. “There was something odd about him. I can’t explain it. I just didn’t trust him.”

  “And then Mom got pregnant,” I said. “With me.”

  He looked at me and nodded. “It was about five weeks later when we found out she was with child.” He turned his attention back the road, squinting a bit as he remembered. “David was with her, holding her hand, when she told us. Your grandmother and I were shocked by the news, even more so when there was no talk of marriage.”

  “Did you ask Mom about it?”

  “Your grandmother tried. Your mom wouldn’t talk about it. She said David couldn’t stay here. Sure enough, he lived here until you were born, and then about a week later, he disappeared.”

  “He left us when I was a week old?” If he loved my mom, why couldn’t he stay? Didn’t he want me to know who he was? And why was he back now, after all these years?

  “He did.” I waited. He paused for a few moments, and then added, “I’ll never forgive him
for hurting my daughter.”

  Kim leaned closer, and I appreciated the comfort of knowing she was there. This was hard, but it helped to know my best friend was hearing everything, too. I knew she would share her impressions with me later.

  “Why did Mom leave with me?” I asked quietly.

  A hurt expression crossed his face. He quickly recovered. “I imagine it was a combination of things. The tension at home was thick. We weren’t used to a new baby, your mom was crying all the time, and then there was the small-town scandal. She couldn’t leave the house without people clucking their tongues and giving her dirty looks. I guess it got to be too much. Then, that businessman Phil came into town…”

  His voice trailed off. I already knew the story about Mom’s ex-husband, Phil. “Why didn’t she come back to visit?”

  Grandpa Jamie sighed and shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. You’ll have to ask your mom about that one. She wrote us often and sent pictures of you.”

  “If Mom sent letters, why didn’t you visit us?”

  “Every letter was postmarked from a different location. No return address. We didn’t know where to find you.” He confirmed what my grandmother already told me. At least one story added up. Reaching over, he squeezed my hand. “You’ve always been so smart and beautiful. The things your mom wrote of you, we were just as proud as she was. You look so much like her, but your father is there, too. That’s the hard part.”

  “How am I like David?” I didn’t see any similarities between us, besides our hair and eye color and webbed toes.

  He looked at me briefly, assessing. “Your hair is the same and your smile, but sometimes, where I see the strongest resemblance, is when I look in your eyes. I see the same depth as his.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He frowned at me. “I can’t explain it.”

  I looked at Kim, and she raised her eyebrows. It was obvious she thought his comment was weird, too.