Never Forgotten

by Kelly Risser

  "David, is that you?” Mom came from the back of the house, a slight frown on her face. “Where were you? You know we’re having everyone over tonight for…” She broke off, and her eyes widened in surprise. “Meara! You’re here.”

  “David came and got me.” My mom exchanged a look with my father. Did she know already? Did she know what David was? What I was? Before I could read her expression, she pulled me into her arms.

  “Happy Birthday, honey.” She kissed my cheek. She smelled like garlic and onions.

  Wrinkling my nose, I waved my hand in front of my face. “Mom, what did you eat for breakfast?”

  “Breakfast? I…” She looked confused for a moment, and then she laughed. “I’m making your birthday dinner. You okay with lasagna?”

  “One of my favorites.” My mom made the best pasta sauce. Kim always tried to swindle an invitation for dinner on Italian night. Thinking of her brought a slight pain to my chest. I missed her. I wanted to call and tell her everything, but I couldn’t. This kind of news had to be shared in person. When she texted to wish me happy birthday, I just thanked her in reply.

  “I’ve invited your grandparents and the Mitchells over for dinner.” Mom smiled at me. Was I imagining things, or did it look fake? “Do you want to help me get things ready?”

  I didn’t. If I helped her, I’d have no choice but to confront her. How much did she know? I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out.

  “I’ll go pick up the cake.” David gave my mom a kiss on the cheek and whispered something in her ear. He kissed my forehead on his way out.

  “Be kind,” he whispered, so only I could hear him. I raised my eyebrow in reply. What did that even mean? When he realized I wasn’t going to say anything, he patted my shoulder and stepped past me, calling back to both of us, “I’ll be back in about an hour.”

  Mom wiped her hands on the towel, which was tucked into the waistband of her jeans. “Are you hungry?”

  “Not really,” I said.

  “Okay.” She stepped back and turned toward the kitchen. “Well, let’s go grab a drink in the kitchen, and we’ll talk.”

  I barely noticed my surroundings as I followed my mom. While she poured herself some coffee, I pulled out the chair closest to me and sat down. She set her mug on the table across from me, then turned back to the fridge and pulled out a Diet Coke. She slid the can across the table and then sat down.

  “David told you?” Her voice was so quiet that I barely heard what she said. So there would be no pretenses here.

  “You knew?” I blinked several times. Then, the dam broke, and I was bawling. Mom pushed the napkin holder closer, and I took a handful. “Why, Mom? Why?” My voice broke on a sob. I stared at the table, not trusting myself to look at her. The hurt was too great.

  “I was young, Meara, and I was scared,” she said. “I know that sounds like a pretty lame excuse, but it’s true.”

  She stood and walked across the kitchen. Like our house in Wisconsin, this one had a window over the sink. She placed her hands on the edge of the basin and stared out, her back to me. She often took the same pose at our old house when she was thinking.

  “I didn’t know what David was when I fell in love with him. He told me he was in town dealing antiques. He said he wouldn’t stay, but I assumed for normal reasons. He lived in another country or he was just here on business…I didn’t know that he literally, physically, could not stay with me because of what he was.”

  A pain stabbed my chest. “What do you know about Selkies?”

  She flinched when I said the word. “I know some.” I stared at her back, willing her to look at me so I could see what she was feeling. “I know about the ‘living as human’ limitations. David told you this morning, right?”

  Ignoring her question, I asked, “When did he tell you what he was?”

  She turned then, her face wet with tears. “When I told him I was pregnant with you. He told me he couldn’t stay, wouldn’t stay, because he was Selkie. We fought for weeks. I was scared, carrying a baby that was only half human. I had no one to talk to.”

  “What about Lydia? Or Grandma?”

  She laughed, but the sound was bitter. “Do you think they would have believed me? That anyone would have believed me? Selkies were myths concocted by sailors and their wives, an excuse for a liaison. They weren’t real.”

  “But obviously they are,” I insisted. “If you told someone, would David have supported you? Shown them who he was?”

  She looked at me thoughtfully, a small frown on her face. “No, I don’t think so. Not out of cruelness, but his first instinct would be to protect his kind. Imagine what would happen to Selkies if the world learned they were real. They would be hunted, gathered, and studied. Their lives would be ruined.”

  “There are Selkies everywhere?”

  “I don’t know, Meara.” She sounded tired. “But I would guess wherever you find seals, you’ll find Selkies.”

  “Why did you leave with me? Why didn’t you stay with your parents?” I wasn’t sure what hurt more, that Mom knew what I was, had known what I was my whole life, or that she purposely took me away from the only other family that we had.

  She came back to the table and sat, taking my hands between hers and pleading with her eyes. “When David left, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know if he’d come back for you. Would he steal you in the night and take you away? The only thing I could think to do was move inland, somewhere that Selkies could not find you. I was so lonely, Meara, and confused. I had no money, no one to confide in. Nothing.”

  “Then how did you get the money to move?” As I asked the question, I realized I knew the answer—Phil Dunlop, my mom’s first husband.

  “Phil came along when you were a few months old. He was overseeing the restoration of the lighthouse. He asked me out, and I accepted. Before the project was done, we were engaged. And when he left, we went with him.”

  “Did you marry Phil to get away from David?” I wiped away the last of my tears. My eyes felt puffy and dry. Who was this stranger sitting in front of me?

  Mom cringed. “It sounds cold and calculating when you say it.”

  “Mom!” I said, exasperated. “It was. It was cold and calculating. You didn’t love him. He was your ticket out of here.”

  “I did it for you.”

  “Whatever you need to think to feel better about it,” I mumbled under my breath. If she heard me, she chose to ignore it. “Why didn’t you tell me about David? I asked you about him so many times when I was little.”

  She sighed. “I didn’t know what to tell you, so I didn’t say anything. I didn’t think it would be an issue. I didn’t think we’d ever come back here.”

  “You didn’t think…” I repeated her phrase. “And what, you didn’t think I’d ever want to take a trip to the ocean? Ever hear of Spring Break, Mom? What did you think would happen when I dived in?”

  “I…” Her voice trailed off. She watched me warily.

  How could a mother keep so much from her child?

  “When you decided we were coming back, why didn’t you tell me then?” I thought about our first few months here and added, “Or, when I told you that I dreamed of David?”

  “I don’t know, Meara! I don’t know!” Mom raked her fingers through her hair. Her arm trembled. “I screwed up. I was trying to protect you, and instead I hurt you. I’m so sorry, baby, so sorry.”

  “I need to get some air.” I stood. “I’m going for a walk.”

  Mom’s eyes pleaded with me, but all she said was, “Be careful.”

  “I always am.”