Never Forgotten

by Kelly Risser

  That night, I dreamed of David again, but instead of standing near the shore, we were by the lighthouse. He sat next to me on the cold, stone steps, our backs against the weathered, oak door. We didn’t talk above the thunderous waves breaking on the rocks. A light, salty spray misted my skin, and I tasted the brine on my lips. I was content to sit and listen. My ears pounded with the tidal beat, and I began to hear voices speaking in the rhythm—jump in, go now, come to us, we’re waiting.

  Was I losing my mind? Panicked, I looked at David. He watched me carefully. “You hear them.” He nodded to the sea.

  “Yes,” I said. Then, “Who are they?”

  “They are us. We are them. You will meet them in time, but it’s best that you try to ignore them for now.” He reached for my hand. “They will grow more persistent.”

  His hand felt warm and calloused, not uncomfortable, but certainly not welcomed. What kind of response was that? Irritated, I tried to pull my hand out of his. He squeezed mine once, and then released it. I waited for more explanation, but he was silent.

  “That was cryptic,” I muttered. “What does it mean?”

  “When you’re ready to know, I’ll tell you.” He raised his hand to brush some stray hairs off my forehead. I leaned back sharply, my agitation growing. What right did he have to talk to me in riddles, and then try to play the affectionate father? In pulling away, I noticed the angry red gash on his hand.

  “What happened to you?” I asked, momentarily forgetting my anger and reaching for his hand. He pulled it out of my grasp and hid it at his side.

  “It’s nothing,” he said. “I was careless. That’s all.”

  Was this man going to tell me anything of value? I let it go, for the time being, and switched topics. “Why are you here?” I asked instead.

  “For you,” he said simply. “For your mom.”

  “Does Mom know that you’re here?”

  “Not yet,” he said, giving me a wry smile. “Though I imagine you’ll tell her.”

  “Why would I do that? This is just a dream.”

  He raised an eyebrow at me, but didn’t say anything. I was dreaming, right?

  After a moment, he shrugged. “Whatever you say. You can tell your mom when you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere for the time being.” He offered his uninjured hand and, this time, I took it. He pulled me to my feet. “Walk with me?”

  We walked along the shore, the voices softened to a murmur, the words indistinguishable. David pointed out various constellations in the sky and told me stories about them. I relaxed and listened to his rich, melodic voice. He was in the middle of a tale about Cassiopeia when I interrupted.

  “Why did you leave?”

  “I had to,” he said. Why wouldn’t he meet my eyes?

  “That’s not a good enough reason,” I pushed, asking again. “Why?”

  After more silence, he finally looked down at me. His eyes were sad and ancient. “It’s my nature, Meara. It’s who I am. I cannot stay here long.”

  “What do you mean—your nature?”

  “I can’t tell you that,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  I screamed in frustration. “Why do you even bother talking at all? Nothing you say means anything or makes sense.”

  “It will,” he said. “I promise.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t know what that means.” I crossed my arms and glared at him. I wished the dream would end. I pinched my arm and tried to wake myself up. The pain shocked me.

  David saw and laughed. I was about to tell him to get the heck out of my dreams when a barking commotion near the shore caught my attention. I turned from David to see three seals on the rocks. Two were small with reddish-brown fur, and one was large and light gray. They appeared to be playing. There were seals in Canada? I had only seen them at the zoo.

  “Do you see that?” I whispered to David, not wanting to scare them. The seals weren’t too far away from us. David didn’t answer. I looked back to find him scowling at the seals.

  “They are not supposed to be here,” he muttered.

  “No doubt,” I agreed. “I didn’t know seals lived here.”

  “They do,” he said. “In abundance, too.”

  “Oh…cool.” It was dark and hard to see, so I took a step toward them to get a better look. David grabbed my arm and turned me to him. He kissed my forehead and said, “Sleep well, Meara.”

  I woke to the sun beaming in my eyes. I felt great, and it actually took a few minutes before my dreams or vision, or whatever it was, came back to me. It wasn’t until I was standing in the bathroom and brushing my hair that I thought of my dad—um, David. In my dream, he seemed so fatherly, like he cared about me. It didn’t make sense. Where had he been all these years?