Remember to Forget, Revised and Expanded

by Ashley Royer

  I swallow as I realize that this will be where I’ll live for the next few months, maybe even a year. I’m not prepared to start all over again. Just thinking about it makes me nervous. I was perfectly content with what I had been doing—absolutely nothing. But I feel like that will soon change. I’m not sure I’m ready for change, and I don’t think I ever will be.

  I don’t understand how moving here will help anything. I’m in a different country, where I don’t know anything or anyone. If anything, I feel like living here will be even worse. I don’t want to give Maine a chance, as I’m almost positive that nothing here will help, just like in Australia.

  I lay down on the carpet, folding my arms beneath my head for a pillow. Jet lag has made me extremely tired, more tired than usual. The floor feels strangely comfortable, and I start to doze off. My eyelids become heavy, and before I know it, I drift off to sleep.

  Chapter Three

  LEVI

  Good morning, Levi!” my dad cheerily exclaims when I walk into the kitchen. I raise my eyebrows at his sudden exuberance. I don’t remember him like this. “Want some cereal? I have Lucky Charms. I remembered that they’re your favorite.”

  Lucky Charms was my favorite. Now I hate it. Lucky Charms are too happy and cheerful for me.

  “What are you eating?” I ask her.

  “Marshmallows,” she says, tossing a pink heart into her mouth.

  “Is that from my Lucky Charms?” I sit down beside her and grab one from the bowl.

  “Obviously. They’re the best kind of marshmallows.”

  “Now what am I supposed to eat for breakfast?”

  She shrugs and continues to eat.

  I run my hand through my messy hair and sit down at the table. I cringe at the memories. My dad pours two bowls of cereal and brings them over to the table. He sits across from me and smiles.

  “Did you sleep all right?” he asks.

  I push the bowl of cereal away from me, which causes some milk to splash out of the bowl. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, but continues to munch on his cereal. I tap my fingers on the table and sigh.

  I’m annoyed that my dad is trying so hard. He doesn’t even know me anymore. He knows the happy, fourteen-year-old Levi. Not the mute, depressed seventeen-year-old version. The past me isn’t even close to the me at the present. Instead of trying to remember how I was, he should just forget all of that. I’m not the same Levi, and I never will be.

  “Is there anything you want to do today?” my dad questions, breaking the silence. “Anything you want for your room?”

  I shrug. I don’t really want to go out with my dad. I’d rather get the things I need alone.

  He puts his spoon in his cereal and looks up at me.

  “Well, today I have football—they call it soccer here. I coach for one of the local teams. You’re welcome to come if you want, maybe you could help out.”

  I roll my eyes. I used to play football—up until two years ago, actually. Universities already wanted to accept me, but it just wasn’t my thing. I always did it to make my dad happy, but once he moved, there was really no point. When I was younger, he would make me practice every single day. I had to be the best player possible, and I was. But I hated every aspect of football. Nothing was fun about it—it was just something to do. It was also another thing for my dad to boss me around with.

  My dad and I never had a great relationship. He was always too obsessed with football and work. He was a coach and a manager for one of the biggest teams in Australia. The only thing he ever talked to me about was football. He never asked me about my day, never took me out for ice cream. He only took me to football games. Until one day, when he decided it was all too much. He needed a break. That’s when everything broke. The divorce, his moving to Maine, and Dad becoming distant. Most of it’s a blur, mostly because I don’t care. Or at least, I try not to let it bother me.

  Once I’ve had enough of my dad and his cheeriness, I get up from the table and pour my uneaten cereal into the sink. My dad opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but closes it and purses his lips. Then he takes a deep breath and finally speaks.

  “We’ll leave for football in an hour.”

  I don’t remember giving any sort of indication of wanting to go. He can’t just assume that I automatically want to do whatever he says. I’m certainly not going to a football practice. That’s the last place I want to be.

  I stare at him with an emotionless glare, and he stares back. I don’t stop until he looks away. Once he does, I turn sharply on my heels and head to my room.

  I walk into my closet and slowly turn around, examining all my things. There’s not much here, since most of my things are still in Australia. I sigh and grab my beanie and place it over my messy hair.

  When I walk out of my room, my dad is still at the table. His head is in his hands, and he’s barely moving. I can hear him sigh and mutter, “My son hates me. My own son actually hates me.”

  My dad is right for once.

  I slam a door so he’s aware that I’m here. He jumps a little in his chair and looks up.

  “Oh, you’re back,” he says awkwardly.

  I ignore him and go down the stairs two at a time, my feet clomping all the way down. I reach for the doorknob just as my dad reaches me.

  “Levi, where are you going?” my dad asks.

  I shrug and open the door, slipping out before he questions me again. I honestly don’t know where I’m going. I just want to be somewhere.

  “But I thought we were going to the football field!” I hear him shout as I shut the door.

  I start to walk down the driveway, but hear footsteps behind me.

  “Levi! We need to talk,” I hear my dad yell. “Or, I need to talk. Whatever, you know what I mean!”

  I turn around sharply and stop walking. I raise my eyebrows and wait for him to talk. He stays silent for a few seconds, both of us just staring at each other again.

  “Come back inside.”

  I cross my arms over my chest, turn quickly, and continue to walk down the street. I’d rather be anywhere than in that house. I hate my dad, I hate this place, I hate everything.

  “Levi! Please!” he begs.

  I roll my eyes and continue.

  “At least stop walking.”

  I don’t stop. I walk farther away from him and turn down the street.

  I wandered around town for a few hours. I mostly just walked down random streets, occasionally stopping to look at things. There’s not much around here except for some shops and restaurants. Just a regular town.

  I got home around four o’clock, but Dad wasn’t home. Typical. He was never around, and that hasn’t changed. And since I don’t have any keys, I’ve been sitting on the front steps for over an hour. Life is just wonderful right now.

  I pull a cigarette out of my pocket and light it, watching the tip spark before burning. I place it between my lips and take a deep breath. I tilt my head back and let the smoke out of my lungs, then watch it swirl until it vanishes into the air.

  I didn’t start smoking until recently, and I don
’t do it too often. It’s more something to keep my mind off things, just for a little. It allows me to focus on something other than my sadness.

  The neighborhood is quiet at this hour; only a few cars have driven by. I like the silence. I don’t like the bitter cold, though. I definitely wasn’t prepared for this.

  I place my chin on my hand and continue smoking. I can see the neighbors across the street in one of their rooms. It looks like a dining room. There are two people sitting at a table with flowers in the middle. Both are laughing as if something wonderful happened. I wonder what it’s like to be that happy.

  “Hey,” I hear someone call. I snap my head in the direction of the voice and see a boy about my age walking toward me. “Are you Levi?”

  I furrow my eyebrows in confusion as he sits down beside me. How does he know who I am?

  “I’m Aiden, nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand for me to shake, but I just stare at it. I take in a breath of smoke and puff it in his face. “Alrighty then,” he mumbles, coughing a little bit. He awkwardly places his hand in his lap and takes a deep breath over his shoulder to avoid my smoke. “So are you Levi? Or are you some random dude sitting outside this house?”

  I get up and start to walk away, not wanting to interact with him.

  “Hey, wait up!” Aiden calls, walking in my direction. “I have a spare key!”

  I turn around and raise an eyebrow at Aiden. He pulls a key out of his pocket and holds it between his fingers. I try to snatch it from him, but he pulls it away before I get to it.

  He turns his head and eyes me suspiciously. “Are you Levi?”

  I roll my eyes and nod, holding out my hand for the key. He obediently gives it to me, and I walk toward the door to get away from him.

  “Dude, at least stop smoking. I can’t breathe with that in the air,” he says, following me.

  I toss the cigarette on the sidewalk and squish it beneath my shoe. I was done with it anyway.

  “I work for your dad. You know, helping out with soccer and stuff. You probably call it football, like your dad does.”

  I scowl.

  “I also live right down the street. He mentioned something about his son coming, so I’m guessing that’s you. I never even knew he had a son until a few days ago.”

  Great to know my dad never mentioned me. Thanks, Dad. Nice to know you care. Seems absolutely normal to never mention having a son. That’s logical.

  I fumble with the key, it doesn’t seem to fit very well in the lock. I shove the door with all my weight but it doesn’t budge.

  “The cold weather makes the doors hard to open. You’re from somewhere warm, right? Isn’t it, like, Australia? Here, let me do it,” Aiden says, opening the door with ease.

  I feel the urge to slap Aiden to get him to stop talking. I already genuinely dislike him. His extremely fake, goofy smile is getting on my nerves. I clench my teeth through my frustration.

  “Hey, you all right? You don’t talk much, do you?” Aiden continues to babble on about stupid things and follows me inside. I just want to be alone. No one seems to understand that.

  He plops down on the couch, putting his feet on the coffee table. I continue standing, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed.

  “So, Levi, how are you liking it here so far? Maine is pretty dull if you ask me. I want to move somewhere cool, like Australia or something.”

  I roll my eyes at his statement. Australia is most definitely not cool. It’s where dreams go to die.

  Maine seems to be where heat goes to turn into a bitter frost.

  Aiden looks up at me, waiting for a response. I guess he hasn’t found out I don’t talk. Or he knows, but thinks I will actually engage in a conversation with him.

  He clears his throat and taps his fingers against the couch. He looks up at the ceiling, then down at the floor.

  “Your dad told me you’re amazing at soccer. You should join the team at school. Though they’re pretty bad. I’m even worse. But I don’t care, I’m still part of the team, you know? Just getting to be on the field and everything. You could really help us out.”

  My dad has always had this hope that I’d go back to soccer. But I never will. Not now, not ever.

  I pull out my phone and type quickly. I press speak, and Aiden furrows his eyebrows when he hears it.

  “First things first,” it reads, “I don’t talk. Ever. I haven’t spoken for six months. Don’t expect me to. Don’t ask stupid questions, because I won’t answer them. You’ve asked more questions than my mind can handle. I feel like I’ve lost brain cells from your horrific grammar, you know?” Aiden bites his lip, realizing I’d just quoted him. “Secondly, yes, I’m Australian. Australia is not cool, but you’re welcome to move there. I don’t like you, and I don’t like Australia. It’s a perfect match. Third, I will never play football. Don’t try to make me think differently. I hate it. Lastly, please leave before I explode from frustration.”

  Aiden looks down and cracks his knuckles. “I’m just trying to be friendly,” he mumbles, getting up from the couch. “I guess I’ll be leaving then. Have a nice night, Levi. I’ll see you around.”

  He hangs his head as he walks toward the door. Just as he’s about to leave, my dad walks in.

  “Hey, Aiden!” he exclaims. He’s more excited to see him than he was to see his own son after three years. “I see you’ve met Levi!”

  “Yeah, he was locked out. I brought him in. But I’m leaving. I’ll see you later,” Aiden says quietly, darting out the door.

  My dad places his bag on the bottom of the stairs and walks up to me.

  “Aiden’s nice, huh? He’s a great guy.”

  I shrug and walk past my dad and into my room. My dad seems to care more about Aiden than me. Not that I care. Why would I care? It’s not like I actually like my dad. I don’t like Aiden either. I don’t care about either of them.

  He didn’t even apologize for locking me out. I sat outside for so long, and he doesn’t even acknowledge it. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

  All I care about right now is going to sleep, so that’s what I decide to do. It’s not like there’s anything else to do. Even though it’s only seven thirty, I’m still on Australian time. My sleeping schedule is completely messed up.

  After an endless few minutes of restlessly lying on my bed, I give up on getting comfortable. I’m way too tall for the tiny mattress. I go into the closet and get comfortable quickly.

  I like the small, open space of silence. It feels large and loud. I don’t feel trapped in here the same way I do everywhere else.

  I enjoy being alone like this.

  Chapter Four

  LEVI

  I step into an all-too-familiar atmosphere at ten in the morning. A few other people are waiting in chairs, not making a sound. A lady at the front desk types quickly, which is the only sound in the quiet room. I roll my eyes and walk.

  I’ve only been in Maine for four days, and I’m already at the therapist.

  “Hi, how can I help you?” the lady says cheerily. She looks up at me, then at my dad.

  My dad answ
ers all the questions while I lean against the counter. I yawn slowly, having only woken up a few minutes ago.

  The lady—her name is June—hands me a clipboard with some papers attached. The usual questions that I’m sick of answering.

  Do you feel as if you are different from other individuals?

  Are you constantly tired?

  Have you lost interest in everyday activities?

  I scribble down my answers just as I hear my name called.

  “Levi Harrison?” a woman with curly red hair asks, grinning widely.

  I stand up and cringe. I already dislike her.

  “Good luck, bud. Come get me if you need anything,” my dad tells me.

  Bud? What am I, five years old?

  My dad’s been trying. Maybe a little too much. The past four days, I’ve been ignoring him most of the time. I don’t really want to be around him. I think he realizes that, but he still tries.

  I look at him as if he’s crazy, which he is. He smiles meekly, his eyebrows arched upward. I turn away and follow the doctor.

  “Hello, Levi. Nice to meet you. I’m Candace, and I’ll be your therapist, okay?” She reaches out her hand for me to shake, but instead of shaking it, I put the clipboard in her hand. I don’t want to carry it anyway.

  She nods her head as if saying yes and closes her lips into a straight line. She brings me into a room, which is like every other therapy room. There are some games in the corner, a notepad on the table, a couch against one wall. A picture that looks like it was done by a seven-year-old is on one of the plain, tan walls. Maybe it’s a panda. Or possibly a whale? Maybe it’s half and half. Would that be a whanda or a pandle?

  “Hello? Levi?” Candace says, looking at me.

  I must have zoned out while looking at the painting. That happens a lot. I think so much that I forget about my surroundings. I look over at Candace to see her smiling widely again. Her teeth are way too white. I bet she’s whitened them more than the directions recommend.