Remember to Forget, Revised and Expanded

by Ashley Royer

  I look at Levi again, and he won’t look me in the eyes. I don’t say anything for a while. I don’t know what to say. What do you say when someone tells you that?

  Levi doesn’t want me or Aiden or anyone in his life.

  “Levi, I understand, but—”

  He shakes his head quickly and covers his ears. I put my hands over his and slowly bring his hands down.

  “Just listen, please. It’s okay to be afraid of how you’re feeling. I don’t know how you feel, and I won’t try to figure it out. But Aiden and I are here for you if you ever need us. I hope you know that. If you have to be alone, you can do that. But I can’t pretend like I never met you.”

  Levi finally looks at me, and he starts to cry. He quickly wipes under his eyes. He then reaches out and hugs me, which I didn’t expect. His wet hair rubs against my cheek as he pulls away.

  He slowly stands up from the bed and grabs his wet clothes from the floor. He waves and heads out of my room, leaving me sitting alone.

  I’m kind of stunned and confused by what just happened. I didn’t expect that at all. I feel like Levi is constantly leaving me confused.

  I feel sad too. I thought we were becoming friends, maybe.

  I fold and unfold the paper. I read it again and run my fingers over the words Levi has written.

  And everywhere I go, things remind me of her. Especially you.

  For some reason, I remind him of Delia. I don’t know if it’s just because of the names or if there’s more.

  “Levi, wait!” I yell, quickly running out of my room. I can’t just let him leave like that.

  I stop short in the hallway because Levi is standing there, his hair dripping, his eyes red, and his cheeks stained with tears.

  He drops his clothes on the ground and pulls out his phone to type something.

  “I didn’t make it very far. I forgot my socks.”

  “Oh, um, all right,” I say awkwardly.

  He gets his socks and stands in the doorway.

  “I guess this is good-bye for now,” I tell him from the top of the steps. He opens the door and leaves. I watch him walk down the street until I can’t see him anymore.

  Just like that, he’s gone.

  Chapter Twenty

  LEVI

  I walk into the waiting room for a therapy session, and of course Delilah is behind the front desk. It’s been almost a week since I last saw her, and I’ve been doing pretty well avoiding her until now.

  “Hi, Levi,” she says quietly when I walk past the desk.

  I don’t do anything in response. I sit in the farthest possible seat from Delilah.

  I can’t help but notice that she’s wearing a shirt Delia had.

  “That song is horrible, Caleb. How do you—Levi! You just spilled your water all over my shirt!” Delia shrieks.

  I bite my lip to try not to laugh. “Oops, sorry!”

  “You’re so clumsy. You’re lucky it’s just water.”

  “Want my shirt?” I offer.

  “Please, say no,” Caleb says.

  “It’s fine,” she says, laughing. “It’ll dry.”

  “Sorry,” I say, snickering.

  “I hate you,” Delia mumbles as she leans her head on my shoulder.

  “I hate you more,” I whisper.

  “I hate you guys the most,” Caleb says.

  “Shut up,” we say in unison.

  “I’m just saying, this is my house. You guys come in here and eat my food and curl up together on the couch. It’s my house. You’re supposed to do things with me.”

  “We’re not going to do things with you,” I say, laughing.

  Delia slaps my shoulder, but I can tell she’s trying not to laugh.

  “I hate you so much, Levi,” Caleb says, rolling his eyes.

  I get off the couch and run over to Caleb, who’s sitting in a beanbag chair. I wrap my arms around him and nearly crush him.

  “Caleb needs a cuddle,” I say in a childlike voice.

  “I do not,”he says, shoving me off of him. “Go back to your girlfriend.”

  I lay on the floor and poke Caleb in the cheek. “C’mon. Smile!”

  He pushes my hand away. “No.”

  “You’re no fun,” I say. I hug in my knees and rest my head on top of them. I smile cheesily at Caleb, and he looks up at Delia.

  “Your boyfriend is a weirdo,” he says.

  “When will you stop referring to us as boyfriend and girlfriend? We have names,” Delia says.

  “When you break up.”

  “Who says we’ll break up?” Delia and I say in unison. Again.

  Caleb laughs. “It’s creepy how you always say the same thing.”

  “You’re just jealous,” I tell him.

  Delia leaves for a second to go get something to eat, leaving Caleb and me alone.

  “Have you told her that you love her yet?” Caleb asks quietly.

  Caleb knows everything about me, and vice versa. We tell each other everything—he’s like a brother to me.

  I look down at my hands. “No.”

  “You need to tell her.”

  “Tell me what?” Delia asks, returning quicker than expected.

  “I, um, there’s a, uh— That I’m really hungry,” I say, reaching over for some of the pretzels she brought.

  She rolls her eyes. “You could’ve told me before. I would’ve brought more.”

  “Levi?” I hear Delilah say. I look up and see Candace standing in the waiting room.

  “I called you a few times, Levi,” Candace says, smiling widely.

  She’s way too happy all the time.

  I stand up and walk past Delilah without looking at her. I sit on the same couch I always sit on, and Candace sits across from me.

  “So, how are you feeling today?” Candace asks.

  Anxious. Upset. Tired. What else is new?

  I shrug.

  “How’s everything going with your dad? You haven’t been in to see me for little over a month.”

  I give her a thumbs up. I kept cancelling appointments because I didn’t want to come.

  “That’s good. You don’t want to write on the board today?”

  I shake my head no.

  “All right. Hmm . . . Have you met any other people yet? Made any friends?”

  I think about Aiden and Delilah.

  I shake my head no.

  “Maybe you could try one of the support groups again. I know you did one a few months ago in Australia, but maybe now you’ll like it more. You’ll get to meet some people.”

  I glare at her and raise my eyebrows. I am not going to another support group. You’re supposed to talk at those, which is something I clearly don’t do.

  I know that Candace is trying to be helpful, but today she’s annoying me. I want to leave; I don’t feel like being here today. I just want to go to
sleep.

  I look up at the whanda painting. I still haven’t determined if it’s a whale or panda. It could be neither.

  “I know Delilah lives in your neighborhood. Have you met her?”

  I look at Candace, a little shocked from the mention of Delilah’s name. I shake my head yes slowly.

  “See! You have met people!” she says happily.

  I roll my eyes.

  I’ve barely thought about Delilah since I last saw her. Now Candace has to bring her up, which is making me think about her.

  I wonder what Delilah wanted to tell me when she ran out into the hall before I left. She looked so upset and sad.

  I hadn’t really forgotten my socks. I was standing there debating whether or not to leave. I almost walked back into her room.

  But I couldn’t. I trudged home in the rain, feeling horrible and strangely upset. I thought I would feel better knowing that I wouldn’t have Delilah in my life.

  Even though, in a way, I feel better when I’m with her.

  No, I don’t. I can’t.

  I need to stop thinking about her.

  Candace asks a few more questions in hopes of getting some responses from me. She asks I’ve been taking my pills, which I nod in response to. I’m getting better and try to take them every day.

  The visit with Candace finally ends, and thankfully, when I leave, Delilah isn’t anywhere to be seen. The car ride home is silent like it usually is.

  When we get home, Aiden is outside. He waves when we get out of the car.

  “Hey!” he yells, walking over.

  I guess Delilah didn’t tell him.

  “Hi, Aiden!” my dad says, shutting his car door.

  I force myself to smile a little. I’m not really in the mood to see Aiden right now.

  “I haven’t seen you in a while,” Aiden says, smiling. “Thought you went back to Australia or something!”

  I shake my head no and roll my eyes. Not in the rude way, though.

  I yawn and walk inside, leaving my dad and Aiden outside.

  I go into my room and find a shipping box has tumbled off my desk. I still haven’t unpacked a lot of my things, and I don’t think I will since most of my stuff was sent over after I got here. I bend down and pick up the box, but most of the things fall out.

  Everything inside is old pictures, newspaper clippings, awards, stuff like that.

  As I move the box, a picture of Delia and me lands on top of my foot.

  I put the box down and grab the picture, holding it tightly in my hand. I run my finger gently over the edges.

  I’ve tried not to look at pictures since she died. I didn’t even know that I still had a box full of them. My mum must have packed it without me knowing. I used to have a lot of pictures, especially of Delia.

  The photo is of us outside. Both of us are laughing. I don’t remember what was so funny, but we’re in our school uniforms. It looks like it was taken a few months before she died. Her nose is crinkled, which always happened when she laughed too hard.

  I quickly put the photo into the box before I start crying. I decide not to look at the rest of the pictures; I’ll save those for another day, when I’m ready. If I ever am. I doubt I will be.

  I quickly pick up the rest of the things that fell out of the box and put them back inside. It will probably be months before the box is opened again.

  After looking at the picture, I can’t help but notice that Delilah scrunches her nose like that when she laughs too.

  They have so many similarities. I’m not sure if I’m imagining them, or if they really are alike. It seems impossible for two girls to be almost exact replicas of one another. Even their names are alike. Maybe it’s all in my mind. They do act somewhat differently, though. Delia was outgoing and loud, while Delilah is a little quieter. Maybe she’s only quiet around me, because with Aiden she seems more comfortable, which is understandable. I haven’t been so great to her since I met her.

  I really do mess everything up, don’t I?

  Suddenly, Aiden barges into my room.

  “Hey, haven’t seen you in awhile!” he says happily, sitting down on my bed. “So, what’s up?”

  I type quickly in my phone, “I take it Delilah didn’t tell you?”

  “Tell me what?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

  I sigh. I didn’t want to have to go through this again, as it was hard enough the first time.

  I search through my desk drawer for the letter I have for Aiden. I wrote one for him too just in case this happened. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this.

  I hand him the letter. It’s almost exactly what I told Delilah, except I didn’t include the things about Delia. I just told him I needed some time alone to think about things.

  Aiden hesitantly opens the letter and reads it. Once he’s done, he looks up at me with sad eyes.

  “So, basically, you don’t wanna hang out with us or anything at all anymore?” Aiden asks.

  I nod slowly.

  “All right.”

  I’ve never seen him at a loss for words. Neither of us do anything. We won’t even look at each other.

  Finally, Aiden stands up and starts leaving my room.

  “Well,” he mumbles, “I’m right down the street if you ever need anything or just wanna play FIFA again.”

  I nod.

  “See ya around, I guess,” he says quietly.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  LEVI

  It’s been 241 days.

  It’s been almost four weeks since I last saw anyone but my dad or Candace. I haven’t gone anywhere or done anything remotely interesting.

  Aiden hasn’t stopped by since I told him. I don’t think he really knew how to handle it since he’s, well, he’s Aiden. He likes being happy and being around people. I think he thought I would warm up to him. And I was starting to, which is something I didn’t want.

  When I told him, he seemed heartbroken. He read the letter and stayed quiet for a while afterward. He left like the first day I met him, sad and quiet. The total opposite of how he usually is. He said bye, and I haven’t seen him since.

  I’ve avoided Delilah as best I can. I see her in the neighborhood or at therapy sometimes. She’s given up on saying hi or smiling, or even communicating at all. It’s like she doesn’t know who I am.

  But I guess that’s my own fault. I told her to forget me.

  I’ve gone back to my old ways. I stay alone, mostly in my room. I don’t do much. I’ve gone back to that numb feeling. I feel anxious and dull and tired. I feel like nothing at all.

  There are no more Skittles in my pill container.

  I haven’t written in this notebook for a long time, but today it was necessary. I just need someone, I guess, and this is the closest I have. I guess I’m simply writing about everything that’s happened the past month because I’ve been holding it all in. I need to let it all out, and here’s a place to do that.

  Delilah left me a letter a while ago. It’s
her finished project. She wrote on the envelope that she thought I might like to read it. I can’t bring myself to look at it, though. I don’t want to see what she has to say about me. I’ve contemplated every day whether or not to open it, but I can’t get the courage to tear open the envelope. I’m too nervous about what’s inside.

  Most days I try to remember, but not think too much, about Delia. I find that my memories of her are slowly fading away. I don’t remember them quite as vividly as I used to, and that scares me. My flashbacks still come, but parts are missing. Some of them are getting jumbled with newer memories, and I can’t tell what happened when. I hate it.

  I think my dad is more worried about me than he used to be. He sighs more often, and he looks tired. I feel like I’m wearing him out, just like I did to my mum. I wear everyone out. Even myself. The whole reason I started writing today is because of tomorrow. Tomorrow is this big holiday called Thanksgiving. I didn’t even know what that was until a few hours ago. I guess Americans eat food to celebrate settling on some rock. I don’t get what eating turkey has to do with that, but whatever.

  The problem is, we’re going over to Delilah’s. Apparently my dad has celebrated with them since he moved here. We’re not even American, so I don’t see why we’re celebrating. He told me this morning. I didn’t handle it very well. I may or may not have punched the wall.

  And my hand may or may not be bruised and hurting right now.

  I’m debating even going. It’ll be extremely awkward for everyone, not just Delilah and me. And I don’t want to be surrounded by a bunch of people I don’t know. That’s way too many people to be confused as to why I don’t talk, and why I’m me.

  I’m really nervous. What if Delilah hates me? Wait, I know she does—why wouldn’t she?