Remember to Forget, Revised and Expanded (11 page)

“Levi?” I whisper.

He looks up at me through the trees, his eyes red and swollen. His cheeks are rosy
and blotchy and tears stain his face. His shirt is all wrinkled and dirt covers his
jeans.

When he sees me, he quickly gets up and starts to run. He runs fast, rapidly getting
farther away from me and deeper into the trees.

I run after him, worried for his safety. He's clearly upset about something, and
he could decide to hurt himself.

The trees get more numerous as I run farther away from the fence. I've lost Levi;
he could've gone anywhere. I look in every direction and finally see him lying on
the ground. His pants are ripped, and there's some blood on his leg. He must have
fallen in the short time since I lost him.

“Levi!” I shout, running in his direction.

He tries to scoot away from me, and he's crying even harder now. Something is seriously
wrong.

I peer down at the small cut on his leg and look at his eyes, which are filled with
tears.

“Just let me help, all right?” I say.

He slowly sits up and allows me to sit beside him. He doesn't look at me—he stays
turned away. I can still hear him crying.

I grab the water out of my bag and pour it over his cut. I gently wipe it with a
tissue I found in my bag, and he winces.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

We sit in silence for a few minutes. I'm unsure of what to say or do. I'm not good
at things like this, especially with Levi. He's so different and hard to understand.
I don't know why he's so upset right now. I decide to start with simple questions,
the way I've seen therapists do.

“Why are you out here?” I ask quietly.

He stays turned away from me.

We sit silently some more. Questions aren't going to work because I know he won't
answer, so I just start saying what's on my mind.

“I know you don't like me, and I haven't always been so great to you. But you're
clearly hurting, and I don't want to see you upset. It's not good to keep it all
inside, trust me. You don't have to tell me everything, or anything if you don't
want to. I just . . . I think
it'd help if you told someone. Maybe Aiden—you trust
him, right? Just so you're able to get it all out, you know?” I take a deep breath.
“You probably don't want me here, but I am, and I'm not leaving you here alone.”

He doesn't respond for a few seconds. Then he slowly turns around and faces me. His
eyes dart around, avoiding mine, and he nervously bites his bottom lip. At least
he has stopped crying. He takes out a piece of paper from his pocket, along with
a pen. He quickly writes something and passes it to me. I wonder why he's carrying
paper and a pen.

It's been 210 days since she died. And it hurts. A lot. Days go by, and she's not
here. I hate being here without her. I hate everything. I just miss her so much.
It's so hard to get through every day.

I look up at Levi after I read it, and he finally looks me in the eyes. He suddenly
bursts into tears, and starts to sob. I put my hand on his back to comfort him, and
he flinches at first.

“It's okay to be sad, Levi,” I whisper. “You don't have to go through this alone.”

He takes in a quick breath and collapses onto me, his head resting on my shoulder.
It takes me by surprise, and I slowly wrap my arms around him. He cries into my shoulder
for a while, his tears soaking my shirt. I don't say anything, I let him cry.

I didn't expect this from Levi. He seemed unbreakable to me. But in reality, he's
hurting every single day. Today it was all too much for him, and he broke down. It
seems that every time I'm with Levi, I see a different side of him. He's a giant
mystery waiting to be uncovered.

I wonder how long it's been since he's actually cried. I think he tries to hold it
all in and not think about his sadness. He tries so hard to be strong and tough,
but he's just like everyone else. In fact, he feels emotions even more than others.

Suddenly, my phone rings. Levi picks his head up and wipes his eyes. I take my phone
out of my pocket, and see it's Aiden.

“Anything?” Aiden says the second I pick up.

I look over at Levi, who is sniffing. I reach for a tissue and hand it to him. “Yeah.
I found him.”

Levi looks over at me. He looks so young and fragile, like he could crumble with
the slightest touch.

“You did?!” Aiden asks. “Where is he?”

“He's at the park. Just give him some space, okay? He's all right. I'll bring him
home, and we'll meet you guys there.”

“Okay. I've gotta let Anthony know! Bye, Delilah!”

Aiden hangs up, and I look over at Levi.

“That was Aiden. Do you want to head home now?”

Levi shakes his head. He's looking at the cut on his leg, trying to wipe off the
dirt.

“Does it hurt?” I ask him.

He shakes his head.

“Does anything hurt?” I'm not sure if he hurt himself anywhere else when he fell.

He nods and points to his chest.

“Your chest hurts?”

He shakes his head. He hesitatingly reaches for my hand and brings it up to his chest.
I can feel his heart beating.

I realize what he's telling me, and I nearly start crying too.

Levi's heart hurts.

Chapter Fourteen

LEVI

D
elilah and I walk back to my house in silence. I feel awkward after what happened
in the park. She just saw me cry like a little baby, and the worst part is that I
cried into her shoulder.
Her shoulder.
Guys aren't supposed to be the one crying
on the girl; it's supposed to be the other way around. I'm such a loser.

When Delilah found me, I just wanted to be invisible. I wanted Delilah to turn around
and leave, like maybe she didn't see me. But of course she found me among the trees,
sobbing.

Why did she have to be the one to see me cry?

I don't know if I'm so emotional because of the pills, or because of what's happening
to me. I've been taking them every day, and I've just been feeling so much. It's
like everything inside me is changing. Or I'm just hormonal. I feel like if guys
had periods, this is what it would feel like.

I take my pack of cigarettes out of my pocket and light one almost immediately. I
bring it up to my lips and inhale slowly. Delilah glances over at me and sighs, looking
disappointed but understanding at the same time. I toss the cigarette to the ground
after awhile and squish it onto the pavement. Delilah looks down at it and continues
walking.

I honestly thought Delilah would make things worse when she sat down beside me. I
thought she was going to yell at me or say something horrible, but she didn't. She
actually helped me. She
comforted me a lot. It was nice to know that she was there
for me. I still feel uncomfortable around her, just because she reminds me so much
of Delia. She looks exactly like her, and I'm starting to see similarities in their
personalities. It scares me.

“What are you thinking about?” Delilah whispers. She must've noticed my pace slowed
down as we walked.

I nervously rub my nose and shrug.

“I won't tell Aiden about what happened back there if you don't want him to know.”

I nod my head. It's good to know that she won't share that with him. I don't want
everyone to treat me like a child.

I turn my phone on, and multiple texts and missed calls from my dad immediately pop
up. I type something on my phone and press speak. “Can you tell me something funny?”

Delilah looks over at me. “What?”

“Tell me a funny story.” I want something to keep my mind from thinking about Delia
and getting upset again. I think Delilah realizes that, so she starts to talk.

“Umm . . . Okay, I got one,” she says, a small smile growing on her face. “In second
grade, we had a dinosaur play. And of course I had a solo. You'll never guess what
I was.”

I look over at her with raised eyebrows. She looks so cute.

She giggles a little and starts talking again. “I was the baby dinosaur. I had to
come out of this giant paper egg—it was huge. I sang this song in a high-pitched
voice, and then I was
born
. Like, I had to literally jump out of the egg. So I jumped
up to be born, and as I sprang up, I stepped on my costume. Well, it ripped in half
and fell down to my ankles! Thankfully, I had clothes on underneath. People teased
me all the time about it. It was so embarrassing! I even had a huge binky around
my neck and a giant bonnet.” Her cheeks are slightly red, and she covers her face
with her hands. “It was horrible! I didn't know what to do. I looked behind the curtains
at my teacher, who told me to continue. I heard all the kids behind me gasp!” she
says, her voice muffled.

I can only imagine this happening. I wish I had been there to see it. I smile as
I imagine it.

“Hey, you have a dimple,” Delilah says, poking my cheek.

I roll my eyes and swat her hand away, trying not to smile any wider.

“I've never seen you smile before,” she whispers.

I shrug and continue walking.

Delilah's right, though; she's never seen me smile. Barely anyone has these past
few months.

Aiden and my dad pull up to the house at almost the exact same time we get there.
My dad runs out of his car and pulls me into a tight hug.

“Don't ever scare me like that again,” he says. “Do you know how worried I was?”

I notice that his hands are shaking slightly. I didn't think he'd care if I was gone
for a few hours.

“Thank you for finding him, Delilah. And thanks for your help, Aiden. I don't know
what I would've done without you guys,” my dad says.

“No problem!” Aiden says. “I'm happy Levi's all right.”

“Yeah, same here,” Delilah says. “You guys want some alone time?”

“That'd be great,” my dad says.

“Okay. I'll see you later, Levi,” Delilah says, waving as she walks away with Aiden.

I could've sworn I saw some sadness in her smile as she left. Maybe I'm wrong, as
I don't know why she'd be sad.

My dad tells me we have to talk, which I was expecting. We go inside and sit down
at the table, and he has a stern look on his face. He asks me what I knew he would
ask.

“Why did you leave?” he says.

I write down everything that happened. I let him know what was going on in my mind.
I tell him I needed to be alone in order to figure some things out. I had been thinking
a lot about Australia
and Delia, and especially moving to Maine. I felt trapped and
just needed some time to sort my thoughts. I was feeling flustered and anxious about
everything, so I decided to leave. Figured that maybe I would feel better if I was
gone for a little. It feels good to let it all out for once. I leave out the part
about it being two hundred and ten days since Delia died.

Although he didn't say too much, he seemed to understand, and I think he felt good
when I finally told him something about how I have been feeling. When I'm done, he
gives me some new rules to follow. I have an earlier curfew, and I have to keep my
door open at all times. I'm kind of annoyed, but I guess I was expecting it. He doesn't
really know me yet, and he's worried. He can't trust me, which I understand because
no one trusts me.

Once his speech is over, I head to my room. A few days ago, at a therapy session,
Candace advised me to write things in a notebook. She said to write down my feelings,
like what I'm worried about or struggling with. She also said to write down if anything
good happens, which so far it hasn't. She says it's a way to clear my mind. I don't
know if it works, but I'm trying. So far I've only written in the notebook twice.

Everything that has happened in the past few months has been building up inside me.
It's like all the bad things are stacking themselves up inside me, slowly getting
taller and taller. I'm afraid one day there won't be any room left for the good things.
It seems like writing things down makes the bad stuff shrink a little, like they're
leaving my mind.

Candace says there's a switch inside me that I can turn on and off. I don't really
understand the metaphor. She says right now the switch is on, and that's why I'm
miserable. I'm capable of turning off the switch, apparently, and once I do I'll
be happier. But how am I supposed to turn off a switch when I don't even know what
it's for?

I like my own metaphors much better. How is someone supposed to tell you how you
feel? Only you know that.

I guess that's why I'm writing in this notebook right now. I'm writing
my
thoughts
and feelings, no one else's.

A few hours later, I hear a knock on my door. I open it up to see Delilah standing
there.

“Uh, hi. I, uh, came to see how you're feeling,” she says. It comes out more like
a question than a statement.

I shrug and sit down on my bed. I quickly hide my notebook under the pillow so she
doesn't see it. She awkwardly walks into my room, looking at my pill containers again.
It doesn't bother me, I know she's just curious. Everyone is.

She walks over to them and reaches into her pocket. She pulls out a bag of Skittles
and takes out a few.

I look at her with a confused expression. She smiles and puts one Skittle into each
section of the container.

“Maybe they'll make it easier to take the pills,” she says. “It makes them seem less
terrible.”

I find myself smiling again.

I type something into my phone. “Skittles are my favorite candy.”

She smiles and
sits down beside me. “They're my favorite too.”