Remember to Forget, Revised and Expanded (14 page)
I see Levi walk in, and he looks around. I wave, and he sits down across from me.
He takes off his black jacket and replaces his snapback on his head.
“Do you want something to eat or drink?” I ask him.
He nods, and we both get up to order our coffees. Well, I order both of them so Levi
won't have to write his order down. When I
order my coffee, he flinches a little.
I guess he doesn't like the kind I like.
We sit back down at the table and get started. I wrote down all the questions on
a piece of paper and left room for Levi to write a response. I hand him the paper
and give him time to answer the questions. After a few minutes, he hands the paper
back to me. While reading his answers, I notice that he has surprisingly good grammar
and spelling for someone who doesn't talk.
1. When's your birthday?
July 25
2. Who is your best friend?
I met my best friend Caleb in Year 6. He has this obsession with music. He's always
playing his guitar, and he stays up for hours writing songs. He's like a lyrical
genius. Caleb's been there for me whenever I need him. I've been a pretty horrible
person to him the past few months, but he hasn't given up on me like everyone else
seems to have.
3. What was it like growing up in Australia?
I lived in the Western Sydney suburbs, which is just a vast area of lots of plants.
It's basically a giant farmland with these little brick houses. It's a lot hotter
there than it is here. And I look like I can surf, but I can't, so you better not
have asked me that question.
4. What was it like moving here?
Moving to Maine was like moving to a whole other planet. The accents are different,
the food is different, everything is different. I'm still not
really used to the time zone. I sometimes wake up at awkward hours, and I can't fall back asleep. I
also don't know anyone but you and Aiden. Everyone back home knew about me. They
knew my whole life story. Being in a small town, everyone knew what happened to each
other. After the incident, I was looked at as a delicate, fragile person. No one
treated me the same. Some of my friends stopped talking to me. I got sympathetic
looks everywhere I went. They all knew me as a boy who got messed up because his
girlfriend died. No one here knows that.
I started with only four questions, and I decided to work off of them. I ask Levi
a few more questions afterward. Some of his answers surprise me. I didn't expect
him to share too much, but he seems to be telling me a lot. I'm getting a whole different
perspective on him.
I asked simple questions, like what his old school was like or any hobbies he has.
He told me he
had
hobbies, but doesn't anymore.
I also asked him three words that he would describe himself with, and his response
was interesting. He wrote down “destructive, empty, depressed.” When I told him he's
depressed, and depression isn't him, he smiled a little. He crossed out his answer
and changed it to “lost.” I'm not sure which answer was better. Neither are too positive.
I get the feeling he doesn't think very highly of himself.
The last question I ask him is what his favorite thing to do is. It takes him awhile
to answer that one. He stares down at the paper and twirls the pen with his fingers
for a long time. He looks up at me every so often.
“You don't need to answer it,” I tell him.
He shakes his head and taps the pen on the table. After a few more moments, he scribbles
down an answer. He slides the paper across the table and smiles shyly.
I like watching the rain and listening to the sound of it falling.
I wasn't expecting that as an answer. I can imagine him liking the rain though.
He definitely doesn't seem like someone that would love sunshine. His answer somehow
fits perfectly with him the more I think about it.
Once we're done with the questions, we decide to walk around outside a little. There's
a beach right next to us, and even though it's November, we're walking along the
sand. It's dark out, and I can barely see anything.
“Did you go to the beach a lot?” I ask Levi.
He shakes his head no.
I cold breeze blows by, and I wrap my arms around myself. I notice Levi start to
take off his jacket.
“No, Levi, I'm fine,” I tell him, even though I'm shivering despite my heavy sweater.
He shakes his head and hands me his jacket. I put it on, and I can smell a faint
hint of smoke and cologne. I put my hands in the pocket and feel a pack of cigarettes.
“Why do you smoke?” I ask him. Once I say it, I realize what a stupid question it
is.
He shrugs and types something in his phone. “It relaxes me. I'm trying to stop, though.”
In the other pocket, there's a bag of Skittles. I smile and show them to Levi.
He quickly types something. “I bought those earlier for us. That's why I was late.”
His cheeks turn slightly red, and he looks down at the sand. I smile and open up
the bag, handing some to Levi. He eats all the red ones first, and I do too.
A wave crashes at our feet, and Levi bends down and splashes me. I splash him back,
and he shields his eyes. We continue splashing each other until I run away from
the water. He smiles widely,
the first real smile I've ever seen him have. I notice
how straight his teeth are, and how big his dimple really is.
I stick out my tongue, and he runs over to me. I throw some Skittles at him, and
he manages to catch one in his mouth.
I throw another one, and it hits him right in the forehead. He rubs the spot like
it hurt, and I laugh.
He rolls his eyes and reaches into his jacket pocket, which I'm still wearing, for
some more Skittles. We end up reaching in at the same time, and he grabs my hand,
most likely on accident. He holds on to it for a few seconds before reaching away.
Even in the dark, I can tell that he's blushing. I think I am too.
I laugh and give him some Skittles. “Don't be embarrassed,” I tell him.
He waves his hand and tosses all the Skittles in his mouth. When I'm not looking,
he throws one at me.
“Taste the rainbow,” he mouths.
I miss her.
I miss her.
I really, really miss her.
It's the sixth of November. It's been 221 days.
I'm afraid that with every day that passes, I'll forget more about Delia. I'm starting
to forget the way she said certain things, or the exact color of her hair. I don't
want to ever forget. I want to always remember.
Today's one of those days where I just want her here. I've been thinking all day
long about everything happening in my life. I miss doing nothing yet everything,
all at once, with her. Maybe today we would've been sitting on the couch watching
a movie. Or maybe we would've gone out for pizza and people-watched together.
I remember when I was little, I would draw happy faces on everything. I was surrounded
by people with happy faces. But now, I'm just a sad person surrounded by sad faces.
I hate it.
She wouldn't have let me be sad like this. She would've made me happy, no matter
what. She would've been the one happy face in the sea of sadness.
And when the one person who could make you happy is gone, it feels like the end of
the world.
It's weird how fast things can change. One minute, you can be perfectly happy, and
then the next you can be sad.
Sad, sad, sad.
It doesn't even sound like a word anymore.
You know what else is weird? Life. No one is promised life. But we are promised death.
That's one thing in life that's guaranteed. Everyone is going to die at some point.
The one thing that most people don't want is the one thing that is bound to happen
at some point.
Sometimes I wonder how long Delia would've lived. If we'd still be together. What
she would've done when we graduated. But I'll never know.
I'll also never know what would've happened to me if she was still alive. I wouldn't
be here, for one thing. I would be talking right now. I wouldn't be writing in some
notebook to get my feelings out. I would be telling them to someone, most likely
Delia.
She would've listened.
She would've listened to how sorry I am. How much I hate my life. How I've messed
up everything.
She would've known just what to say. She always did.
And here I am, not saying anything.
I'm sorry.
I quickly wipe the tears that are spilling down my cheeks and close the notebook.
I shut my eyes tightly and put my head in my hands. I shake my head quickly as I
try not to cry.
I hate this.
I rub my nose and take a deep breath.
Something Delia will never be able to do again.
I hate thinking about stuff like that. It just makes me sadder. All my thoughts just
attack me all the time. I never get a break
from my own mind. Whether it's my thoughts,
or memories, or forgetting something, my mind is always doing something that makes
me sad.
I think about Delilah and her project. How she chose to do it on me. She probably
only chose me for the obvious reasons, like how I don't talk, and all my emotions.
She didn't pick me because I'm “interesting.” I'm messed up, that's what I am.
She didn't even ask interesting questions. It was just background info on me. Maybe
she didn't want to ask me personal things because she thinks I won't tell her.
I probably wouldn't have told her a few weeks ago. But now I'm not so sure.
When I first met Delilah, I wanted nothing to do with her. I didn't want to see her,
hear her, or do anything that involved her. I hated her so much. It's strange how
quickly that changed. I don't hate her anymore; I'm not sure if I like her, though.
I'm still slightly uncomfortable around her, yet I'm comfortable at the same time.
It confuses me so much. She is so much like Delia, I can barely stand it.
I don't understand myself at all. Everything is all scrambled in my mind today, and
I feel like I'm thinking of a thousand things at once. I'm thinking about Delia,
Delilah, myself, everyone, and everything. It's exhausting.
I look out the window at the rain that is quickly falling. The sky is dark with clouds,
and there are puddles all over the street. I trace my finger down the windowsill,
leaving a small smudge.
I rub my eyes and throw on a shirt that's on the floor. I find my dad watching television.
I sit down beside him, and he looks up at me.
“Are you okay?” he asks, quickly shutting off the TV.
I bite my lip, tears threatening to spill out of my eyes again just because of his
simple question. I shake my head no, immediately starting to cry again. I hate being
so emotional all the time. It's like the sadness erupts within me and comes out instantly.
“What happened?” my dad asks.
I shrug. I don't really know why I'm upset. It's always about Delia or something
involving her, but it comes at random times without warning.
“Uh, umâI, weâDo you wanna do something maybe?” he asks, unsure of what to say.
I shake my head no.
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
I shake my head no again. I thought I could just come out here and sit with him.
I didn't mean to start crying like this.
I take some deep breaths and calm down. We sit in silence for a few minutes. My dad
isn't really good at this stuff.
“We can go see Candace if you want,” he says. “Are you that upset?”
I shake my head and stand up from the couch. I write down that I'm going for a walk,
and I'll be right back. He looks concerned when he reads it, but lets me go anyway.
I know exactly who to go to. I know how to get rid of all these confusing thoughts
in my mind.
It's still raining as I walk outside. I head down the street, keeping my head down
as the rain falls. I'm quickly soaked because of all the rain, but I don't mind.
It feels nice on my skin. It also will make it look like I haven't been crying.
I get to the house I'm looking for. I hesitantly walk up the driveway and stand at
the bottom step below the doorway.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and shield it from the rain as best as I can. I
scroll through my contacts and text Delilah.
Come outside. There's something I need to tell you.
L
evi: Come outside. There's something I need to tell you.
I look out my window and see Levi standing on my front steps. He's soaked and standing
there with his feet turned in, and he's biting on his bottom lip.
What does he want to tell me?
I grab a sweatshirt, pull it on, and head downstairs, taking the steps two at a time.
I pull on my hood and open the door.
The rain is bouncing off the pavement, and Levi looks like he is freezing. His shirt
is sticking to his skin, and he's completely drenched.
“Levi, come inside,” I tell him.
He shakes his head and pulls out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. He hands
it to me, and I slowly unfold it. The paper is already slightly damp.
“C'mon. Just come inside.”
Levi looks at me with pleading eyes.
I feel like he doesn't want to come inside because of my family. He must not want
to meet them for some reason. I can understand that, since he doesn't seem to like
meeting new people.
“No one is home. It's just me,” I yell over the loud rain and wind.
He slowly comes inside and looks around when he first steps in. He runs his hand
through his wet hair, which is sticking to his forehead. He's dripping wet.