Remember to Forget, Revised and Expanded Page 2

  Chapter Two

  LEVI

  Airports are consumed by hellos and good-byes, tight hugs and warm embraces. It’s a place to leave what you know, or start somewhere new. There are hundreds of people with hundreds of stories. I am one of those stories amongst the sea of people. And right now, my story is just beginning at the same time it is ending.

  “Levi,” Caleb says shyly, looking down at his feet. “I know it’s been rough for you. And I wish I could help. Just promise you’ll try to make it work, all right? I miss the old Levi. When you come back, hopefully it’ll be soon, and hopefully my real best friend will be back. I’ll be waiting.” He embraces me in an awkward hug, and I keep my arms down at my sides before slowly wrapping them around him. I hear him sigh as he lets go, and he tries to smile.

  I can tell he’s upset about me leaving, probably because he’s worried. He shouldn’t be worried about me. I’m not worth worrying about. I’m just a lost soul. I don’t think the real Levi will ever be back.

  My mum stands beside Caleb, trying not to cry. Her bottom lip is quivering as she watches us.

  “I’ll miss you so much,” my mum tells me for the hundredth time as she hugs me tightly. She pulls away and keeps her hands on my shoulders. “It’ll be fine, I promise. I wouldn’t be sending you if I didn’t think it would help. Your dad will be at the airport once you get there. Make sure you text me when you land so I know you’re safe. Oh, and don’t forget to take your pills. I’ve already told your dad to remind you. And make sure you eat on the plane—it’s a long flight!” She rambles on and on about important things to do and remember, but I’m not listening.

  I don’t get why everyone is so worried and upset about me leaving. It’s not like I ever did anything great. I don’t get why they would want me to stay. They should be happy that I’m leaving, that they’re finally able to get rid of me. I’m no longer their problem. All I am is a nuisance. I never do anything right, all I do is cause myself and others stress.

  I notice that it’s getting close to the time I need to board my flight. I pull away slightly and point to the screen in front of me showing the flight schedules, and my mum turns around to see what I’m referring to. “Your flight is boarding soon!” she says frantically. “Here’s your bag. Do you have your phone? I feel like you’re forgetting something!”

  I raise my eyebrows and tap my foot impatiently.

  “Right, right. It’s time to leave or you’ll miss the flight. Okay. I can’t believe you’re leaving! I love you.” She hugs me once more, and for a second I think she’ll never let go. But she does, and I start to head through security.

  “Bye, Levi! Bring me a souvenir!” I hear Caleb call. I can tell he’s trying to lighten the mood, but it’s not helping.

  I walk toward the security agent, and I know my mum has already started crying. I turn around and I was right; there are tears on her cheeks. I give her a thumbs-up and a small wave. She smiles and waves back. Caleb puts his arm around her shoulders and tries to console her. I guess he can be all right sometimes.

  “Ticket, please?” the security guard says.

  I show her my ticket, and she looks at it quickly. “Levi Harrison?” she reads.

  I nod.

  “All right. You’re at Gate A8. Enjoy your flight.”

  After a flight that felt like it lasted fifty hours, I finally landed. I slept most of the way because I had nothing else to do. I could’ve watched a movie, but none of them interested me.

  I search for my dad in the airport, but I can’t see him yet. I look over the sea of people, scanning to find him.

  “Levi?” I hear someone yell from behind me.

  I turn around slowly and look around. My eyes land on my dad, who is standing a few feet away from me.

  He’s less tan than I remember, and he has less hair. He’s wearing a black fleece jacket and jeans. I remember him always wearing T-shirts and shorts.

  He smiles widely and shoves through the crowd of people.

  “You’ve grown so much!” he says. “Your hair has grown too!” He chuckles at his own stupid remark.

  I roll my eyes and rock back on my heels, unsure of what to do. He seems a little nervous.

  “So, uh, how’ve you been?” he asks.

  I start to walk through the crowd of people to get to the baggage claim, completely ignoring my dad.

  I don’t want to be here. This whole thing is pointless. I already want to get on another plane and head home. I’d even go to Alaska. Anywhere would be better than here.

  “Well,” he mumbles as he walks behind me. “Great start.”

  I don’t think he realizes I can hear him, even though I’m only a few feet ahead. When you’re as quiet as I am, you hear everything.

  I watch the bags come out one by one and wait for my black suitcase to appear. My dad stands beside me, a little too close for comfort. My bag appears, and I quickly grab it.

  “I guess this is where we’re supposed to hug,” he abruptly says. “You know, if you want.” He puts his arms out for an embrace, but I don’t move. I bite on the inside of my cheek and cross my arms over my chest.

  “Right,” he says glumly. He puts his arms down slowly and rubs behind his neck. He shuts his lips tightly together and takes in a deep breath. “Are you hungry? Tired? Anything you want?” he asks in an effort to reduce the awkwardness.

  My stomach grumbles, even though I was unaware that I was hungry. I look around for a place to get food, and I notice a McDonald’s. I walk toward it as I drag my suitcase with me.

  My dad could at least offer to carry my suitcase. That would be a kind thing to do. I pretend that the suitcase is extremely heavy and struggle to drag it. In reality, it isn’t heavy at all. It’s quite light actually.

  “Want me to carry that?” my dad finally asks. I smirk slyly to myself; my plan worked.

  I continue to drag it along. All I wanted was for him to ask, not to do it. I don’t need people catering to me. Plus, it proves that my dad is somewhat willing to help. The father I remember never would have offered to help with anything. Maybe he’s changed. I highly doubt it, though.

  I glare at my dad, who is now beside me, and quickly walk to McDonald’s so we’re no longer at the same pace. He scratches his head in a confused manner since I’m now carrying the suitcase with ease. I roll my eyes at his stupidity.

  “Are you heading to McDonald’s? Yeah, you definitely are. Do you need money?” my dad says from behind, running over to catch up to me again.

  I ignore him and pull out my wallet. I take out a wrinkled piece of cash and try to flatten it.

  “Levi, you can’t—” my dad starts to say, but is cut off.

  “Next,” the lady at the cash register says. I walk up and she smiles. “Hi, what would you like?” I go to the notes on my phone and type in what I want to order. My dad taps my shoulder, but I ignore him. What’s he so persistent about? Can’t he wait?

  I pass my phone across the counter, and she scrunches her eyebrows together. She reads what’s on my phone and a wave of realization crosses her face.

  “Oh, all right. Are you deaf?” she asks slowly, overexagger
ating the way she moves her mouth.

  This happens all the time. Lots of people mistake me for a deaf person, which is understandable. At first it bothered me, but now it happens so often that I don’t care. I shake my head, and she scrunches her eyebrows again.

  “Oh. Well, that will be six dollars and eleven cents.”

  I give her my money, and she tilts her head to the side.

  “Sorry, this isn’t American money. We can’t accept it,” she tells me, handing it back to me.

  I feel my cheeks heat up, and I fumble with my wallet, even though all I have is Australian money. My dad pops up beside me with cash in hand.

  “Here. Sorry about that,” he tells the lady.

  I glare at him and slap my hand down on the counter in frustration. He could have told me sooner, before I had to embarrass myself like that. I bite my bottom lip in frustration and head over to the pick-up counter. I purposely shove my dad’s shoulder when I walk past him, causing him to bump into the person beside him. I hear him grunt before he follows me. He plasters a fake smile on his face to hide his annoyance, but I see right through him.

  “That’s a neat idea,” my dad says when he walks over to me. “Do you do that often?” he asks, pointing to my phone.

  I turn away from him and pretend to be interested in something, anything really. When you don’t talk, you notice more. I find myself constantly watching others, simply because there’s nothing else to do with my time. At least it takes my mind off things, even if it’s just for a little while.

  I watch a small child run to a man, who I assume is her dad, and he hugs her tightly. A couple is fighting at the ticket counter over something. A mother nervously sends her teenager onto a flight alone.

  I almost forgot about my mum! I pull my phone out of my pocket, and there are multiple texts from her. I text her that I made it and everything’s fine. She was probably worried the whole time.

  “Order fifty-two!” someone shouts.

  I look down at my receipt, which says I’m order fifty-two. I turn around to grab my food, but my dad has already picked it up.

  “Where do you wanna sit? How about right there?” my dad asks, pointing to an empty table.

  I snatch the paper bag out of his hand and grip it tightly. He looks at me then down at his hand then at the bag that I’m now holding. He furrows his eyebrows and exhales heavily before sitting down.

  “How long have you had that?” my dad questions. He points to my lip ring.

  I ignore him and bite into my burger and shove some fries into my mouth. My dad watches me closely, probably hoping I’ll answer. But I don’t.

  “Doesn’t seem like something your mother would allow. How is she?” How many questions is he going to ask?

  I shrug, not wanting to communicate with anyone right now. But then again, I never want to interact with people.

  My dad bounces his leg nervously, causing the whole table to shake. He can’t seem to keep his gaze on me either. His eyes keep wandering nervously in every direction. The table continues to bounce, and it’s getting on my nerves. I grip onto each side of the table and glare at him sharply.

  “Sorry,” he mumbles.

  I continue to eat in complete silence. The only noise is from the multiple people in the airport. Once I’m done, I get up quickly and start to head out. My dad follows closely behind, running to catch up to me.

  “I thought you’d be tired today and wouldn’t want to do much, so we’ll just head home. Is that okay with you?” my dad asks.

  I don’t respond and just follow my dad through the parking lot. We get into the car, and I lounge back in the leather seat, putting my feet up on the dashboard. The car smells like it’s been cleaned recently. The strong aroma of cheap vanilla is floating in the air, and it instantly overpowers my senses. I scrunch my nose and put my sleeve up to my face in hopes of getting rid of the smell.

  “Levi, your feet,” my dad says quietly.

  I look over at him then at my feet, but refuse to move them.

  He sighs. “Levi, please get your feet off the dashboard.”

  I keep my feet where they are and put my hands behind my head to get more comfortable.

  “For the last time, Levi, get your feet off of the dashboard,” he says harshly, slamming his hands onto the steering wheel.

  I roll my eyes and obediently take my feet off the dash because I know he won’t start driving until I do.

  “Thank you,” he softly says. He takes some deep breaths and starts to drive.

  We drive home in silence—not even the radio is on. I decide to look out the window the whole time and watch the new scenery. We pass lots of tall buildings and go over multiple bridges, some of which seem newer than others. Most of the ride is just highways, but once we get into town, there’s a more comforting feel to everything, if you’d like to call it that. We pass a small ice cream shop with some kids outside, and a few restaurants with outdoor patios. Lots of people are walking outside, even though it’s cold. Well, cold for me anyways. I guess they’re used to it. I never knew it could be so cold in October.

  We turn down a street that leads to a bunch of houses, and I’m guessing it’s my dad’s neighborhood. He seems like someone who would live in an apartment, considering it’s only him, but he lives in a house. We pull into the driveway of an average blue house with a small garden in the front, and my dad smiles.

  “This is your new home,” he tells me with a forced smile. I stare back at him with no emotion on my face. Home. This will never be my home.

  Home is a familiar place where someone feels comfortable. I have no idea where I am, and I’m living with a dad I haven’t seen in years. This definitely isn’t home.

  I get out of the car and grab my bags from the trunk. I only have two suitcases, as the rest of my stuff is being shipped here.

  I wait for my dad by the door since it’s locked. He finally walks up the steps and unlocks the door, letting me in first. I take a few steps inside and stand awkwardly because I don’t know where to go.

  There are a few stairs heading up to the kitchen and a long hallway beside it. I can see a television and small black couch on the opposite side of the stairs, which I’m guessing is the living room.

  My dad shuts the door loudly, which startles me. I almost forgot I was observing his house.

  “Want me to show you your room?” he asks.

  I continue to stare at the house, not giving him an answer. I feel like I’m on some movie set, but I haven’t gotten the script yet.

  “Okay, I’ll take that as a yes,” he mumbles. He heads up the stairs and down the hall, pointing out different rooms. “That’s the bathroom. My room is right here. This is just a closet. And here is your room.”

  I open the door and look inside the room. It’s not too big, but not too small, and it’s pretty much empty. Near the windows there’s a bed with a blue comforter and matching pillows. A small desk is in the far left corner with a digital clock on it.

  “We can go get some more things, I just didn’t know what you would like,” my dad tells me. “If you want. I mean, we don’t have to, it’s just a
thought since it’s kind of empty and—”

  I walk inside my room and shut the door in his face, cutting him off. I just need to be alone right now to think about everything that’s happening.

  “Well, uh, I guess I’ll leave so you can set up. If you need anything, just call for me. Wait, um, just come and get me since you don’t, you know . . . Okay. I’ll go now,” he says from outside my room.

  I roll my eyes and plop onto the bed, causing the springs in the mattress to creak. I’m too long for the bed—it seems like it was made for a ten-year-old. Definitely not for someone who is six feet tall. I try to lie comfortably, but nothing works. I sigh and let my feet dangle off the edge.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, so I pull it out to see some texts from Caleb asking how everything is so far. I don’t reply and put my phone back into my pocket. Exhaling, I decide that I should unpack my things. If I don’t do it now, it’ll never get done.

  I place all my pills on the desk, arranging them into a weekly container. I read the containers for the hundredth time. Anxiety, depression, and mood swings. I sigh as I shut the lids. The white pills seem to haunt me every day. It’s like they follow me everywhere. Without them, I can’t be me, and with them I’m not me. It’s like they’ve taken over my life.

  Once I’m done with that, I put my clothes in the closet, which is way too large. It’s almost as big as the room, and I don’t see why it’s necessary for a closet to be that big. I hang up all my shirts, which have become quite wrinkly from being in my suitcases, and fold up the remaining clothes to put them into drawers.

  I sit down in the middle of my huge closet and lean back while I look up at everything. The carpet is plush beneath my fingers and it feels nice. I reach up and run my finger over the hems of my shirts, causing some of them to slip off the hangers. I leave them sitting on the ground in a pile because I’m too lazy to pick them up.