Remember to Forget, Revised and Expanded Page 4

  “Okay, there you are. I thought I lost you for a second,” Candace says, forcing a small laugh. “So, I’m going to start off by asking you a few questions, okay?”

  Okay okay okay. Stop saying okay, okay?

  “Here’s a whiteboard. You can write down all of your answers and thoughts on the board. Are you ready?”

  I shrug and prop my feet up on the small table. Candace peers down at my shoes and tries not to look disgusted, but I see right through her. The corner of her mouth twitches as she picks up her notepad.

  “All right, question one. When did you stop talking?”

  I don’t answer. I stare at the milky whiteness of the board. There are some black smudges on it from previous markers. I rub my thumb over one of the stains, but it’s of no help.

  This question is the first thing every therapist asks me. Clearly, I stopped talking six months ago; it’s written in my information. So why does she have to ask?

  “Okay, next question then,” she says, “Why did you stop talking?”

  And there it is. The follow-up question. The question everyone wants to know the answer to. Only I know the real reason why I stopped. And I don’t plan on sharing it.

  I’ve been through eleven therapists in six months. None of them could figure me out because I never answered their stupid questions.

  I’ve heard the therapists and doctors talk to my mom. I hear what they say about me. All I need is to change my outlook on life and get some medical help. I can be fixed. There will be a miracle. Don’t give up.

  My life isn’t a Hallmark card or a quilted pillow. Stop telling me useless quotes you learned when you got your degree.

  Candace asks more questions, none of which I answer. I just stare blankly at the board, never moving. I feel as if I might fall asleep. Sleeping would be nice. I wouldn’t have to deal with Candace’s fake perkiness.

  Suddenly a girl appears in the doorway carrying a box of manila folders. She knocks lightly before walking in.

  She smiles at me, and I turn my gaze away from her. I look up at the first thing I see, which is the whanda painting. I wonder who painted it. I wonder what it’s really supposed to be. I fill my mind up with questions to avoid the thoughts creeping into my head, and to avoid this girl.

  “Sorry to bother you, but June wants all of your patient records. She says we’re missing some from the past month,” the girl says, balancing the box on her knee.

  “Oh, yes, of course. They are all in the top right drawer of my desk.”

  I look from the whanda to the girl, then back again. I bite my fingernails and bounce my leg without even realizing it.

  “Found ’em,” the girl says, putting them in her box. “Thank you.”

  “Would you mind shutting the door on your way out, Delilah?” Candace says.

  I flinch at her name and freeze in my spot. I need an excuse to leave. I can’t stay here any longer.

  I uncap the marker and quickly write something down. Candace waits anxiously, a smile growing on her face. I lift up the board to show her what I’ve written.

  I need to take a piss.

  Her smile falters once she reads what I’ve written. She excuses me, and I quickly get up from the couch. In my frenzy to leave, I crash into the girl, who I now know as Delilah. Her box falls out of her hands and crashes to the floor. I glance quickly from her to the mess of folders on the floor before quickly running out.

  My breathing quickens and the hallway seems to be too small. I need space. I need air. I need to get out of here.

  I run down the hall in search of the bathroom and finally find it. I step inside one of the stalls and lean against the metal door.

  I wait for my pulse to slow, and my breathing to go back to normal. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Breathe, Levi. Relax.

  I shut my eyes and try to calm down. All I can picture is that girl. The way she smiled, how one dimple showed up on her left cheek. The way her brown hair just passed her shoulders. How her cheeks reddened when the box fell.

  I pound my fists into the stall, causing it to rattle.

  I thought it was her.

  I thought she was back.

  I thought I could have her again.

  But it’s not Delia. She’ll never be back. I’ll never see her again.

  The sudden rush of anxiety leaves after a few minutes, and I’m left with anger and sadness, along with the familiar feeling of emptiness. I head back to Candace and see her waiting for me with the same smile.

  Here we go again.

  My whole life is surrounded by plastered smiles and forced sympathy.

  I try to focus on Candace, but I can’t.

  All I can think about is that girl, and how much I hate her.

  Chapter Five

  DELILAH

  Aiden, you can’t just take someone’s coffee at Starbucks. That’s stealing,” I tell him as we sit on the curb, watching cars drive by. We do this a lot since there’s not much in the way of entertainment around here. He counts the red cars, and I count the blue cars. Whoever counts the most, wins. But there’s never a prize, so it’s a pointless game. But we do it anyway.

  “It’s not stealing. It’s selectively choosing who I’m going to be for the day. Today I am Tanya,” he says, reading the scribbled name on the cup. “I believe I am a twenty-two-year-old with pink hair. Maybe even a nose ring. Oh, maybe a belly button piercing! I come from Miami, and I had a rough life as a kid. But now I work for this club downtown. Oh, and I have a boyfriend of two days, I’ll probably dump him tomorrow.”

  I roll my eyes. Only Aiden would think of a life story for the name on his coffee cup.

  “So, tell me, Tanya, what would you like to do today?”

  “Well,” Aiden says in a girly voice, “I vote for mani-pedis, and then we can go to the petting zoo to help endangered animals!”

  I muster a laugh at Aiden’s goofiness. “You’re such a weirdo! Why do I associate myself with you?”

  “Because you love me,” he says dramatically, resting his head on my shoulder. I nudge him off and take a sip of his coffee. Or, rather, Tanya’s coffee.

  “Tanya has good taste.”

  Aiden smiles. “See, it’s not such a bad idea after all.”

  I punch his shoulder lightly, and he rubs it as if it hurt.

  I’ve known Aiden almost my whole life. He lives two houses down from me, so I see him all the time. He’s like a brother, and has been there for me through everything. Every girl needs a guy best friend, even if he is a little strange.

  Aiden tosses the coffee into the trash and helps me up from the curb.

  “Hey, isn’t that Mr. Harrison’s car?” I ask, pointing to the car across the street.

  “How many times do I have to tell you he doesn’t like being called Mr. Harrison. His name is Anthony!” Aiden says, laughing.

  I shrug. “Now I just do it to annoy you,” I say, and give him a half smile.

  “I bet they’re in Starbucks,” Aiden says.

  “They? Who’s they?” I ask. Do
es Mr. Harrison have a new friend? That may happen to be a girl? Maybe it’s Tanya.

  As if to answer my question, Mr. Harrison comes walking out of Starbucks with a vaguely familiar boy in front of him.

  Well, I sure didn’t expect that.

  The boy has his head down as he drinks his coffee, but I see he has a lip ring. Where have I seen that lip ring before? He has a snapback on backward and is wearing a plain black T-shirt. Some stray pieces of blonde hair are sticking out from his hat. He has to be at least six feet tall, maybe even more. And his jeans are skinnier than mine.

  I’ve definitely met this boy before. Boys like this are rare here. Everyone is always the same, but he is definitely different.

  “Hey, guys!” Aiden says, waving.

  “Hi! Delilah, have you met Levi?” Mr. Harrison asks as he approaches us.

  Levi looks up, and he has a shocked expression on his face. His blue eyes look nervous for some reason.

  A memory starts to rise, but I can’t quite grab it.

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Delilah,” I say, smiling. “I live a few houses down from you.”

  Levi bites on his bottom lip, and his eyes wander around.

  I remember those wandering eyes.

  “Wait,” I say. “You were with Candace when I walked in, right? I had the box of folders. You crashed into me.” Of course I remember him. He knocked all the folders out of my hands and didn’t even help me pick them up.

  Suddenly, Levi tosses his coffee to the ground. The ice and coffee splash everywhere, including onto my feet. I guess I shouldn’t have worn white sneakers today.

  We all stare at the ground with shocked expressions, confused as to what just happened. The coffee drips off the curb, and there’s a giant pile of ice on the sidewalk.

  Levi casually walks across the street gets and into the car, completely ignoring the mess he caused. Just like he did when he bumped into me at work.

  “I’m so sorry,” Mr. Harrison says. “Levi’s a little . . . uh . . . moody to say the least. I’d better get going.” He picks up the empty cup and throws it away before getting into his car.

  “Well, that was strange,” I say once they’re gone.

  Aiden shrugs. “Levi is Anthony’s son. He doesn’t talk, like, at all. I met him the other day. He’s really rude. He definitely doesn’t like me.”

  “Since when does he have a son? Who doesn’t talk?”

  Mr. Harrison never told us anything about having a family. I wonder if Levi’s ever spoken. He seems about my age. I wonder what would make him so . . . different.

  “Maybe he’s a mute or something, I don’t know. Anthony told me the other day that Levi has had a rough few months. He didn’t tell me much. I don’t think he really even knows. Levi seems to be one big mystery.”

  “A mystery, huh?”

  Later that day, I go for a run around the neighborhood. I do this quite frequently. It gives me some time to myself, and I like the way the wind feels against my skin and through my hair.

  There’s a small, rundown park in the corner of our neighborhood no one uses that much. There are some swings and a slide covered in graffiti. Nothing too interesting. But tonight, when I run past, there’s something out of the ordinary.

  Levi.

  He’s lying on top of the monkey bars, one of his arms dangling over the edge. He’s too tall to fit over the whole thing, so his feet are drooped over the end. He seems to be asleep, his chest slowly rising and falling while he breathes.

  I quietly walk through the grass and sand until I’m below the monkey bars.

  “Hello?” I whisper. “Hey, Levi?”

  His hat has fallen off his head and into the sand below him. His hair is half flat, half sticking up. He must have kicked off his shoes, because a pair of black Vans are near the swings.

  I stand on my toes and gently tap Levi’s shoulder. He bolts up and falls into the sand with a loud thump.

  I try to hide my laugh, but it’s hard. Some giggles escape me. “Sorry,” I say, smiling. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  He stands up and brushes his hands on his jeans. He’s covered in sand from head to toe.

  “Here, let me help. I’m really sorry,” I tell him, reaching up to sweep sand off his shoulder. He backs away and pulls out his phone. He types something, and then I hear a voice come out of his phone, which surprises me.

  “What are you doing?”

  I put my hands up in defense. “I was going for a run, and you were on the monkey bars. Asleep.”

  He shrugs and makes a face, as if he’s saying, “And?”

  “And I just thought I’d come say hi,” I tell him.

  Something about Levi scares me. Maybe it’s his height. Maybe it’s the way his eyes seem to pierce through me, when earlier, he wouldn’t even look at me.

  He types more. “Well, don’t. I don’t need anyone coming to say hi. Especially not you.”

  Aiden’s right, he is rude. But as much as I want to run away, I stay. Nevertheless, there’s a fear in the back of my mind that Levi may hurt me. I know nothing about him or his mental state. He could be psychotic for all I know. I highly doubt it, but there’s always a part of me that thinks the worst.

  I cross my arms over my chest and roll my eyes. “It’s called hospitality. Something you don’t seem to know about.”

  “Hospitality? Is that what you call barging into someone’s personal time without invitation? Waking them up?”

  “I didn’t mean to scare you. Honestly.”

  “You didn’t scare me.”

  “Then why’d you fall?”

  “There’s this thing called balance. I lost it.”

  It’s hard to take Levi seriously since he doesn’t talk. The robotic voice on his phone has no emotion, so it doesn’t say things the way a human would. I know he’s trying to seem rude and sarcastic, but it’s not coming out that way.

  But somehow, he’s still intimidating. Maybe it’s the way he stands, or the way he runs his tongue across his lip. Something about him is harsh and cold.

  “Whatever, Levi.” I turn around and leave the park. I’m clearly not wanted here.

  Part of me expects Levi to have more to say—or write? He is so confusing. Aiden’s right; he is a mystery.

  A part of me thinks he will come running over and apologize, or ask to walk me home. He seems unpredictable, and I’m unsure of what he’ll do next.

  But I don’t hear footsteps or fingers typing on his phone. I hear nothing.

  And as much as I don’t want to admit it, I want to solve the mystery of Levi Harrison.

  Chapter Six

  LEVI

  It’s been seven days since I arrived here. One whole week.

  One hundred and eighty-nine days without her.

  There will be more days to come. More endless weeks stuck here.

  I haven’t been back to the park. I don’t plan on going back anytime soon, or ever for that matter. My goal now is to avoid everyone, especially Delilah. Since the incident at the par
k, I haven’t seen her. But I also haven’t left the house in three days.

  Technically, I’ve barely left my room aside from the occasional food and bathroom breaks.

  “Levi,” my dad says, knocking on my door. “You need to get out of the house. It’s been three days.”

  Wow, way to state the obvious. You’re so cool, Dad.

  If I wanted to leave the house, I would. But I don’t, so I won’t.

  He knocks again, a little louder this time.

  Does he think I’m deaf too? Just because I refuse to talk doesn’t mean I refuse to hear. There are times I wish I could block everything out, though. We have eyelids to shut our eyes, so why can’t we have earlids too? That’d sure help me a lot. I wouldn’t have to listen to anyone.

  Finally, he barges into my room. I should’ve locked the door. I should’ve escaped and jumped out the window. I look at my open window and debate whether or not I should just jump now. There’s still time.

  “We’re going out,” he tells me.

  I should’ve gone when I had a chance.

  He has his arms folded across his chest as he looks down at me. I stay sitting on my bed, refusing to move. I tap my feet on my carpet, the plushness feeling good beneath my feet.

  “Levi, we are going out,” he repeats. “Be ready in twenty minutes.”

  My dad walks out of my room, but I don’t get up. I don’t want to.

  After sitting in the same position for a few minutes, I hear my dad talking to someone. I slowly walk out of my room and down the hall. His bedroom door is shut almost all the way—there’s a small space that I can see him perfectly through. He’s on the phone with someone, and his head is in his hands.

  “Yes, Lilian, I know . . . Lilian . . .” He sighs and runs his hand through his hair.