Remember to Forget

Chapter 3

Luke's POV

“Good morning, Luke!” my dad cheerily exclaims when I walk into the kitchen. I raise my eyebrows at his sudden cheeriness. I don't remember him like this. “Want some cereal? I have Lucky Charms. I remembered that they're your favorite.”

Lucky Charms were my favorite. Now I hate them. I hate almost everything I use to like. Lucky Charms are too happy and cheerful for me. Plus, they remind me of her.

“What are you eating?” I ask her.

“Marshmallows,” she says, tossing a pink heart into her mouth.

“Is that from my Lucky Charms?” I sit down beside her and grab one from the bowl.

“Obviously. They're the best kind of marshmallows.”

“Now what am I supposed to eat for breakfast?”

She shrugs and continues to eat.

I run my hand through my messy hair and sit down at the table. I cringe at the memories of Lucky Charms. My dad pours two bowls of cereal and brings them over to the table. He sits across from me and smiles.

“Did you sleep alright?” he asks.

I push the bowl of cereal away from me which causes some milk to splash out of the bowl. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, but continues to munch on his cereal. I tap my fingers on the table and sigh.

I'm annoyed that my dad is trying so hard. He doesn't even know me anymore. He knows the happy, 14 year old Luke. Not the mute, depressed 17 year old Luke. It's like my past isn't even the same person as the present. Instead of trying to remember how I was, he should just forget all of that. I'm not the same Luke, and I never will be.

“Is there anything you want to do today?” my dad questions, breaking the silence. “Anything you want for you room?”

I shrug. I don't really want to go out with my dad, I'd rather do it alone.

He puts his spoon in his cereal and looks up at me.

“Well today I have baseball. I coach little league. You're welcome to come if you want. Maybe you could help out.”

I roll my eyes. I used to play baseball, up until two years ago actually. Universities were already wanting to accept me, but it just wasn't my thing. I always did it to make my dad happy, but once he moved, there was really no point. When I was younger, he would make me practice every single day. I had to be the best player possible, and I was. But I hated every aspect of baseball. Nothing was fun about it. It was just something to do. It was also another thing for my dad to boss me around with.

My dad and I never had a great relationship. He was always too obsessed with baseball and work. He was a coach and a manager for one of the biggest baseball teams in Australia. The only thing he ever talked to me about was baseball. Never asked me about my day, never took me out for ice cream. He only took me to baseball games. Baseball was never too popular where we were from, but for him it was. But then one day, he decided it was too much. He needed a break. That's when everything broke. The divorce, moving to Maine, and becoming distant. Most of it's a blur, mostly because I don't care.

Once I've had enough of my dad and his cheeriness, I get up from the table and start to walk back down the hall. My dad opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but closes it and purses his lips. Then he takes a deep breath and finally speaks.

“We'll leave for baseball in an hour.”

I don't remember giving any sort of indication of wanting to go. He can't just imply that I automatically want to do whatever he says. I'm certainly not going to a baseball field. That's the last place I want to be.