Someone Else’s Life(48)
“You said only that he was found with Lindsay, some girl from the neighborhood.”
The bottom dropped out of Annie’s stomach. She was positive she’d never mentioned Lindsay’s name. Had she?
“I . . .” Annie couldn’t find the words. Her thoughts were swirling around too fast. “I don’t get it. I don’t remember . . .” Was she losing her mind? How does Serena know all this? She wanted to scream, to just let it all out.
“What happened to Finn, Annie?” Serena’s eyes were full of compassion and kindness, and she sat down next to her. She placed a hand on Annie’s arm, and at her gentle touch, all Annie’s defenses dissolved.
She dropped her shoulders and, almost like she was in a trance, began to tell Serena about Finn and Lindsay. “Finn was found in the woods next to the lake beach with poor Lindsay Miller. I was supposed to be watching him.” Tears pooled in her eyes and she stood, wanting to flee. She walked to the window again, staring out at the storm.
“I was so tired that day, tired every day, if I’m being honest. I don’t know why taking care of Finn is so hard for me. It’s like he’s not mine, you know?” Annie glanced at Serena out of the corner of her eye. She was still seated on the couch.
“I know,” Serena said softly.
“I sometimes feel like an impostor. Like I’m just playing at being his mom.” Annie bit her bottom lip. “That day, when Lindsay came over and said she’d watch him, I was so grateful. I liked her. She was quiet and awkward, didn’t really hang with the rest of the girls. She was a dancer, and I once showed her how to break in her pointe shoes. She loved listening to stories about my performing days and my company . . .” Annie trailed off, picturing Lindsay, the way she always had her sandy hair up in a bun or high ponytail, and the wistful way she stared at the other girls, giggling together in their tiny bikinis and trying to get the lifeguard’s attention.
“Poor Lindsay.” Annie dropped her head into her hands. “I should have given her more of my time. She wanted to be a professional dancer. Was always asking me questions. She invited us to a performance once. But I just . . .” She picked her head up and shrugged. “I didn’t go. And now she’s gone . . . at only sixteen.”
“Sixteen.” There was a hitch in Serena’s voice.
“I know it was my fault. I should have been watching Finn, yet I was taking a nap when God knows what happened to Lindsay. And Finn was there. He talks about the woman that was in the woods . . .”
“He does?” Serena’s quick words cut her off.
Annie turned and regarded her for a moment. “Yes. But he doesn’t know who it was and won’t talk about what happened. Only screams two words when he has nightmares, ‘Lindsay’ and ‘no.’” Annie ran her fingers through her hair, pulling on the long strands. Anything to not feel the pain in her heart. “What if whoever hurt Lindsay had gotten Finn too? Nothing anyone can say to me is going to make me feel better.”
“Oh, Annie . . .” Serena stood but didn’t come to her side.
Annie blinked back her tears. There was no use crying. She knew it was her fault. By some miracle, Finn hadn’t been hurt, but she shuddered now, picturing the scene in the woods. There’d been blood. Finn had some on him. The police had never figured out who the woman was, or what really happened to Lindsay. No one had seen anything. Only Finn.
Annie blew out a breath, knowing she’d never in her life forgive herself for not being there with him. This was why Brody didn’t trust her with Finn. This was why the thought of disappearing, not having to face these feelings anymore, was starting to appeal to her. Because she couldn’t get the blood off her hands for her part in Lindsay’s death.
26
Laptop ANNIE file
That THING that’s become one giant capital-lettered thing is haunting me, pulling me back to that day, again and again and again. I know you understand. No one knows what really happened that day, not you and not even me, and I was there. I live in fear that one day, the police are going to show up on my doorstep because they’ve finally figured out what happened. And somehow trace it back to me, even if I can’t tell them what happened.
But that doesn’t exonerate me. It doesn’t make me any less guilty. It’s like that saying—if a tree falls in the forest and no one saw it, did it really fall? (Did I get that right? Probably not. I’m always mixing things up.) If you caused something terrible to happen but no one saw it, did you really do something terrible?
When my life fell apart, I “disappeared” for a bit. Everyone said I just needed a rest, that I could go somewhere and recharge, but I think you know what it really meant. I checked into a psych hospital. They were afraid I was going to hurt myself. They had no idea I’d already tried, but I stopped myself at the very last minute. I spat out all the pills I’d collected over time because I was too chicken to go through with it. I was disappointed in myself, that I couldn’t even do this one thing right. For once, I wanted to be the one in charge, to decide my life, without fate intervening. Yet I guess fate did intervene, telling me it wasn’t my time to go. It was what made me spit those pills out, after only taking a few.
So there I was, forced to face my life and everything I’d lost with the realization that I wasn’t strong enough to determine my own fate. And I hated myself even more then, because I didn’t have the courage to end it. I had failed again.