Instead of Me

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My phone was still lit up, lying on the ground next to me while Annie wrapped herself around me to comfort me. My ear was pressed against her chest. I could hear her heart racing. She kept whispering that everything was going to be okay.

"Mr. Robertson?" A faint voice spoke through the speaker of my phone. "Mr. Robertson, are you okay? Is there someone we can call for you?" The female voice sounded extremely familiar.

I swallowed a huge lump in my throat and tore myself away from Annie. Slowly, I picked up the phone, afraid to continue the conversation. "I'll be there soon," I uttered, my voice hoarse. And with that, I hung up the phone. "Pack up your things," I told Annie, standing up and walking towards my bed, pulling my suitcase out from underneath it.

"Finn, what happened? What was that about?"

I didn't answer her. Instead, I folded up the clothing sprawled across the floor and threw it into my luggage. I zipped it up and headed toward the bathroom to grab my shampoo and shaving cream.

"Finn?" Annie asked again. She frowned, reaching towards me as I walked past her. "Finn, what happened? What was all of that about? Are you in trouble?" She held onto my upper arm and made me face her, but I couldn't look her in the eye. "Finn?" She held her hand up to my cheek, noticing my anxiety. "What happened?"

I shook my head and pushed her hand away. I couldn't say it out loud. That would make it true. If I said it out loud, I might not be able to breathe again.

She didn't listen to what I said. She stood there, staring at me with absolute confusion and worry clearly plastered upon her face. She parted her lips, wanting to say something, but not knowing what.

I walked around her and started packing up her bag in silence. When is put all the clothes away, I tried zipping the duffel bag, but it was stuck. I struggled for several seconds, yanking on the zipper. I was frustrated, breathing heavily with my nostrils flared.

Eventually, Annie stepped in and cautiously grabbed the duffel from my grip. "Go put everything in the car. I got it." She patiently pulled on the zipper and it worked. 

As swiftly as possible, I grabbed all of our bags and shoved them into the trunk of the car. Annie followed me outside and gave me the last of her belongings. She handed over the key and I hurried to give it the sketchy guy at the front desk. When I returned, Annie was leaning against the side of the car despite the frigid air biting at her nose. 

"I can drive," she said, almost telling me to hand over the keys. 

But I ignored her. Driving might actually distract me, which was what I needed in that moment. I crawled into the driver's seat and Annie huffed out a breath as she plopped down in the passenger's side. I felt numb. There could be a total disaster, but it wouldn't affect me. I couldn't feel anything. 

"Where are we going?" Annie asked after a while of us driving in silence. "Finn?"

I still couldn't say anything. Speaking felt like it wasn't even an option at that point. I clenched my jaw, keeping my eyes forward, and Annie no longer pressed forward for a response. 

I kept replaying the memories of the day my mom left in my head. That was the first day my dad's life ended. I remembered how he used to pick me up from Annie's everyday on his way home from work. He was always cheerful and fun. The day after my mom left, he didn't go to work. 

He stayed home and got hammered. Mrs. Wright had me sleep in her guest bedroom because he was so drunk that he forgot to come get me. I was sure that he was on his way after Annie and I finished our homework. I stood at the front door on my tiptoes, waiting for his truck to pull up in front of the house.