Blindness

by Ginger Scott

  “Hey, you get everything settled?” he asks, reaching for my hand and pulling me to his lap. I’m embarrassed to be so affectionate in front of his father, and Jim seems uncomfortable, too, as he gets up from the sofa and leaves the room. My mind is reeling as he walks away, trying to understand Trevor’s dismissive attitude about me just seconds ago. Before I can look dejected, though, Trevor tilts my chin to him and presses his lips on mine, tugging my tucked shirt from the back of my shorts, and running his hand up my bare skin, sliding his fingers temptingly under the inside of my bra straps. Chills cover my body instantly, and I know my cheeks are red.

  “I’m going to like you living here,” he smiles, flashing his eyes suggestively. He nuzzles his nose on my cheek a little before he moves to my ear, where he bites softly on the lobe. “Mmmmmm, I get to do this anytime I want.”

  Just as I’m about to lose myself in him, and forget about the strange conversation I’d overheard, I see his mom’s flowing dress whisk by to the kitchen, and I immediately scoot from his lap and straighten my shirt. Trevor laughs at me, and stands, reaching for my hand to help me up. “They’ll give us privacy. But I get it,” he smiles, kissing me once more on my cheek.

  We walk into the kitchen where Shelly is pulling some plates from the cabinet, and another woman is assisting, prepping some food for dinner. I’m truly out of my element now—it seems the Appletons have a cook. When it came to dinnertime at the Hudson house, that job fell to me. I’m probably more at home with the help here.

  “Oh, Charlotte sweetie, will you be a dear and reach the pitcher above the stove? I’m too short,” Shelly giggles. She’s short, quite short. I’m a good 5-foot-10, so I’m used to being called in for tall jobs. I smile, turn, and fetch the pitcher.

  “Here you go,” I say, handing it to her. I notice her hand tremors a little as we make the exchange. She just smiles, realizing I saw, and trades hands, shoving the shaky one in a pocket briefly, pretending to reach for a tissue. The entire thing is strange, but she doesn’t let me dwell on it long.

  “Thank you, dear. Why don’t you and Trevor go get ready? We’re having a special dinner to welcome you,” she says. I immediately feel bad; I don’t like to make a fuss. But I know this means a lot to her, and Trevor’s already dragging me upstairs to change.

  I manage to fend off his very persuasive advances while I change into a yellow cotton sundress. I pull my hair back into a low ponytail, and spray a dash of my favorite perfume along my collarbone. I want to look nice, but not so overdone that I seem out of place. I feel better when I see what Trevor’s wearing. He changes into a pair of dress slacks and a plain blue button-down shirt, which I am instantly imagining unbuttoning later tonight.

  Trevor and I have always had a very physical relationship. I trusted him quickly, and I liked the way my heart raced when we were together. To be honest, I also liked the jealous stares from other women when we were out. And I think part of me felt lucky—lucky that he picked me. And I wanted to make sure he was satisfied enough to stay.

  I trail behind Trevor as we head back down the stairs, and I can hear his father’s voice raised. I can’t quite make out what he’s saying, but I recognize the tone. His voice sounds more than angry—his words are disgusted, and reflect frustration. I’m starting to slow my steps, not sure if I should be walking in on the conversation Trevor’s parents are having, when Shelly comes up behind us. “You two look lovely. Dinner will be served in just a few minutes. Go on in and grab a seat,” she says as she steps by us and heads into another room down the hall.

  I’m more confused than ever as I follow Trevor into a formal dining room that looks like it’s set for a fancy Thanksgiving meal—the kind you see in old holiday movies. I know Trevor can hear the arguing just a room or two away, but he’s pretending not to. His mother comes in, sits down and puts her napkin on her lap before she reaches for the decanter of wine to fill her glass. Her face looks a little puffy, and I can tell she’s probably been hitting the wine for a few hours.

  Just when things were about to reach unbearably awkward, the silence making it hard to breathe without drawing attention, the dining door from the kitchen swings open, and Trevor’s dad walks through. He seems startled at our presence at first, and he stops at the door to make eye contact with me and force a smile. He must know I’ve been listening to his argument.

  “Charlotte,” his smile is tight and forced. He sits and places his napkin on his lap. “You look nice. Thank you for joining us.”

  “Thank you for having me. I really appreciate it,” I say. My voice is small, and I’m just trying to fill the emptiness that’s swallowing us all up. I am no match though as the quiet starts up again as soon as my words are complete. I look at Trevor, who’s looking down at his plate, and then to Shelly, who is swirling her now half-empty glass. I’m about to ask if, perhaps, they’d rather do this some other night, when the door swings open, and I see him.

  I know he recognizes me. We only hold our gaze for two or three seconds, but it feels like hours as his eyes reach through me and rattle my insides. I have this instant urge to cry, which I haven’t done in years, and I choke from the surprise of it. I reach for my water and sip on it, looking at the center of the table just to give myself a break from the intensity of it all. He’s standing—standing? Why would he be standing? I thought he couldn’t? Or maybe he could?

  My mind is racing, and I’m being hammered away with guilt, anger and the strangest sense of regret. Why is he here? And why was he arguing with Trevor’s dad? Shelly pulls me from my thoughts as she finally slurs out an explanation.

  “Charlotte, this is Trevor’s brother, Cody,” she says, gesturing to our newest guest. “Cody, this is your brother’s girlfriend, Charlotte.”

  I slowly tilt my face back to his direction and stand, reaching for his hand. “Cody, nice to meet you.” I’m terrified, and I don’t know why. Or maybe I do.

  He just smirks at my hand, and finally reaches for it, giving me a firm shake but sliding his hand from mine slowly, too slowly, lingering the touch of his fingers. I’m hot and faint, and all I can think about is how his hand felt in mine. “Nice to meet you, too…Charlotte?” he asks, raising one eyebrow and teasing me, but not in a friendly way. I just nod yes in response and take my seat again.

  I try not to stare as he limps around the table to stop at the seat directly across from me and next to Shelly—his mother? I’m so confused. I know Trevor can feel the tension rolling off of me, and I hope he thinks it’s only from my confusion over the fact that I never knew he had a brother. Not over the fact that I feel like I know Cody, I mean really know him. Or the fact that I’ve met him before, and that he makes my stomach lurch, like an elevator dropping.

  No one is offering any explanation, and I’m left looking around the table as bowls begin passing and drinks are being poured. No one is looking up—no one, except Cody. I try to avoid him, but he’s right in front of me. I’m done the second he hands a bowl of potatoes to me. On instinct, I reach up and grab them, my fingers reaching too far and touching his again. My heart is rapid, and I can’t breathe.

  “So, you’re Trevor’s girl, huh?” he asks, his voice far from the friendly one at tutoring. He sounds snarky and accusatory, and it makes me feel instantly defensive.

  “Yes, we’ve been dating for a year,” I respond, short and curt. Just like I mean it to sound, though I don’t know why. Being rational seems to be long out the window.

  Trevor jumps in then, and I’m thankful at first. “Cody isn’t around much,” he shrugs and then starts eating again. I’m left puzzled. That’s it? No explanation? We all continue to eat in silence, and I spend the next 20 minutes trying to avoid Cody’s constant stare and the judgmental look on his face.

  Shelly stands finally and begins clearing plates. She seems oblivious. Cody is still looking at me, chewing at his bottom lip, with a half-grin, like he’s holding something back. I look over to Trevor, willing him to save me, but instead he stand
s and heads into the kitchen after his mom, telling me he’ll “Be right back,” without as much as a glance in my direction. Jim follows after, leaving Cody and me alone. Alone!

  I’m wrestling with my napkin in my lap, wondering how I can join the others without being rude, how I can get out from under whatever spell Cody seems to have over me, when he kicks me under the table. I look up with surprise, and he’s smiling—barely. “You didn’t know about me, did you?” he asks. I shake my head no, ashamed, not that any of this is my fault. He laughs under his breath and scoots his chair back from the table so he can lean forward and prop his elbows on the edge and rub his temples with his fingers.

  I’m mesmerized by the movements of his hands. They’re so strong, rough, and nothing like Trevor’s—which are neat and groomed. His thumb is wearing a thick, silver ring, and there are small words tattooed on a few of the other fingers. I’m trying to read them when I hear him take a deep breath; I instantly feel my face burn. I’ve been caught. I shake my head, looking back at the table.

  “Shelly’s my mom. She married Jim after my dad died. Trevor’s my stepbrother. There, now you’re all caught up,” he says, standing and throwing his napkin on the table. He heads to the opposite hall, leaving his family in the kitchen.

  “If they ask, just tell them I went to the garage…they won’t ask, though,” he says over his shoulder. Before he rounds the corner, he pauses for a second and looks up, his eyes catching mine one last time before he’s gone. They’re full of something that seems far heavier than sadness, and I’m fighting this foreign instinct to run to him, care for him, and find out what he’s hiding.

  I sit there for minutes trying to sort out everything and wishing like hell I had another place to live. When I realize no one is coming back to join me, I pick up my glass and walk into the kitchen. Trevor is sitting atop the counter and smiling, and Jim and Shelly are both doing the same. It’s like a Twilight Zone, as if the dinner I just endured had never happened. As soon as they see me enter, everyone gets quiet and Jim and Shelly leave the room. Trevor starts putting dishes into the washer, so I pick a few up and carry them over to him.

  For a few minutes, I think I may be okay with pretending—maybe I can just unravel this mystery on my own, but it doesn’t take long for my gut to tell me I can’t, and I slam a plate down next to Trevor. “Okay, what the hell is going on,” I say, leaning away from him so he can’t distract me. He just sighs, shuts the water off, and leans on the opposite counter.

  He twists his bottom lip at first, thinking. “Cody and I…well, we don’t really get along. We’re different,” he stops, I think hoping that I’ll find that to be enough of an explanation, but I urge him on. He rolls his eyes a little and swings his feet as he lifts himself to sit back on the counter.

  “Okay, here’s the short version. Shelly’s my stepmom. My real mom died when I was really little, so don’t feel bad. I don’t remember her. I mean, at all. My dad married Shelly about five years ago. Her husband died, and she was working at my dad’s firm. She had a son, Cody. He thinks I’m an asshole. And, well, he’s real a prick to my dad—sorry, don’t mean to be crass. But he is,” Trevor stops after that, and waits. I try to fit all of the pieces in with everything I already know. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I guess, I just waited so long to introduce you to Cody, and like I said, he’s not really around much.”

  He just stops there, and I feel like I’m waiting on a ledge. His face is conflicted as he stares at me, his hands looped in his pockets now, and his shoulders tense. I can tell there’s more, probably a lot more, buried deep. I’m willing to wait it out, so I match his silence and hold his eyes, nodding forward, and raising my brows slightly to push him.

  Trevor takes in another deep breath, and goes back to work on the dishes, I think so he can avoid looking at me as he continues. “Cody’s moving in above the garage,” he says, obviously irritated. “There’s a carriage house up there. He’s a loser, never has any money.”

  I almost protest, knowing that he’s an engineering major, but then I stop. I’ve already dug myself too deep, pretending not to know Cody at all. After a few minutes of silence, I decide to leave it at that, and will myself to be satisfied with Trevor’s explanation. My encounter with Cody was tense. But only because it was a surprise, and I don’t believe he’ll make things uncomfortable for me here. In fact, I may be the only person willing to acknowledge him—and that reality makes me feel…well, it just makes me feel.

  I reach around Trevor and hug him tightly and instantly notice him relax. He shuts the water off and turns around to pull me in close, kissing me, and tugging my hair loose. Trevor loves my hair, and he wraps his hands deep into the gold strands while he kisses me more. He lifts me, then turns me around so I’m sitting on the counter facing him. I keep kissing him, but I’m fighting myself because I’m aware that his parents could burst in at any moment. I let myself enjoy the moment until he works his hand up my thigh and slides his thumb under the side of my underwear.

  “Whoa, not quite ready for exhibition time in front of your parents, if that’s okay,” I laugh and slide from the counter, but still tight against him. He just laughs lightly and lifts my chin to kiss me softly.

  “Okay, no exhibition…yet,” he smiles, but it quickly turns into a flat line, and just as quickly a frown.

  “What’s wrong?” I’m thrown by his quick mood change.

  He takes in a sharp breath through his nose and closes his eyes as he runs his hand down his face. “We have to talk,” he says, and I’m completely rattled. Talk? Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?

  “Ooooookay?” I say, letting him know exactly how unsure I’ve become by my now-guarded body language.

  He doesn’t let his hands leave me as he slides them down my arms and grabs my curling fingers. “I heard from Judge Sumner’s office. I got the call tonight, when I left to come in here. That’s what me and my parents were talking about when you came in,” he says, and immediately, I know.

  Trevor is leaving. For Washington.

  I knew this might happen. While he’s talking, I’m already sorting how I can work things out with my firm and my internship, transfer to someone with a base in Washington in the spring. It won’t be easy, but I can pull it off. I’m half-hearing him when I realize he says Monday. Monday?

  “What? You mean, this semester?” I shove him away a little, now frustrated and finally understanding what he’s been saying.

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” he says, reaching for me again. I’m a little standoffish, but I let him hold my hands, even if I’m guarded about it. “They really want me, and they’re willing to move my apprenticeship ahead. Charlotte, it’s a HUGE opportunity. I can’t say no.”

  I know he can’t. He has to take this. But bloody hell, I’m living in his parents’ house! What am I going to do? I can’t stop my thoughts from verbalizing, and I speak. “Where am I going to live?” I blurt out.

  Trevor just smiles softly and pulls me into a hug. “My parents totally want you to stay. Besides, I’ll come home every few weeks. This way we can see each other a lot. Really, it’s not a problem. We already talked about it. My parents love you, you know?”

  His parents love me? I figured they liked me well enough. And that was before the comments I overheard from Jim. I don’t know that they love me. I’m so confused about everything, but I know I’m not going to come to any solutions tonight. I’ll give it a try—I have to. I really have no choice. I comfort myself, albeit barely, knowing that I can start looking for alternatives next week if I need to. I have a little money left from my inheritance, and I can always move back to the dorms. I swallow hard, nod, and smile up at Trevor, who slides his hand around my neck so he can pull me close for another kiss before he turns back to the unfinished dishes.

  “You leave Monday?” I say, the sadness of it all setting in. I feel like I’m mourning, and I hate mourning.

  “I do. I know, it’s fast,” he says, not turn
ing around. “But I’ll be back two weeks after that, and then a few weeks later. I promise, it’ll all work out.”

  “Okay,” I say, closing my eyes and willing the nerves to rest.

  “That’s my girl,” he smiles over his shoulder. “You get to meet them all at dinner Sunday. The Sumners? Less pressure, no interviewing,” Trevor winks and gets back to work. I leave him there and head to our room, which suddenly feels an entire world away.

  Bigger. Colder. Emptier.

  Chapter 3: Second Impressions

  Dinner with the Sumners was last week, and Trevor’s been gone for five days now. My head was buzzing just hearing all of the work that was expected of him. I know he can handle it, I just wish I were there for him to come home to at night. He’s been calling me every morning on his way into the city and texting me a few times during the day. He doesn’t get home until late, sometimes ten or eleven, so our conversations are hit or miss.

  So far, life at Trevor’s parents’ house hasn’t been nearly as stressful as I thought it would be. Jim left the same day Trevor did, for a long trip to Chicago. And Shelly spends most of her day watching soap operas in the living room, or hiding in her room. The one thing I find that I miss in Trevor’s room is my desk. He just doesn’t have a great drafting space, and maybe I’m just stuck in my ways, but I like the way everything fit on my old desk. Everything had its place, and I knew how to work around the dents.

  I’ve measured the trunk of my Honda about 40 different ways, and I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to fit the desk in the back without breaking it in half. I’m about to give up, when I see the back of an old pickup truck hanging halfway out of the Appletons’ garage. It’s a complete mismatch from the rest of the house and the other vehicles that usually line their driveway. I know its Cody’s. I don’t even have to ask. And that’s what’s keeping me in my place.