Blindness

by Ginger Scott

  My throat is instantly dry, and it makes me start to cough uncontrollably. I fight to hold it in. This happens to me sometimes when I get nervous, and I know in seconds I’m going to be virtually choking in front of my entire class, not to mention the man who’s slowly stealing away pieces of my heart.

  “Right. Good, you are paying attention,” Dr. Rush says, quickly calling out another name and sending me back to my chair, back to safety. I nearly sprint up the risers to the door at the back of the room so I can get a drink. I manage to calm the tickle, and slip back inside without making much noise at all. Once at my seat, I lean down for my bag so I can sneak a look at Cody, but his seat is empty now.

  I can’t deny the disappointment I feel at his absence. I grimace and roll my eyes at myself for feeling downright abandoned because my secret crush left a classroom. Pushing my book open and deciding to follow along, I adjust my notepad to make room. That’s when I see it—the makeshift business card Cody handed me the first day we met. White paper, black pen, his name, and his number—I slide it from the pages of my book and prop it up in front of me.

  I’m no longer listening. No, now I’m considering. I tap my pencil on the card while I think, trying to work up the courage. I know I can’t call him. I have no words, and I’m pretty sure I would just start coughing again from my nerves. And that’s if he would even answer. Calling is definitely out—but texting him?

  As soon as the professor’s back is turned, I reach down and slide my phone from my bag to my lap. I’m deep enough in the classroom that I have some privacy, as long as Dr. Rush doesn’t pace the aisles. I give it a few more minutes for him to begin working out the rest of the problem I started with a new student, and I start typing in my lap.

  Where did you go?

  I watch the cursor blink. I sound desperate—and a bit like a stalker. I delete and start again.

  Are you spying on me?

  Now I just sound stupid.

  I lean forward, chew on my pencil, making eye contact with Dr. Rush once or twice so he’ll buy into the idea that I’m paying attention. I know that if he calls on me again, I’m screwed, so I take my time, even going so far as to pretend to take notes. In actuality, I start doodling and writing down lyrics from my favorite Killers’ song.

  Then it hits me. The Killers—that’s it!

  Do you like The Killers?

  Send.

  I wait, breath held the entire time. When my phone vibrates, I almost jump. I lean forward, chew on the pencil more, write more lyrics, and slide my phone to the end of my knee so I can read over the edge of the desk. If someone were to give me nudge from behind, I’d tip over.

  Sure. And ???

  I smile instantly. He sent me two words, but they weren’t good or bye—they were an opening. I suck in my lips to hold in a deep breath before I type.

  I’m sure you noticed I need more tutoring? Well, there’s an extra ticket to next month’s show in it for you. Interested?

  I wait again, my knee bouncing up and down uncontrollably. I bought tickets to the show a few months ago, before I knew Trevor would be gone. I was just going to sell them on Craigslist, make a little extra money. But the thought of going with Cody is far more appealing—as friends, of course.

  Minutes pass, and soon it’s been the full half-hour. I note the next round of assignments from the book and slouch slightly in my seat—suddenly worried that I’ll be tackling them on my own, or with the help of YouTube. I feel foolish, and the thought of running into Cody at home is mortifying.

  I tuck Cody’s card back into my book, and stuff it and my notes into my backpack, and toss it over my shoulder. I’m almost out of the room when I hear him say my name.

  “Charlie?” Cody says, standing by the seat I just left, my portfolio case dangling by its straps from his hand. “You forget something?”

  I bite my lip as I smile, mostly to mask how freaking excited I am to see him. I shrug as I walk back to him.

  “Thanks, I wonder how far I’d get before I realized I left my entire life’s work here,” I say. He hands it to me, and I tuck it under my arm, my shyness creeping back up on me as I think about my texts.

  “So The Killers, huh?” he says, half squinting at me like he’s trying to tell if I’m telling the truth. “You know…I didn’t know that was you texting me at first. It took me a few minutes to figure it out.”

  I’m washed with relief. Of course he didn’t know—he doesn’t have my number. Or, at least, he didn’t until now.

  “Sorry, I guess I should have said that from the start,” I say. Feeling clever, I hold a finger up and pull my phone from my pocket to send him a text.

  This is Charlie, by the way.

  As soon as Cody pulls his phone from his pocket and reads my message, he busts out laughing, then he types a quick note back to me while we begin walking from the classroom.

  Phew! I was worried for a second there that the girl who always wears the sweater-vest in front of you was hitting on me.

  I read his message and giggle. The girl he’s talking about is an older student, maybe in her late 40s, and she’s about as straight-laced looking as they come—bun, glasses chain, pocketbook planner…the whole package. I lean into him with a poke of my elbow to his side, and he reaches around to hug me sideways instinctively, but he actually leaves his arm around me while we continue walking. I know I should wiggle my way out, but I don’t. I leave it there. I leave it there because I like it there. And even though I know it’s not okay, I decide to move the line I’ve barely drawn…just a little.

  I’m different with Cody. I’d never send a playful text like that to Trevor. Sure, I could be cute, even a little sexy—but silly? That wasn’t really Trevor’s thing. And I didn’t think it was mine, either. But being around Cody seemed to force me to cut loose, actually relax, and let down some of the EVERYTHING that I was always trying to hold up, carry on my shoulders.

  We keep walking to the main parking lot. I see Cody’s truck parked close, and I’m reminded of his disability. He hasn’t been using his chair since that first time I saw him, but I’ve noticed his distinct limp. Sometimes, I think he tries hard to mask it when he’s with me.

  When we get closer to his truck, I feel his arm slide from around me, and I’m suddenly cold. I don’t want him to go.

  “So, I’m serious about tutoring. Think you’ve got time?” I ask, hoping he’ll offer to get together soon.

  He pulls the passenger side door open and tosses his bag in the front seat. He hangs his arms from the top of the truck door while he thinks, and I notice his fingers grip tightly around it, his muscles tensing while he looks off into the distance. He takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly as he turns to square up with me, like he’s waging the same inner battle I am.

  “I’ve got a little time today. But you’ll have to come to the shop with me. That okay with you?” he asks. I’ve honestly been dying to see his shop, ever since the night Gabe told me about it. It feels like it’s some sort of key into Cody’s past.

  “Sounds good. I’ve got nothing going on. I’ll just follow you?” I say, starting to walk backward before he stops me, reaching out his arm for my bag and portfolio.

  “I’ll just drive. I’ve got some things to do tonight, so I’ll bring you back for your car when we’re done. It’s the opposite direction from home anyhow,” he says, not really asking. I shrug and climb in while he pulls the door completely open for me, and I’m both thrilled and nervous about being stuck with Cody for the next however-many-hours.

  Cody walks slowly around the front of the truck, sliding his hand along the hood as he does. His limp is more pronounced, and I can tell he’s hurting. I must be making a face of concern, because he smiles big, unusually so, when he gets in next to me.

  “Everything okay?” he asks.

  I nod once and smile.

  “Good,” he says, patting his hand once on my knee. Even through my jeans, I can feel the warmth of his touch. While we drive
the few miles to his shop, I keep looking at the place where his hand was on my leg, thinking about how high he was on my thigh. Was he above the “friendship” zone? I snicker to myself over my own girlish ridiculousness before Cody catches me and raises an eyebrow. Thankfully, we’re close to his shop, and my embarrassment is short-lived.

  I see the old tire sign first, peering out from some trees along a neighborhood road. The place looks straight from the fifties—with hints of neon and glass-paned roll-up garage bays. The building’s weathered, beat-up, and could use a lot of attention—some paint, for sure—but the bones are special. I get why Cody’s fighting so hard to keep this place alive, but even if I didn’t know the backstory, I’d hate to see a place like this close.

  The side of the building has painted signage boasting Jake’s Brakes, Oil & Lube. There’s an old, cream-colored car nestled up next to the bathrooms, and it looks like it’s been parked there for a decade, the grass around it almost as tall as the windows.

  “Whose is that?” I ask as we pull up in front of one of the bays.

  Cody shuts off the engine and closes his hand around his keys before putting both of his arms on top of his steering wheel. Leaning forward, he hesitates before his mouth slides into a smile. It’s a new kind of smile on him—this one is definitely affection.

  “That was my dad’s, too. It was his project car. She runs—barely—but I’d like to get her in working condition,” Cody says, looking back at me with a flash of pride in his eyes. I find myself a little taken in by his eyes, so I smile back and just drop my gaze from his before getting out of the truck.

  Cody isn’t far behind me. We walk up to the large garage door in front of us, and he pounds on it three times. In a few seconds, it starts to slide open. I recognize Gabe’s dirty boots immediately, and I’m genuinely excited to see him.

  “Hey, look who’s here!” Gabe says, turning to Cody, raising his eyebrows before reaching for me and bringing me into an unexpected hug. I wrap my arms around him, while he squeezes me hard, lifting my feet off the ground. Once I’m back down, I move back to look him in the face.

  “Hey, Gabe. Thought I’d tag along today. Cody’s going to tutor me later. I hope…I hope that’s okay?” I say, worried now that I might be interrupting their work or other plans.

  “Charlie girl, you’re welcome here anytime,” Gabe says, winking at me while he turns to head back into the shop. I notice Cody grab one of the hand towels and snap it at him, grimacing and lowering his brow in warning.

  There’s a table near the back with a few stools by it, so I move over there and slide onto one of the seats, dumping my bag and portfolio on top. Gabe follows me and starts looking through my stuff almost immediately. Out of instinct, I reach for my portfolio, but I’m too slow; he grabs it from my reach and starts flipping through my drawings in front of me.

  I’m uncomfortable showing these to others—they never feel ready. I know Cody’s seen them, but he’s really the only person other than my professor. Cody looks over his shoulder, and I notice him smile with half his mouth when he sees what Gabe’s looking at.

  “Dude, I told you she was good,” Cody says, turning to raise the hood of the only car in the shop. I bite my lip, but can’t hide the smile that sneaks up on my face at the thought of Cody talking about me to Gabe. When I look back at Gabe, he’s smiling at me, too, and then he winks. Realizing I’ve been caught, I quickly look to the side.

  Desperate to get the attention away from me, I start looking around the shop for something—anything—to talk about. Then I see Cody’s chair sitting in the corner. I waver back and forth on whether or not to bring it up, but curiosity finally wins out.

  “Hey, I noticed you haven’t been using your chair lately?” I let my question linger. Gabe turns to look at Cody, but he’s busy taking the cap off of something and staring at the exposed engine in front of him, clearly not wanting to respond. Then Gabe turns to me with a wide smile.

  “Yeah, it’s strange. But for some reason, this last month, my boy here’s been going to rehab every morning,” Gabe says, his voice clearly in tease mode now. “Something…or maybe someone…seems to have him motivated.”

  The cap flies from Cody’s hand in a flash and hits Gabe squarely in the forehead without Cody even looking. “Shut your mouth, asshat,” he says, squatting down and sliding himself underneath the car.

  Gabe looks at me with a wide smile, almost proud that he got under Cody’s skin. The two of them act like kid brothers, and seeing them together makes me realize how un-brotherly Cody and Trevor are.

  Gabe slides my portfolio back to me and joins Cody under the car. I take advantage of this time to check my phone for messages. My message screen is blank, which means Trevor’s either still asleep or got called in to work. I sigh, noticeably, and then look to the side to see Cody’s face. He’s slid partway from under the car and is looking at me, intently.

  “Something wrong?” he asks?

  “No, nothing. Just checking the time. Just a little worried about my assignment, that’s all,” I say, not really worried about my assignment at all, but not wanting to bring up Trevor here, in Cody’s father’s shop.

  Cody slides out from under the car and gets to his feet. He wipes his hands on a towel and leans over me, reaching for my backpack. He pulls out my calculus book and flips to the page I left marked.

  “Why don’t you get started, see how far you can get, and when I’m done here, we’ll go through them together?” he offers. Here he is being helpful and earnest, and all I can concentrate on is how soft his tongue is when it touches the tips of his teeth while he talks—how perfect the stubble is all over his face—how much I want to touch the soft, gray T-shirt he’s wearing, and the strong muscles I’ve seen underneath.

  Numbers. Yes, I need to look at some numbers for a while. I pull my book in front of me and go to work. I get as far as I can on each problem, and Cody keeps checking on me, helping me through my hurdles. It’s strange how it all makes sense when he explains it. In the 40 minutes or so that I’ve sat in his shop, I’ve learned more than I have in two months of Dr. Rush’s class. And that’s despite the constant distraction of his arms pressed on the tabletop around me, his body leaning over mine, and his breath hot along my neck.

  I’m finishing up the last problem on my own, and I jump a little when Cody drops the hood closed from the car. Gabe notices, and sticks his tongue out with a smile. “You daydreaming there, sugar?” he teases.

  I stretch my arms, yawning, and shut my book, tucking it along with my papers and pencil back in my bag. “Brain just full, I guess. I finished everything, though,” I say, now looking at Cody. “Thank you, I couldn’t have figured those out on my own.”

  He shrugs, and turns away to clean up their workstation. “You’re better at this than you think. It’s just practice,” he says, almost sounding disinterested. I’m starting to wonder how welcome I really am, wonder if I should ask him to take me to my car now so he can get on with his day. I gather my things, get to my feet, and am about to find an excuse to leave when Gabe pulls my bag from my back and shakes his head no.

  I’m worried where he’s going with this, but I put my bag back down without Cody seeing, and wait.

  “I’m hungry. You guys want burgers? I’m buying!” Gabe says, pulling the keys from his pocket.

  Cody looks at me, waiting for me to answer. “I…uh, I guess I could eat?” I stammer. I’m not sure what he wants, what move is right, but he seems relieved when I say I’d like to go.

  We’re walking to Gabe’s car when I notice a bike covered by a tarp in the corner. Curious, I pull on the fabric, just to sneak a peek, and the tarp falls to the back against the wall. The bike is a mixture of shiny chrome, rusted parts, and various logos. I’m about to put my hand on the seat, just to feel it, when Cody starts to retrieve the cover and hide it once again.

  “Wait, I want to see it. Is this your bike?” I ask, knowing it is.

  Cody’s posture dips,
and he just looks at me with a flat smile. I run my hand down the seat and over the handlebars. It doesn’t seem like there’s much to it at all, though I know that’s far from the truth.

  “That’s the one. I told you about it, remember? He rebuilt it. Boy can ride, too,” Gabe says, almost bragging.

  Cody interrupts us by pulling the tarp over it quickly, like it’s a wound he’s left exposed and needs to bandage up to avoid infection. “Yeah, I don’t know how I feel about you two talking about me when I’m not around,” he says, a little gruffly. He bumps into Gabe noticeably as he passes by and heads down the drive to Gabe’s car. “Well? You hungry or what?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Cut the shit-attitude, man. We’re coming,” Gabe says, looking at me and mouthing, “Sorry.”

  “What was that all about?” I whisper before we’re too close for Cody to hear.

  “He’s just funny about it, riding again, that’s all,” he says. “That…and he’s trying to impress you, but he has absolutely no game.”

  I laugh quietly, though inside I’m unbelievably flattered that Cody could possibly be trying to impress me. My stomach feels like it did the first time I noticed a boy on the schoolyard—except this time the flutters in my tummy are a million times more pronounced, and the rush is felt all over my body.

  Cody takes the backseat, forcing me to sit up front with Gabe. I notice he and Gabe keep exchanging glances in the mirror, and I’m once again giddy that it could be about me. We get to the diner down the road in a matter of minutes, and Cody pulls open my door as I’m about to get out.