Blindness

by Ginger Scott

  “Cody, I…,” I try, but my voice is raspy. Cody closes his eyes tightly when I speak, shutting me out.

  “Please. You have to forgive me…I didn’t mean it, not a word of it. I was angry, and I was thinking about that stupid ring…the one you never wear…” he’s struggling, trying to find a way to explain. “God, Charlie. I didn’t mean what I said. You’re not a…gah! I can’t even say it now, looking at your goddamned face. Your face, like an angel, and I lied to you—I looked right at you and called you that, when it’s the furthest thing from what I think. Just…forgive me. Please?”

  I can’t look away, my heart is leaping from my body, and my mouth is numb, craving him. All I can do is nod yes slowly, and when I do, he pulls me to him and holds me tightly. I feel his lips at my neck over my hair, his breath hot and ragged. “I’m so sorry,” he says, squeezing my hair in between his fingers, holding my head to his chest, and gripping me as if he’s afraid I’m going to run away.

  If I could stay here, just like this, forever, I would. But Trevor’s laugh brings me back to reality, and I push myself from his arms, looking down.

  “Trevor,” I say. “He’s waiting for me.”

  “Right, Trevor,” Cody murmurs, no longer able to bring his eyes to mine. He’s looking at the wall where I just stood. “You better go.”

  I can’t even say goodbye, and instead just leave him there alone, in the dim hallway behind his shop. I stuff everything I’m feeling down into the lockbox I keep in my heart—the one I open up late at night, the reason I’m not sleeping. By the time I round the corner and come face-to-face with Trevor, I’ve mastered my pretend smile again, but Jessie can see right through it. I wave goodbye while Trevor leads me back out to the car, and she shakes her head at me, a little disappointed, I can tell.

  Trevor’s anxious in the car. He keeps tapping his hand on the steering wheel nervously. I sort of wish I didn’t let him drive, because I’m feeling a little carsick from his constant speed change. He doesn’t look upset, but I can’t help but think he heard Cody and me talking—or picked up on something, my mood, perhaps. I reach over to squeeze his hand as a test, and he squeezes back quickly with a smile, and puts his hands back on the wheel—I’m not really sure what to take away from that.

  He rushes ahead of me after we park the car, making sure he’s the first one through the door. He doesn’t wait to hang his coat or bring in his bag, but instead rushes to the bedroom upstairs. I’m a few steps behind him, and he comes back out of our room and shuts the door, pressing his back against it.

  “Trevor, what is going on?” I ask, a little wary about what he’s hiding.

  “I wasn’t sure if they’d come today, but they did. I’m so excited. I got you something, sort of an early Christmas gift. Are you ready?” he says, biting his lip and trying to contain his smile. I’m suddenly worried he’s gotten me a kitten or a puppy. Hell, I can’t even take care of myself—the last thing I need to be responsible for right now is an animal.

  I meet him in front of the door and take a deep breath. “Should I…close my eyes?” I ask, not really sure how to maneuver any of this.

  “Uh, hmmmm, yeah. That’s good. Here, I’ll guide you in. Let me cover them,” Trevor says, reaching around me and covering my eyes with both of his hands. I feel him push the door open, and we step slowly into the room. I realize I’m holding my breath when a few seconds pass and I’m not greeted by a pitter-patter of puppy feet. When Trevor starts to slide his hands away, I’ve resolved myself to the fact that it’s probably a fancy dress or another piece of jewelry.

  But then I see it.

  I’m sick, and a part of me dies.

  “What do you think? Do you love it?” he asks, the beaming smile on his face like a slap to mine. In the spot where, just hours ago, my desk sat, there is now a cold metal modern drafting table. It’s expensive, and useful, and perfect, and pretentious all at the same time—and I’ve never hated anything more. I can’t help the tear that slides down my cheek, and I’m utterly speechless.

  “Wha…when?” I ask, not sure if I’ll even be able to look Trevor in the eyes.

  “I know how much you’ve been working at the drafting room at school, and I thought I’d make it more comfortable here for you. That old desk was falling apart, and you’re going to need something professional. I timed it for when you picked me up at the airport. I called Shelly, and she said she’d let the delivery people in,” he says, completely clueless to the hole he’s left in my heart.

  I touch the surface, and the first thing that hits me is the coldness of the glass.

  “You like that? Look, it lights up,” Trevor says, bending down and flipping a switch to illuminate my new workspace.

  “And there’s storage,” he adds, flipping open a portion of the desktop.

  I sit down at it and let my fingers roam over it now, instinctively searching for the dents and scratches. “What’d you do with the old one?” I manage to squeak out, still not looking at him, hiding my reaction, hoping I can find a way to appear grateful.

  “The guys that delivered it took it. Isn’t that awesome? We don’t even have to deal with donating it now,” he says, bending back down to turn off the light.

  Trevor heads into the bathroom to freshen up, and I use my few minutes alone to completely break down. I’m heartbroken, and I’m trying desperately to remember what it felt like the last time I sat at that table. If I knew it was my last time, I would have memorized it more, spent longer working on my drawings, and cherished it. I notice the stack of drafts on the dresser behind me. They’re my drawings of Cody’s shop—the last thing I did on my dad’s old desk, my last moments with something so important to me, was spent preserving something important to Cody.

  When Trevor comes back out, I manage to hold onto that thought, and I hug the drawings tight to my body. “Thank you,” I say, but nothing more.

  “You’re welcome, babe,” he says, pleased with himself and completely ignorant to the words I’m not saying.

  He kisses me, and I fight to make it feel real, and then he retreats to the closet to change for dinner. I rush to my phone and fire off the only message I think will help.

  Trevor gave away my desk. It’s gone. Forever.

  I know Cody won’t see my text for a while, but I know he’ll see it eventually. And I know he’ll know how much I’m hurting when he does.

  ___________________________

  “Something’s wrong,” Trevor’s saying through the bathroom door. I’m sitting on the toilet while the shower runs, pretending I’m still in there. I’m buying myself more time.

  We went out for dinner after my gift last night. I hardly spoke, and I told Trevor I was tired on our drive home and a little nauseous from his driving. I held his hand in the car, but where I used to caress his fingers and squeeze his palm before, I now just let my hand lie in his, almost limp. I let him do all the work. I didn’t pull away when he kissed me, but I didn’t pursue him either. And in bed, when he pulled at my nightshirt and kissed along my neck, I rolled away and told him I didn’t feel well.

  “Nothing’s wrong. I just haven’t been sleeping well. I think last night was the first time I’ve slept well since the last time you were here,” I say, not really saying anything untrue. I did sleep well, though I swallowed two sleeping pills to get there. That was the one benefit of the mandatory therapy after my father died—a lifetime prescription for just about anything I needed. I kept it limited to mild sleeping pills, knowing how Mac felt about narcotics in general.

  “Awe, babe. You can’t sleep without me, huh? I know it’s hard, but pretty soon you can move to Washington with me. The semester’s almost done, and I’ve been talking with a lot of clients out there, and some of them have some great leads on some firms you can intern with, unless your referral works out,” Trevor says, his voice once again upbeat.

  I shut my eyes, disgusted with myself. “Yeah, that’d be great. I need to do a little more work on that,” I swallow.
“Hey, I’ll be out in just a minute, kay?”

  “Okay. I’ll meet you downstairs,” he says.

  I hold my breath until I hear the bedroom door close. Jim flew in, and I can hear football on in the living room. I know Trevor will be sitting with him on the sofa, and I know how uncomfortable things are going to get as soon as Cody arrives—both because Jim will want nothing to do with him, and because he’ll have Kyla on his arm, and I’ll feel like ripping her throat out.

  I’m not given much time to prepare myself as the doorbell rings the second I step down the stairs. I see Cody first, and I’m breathless at the site of him. He’s actually wearing a suit with a tie. The jacket and pants are fitted and gray, and the shirt is a lighter gray with a thin black tie. He pulls his jacket off and hands it to his mother, who’s not yet drunk, it seems. She hangs it over the banister and, as she does, he looks up, his stare meeting mine.

  His smile is soft, and his eyes seem bluer than normal against the darkness of his clothes. He pushes his sleeves up slightly, a nervous habit of his that I’ve come to learn. It shows off his tattoos when he does, and he looks like some snowboarding Olympian about to introduce the next award at the Grammy’s.

  We’re both locked on one another, and I’m frozen halfway down the steps, wanting desperately to run to him—to have him make this aching I feel better. I dressed for him today, wearing the same leggings and sweater with my boots that I did the night we kissed. I’m making a statement with my outfit—I’m begging him to remember that night, to want me the same way I want him.

  I almost think I have him, too, but then Kyla comes into view—and she’s fucking gorgeous. Her hair is jet black, and it’s silky smooth down to the waist of her skirt. Her curves are accentuated by the pencil-thin, long, black skirt she’s wearing, with spiked boots and a lacy top that you can see her bra through—completely. She looks like she belongs with Cody, and I know in that moment that I don’t have a shot in hell.

  She follows Cody’s eyes to mine and takes me in. I watch her eye me, starting at my feet and working her way up, and then she smiles, her teeth bright-white against the cherry of her lips. I don’t even realize I’m moving when I only have a few steps left between us, and she’s reaching out her hand.

  “Hi, you must be Charlie?” she says. I hate her for saying my name, and I hate that Cody’s given her any sense of permission to use it—I hate that he’s talked about me to her at all. God, I hope he wasn’t with her when he read my text.

  “It’s Charlotte, actually,” I say, flashing a look in his direction. He curls the side of his mouth with a short, “Sorry,” but then continues into the living room to shake Trevor’s hand and to talk with Jim. I try not to blame Cody, because I know how important today is, how important this very moment is. He’s been practicing this speech with Trevor for days, and I know he’s ready.

  So I indulge in my new acquaintance, doing my best to listen to her every word. “I’ve heard so much about you. Cody says he helps you with calculus?” she says, like I’m some sad, pathetic student—a child—who Cody’s been gracious enough to volunteer his time to help.

  I fight against my instinct to push back and tell her I’ve heard about her and what she did to Cody. Instead, I smile and wait patiently for Gabe and Jessie to join the conversation.

  “Yes, well…I’m not the best at math,” I say, deciding humility makes me a better person.

  “Oh, me neither. I didn’t go to school. I dropped out at 16, actually. That’s when I got signed,” she says, reaching into her purse to pull out a piece of gum, which she starts snapping almost the second it’s stuffed into her mouth. I’m wincing at the obnoxious sound, but am quickly distracted by Jessie.

  “Yeah, she’s a model,” she says, making air quotes around the word and causing Gabe to laugh. Kyla shoves him playfully, and that earns her a death glare from Jessie, who’s quick to work her way in between her man and the supermodel-dropout.

  “You’re just jealous,” Kyla says, her eyes tight and cruel. When she lands back on me, she relaxes them and puts her smile back in place. “I am a model. I’ve shot a lot this year, actually, for Hurley and DC.”

  Of course she’s a model. And of course she’s successful. I watch Shelly walk by with two bottles of wine toward the kitchen, and I follow her, suddenly thirsty.

  “Wine anyone?” I ask, playing hostess.

  “Ohhhhhh yeah,” Jessie says, hugging me from behind and following me into the kitchen. She whispers in my ear along the way. “She’s a viper. Just don’t let her get to you. It’s all a game.”

  I pat her hands and free myself once in the kitchen. Shelly is oddly on her game today, flitting about while the catering crew readies every detail. She’s polished, wearing something designer and fit for a CEO or the spokeswoman for some grand charity. I know now, from the little bit Cody has said, that the image is what Shelly’s always wanted to become. But her reality is depressed—a failure. She still pretends on days like today.

  I notice that she and Cody hardly speak. They’re cordial, almost like a business acquaintance you run into at a cocktail party. Even before Mac and I found our groove, you always knew we were father and daughter. And on holidays, there was always a sense of warmth between us. But the air between Shelly and Cody is cold, ice cold. And I’m starting to think there is nothing that will ever be able to warm it.

  I pour a glass of wine for each of us, and then add a couple more for Trevor, Cody, and Jim. I take them to everyone, careful not to interrupt the good conversation that seems to be flowing. I recognize the books out on the table, and Jim seems honestly engaged in what Cody’s saying. I know Trevor’s given him a lot of the talking points, but he’s really selling it.

  When the doorbell rings, Trevor gets up to answer, leaving Jim and Cody alone, and I join him to give them privacy.

  The Sumners enter, and suddenly this lifeless house that I’ve been trapped in for months feels full of family. Cody and Jim join us in the kitchen a few minutes later, and Cody looks pleased. I try to get his attention, but Kyla quickly takes him for herself, stuffing some hors d’oeuvre in his face. I giggle to myself when I catch him spit it out into a napkin when she’s not looking.

  I’m not able to talk with Cody throughout the entire dinner, but the overall conversation and tone of the day is so different from the last family meal I had in this room. Jim doesn’t talk to Cody directly, but he’s not openly mean to him either. He keeps talking with Trevor about the new deal, and how he thinks it might work. The way he ignores Cody offends me, and I dig my nails into my knee to keep myself calm and remind myself that Cody seems to be okay with how things are going.

  When dinner is done, I catch the two of them actually shaking hands, and when I lock eyes with Cody, he flashes me my favorite smile—the one that says everything is right in the world. And even though I’ve lost a piece of my past, I feel somehow healed knowing Cody might get to keep his.

  Trevor walks out with the Sumners, and he and Kevin make plans for a few drinks back at the hotel. Trevor’s relentless in begging me to join them, but I know I can’t keep up my performance for any longer tonight. I’m cracking at the seams, and all I want to do is lay on the grass and talk to Mac. I finally agree that we all go out and celebrate with Cody tomorrow, and he seems satisfied to join them on his own tonight.

  I almost sprint outside as soon as Trevor leaves the driveway. The air is cold and crisp, and the early afternoon light is beaming on the dew and ice left on the tree branches. I find my spot at the side of the house, just outside of anyone’s view. I know Jim will spend the rest of the day watching football or drinking brandy in his office, and Shelly is already drunk.

  Satisfied that I’m on my own, I lay back and drop my forearm over my eyes to block out the sun.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. You talking to Mac?” Cody says.

  I squint and sit up to look at him, a little embarrassed that he’s caught me again. I half-smile and shrug. “Yeah, I
’m a little lost today…sorry, I thought you left to take Kyla home?” I say, looking around Cody’s legs, hoping not to see her.

  “Not yet. She’s…upstairs,” he says, gesturing behind him. I swallow hard realizing what he means. She’s in his bedroom, and he’s out here, which probably means she isn’t decent, or she’s in his bed, or in his shower…waiting.

  “Stop,” Cody says, almost like he can read my thoughts. “She had to print some things from her email is all. She has a shoot tomorrow and needed her schedule.”

  He squats down next to me, his hands buried in the front of his hoodie, and his hat low over his face. I laugh lightly and look away as I lie back down.

  “What’s funny,” he says, sitting down completely now and pulling his knees in.

  “You, you’re funny,” I say, biting my lip with a half smile, a little worried about offending him with what I’m going to say next. “You were so out of your element in that suit. How long did it take you to run upstairs and change, like two minutes?”

  “Thirty seconds,” he says, stretching his legs out and laying down next to me. My fingers tingle on instinct, but I don’t reach for him. “Seriously, I actually jogged across the driveway and up the stairs so I could change.”

  We’re both laughing, and when we stop, the silence feels thick, like we both have so much to say, but too much in the way.

  “So, it went well?” I ask, already knowing it did, but wanting to hear Cody’s version of the day.

  He smiles at me, leaning his head to the side to face me, then bites at his cheek before finally speaking. “Yeah. Somehow, I think it went well,” he says.