Blindness

by Ginger Scott

  “Yeah, I guess you know what she needs…” Trevor mumbles, just loud enough for me to hear. I’m grateful Cody’s too far.

  Trevor says he’ll follow us, and Cody opens the door for me to get in, closing it gently behind me. I watch him walk around his truck, his eyes on his brother as he walks down the driveway, and I see a flash of regret cross his face. He tucks it back inside when he climbs in next to me, but I know it’s there. It makes my heart hurt, knowing the irreparable rift I’ve no doubt left behind.

  The drive to the cemetery is short, only a few blocks away from the precinct. Every building between Mac’s home and his final resting place is marked by a memory—and they hit me like punches as we drive along the side street. My grade school, the bus stop, the park where we used to look at the stars when the moon was full, and the road to the convenience store—the final road. The end. I’m shaking by the time we arrive, but I fold my arms tightly across my body—I don’t want Cody to see how weak I am, to feel like this is too much—because I need to do this.

  It’s time.

  We park along the roadway, and Trevor pulls in behind us. I don’t wait for them. This is something I have to do alone. I’m glad they’re here to pick me up if I can’t make it. I also know if I can’t bring myself to see Mac—his name on some cold stone I picked out from a catalogue the police chaplain shoved in front of me and the bare dirt patch that covers what’s left of him—then I will always be broken.

  I know the path. He’s buried along with several other officers near a special statue that the city erected in their honor. His burial was free—as if that’s supposed to somehow make it better. That’s one of the perks to being an officer—when you leave this earth way too early, the city ponies up for a mid-range coffin and some flowers.

  My throat starts to close up the closer I get, but I keep pushing my feet forward. I have to do this. I have to do this. I can see the top of the stone, and I notice the M right away. His grave is covered in flowers. I know Caroline brings a new bouquet every Saturday, but there are so many more. My father was beloved by his department—beloved by anyone he ever let in. It usually took a while to wear him down, but after twenty years in the same town, protecting the same people, eating the same pies at the same diner, and getting his hair cut by the same barber—well, Mac had managed to build quite a family of fans, even if they all drove him crazy.

  Cody’s hands are on my shoulders, and that’s when I notice I’m on my knees. My face is soaking with my tears. I’ve been crying silently for minutes, just looking at his name and thinking about all of the things he’s going to miss, and I can feel my stomach clenching with anger. I picture the face of his killer, and I scream and push my fingernails deep into the grass, ripping up chunks and throwing them at the grave.

  “Daaaaddddy!” I scream, my hands covered in dark soil. Cody’s reaching around my stomach and lifting me back up to my feet, and I turn into him on instinct, nestling my face deep into his chest and wailing for minutes, choking as I struggle to breathe. Cody doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move. He just keeps me locked in his arms, as he lets me feel.

  We’re at Mac’s grave for almost an hour, and I’m weak when we leave. Cody reaches his arm under mine, supporting most of my weight as we walk back to the roadway. I can tell he’s tired—his limp is heavy, and it makes us slow. Trevor doesn’t help—he stays far behind, but he stays. We get to Cody’s truck, and he opens his door for me to climb inside. I pull my knees up and turn sideways, leaning my face along the torn vinyl of his seat, and Cody reaches up to wipe the leftover tears from my face with his sleeve. He grazes my lip with the pad of his thumb and smiles tenderly before he shuts my door.

  My body is limp—my chest is heavy, and my breathing is labored, but my insides feel strangely empty. I feel lighter, like I’ve been holding onto a sickness for years and finally found relief. It doesn’t feel natural, and I keep taking a deep breath—a full breath—to make sure it’s real.

  Cody’s walking around the front of the truck, but he stops to pull his phone out of his pocket, and I can see him struggling to hear whomever is on the other end, stuffing his finger in his ear and pacing a few steps from the truck. He hasn’t talked to Gabe or Jessie since we left, and I’m sure they’re worried.

  I check the rearview mirror to see if Trevor’s made it to his car yet, but he hasn’t. He’s walking back along the path, slowly. My neck twists back to the front the second I hear the sound of Cody’s fist as it pounds on his hood over and over again. His face is hard, his eyes red, and his jaw clenched tightly. I can’t hear him or his conversation, but when he starts to walk back and forth in front of me, digging his hands into the front of his hair and looking up while he screams obscenities, I know something is deeply wrong.

  I pull the door handle slowly and slip from the truck just in time to hear the end of his call.

  “What do you mean, Gabe? How can they do that?!” Cody’s yelling, and his eyes are on fire. “That fucking liar!...No, Gabe. Just stay there. I’m coming home. Fuck! It’s going to take me hours…just…”

  Cody makes eye contact with me while he’s talking, but his stare is blank, like I’m a stranger. Something’s wrong, and my mind is racing with the possibilities. I piece it together, but only seconds before it comes spilling out in front of me—I know the second Cody’s eyes meet mine again, and they’re cold.

  “Just wait for me, Gabe. We’ll deal with it,” he says, tossing his phone on top of his hood while he holds my stare and walks by me, his eyes low and words hanging on his breath. He can’t seem to speak them to me, and instead, he only points his finger at me and shakes his head as he picks up speed and heads straight to Trevor.

  “You piece of shit!” he yells, moments before he cocks his arm and sends his fist into Trevor’s completely unsuspecting face.

  Trevor falls back to the ground and grabs his face, wiping the blood from his nose on his shirt and looking at it. He gets some on his hand and holds it up to show Cody, almost like he’s using it as evidence, as proof. “Fuck, man! What the hell?” Trevor says, struggling back to his feet, but he never makes it before Cody kicks him back down and lands on him to pound him with his fist again and again—his tired body clearly fueled by rage now.

  “You fucking liar! You did this—all of this!” Cody’s completely gone as he lands punch after punch into Trevor’s head and chest. Trevor’s covering for protection, but clearly overpowered. I can’t watch this happen, so I reach for Cody’s arm, trying to hold it still, trying to stop it, or slow it down.

  “Cody! Cody! What are you doing?!” I plead with him. I finally get a grip on his wrist, but he tosses me from him, throwing me to the gravel.

  “You! You knew about this!” he shouts as he points at me again.

  “Cody! I have no idea what this is!” I’m desperate, and I’m blubbering, I’m crying so hard. I feel like a switch was flipped—and everything that was so close to perfect was stolen from me, like a cruel joke. I’m praying I’m wrong, but deep down, I know I’m not. I can see it all unraveling, and I don’t know how to stop it.

  Cody kicks Trevor one more time before he stands up, wiping his face along his arm, and rolling his shoulders straight. “That was Gabe, Charlie. It’s done—everything,” he says, his eyes shifting from me to Trevor. “Fucking cops showed up and started hauling all my shit away, clearing out the shop—every car, Trevor! Seems someone told them I was running a chop shop. Goddammit, Trevor…that’s my father’s name up on that sign, his goddamned memory. Do you really think I’m a criminal?”

  I look to Trevor, hoping I see confusion on his face, hoping that he isn’t part of this, and I can tell he’s not. But I also know that Cody won’t believe him. At least, not right now.

  “Jim showed up with them, said he has sole ownership now, and demanded they lock up everything, board up the windows, and take it all!” Cody says, kicking up scoops of gravel into the air.

  He turns back to me, his nostrils flaring. “T
hey took everything, Charlie!” Cody says, his voice cracking, and his eyes glassy. “My dad’s old car! The tools and photos and most of the books! And Jim said I should ask you about it. Said you knew this was going to happen. How? Why…why didn’t you tell me?”

  I’m going to throw up. I feel it coming, and the corners of my eyes are bright, like the world is closing in. I keep moving my mouth, trying to explain it all away, but I can’t. Nothing on me is working—I’m stunned silent.

  Jim warned me—he said he would destroy Cody, destroy his dream, if I did anything that hurt Trevor. I turn to Trevor, lying helpless on the ground, and can’t make sense of any of it. I know he didn’t cause any of this—he couldn’t, could he? Cody’s walking away from us to his truck, and he pulls the seat forward to reach for my coat and bag, tossing it on the muddy ground in front of him.

  “Here’s your stuff,” he says, climbing into his truck and slamming his door closed. I manage to get to my feet, and I run to his truck, my palms flat along his passenger window as his engine roars to life.

  “Cody! Where are you going? Wait! Wait, let me explain!” I beg. Cody rolls his window down, and I try to reach inside, to touch him, but he pushes me away—like poison.

  “I have to get back and help Gabe, Charlie. I have to figure this shit out, this goddamned mess,” he says, looking down at his lap. He takes several deep breaths, his body shaking while he tries to force himself back to calm. When he looks back at me, he reaches for my face and runs his fingers down my cheek, but his hand falls back inside the truck, and his face is full of disappointment.

  “Please! Take me with you, let me help you!” I say, my hands gripping the handle of his door, pulling on it even though it’s locked.

  Cody shakes his head and keeps his eyes down while he chuckles insincerely before he finally raises his eyes to meet mine, and they look heartbroken. “You knew! Jim said I should ask you! I trusted you, Charlie. I trusted you…with everything. And now…I can’t,” Cody says as he rolls his window up quickly and drives away.

  My body goes limp; I crumble to the ground, gripping the small stones in my hands and throwing piles of them at a time into the air at the trail left behind by Cody’s truck. I hear Trevor stirring, and I rush to my feet, running to him. I slide on my knees against him and start smacking his chest with my palms, over and over again.

  “How could you do this?! How?” I yell, not letting him sit up or uncover his face from my barrage of slapping. “Did you do this to get even? Because I fell in love with him?”

  I can barely breathe, I’m crying so hard, and my hits are coming in slower and slower, until finally Trevor is able to grab both of my wrists. He holds them tightly in his hand. “Stop it, Charlotte! Jesus, just stop for a fucking minute!” he yells, his voice harsh and cruel. The Trevor who loved me is gone.

  I fall back on my ass hard, and pull my knees into my chest, and my hands cover my mouth. “What did you do?” I ask, my body now rocking back and forth, preparing for the worst.

  Trevor stands to his feet and brushes the front of his sweater off, pulling a tissue from his pocket and holding it up to his still-bleeding nose. He doesn’t make eye contact with me for minutes until he takes a deep breath. “I didn’t do anything,” he says, his face flat. “I have to make some calls, but I think this is all my dad. I think this was probably his plan all along.”

  He starts to walk to his car, and I stand to follow him. He’s pulling his phone out and dialing, but stops short to stare at me, to warn me—it’s clear he doesn’t want me around for this. I find a nearby bench, and I sit and watch as Trevor paces, making call after call. He seems almost as frustrated as Cody did, but he’s cooler—calmer. Probably because he’s not losing the only thing he really ever cared about. Of course, he did lose me.

  Trevor’s on the phone with at least a dozen different people for almost an hour, and I just sit, folded on the bench, watching his every movement, searching for clues. When he hangs up after his final call, he pauses and stares out over the rows of headstones for several minutes. His shoulders finally fall as his head turns and his eyes find me. He pushes his phone into his pocket and walks over slowly. I’m biting at the skin around my fingers, already having chewed away every last fingernail.

  “Like I said…this was all Jim. He has a guy who’s investing in the land with him. They planted some evidence to knock Cody out. They want to tear the shop down, put up condos and shops,” he shrugs, looking away from me briefly before coming at me again. “What the hell, Charlotte? What the hell happened…to us?”

  I can’t answer him. I know he deserves one, and I wish I could give it to him. I wish I could love him, because it would be easier—and I wouldn’t feel dead inside. But I can’t answer him. Not today—maybe not ever.

  My mind won’t stop racing, because I don’t know where Cody is, or how I’m ever going to explain that Jim warned me, and I didn’t listen. I was selfish, because I wanted him so damned much. I don’t know why any of this happened. And I don’t know where to go from here. I don’t know where to call home; I don’t have one. The only thing that’s certain is I can’t stay here—in Louisville. This place ruins me—ruins everything. And I can’t wait to leave it.

  Chapter 19: Homeless

  “Just stay. It’s fine,” Trevor says, packing what remains of his from the closet we shared into two suitcases.

  We didn’t talk at all on the plane ride home; in fact, Trevor sat in a single seat, leaving me two rows behind and across the aisle. When we arrived back at the house, late last night, Trevor pulled out the extra pillow and blanket and slept in a spare room. I didn’t sleep at all—instead, staring out the window at the darkness across the driveway. Cody’s truck never pulled up, and his lights were off all night.

  I started a dozen text messages to him, but I deleted every one. They weren’t enough—you can’t put what I need to say to Cody in a text. And I don’t know that he’ll listen to me in person.

  “Trevor, I’m not staying here. It would be…weird. And I’m pretty sure your father hates my guts,” I say, pulling out my own suitcase to start packing my own bag. I don’t know where I’ll go—maybe a hotel for a night or two. But there’s no way I’m staying in this house ever again.

  Trevor doesn’t fight me and just shrugs, turning his focus back to his packing. I hate how things ended, and I hate this feeling in the pit of my stomach. I want to talk to him, like I used to, but he’s so far away despite being in the very same room.

  “Trevor…I’m…” I start, but he cuts me off.

  “No. You don’t get to say sorry. Not yet,” he says, tossing a shirt into the pile that’s building in his bag. He just stares at me with a hard gaze; it’s more than disappointment—I swear I can see actual loathing.

  “I’m stuck, Charlotte. I’m stuck somewhere between being hurt and hating you. I want to fucking hate you. God, do I want to hate you!” he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed and rubbing his forehead. “But I don’t. I just want to understand. Damn it, Charlotte…I thought we were happy. I thought I knew what you wanted. What went wrong?”

  I sit on the opposite corner of the bed, pulling my leg up sideways and turning to him. I want to reach for his hand, hug him. I fold my hands in my lap and look down, breathing slowly through my nose to give me time to gather my words. I’ve practiced this speech a million times, and I perfected it on our flight home.

  “We were happy, Trevor. Or at least, what I thought was happy. But I was so blind,” I say, and Trevor starts to stand, rolling his eyes. I reach for his hand and grab hold of his pinky, startling him, but stopping him. “Please…you have to listen. Even if you decide to hate me.”

  He slumps forward and relents, taking his seat back, this time a little closer to me.

  “I’m not talking about Cody. Trevor, this…this…isn’t about Cody. It’s about who I really am, and the me you think is real,” as I say the words I feel Trevor tense, and his brow curls with his confusion. “I had
one year—one year—of my life that was normal. I had a dad that loved me, and he started to pull these things out of me, these pieces of who I would become. But he left. And I got lost. All I knew was what I didn’t want to be—Caroline, Trevor. I wasn’t going to dwell on my dad’s death, I wasn’t going to live sheltered and afraid, and I wasn’t going to be alone. So I ran away—to Western. And I met you. And you were…everything that every little girl puts down on paper when they dream up their future prince, Trevor.”

  He grimaces at me, throwing me the bullshit card. But I keep going, because I’m telling him the truth.

  “I’m being honest,” I say, balling my hand into a fist over my heart and closing my eyes. I can feel my breath starting to fade, and my voice is starting to shake. “God, Trevor—you are perfect. You’re perfect in so many ways. And I wish I could turn our story into the fairytale. But there’s just so much about me that you don’t know—don’t see—those things you ignore.”

  He’s shaking his head at me, not understanding. “Charlotte, I know you. I loved you…I was going to marry you!” he says, reaching up to rub his temples.

  “And I’m so lucky to have had you, Trevor,” I say. “But…you didn’t really know me. If you knew me—if you understood me at all—you never would have thrown away my father’s desk.”

  The silence that hangs over us is thick, and I can’t stop the one tear that glides down my cheek. I look at the corner of the room, where my desk once sat, and then I look back at Trevor, and I see the pain hitting him again.

  “Don’t…” I start, scooting closer to him and reaching for his hand. “You thought you were doing a good thing, Trevor. You were being thoughtful. It’s just…that thoughtfulness is meant for a different girl. This girl likes old furniture, is desperate to shop in the junior’s section and find her youth again, and…god I’m sorry Trevor, but she doesn’t want to move to the city.”