by M. Leighton
Probably.
But the fact of the matter is, all concerns aside, I’m having the surgery. Because when I think back to the first time I met Levi, I remember thinking that I’d give just about anything to be able to see him. Just once. And maybe one day soon, I’ll be able to, even if it’s only seeing him from afar.
CHAPTER 30
LEVI
I THINK back over what I’m considering, and the more I mull it over, the better it feels.
I’ve stalled out when it comes to Evie. I’m hitting a brick wall that I can’t bust through and can’t find a way around. She has every reason not to trust me, not to forgive me, but something in my gut tells me that if I could just make her understand what she means to me, that if I could just make her see that she’s the most important thing to me, she might be able to give me a second chance.
This is something I should’ve done long ago anyway. Not only will it shed light on a crime that was committed many years ago, but it will show the world what happened to Evie and how amazingly she’s put her lift back together since then. And beyond that, it will destroy any leverage Julianne has. She won’t be able to hurt Evie.
Ever.
A friend of mine works for The New York Times. I’m going to tell him everything that happened so the world will know what kind of “man of the people” my father really is. I won’t omit my part, which could end in a couple of different ways for me, but the main thing, the primary impetus behind this is to make sure the world knows what kind of person Evie is. Strong, resilient, incredibly talented.
Honest.
Legitimate.
She’s the real deal, and everyone needs to know it.
I thought about the attention this will bring her, and I wanted to sweep the legs out from under the skeptics with one preemptive strike. I used a connection I have at Columbia to get a copy of the paperwork that the school required when they admitted Evie back into classes. They wanted proof that she was actually blind, and she provided it. That very same proof—a physician’s report, an optometrist’s report, and the federal paperwork that declared her legally handicapped—will satisfy the rest of the world, too.
As for the ramifications of what I’m about to do, the statute of limitations will protect my father. He won’t face charges, but he will be ruined just the same. He will likely have to step down as senator, and his career in politics (at least in the forefront) will be over.
I’ll have the same protection as Dad, and I’ll face the possibility of being ruined, too. It could go either way for me, but it’s a chance I’m willing to take. I want Evie to know that I’d risk anything for her. The damage this will do to the Michaelson family pales in comparison to the hell Evie has suffered. To the hell that I’ve caused her to suffer since I came into her life. Maybe this will be enough to prove to her that I mean what I say.
Maybe.
I pray to God it will.
There’s one thing I need to do before I set these wheels in motion. I realized this morning that I have to call Rachel’s parents. I owe them that much.
I stare down at her mother’s contact information, pulled up on my phone in clear black numbers set against a white screen. I tracked them down after they moved from the city and put their address and phone number into my phone. I meant to call. Several times. I just…didn’t.
It’s time I did.
My thumb hovers over the green SEND button for several seconds before I press it. The instant I do, I exhale.
It only rings once before I hear, “Hello?”
Her voice hasn’t changed in all these years, and I’m thrown back in time. A rush of memories from my youth roll through my mind—drunk-calling Rachel from a frat party, calling Rachel to tell her I’d blown out my shoulder, calling Rachel to ask her to move in with me. She was from the city, so her parents insisted that she live at home while going to school. They thought it would keep her out of trouble.
They didn’t plan for trouble like me. Like my family.
“Joanne, it’s Levi.”
Silence greets me. I wouldn’t blame her if she hung up. I deserve nothing less.
“Levi.” Her tone is flat. “It’s been a long time.”
“It has. I meant to call. I just…”
I hear her sigh whisper through the line to breathe guilt into my chest. “It’s fine. I-I knew you were hurting.”
“Yeah.”
A tense silence builds between us. She’s wondering why I called now, wondering if there’s more bad news. I feel her unease stretch between us like taffy, thick and stringy.
“Joanne, I’m calling because it’s finally time I let the world know what really happened that night. Who was at fault. What we did. What he did. I…I wanted to tell you first. Out of respect.”
I know she won’t be pleased to read about her daughter in the headlines. I’m digging up bones that will hurt them, yes, but I’m bringing Rachel the justice she should’ve had, too.
Her long pause is so deep and black, I look at the phone to make sure she hasn’t hung up.
“Why? Why now?”
“The girl that we hit that night, I met her. She’s blind because of us. Because of me. Someone is threatening to sabotage her life, her credibility, and I…I can’t let that happen.”
“Who? Who would threaten to hurt a blind woman?”
I scrub a hand over my face as I think about how this will sound. How it is.
Jesus, the shit storm I’ve made.
“A woman I’ve…known for a while.”
“And why would she want to do something like this?”
“She’s…intimidated by Evie.”
“Evie? Is that the girl? From that night?”
“Yes.”
“Intimidated? This sounds more like something a jealous lover might do.”
I close my eyes. “That’s because it is.”
“And all because of a girl you hit years ago.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“She’s that important?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I repeat.
“She sounds…special.”
“She is. She’s a painter. A brilliant painter. I’ve never seen anything like it. Her work… The colors are so vibrant, so real, the paintings come to life when you look at them. You feel it in your soul, like she’s giving you a piece of who she is in every one. She’s…she’s incredible,” I end lamely.
“This seems serious.”
“It is. I am.”
“D-do you love her, Levi?”
The question is hard for her. I can hear it in her voice. Like somehow because I’ve finally moved on, Rachel is even more gone now. But I want her to know that I’m not moving on for just anyone. I’m moving on for the one.
My answer is quiet, but solid. Rock solid. “I do. Very much.” When she says nothing, I feel the irrational need to defend Evie, to defend how I feel about her. And why. “My life…my personal life…has been pretty messed up since that night. It was three years before I could even sleep in the bed with another person, not wake up sweating from nightmares. I never did make a real…attachment after Rachel, though. I dated. I made friends. But nothing…real. Not until Evie.”
I come to my feet, pacing back and forth across the room. “I never expected to fall in love with her. But I don’t think I ever really expected her. She’s like no one I’ve ever known. She’s smart and funny, easy to talk to. She has this way of turning everything I say around.” I smile just thinking about it. “I liked her instantly. Found her fascinating. But then…then I found myself more anxious to see her than I was to do anything else. I found myself wondering what she’d think of a certain color or how she’d describe a certain smell. What she’d say about the mountains or the ocean or Paris if I could take her. I started seeing things through her eyes, and she can’t even see!”
I stop pacing and take a breath, letting my head fall back on my shoulders. I stare blankly at the ceiling, my mind filled to the brim with Evie. “I…I don’t even k
now how it happened. Or when. But suddenly seeing her, talking to her, being with her became more important than anything. Anything. Even breathing. I never thought I’d find that. Find someone who could make me feel so much again, but she did. She does. And this is the only way I can give her the peace, the closure she deserves. The closure she deserved years ago, when she woke up blind and terrified in a hospital with no one to explain what happened or why. Her painting is all she has, all she loves. I can’t let Julianne—or anyone else—take that from her. Ever. So I have to do this. But I wanted you to know first. I just…I hope you understand.”
I ease down onto the edge of the couch cushion, resting my elbows on my knees and spreading my fingers across my forehead to massage my throbbing temples.
I hear a sniff. Then another. She’s crying. Christ Almighty, I didn’t mean to bring the woman more pain.
“Joanne, I’m—”
“I’m happy for you, Levi. It sounds like you’ve finally gotten your life together, finally become the kind of man who could’ve deserved my daughter.”
Her voice quavers.
Rachel’s parents were never too fond of the spoiled rich kid with an important father and too much time on his hands. They didn’t think I was good enough for Rachel.
They were right.
But maybe, just maybe she’s right this time, too. Maybe now I can be the type of man who would’ve been good enough for her.
“That’s all because of Evie. She…she makes me a better man. She’s the only thing in my life that matters. I have to do this for her.”
This time her pause is short. “I understand. I wish you both well, Levi. I really do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s been nice talking with you, but I need to go.”
“Oh, of course. I appreciate you taking the time to talk. I know…I know it wasn’t easy.”
“Take care of yourself. And her. Take care of her.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The line goes dead and I sit holding my phone, staring at the carpet for several minutes afterward, trying to imagine what my life will feel like if I’ve really lost Evie and wondering how the hell I’m supposed to pick up the pieces.
CHAPTER 31
EVIE
I THOUGHT I’d feel pain after the surgery, but I just feel…numb. Of course, I’ve felt that way for the last three weeks, ever since the incident with Levi. Maybe that’s helping to numb this pain, too.
A million times, I’ve thought back over my conversation with him the other day during class, and a million times I’ve wondered how I could love him after what he’s done. That is what I question. Not whether I love him.
Because I do.
I love him.
There’s no question about that.
When we talked during class, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, not throwing myself into his arms, mashing my mouth to his, begging him to make love to me as hot and as hard as he can. Everything in me—every cell, every nerve, every drop of blood—wanted to give in to him, to end this agonizing distance between us.
But I didn’t.
The problem is that, while I do love him, I don’t trust him. I can’t. I don’t know how, not after everything that’s happened. I don’t see a way forward. Not for us. Not together. I wish I did, but I don’t.
The burn of tears stings at the back of my eyes and, like water breaking through a dam, it brings with it the pain of what my body has been through. I cry out in anguish, praying for the numbness to return, but it doesn’t.
In my heart or in my head.
********
As we walk toward our apartment, Cherelyn keeps her fingers curled around my upper arm, right above my elbow.
“I’m fine, you know. It’s no different than it’s been for the last thirteen years. I can walk on my own.”
“Well, your eyes are bandaged, and the doctor said you could still have some dizziness for several days. We are still in ‘several days’. I’m just being cautious.”
“You just wanna touch me, don’t you? I have that affect on people. They can’t keep their hands off me. Nope. Just can’t do it.”
She laughs. “That’s exactly it. Your arm has been taunting me for days, weeks, years.”
“As I suspected.”
When she unlocks the door and swings it open, the faint scent of roses and lilies hits my nose, the residue of their aroma still clinging to the furniture. It doesn’t bring a smile. It doesn’t bring me happiness. It only serves to underscore the fact that they’re gone.
Just like he is gone.
“Place still smells good, huh?”
“Makes me wanna cut my nose off,” I mutter caustically.
“I had to throw them out. They were all wilted, and the water looked gross.”
“That’s fine. I’m glad you did.”
I don’t add that it would’ve been nice if he’d sent me fresh flowers, but he didn’t. As I suspected, once he met the least bit of resistance from me, Levi vanished. He didn’t come by the hospital, didn’t send flowers, didn’t send a stupid stuffed bear or a mediocre box of chocolates. When the going got tough, he bailed.
Just like he did that night.
“You told him to stay away, Evie. What did you expect?”
I turn toward her voice, frowning. “What are you, a mindreader?”
“No. I just know you too well. I know what you’re thinking.”
“Oh, really? And what’s that?”
“That he gave up. That you were right not to trust him.”
“Hmph,” is my only response. Because she’s exactly right. Eerily right.
“Now me, on the other hand? I wouldn’t count him out yet.”
“Well, lucky for me I’m not you.”
“Are you still going to be this cranky come Friday? Because the artist shouldn’t be a bitch at her own showing.”
I would take exception to that, but I know she’s right. I am being a bitch.
“Sorry, Cher. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“I do, but that’s beside the point. I just want to know you’ll be okay by then. This is a big deal. You’re back by popular demand. This thing is gonna be huge.”
I take a deep, calming breath. “I know. I’ll be ready. I promise.”
“Maybe it’ll be a big day for you personally, too. The bandages will come off and…”
I can practically feel the vibrations of her excitement. She’s alive with it, just talking about me possibly getting some of my sight back.
“Don’t get too excited. If it worked at all, it will just be enough to restore some sight. Blurry images and some colors at best.”
“You can’t blame me for hoping for the best.”
I smile. “No, I can’t. I hope for the best, too. It’s just that I’m…I’m…”
“You’re skeptical. As always.”
“You make it sound like I’m a pessimist.”
“Lately you have been.”
“I’ve had good reason.”
She doesn’t argue. “Maybe you’ll start finding reasons to be optimistic again.”
“I hope so.”
“So do I, babe. So do I.”
********
Although time passes at the exact same speed it always has, the week has been excruciatingly long. Every day as I go about my routine, still a blind woman, I itch to take off the bandages. I yearn to peel them back and look with eyes that will hopefully be able to see. At least a little. I don’t expect 20/20 vision, but any vision is better than no vision. I figure if I keep my expectations low, there’s a lesser chance of being disappointed.
Kind of like I used to do with men.
But Levi changed all that. He gave me hope. He was someone I started to believe could be different. And the disappointment is almost more than I can bear. It hurts to even think about him anymore.
Levi set fire to a tiny spark of optimism in my heart after our run-in during class before my surgery, only to turn right around and stamp it out with a
ruthless heel. I thought by him coming back, coming to seek me out, he was going to chase me down, vow never to stop until I was his.
But he didn’t.
I was wrong about him twice. Surely that’s enough that I’ve learned my lesson. Surely that’s enough that I won’t make the same mistake again.
“Evie, Evie! You have to hear this,” Cherelyn blares as she comes skittering into my room.
She rustles around in the drawer of my nightstand just before I hear the click of the television come on. There’s a pause, I suppose, as she changes channels, and then I’m thrust into a conversation. It only takes me a few seconds to catch up.
And for the bottom to drop out of my stomach when I do.
“…just how damaging will this be for Senator Michaelson?”
“Well, Sydney, no charges will be brought against him since the crime happened far outside the statute of limitations, but I daresay that his career in politics will be over.”
“Without him being formally charged, how can you be so certain?”
“The guy’s son comes forward, thirteen years after the fact, and tells about his father’s involvement in a hit-and-run, while intoxicated, mind you, that resulted in severe brain injury to the victim, her eventual blindness, and the subsequent suicide of a college girl that he paid off to keep the matter under wraps. If that’s not enough to force him to step down, I’d say his constituents will take care of it for him.”
“And what about the son? What will the public think of a man who would turn in his own father, after all this time, when he was clearly complicit as well? He left a girl to die in the street, for God’s sake.”
“Sydney, he called emergency services. He was a young man who was not only under the influence of alcohol, but also under the influence of his powerful father. In addition to that, he feared for the welfare of his girlfriend and their unborn child. I think the public will see Levi Michaelson in a much better light than they do his father.”
“But to turn in your own father, after all this time… Who would do such a thing?”