Blindness (18 page)

“Yeah, it got way the fuck worse,” she says,
sliding forward and stuffing the bag back in her pocket. “Cody got
really depressed. His leg was mangled, I mean like
really
messed up. He had to live in that chair for months.”

“That’s when Kyla left him?” I ask, piecing
the rest of the story together myself. Jessie just nods and rolls
her shoulders back.

“Yeah, girl was a bitch. I never liked her,
but when she just ditched him like that?” Jessie trails off,
looking up at Cody’s place.

I wonder if he’s home, and I peek over at his
garage. It’s empty.

“He’s at the garage; that’s why I came here,”
Jessie says, reaching out for my hand to help me slide from her
hood. “I’ve gotta get back though. Gabe’s going to wonder where I
am. I told him I was just going to grab breakfast burritos.”

I smile at her realness. And I’m jealous that
Cody has someone like her to look after him. I know I need to get
to class, and I know Jessie’s ready to leave, but I can’t help but
ask her one more question, get my final puzzle piece locked in
before she goes.

“What pulled him out?” I ask, and she looks
at me puzzled. “You said it took forever to pull him out of the
dark. What did it? How did you do it?” I’m not sure why I’m asking,
really. Maybe I want to know because I’m hoping it will work for
me, or maybe I just need to have some sort of happy ending in my
head for Cody’s story—especially now that I’ve made the decision to
end trying to get closer to him.

“It was Gabe. Gabe was in a darker place than
Cody, and that’s all it took. Those two are more like brothers than
real brothers are,” she says, smiling while talking about her
boys—her brothers. “Gabe got into drugs. Our families? We didn’t
grow up in the best hood. And Gabe hooked up with a few bad guys
while Cody was gone. Gabe didn’t make it to every tour, only the
ones he could afford, and when Cody wasn’t around to help Gabe make
smart choices, he made really stupid ones. He was taking a lot of
things—pills and shit. But when he started to hit crack, it got out
of hand. He stole a car one night and got his ass arrested. Cody
bailed him out. Spent a lot of his sponsorship money on it.”

I can tell it hurts her to talk about Gabe’s
weaknesses, so I stop her. “Thank you for telling me…everything,” I
say, reaching out my hand, hoping that she’ll accept it, accept me,
and trust that I’ll make the right choice and not hurt Cody. I’m
surprised when she reaches forward and pulls me into a hug, and my
arms are awkward as they reach around her. I haven’t been held
much, let alone by another woman.

She doesn’t look at me while she walks away,
and I know she’s struggling with trusting me, letting me get close
to her tight family. And I’m torn, too—almost hoping she opts to
keep me out, makes my decision easier.

“So, I’ll see ya, okay?” she says, getting in
her car and leaving it at that. I watch her back out and pull down
the drive before I get in my own car and head to school, my verve
for studying now almost non-existent.

---------------------

I finished out the week in a rush. My
portfolio critique went surprisingly well, and my boss was eager to
show my work to the senior architect on the design team at the
firm. I wasn’t expecting him to like my drawings, let alone show
any interest. Of course, now I had a new deadline to contend with,
and needed to have full-color drafts ready to present by the first
of December.

Trevor was so proud of me. He even sent me a
Monopoly box and changed all of the street names to somehow relate
to my collection of homes. He wasn’t very accurate—he’s only seen
my drawings in bits and pieces, so it’s not his fault—but the
thought made my heart melt.

I was looking forward to our weekend
together. I hadn’t seen Cody since the night of the kiss, and the
more time that passed, the more it felt like a dream—and a
mistake.

The flight to Washington is fast, just over
an hour. I barely have time to start listening to my new playlist.
I made a goal for myself to grow my music library, which, though
classically honed, is in need of some new blood.

I decide to squeeze in another song or two
while I wait for the plane to unload—I always sit near the back,
close enough to a restroom, but away from the lights and the
chatter of the front of the plane. I like to close the window, not
really interested in seeing the angle of our descent or how high I
am above patches of farmland. The tradeoff is a painfully slow exit
once landed.

I’m feeling the heavy thump of the latest
Arctic Monkey’s LP when I finally clear the gate and see Trevor
waiting for me. He doesn’t see me at first, and his feet are
shuffling with nerves, his hand holding onto a long-stem rose,
which looks desperate for water. His jumpiness makes me giggle.
When our eyes finally meet, his smile breaks through, and the
churning in my stomach that’s been going non-stop since Trevor left
the last time…quits. He’s wearing a long coat with a white shirt
and dress pants, like he’s just left a courtroom. He has one of
those plaid scarfs draped over his neck, and his hair looks flat,
probably from the rain.

My lips are on his the instant he says hello,
and he scoops me up, lifting me from the ground to twirl me around.
“Man, did I miss you,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine and
giving me one more squeeze.

“Ditto,” I say, biting my lip in a coy smile.
Coming here, visiting Trevor, is exactly as I always imagined. As
we walk through the airport to the car and drive along the highway,
I take in the rest of my setting. It’s perfect, exactly as I knew
it would be, and when I close my eyes, I can imagine myself
here—and I’m happy.

Trevor’s hand squeezes mine while we drive
the short distance to his studio apartment. His building is posh,
but his space is pretty small. Once inside, I slide my bags to
claim a corner by the bed, and then freshen up in his bathroom.

“Are you hungry?” Trevor asks through the
door. “I thought we could grab a light lunch, walk the city a
little, and then come back to get ready for the show? I have
reservations for dinner tonight at a place you’re going to love,”
he says.

I’m starving, but I kind of want to stay in,
spend a little time with Trevor in his bed—spend a little time
erasing any remnant of my slip-up with Cody. But my stomach betrays
me and growls the minute Trevor swings open the door. The sound
makes him laugh, and he grabs my purse to hand it to me. “That’s a
yes, then?” he chuckles.

“I guess so,” I say, a little embarrassed. I
follow him out the door and hold onto his arm while he walks us
down the hall to the bank of elevators. Everything here feels more
important, more grown up, and seeing Trevor in this element brings
out a whole new level of sexy. Unable to stop myself, I slide into
him in the elevator and kiss him hard. He’s surprised at first, but
reaches around to grab my thigh soon enough, pushing my back into
the corner of the elevator. The ding halts our kiss and another
couple joins us for the rest of the ride down. I slide my eyes to
meet Trevor’s, and we both smirk.

He gets us a cab quickly, and we zip off to
the monuments. I wore my heeled boots, and gray shirt-dress. I
brought my long coat and am thankful. I feel the wind kick up from
the curb as I climb out of the car and walk along the busy roadway
to the Lincoln Memorial. There’s something about seeing these
things in person that has me breathless. The history is powerful,
but I think even more so I’m struck by the artistry—the fact that
human hands can make something that is such a statement, so iconic,
and so touching.

I wasn’t much for sculpting. I took one class
in it at Western, but my hands were better built for pencils.
Seeing something like this, close up, had me envious of those with
the talent.

“Pretty amazing, huh?” Trevor says, reaching
around me and pulling me into him. We both stand there and take it
all in. It’s impossible to be in front of Lincoln’s legs, carved in
white, and not feel it in your chest. “Come closer, you have to
read it,” Trevor urges. I follow him at first, but stop when I hear
my phone chirp with a message. I know it’s Caroline—she’s been
texting a lot lately, on one of her highs. I’m just glad I’m
hearing from her, so I’ve been answering them.

“Go ahead, I’ll catch up,” I say, waving my
phone in front of me. Trevor knows the drill—he’s seen me
communicate with my aunt like this numerous times, and I love that
he understands how much easier it is.

I sit at one of the steps and squeeze my
purse between my feet, pulling my phone into my lap to read.

Stopped by this morning for coffee. Realized
you left… I totally forgot about your trip. Sorry I haven’t been
around. And just…sorry.

Shit! I didn’t see this coming, but Cody’s
text rips through me like a derailed freight train in a forest. I
stare at his words for minutes, trying to understand the meaning.
Why is he sorry? And why was he looking for me? Everything that I
had neatly worked out in my head by the time I boarded the plane to
come here came undone the second I checked my damn phone.

I stand up and curse myself for looking.
Trevor is walking around a section of the building, taking in
placards and reading through things on the guidebook he brought
with us. He’s busy, and I’m thankful for these few seconds I have
to process everything.

I’m not angry with Cody. We’ve both been
avoiding each other. His avoidance made it easier for me to pretend
we were both on the same page. But now seeing his text—knowing it’s
lunchtime, on a Friday, and for no reason he came to look for
me—has me a little confused.

I don’t know what to say to him, how to
respond, so instead I tuck my phone neatly in my purse and catch up
with Trevor. He’s quick to fill me in on some of the fun facts he’s
uncovered about the monument. I force myself to listen, but my head
isn’t here with him. No, my head’s in Ohio, wondering why Cody
wants to come over for coffee.

As for my heart, it seems to be straddling a
border; it’s trying to divide itself in half—one part logic and
reason, the other part…
I don’t know
! Seconds ago, I was
pretty sure my heart was here, but now I’m worried it’s in Ohio as
well.

The sprinkles start to pick up. There’s a
small bakery stand nearby with some umbrella seating. Trevor
suggests we stop for a quick snack and some coffee. I laugh a
little at his suggestion—
coffee, just like Cody wanted
—but
not understanding the same irony I’m finding amusing, he just looks
at me strangely.

The rain gets heavier the longer we sit.
Eventually, we have to give up our sightseeing for the day and take
a cab back home. My clothes are wet, and I’m shivering, so I lay
claim on the hot shower the second we enter Trevor’s apartment. I’m
nervous he’s going to offer to keep me company, but he’s distracted
with a phone call from work.

I seem to be spending a lot of time in the
shower lately—it clears my head, helps me think. Cody’s text is all
I can think about. Or, more accurately, my response to his text is
all I can think about. I make a mental list of pluses and minuses,
remembering how right it felt when I got off the plane, how easy it
was when I saw Trevor and fell into step with him here, in this
city—this place where I have imagined myself with him ever since he
mentioned his dreams.

On the other side, I have nothing but
unknowns—risks. My experience with relationships is extremely
limited. Before Trevor, there were a few kisses and bad dates—some
dared party make-out sessions in high school, just to feel like I
fit in. But the decision to be with Trevor—that always came easy.
He fit everything on my wish list; he met all the criteria with his
drive, his calmness, and his unwavering sense of responsibility. He
was romantic and considerate, and he made me feel like I came from
something
. It was my little-girl fantasy all rolled up in a
perfect, squeaky-clean package.

Cody. Cody is…

That was it—nothing but unknowns.

I know what he’s not—he’s not squeaky-clean.
He’s not without tragedy or without trust issues, and he’s not
going to leave Ohio. As much as I’m worried that’s where my heart
is, I’m sure it’s where his is. Everything that grounds Cody is
rolled up a few miles from the Appleton’s, in a garage in
Willoughby. The things in life that make me want to run, seem to
only make him want to stay and fight. And I’m not so sure I have
that same
fire
in me.

By the time I exit the shower I have my
mental game back in check, and I know what I have to do. I pull my
phone out of my purse quickly and fire off a text.

I’m sorry, too. I can’t do this.

I breathe deeply the second it’s done.

Settled.

A decision feels good, and when I turn to see
Trevor struggling to link his cufflinks in his white dress shirt, I
am overcome with certainty that I’ve made the right move. Granted,
it followed a laundry list of wrong ones, but I was sensible in the
end.

With my towel wrapped tightly around my
chest, I move toward him, and reach for his arms to help him. He
smiles at me with the kind of look that says we’ll be doing this—me
helping him dress, fix his tie, button his cuffs—for the rest of
our lives.

Once his shirt is secured, he reaches his
fingers into my wet hair and slides the strands from my face,
pulling me close and kissing me softly on the forehead. I shut my
eyes at his touch and breathe him in once more.

“You are good to me, you know?” he says, his
lips still pressed to my head. I nod in response and reach around
his body to hold him tightly. “I’m sorry I’m not there, but I can’t
wait for you to join me here. I think you’ll be happy…we’ll be
happy.”