Blindness (22 page)

“Just let it play out, sister,” he whispers
from the side of his mouth, so Cody and Trevor can’t hear. I shake
my head at him, unsure of everything—
how can he be so calm?
“That’s what I told Cody to do. See where this goes. He needs
this—he needs
something.”

I understand. And since I can’t be that
something,
I know I need to help Cody have this—his shop and
his memories of everything he’s ever loved.

Chapter 11:
Rules of Engagement

Trevor stayed in the garage with Cody until
the sun came up, and I ended up napping on a small leather couch in
the break room. I startle awake when I feel arms sliding under me,
lifting me. I almost whisper Cody’s name, thinking it’s him, when I
open my eyes and see Trevor’s familiar jawline and chest. I stop
myself just in time, and instead snuggle into him while I rub my
eyes and try to get my bearings.

“Morning, sunshine,” Trevor says, lifting me
to a stand.

I stretch my arms over my head and look
around, wondering if Gabe and Cody are still here. I hear the sound
of a soda cracking open and turn around to see Cody, looking tired
and disheveled behind me. “You guys up all night?” I ask, knowing
they must have been.

“Yeah, we got a lot done. I think this is
going to really work,” Trevor says, confident as always. “I’ve
gotta get to the airport though, take back this rental. I sort of
wasn’t planning on being out this morning.”

The guilt on his face hits me hard, and I hug
him tightly, my awareness still not completely caught up after my
sleep, and my mind not remembering everything that’s pulling at me
in a million different directions. “It’s okay. Thank you for
coming. And…thank you for…” I gesture over my shoulder as I
whisper.

“No,” Trevor says, holding his fingertips to
my lips. “Thank you. I owe him
this.
And I’m going to work
my ass off for him.”

I know Trevor means it, and I’m proud of him
for doing something so right, making this hard choice. I keep
reminding myself that Trevor’s lost something, too. The illusion
he’d created that kept him tied to his father, believing in his
father, burst the minute I confronted him about it.

“Do you have time to take me home?” I ask
while I gather my things.

“I can’t. My flight leaves in less than an
hour. I’m going to have to bolt if I want to make it as it is, I’m
so sorry. Cody? Do you mind getting her home?” Trevor asks, and
Cody just nods
yes
behind him, his eyes avoiding me.

Trevor leans in for one more kiss, then he
lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses it right against the ring.
Seeing his hands around mine, his ring on my finger, and knowing
Cody is right behind me is hard, and I’m not sure how to feel—about
anything
.

“Okay, I’ll be back…
soon
.” Trevor
says, picking me up and swinging me around once, before grabbing
his jacket and the scraps of paper with his notes. “Cody, I’ll call
you. Let’s get together next weekend when I come back, okay?”

Cody half waves and nods, not really showing
any emotion, but Trevor seems satisfied with his response. He
climbs in the small rental car and pulls around the driveway back
on to the main roadway.

With Trevor gone, I suddenly feel
out-of-place, just like I did the first day he left me alone at the
Appletons’. I zip my bag, pull it next to me, and stand at the edge
of the table waiting for Cody to give me direction—to tell me what
to do. He’s still not making eye contact and is instead busy
cleaning things up around the shop, wiping down the hood and window
of the car that he and Gabe worked on all night.

“You guys finish that last night?” I say,
desperate to find our way back to
easy
.

“Yep,” he says. Nothing more. Easy is a long
way away, and I press my hand deeply into my pocket, wearing what I
know is the main reason for this new block between us.

“Hey, if you don’t have time…I mean, if
you’re busy…I can totally just call a cab,” I say, fumbling with my
purse and bag, not sure whether I should sit or stand—or pull my
phone from my purse.

“No, I’m good. Come on, let’s go,” he says,
purposely turning from me again and walking the long way around the
car as we exit the garage. I step outside on the main driveway and
watch as he reaches up and pulls the sliding door down, locking the
latch in place, letting out a heavy sigh while he crouches down. He
sits there briefly, his hand against the door, almost like he’s
adoring it, showing it affection.

We get to his truck, and he reaches for my
bags, our hands touching when he does, his fingers grazing over the
diamond. I feel him jerk away—and his reaction halts me, leaving my
heart heavy and knocking the wind out of me.

“Sorry,” I say out of instinct, but meaning
it more than he knows.

“It’s okay, here. Let me get your bag,” he
says, his eyes down at the ground, avoiding me. I hand my bag to
him and climb in the truck, mostly to escape the tension. I shut my
door with care this time, embarrassed by my angry slam from
yesterday. I push his mirror a little, straightening it back in
place. I pull the visor down and smile at the plastic mirror that’s
stuck to the underside with Velcro. My smile fades when I realize
he probably put that up there for a past girlfriend—Kyla, I
bet.

I’m about to flip it back up when I catch a
glimpse of Cody at the back of the truck, reaching into the truck
bed for a sweatshirt. He raises his arms over his head and pulls
his dirty T-shirt from his body. I’m unable to look away. I’m
entranced by the swirling tattoos and words that wrap up both arms
and wind onto his chest—which is somehow tanned and chiseled in a
way that’s so different from Trevor’s. Cody’s body is hard from
work, from pushing himself to the limit, from the life he lives.
Trevor’s body is the result of discipline and nightly trips to the
gym—the result of privilege.

I catch his eyes in the mirror, and I flip
the visor up, my breath hitching, and my pulse racing from getting
caught. When he slides in the seat next to me, I notice he’s pushed
himself up against the door, his arm hanging out. He’s putting
distance between us. We’re quiet for most of the drive, and all I
can think about are those few moments we’ve had together, how it
felt that night in his room, and that night in the corn maze—how
I’ll never feel that way again. I turn to look out my window so
Cody can’t see the water building in my eyes, but when I sneak my
hand up to wipe the tears away, I hear him take in a heavy
breath.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I say, letting
a single tear fall down my face while I have the chance.

“It’s okay,” Cody says. His voice betrays
him—every time. I don’t know if it’s this strange connection we
have, but I know when he’s lying, when he’s hurting, when he’s
happy, and when he’s not. And
that
was a lie.

“No, it’s not. And I’m sorry. I wanted to
talk to you about…
you know
…on my own,” I say. I wait for him
to say something, anything, but he doesn’t.

We drive the rest of the way home, and Cody
helps me carry my bag to the front door before turning and going
into his own garage. I watch him walk away. I watch every step
until he’s completely out of sight, and even then, I still watch,
waiting and hoping he’s seeing me watch him—somehow knowing just
how sorry I am. I’m sorry our timing wasn’t better. I’m sorry I
hurt him. I’m sorry I didn’t meet Cody first.

I crack a little at that thought, pick up my
bag, and head straight up to my room, the rest of the house its
usual quiet. I pull out my book and open it to the drawings of
Cody’s shop. Then I flip on the light at my desk and work on Cody’s
shop some more. I sketch all day, until the moon is out, and then I
slide over to the window seat and watch Cody’s garage, waiting for
the light to turn
on
or
off
. I wait to see
movement—see him—but when I don’t after two hours, I relent and
dress for bed.

I’m about to pull the covers up, when I have
a thought. I unplug my phone from the charger and open my book to
my newest drawings to take a picture. Then I open
my
message and write to him:

I know you don’t want to talk to me. I
understand, and I don’t blame you. But I truly am sorry. And I
think I still need you in my life. I worked on the drawings a
little more, and I’d love to show you.

I attach the pictures and send my message
off. Gripping the phone to my chest, I lay under my blankets in the
dark and wait. I wait for another hour, and my eyelids are heavy.
The clock shows
3:00 a.m.
I have class in the morning, and I
know I need to sleep, but I will myself to give it five more
minutes.

The vibration sends excited chills up my
spine, and I can’t seem to slide open the message on my phone
quickly enough.

I’m not angry with you. I like the
sketches.

I love them.

I read his message over and over again, each
time my heart breaking a little more. When exhaustion finally takes
over, I plug in my phone and pull the blankets over my head,
squeezing my eyes shut tightly and hoping my dreams give me
answers.

I’m far from refreshed when the alarm sounds.
If it weren’t calculus today, I’d smack the snooze button and go to
school late. But I can’t; I know I can’t. My shower is lackluster,
and I pull on sweatpants and a giant long-sleeved T-shirt with my
boots. My office is closed today, so there’s no internship, no need
to dress for anyone.

I set the coffee for a giant cup, more like
three cups. I pour it all into a tumbler they gave me at work and
take an apple from the fridge, lodging it in my teeth while I grab
the rest of my things and head outside. The frost is setting in,
and my teeth would be chattering if it weren’t for the apple stuck
in my mouth.

“Practicing the apple bob, or is someone
trying to roast you?” Cody says, his voice startling me enough to
bite hard and drop the apple from my mouth. It rolls down the
driveway and is covered with dirt by the time I retrieve it.

He’s sitting on the back hatch of his truck,
his feet dangling. He’s still wearing the same clothes he was
yesterday, and his eyes look as tired as mine. I smile softly,
timidly—I don’t want to scare him away.

“Crap. My apple’s toast,” I say, rolling it
over in my fingers.

“Hang on,” Cody says, sliding from his truck
and walking over to me, reaching for the apple. “Lemme see it.”

He twists it around in his hands, inspecting
it. He rubs some of the skinned part on his sweatshirt, and when he
comes to my teeth marks he shrugs and then takes a giant bite out
of it.

“Ewwwww, don’t eat dirt!” I say, reaching for
his arm and grabbing the apple back to see his damage. He’s eaten
the entire part that was covered in debris. I look back at him and
he laughs, his mouth full of apple while he chews.

“What?” he says, reaching for my backpack and
pulling it over his arm. “It’s just dirt. Ain’t gonna kill me.”

“So gross,” I say, looking over the rest of
the apple before I decide he’s right, and I take a bite off his.
I’m instantly thinking about how my mouth is, in some strange way,
touching his with this act. I feel juvenile even thinking it, but I
get a strange thrill nonetheless.

“Hey, I’ve gotta go. I’m running late…in
fact, aren’t you supposed to be somewhere?” I ask, knowing he’s
usually in the tutoring lab or class at this time.

“Yeah, I am. I’ve been sitting down here for
30 minutes waiting on your ass,” he teases, walking with my
backpack toward his truck. I follow behind, confused and hopeful.
“Thought we should just carpool. If that’s okay?”

He stops at the door and holds it open for
me; his eyes search mine, waiting for my answer—I can see the same
hope in them. In that instant, I know Cody needs me just as much as
I need him, and that he’s willing to take whatever he can get. The
relief I feel almost makes my legs weak.

I smile as I pass him and get in his truck.
He crosses in front of me, and when he gets in, he’s no longer
pulling away, forcing distance between us. He’s not sitting close,
either, and I know that’s on purpose. And while I’m grateful, I’m
also disappointed.

We listen to the radio for the short drive to
school, some classic rock station that’s mostly blaring
commercials. Minutes later, Cody pulls into his spot by the
tutoring labs. I’m getting out, but suddenly he’s pulling the door
from me, reaching for my bag. I hand it to him while I slide from
the truck seat, and he closes the door behind me. He walks me all
the way to class, finally handing me my bag as we enter the
classroom. He’s standing still at the top of the room, almost like
he’s not sure if he’s staying or going. I look at him for some type
of answer, but he just nods forward, urging me to find a seat.

I head to my usual spot, tuck my bag under my
seat and turn, expecting him to be gone. Instead, he’s sitting in
the very last row. I smile, and he just raises his hand from the
desk with a half-wave.

Dr. Rush walks in behind him, and I turn back
to the front, not wanting to draw any more attention in this class.
The lesson goes quickly, but I don’t understand any of it. I’m
scribbling notes, but I’m not focusing. I desperately want to turn
to see where Cody is, but I don’t dare. I keep writing, hoping
he’ll help me make sense out of it all later today.

When the hour is up, everyone starts packing,
and I finally let myself turn to find him. He’s still sitting in
the same seat, just where I left him, and he still seems happy. The
corner of his mouth curls, his cheek a deep dimple, and I’m
reminded of the first time we met.

He’s back.