Blindness (7 page)

“You looking for Prince Charming?” he asks,
snarky and condescending. I decide to ignore it, and instead just
treat him as I always would.

“Did Trevor go upstairs?” I ask, my eyes not
able to adjust to meet Cody’s in the dark. I can tell he’s sitting
with his feet propped up on the hood of a car. I barely make out
the bottle as he raises it to his lips, but the closer I get, the
more alcohol I can smell. It’s whiskey, I think, though I’m not
sure. Mac drank whiskey, but only on special occasions.

Cody just chuckles at me—slow and quiet, like
it’s a secret he wants only me to hear. It has me stopping in my
tracks and my skin covered in goosebumps. There’s something about
him that has my heart racing tonight, but not the safe rush of
flirtation like before. I’m anxious, and my stomach feels sick. I
swallow hard, and turn to look over my shoulder, instantly wishing
that I had just gone upstairs. When I look back, I see Cody in my
personal space. I can see his eyes now, the familiar warmth in them
gone. No blue. No sparkle. No crinkles cluing me into his mouth and
smile. What are left in their place are eyes that are cold, hard,
and lifeless.

I startle as he reaches forward and grabs a
lock of my hair from my bare shoulder, grazing my skin, and then
twisting it in his fingers and studying it, like he’s searching for
the shimmer from the moonlight. I’m left shivering.

“Yeah, pretty boy went up stairs,” he says,
his voice rough.

“Okay, well…I’m just going to go find him.
Nice to see you,” I say, backing away so my hair falls from his
fingers. He bites his tongue lightly with his teeth, almost like
he’s struggling with something, and then his eyes flicker to mine,
and his lips curl into a faint, unnerving smile.

“Trevor pays for
all
your shit, huh?”
he asks. I suck in a breath at his bold statement. I’m confused,
and I know I should also be offended, but something about his face
is keeping my feet firm to the ground. Like I’m challenging him,
but giving him the benefit of the doubt all at once.

“What do you mean? What
shit
?” I ask,
folding my arms in front of me, partly for protection, and partly
to hold in the anger that I can feel simmering in my belly.

“I mean like school and shit. This house,
where you stay? He’s like…your ticket, isn’t he?” Cody says,
bitterness and disgust just oozing from his posture, his face, his
words—his everything. “I mean, that’s why you’re with him, right?
He gets to take you to dinners and clubs, like arm candy, and you
get a place to stay and your tuition covered.”

Cody starts to laugh to himself a little, and
he stumbles on his feet. He wipes his sleeve along his mouth from
his last drink. I’m digesting his words, my mind catching up to
them, and beginning to understand what he’s insinuating, when he
leaves no more doubt.

“So, what would this buy me?” he asks,
handing me a crumpled up twenty dollar bill, and moving in closely,
dipping his head down low so he can graze his nose along the nape
of my neck, his lips stopping against my ear. I know I should back
away, but I’m paralyzed by his touch—both afraid and aroused, the
contradiction playing out inside my heart almost breaking it in
half. “Does that get me a kiss?”

The sound of his insult reverberates
throughout the empty garage and carries out into the night air. I
see it all in slow motion, the cold fog escaping his lips as he
forms that last word and punctuates it, digging into my heart like
a needle. His face is twisted and hateful, his eyes not even seeing
me for
me
anymore.

I slap him so hard the bottle falls from his
hands and breaks into pieces on the garage floor. “Go fuck
yourself!” I say, turning to the stairs to go find Trevor. I don’t
run, because I’m not afraid. I haven’t been truly afraid of
anything since the day Mac died. And somewhere in the back of my
mind, I feel like I can hear my father’s voice whispering to me,
telling me I should hit the asshole again. I look back at him one
last time before I round the corner, and he’s holding his mouth in
his hand, his head still tilted sideways from my impact, but his
eyes firmly on me—like daggers.

I find Trevor talking to a few women right
inside the door. When he sees me, he reaches for my hand, and I
notice two of the girls, who are barely dressed and are covered in
piercings and tattoos, laugh and roll their eyes. Trevor just pulls
my hand to his lips and kisses it. “These are some of Cody’s
friends. I was just explaining to them that this really isn’t
Cody’s house, and my dad’s not really keen on having big parties.
It pisses off the neighbors,” Trevor says, his face stern, like a
schoolteacher giving a lecture. “Ladies? If you could let your
friends know, and maybe wrap this thing up a little early, I’d be
really grateful.”

Trevor winks at them, while he’s talking, and
they giggle, like most girls do when he’s giving them his sales
pitch. I know it will work, though, and it does as the driveway is
empty within a half an hour.

I was relieved that Trevor fell asleep
quickly after we finally settled in for the night. For some reason,
Cody’s party had him furious. I understood being upset about Cody’s
constant disrespect for his father, but I didn’t think throwing a
party at an otherwise empty house was
that
big of a deal. I
played along, though, nodding and agreeing through his 20 minutes
of ranting, hating Cody for my own reasons. It was an easier way to
end the night. The romance that had been brewing earlier was
extinguished the second Cody tried to buy me for twenty bucks.

But now, laying here next to Trevor—hearing
nothing but his faint breathing and the crickets outside—I’m left
replaying my confrontation with Cody over and over. Each time I
walk through the scene, I’m stronger, stopping him before he can
get to me. The longer I think about it, the angrier I get, and
finally I’m on my feet, pacing in front of the window.

I see the light on in the garage, the rest of
the carriage house dark, and the mess left behind strewn along the
front yard and driveway. I reach for my jeans and slip them on
along with one of Trevor’s sweaters I find lying on the floor. I
grab the crumpled up twenty from my desk, along with a Sharpie, and
slip quietly out our door.

I’m almost to the open front of the garage
when I hear the rattling of tools and see a bolt roll along the
floor. My face goes flush, and I’m suddenly sweating, the bravery I
was filled with moments ago running away to hide. I think I can
hold my breath, quietly step backward out of the light, and round
the corner of the garage, when I come face-to-face with a stranger.
I scream the second I see him, and he leaps against the car parked
in the garage, clutching his chest.

“What the fuck?” his eyes are wide, and he’s
panting. “Shit! You scared me!”

I’m still standing there speechless, staring
at a tall man with a shaved head and a bare chest covered in
tattoos. I look down and notice his shirt is tucked in and hanging
from the waistband of his jeans. His black work boots are scuffed
with oil stains, and his jeans are torn at the knees and just as
covered in oil and dirt. I shake my head side-to-side as I notice
his hands moving to his shirt, and he begins wiping them clean.
Finally, he extends his hand, and out of habit I reach for it, my
mouth still open and in shock.

“I’m Gabe. I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to
scare you. You lookin’ for Cody?” he’s staring at me, his brow low,
like he’s trying to figure me out. My heart is still thumping
against my ribs, making it hard to hear, and even harder to focus.
I just nod slowly in answer to Gabe’s question.

“He’s gone. Asshat is in no condition to
drive, but he didn’t go far. He’s just up at the garage,” Gabe
says. His answer seems to jolt me a little, like a reset button,
and I finally take in a breath. I start to look around—trying to
understand what Gabe means about the garage. Isn’t this the garage?
Jesus, how many garages do the Appleton’s have? Gabe must sense my
confusion, because he starts to laugh.

“Jake’s garage…his shop. You been there?” he
asks, bending down to pick up the wrench and bolt he’d been coming
for when he scared me. I just nod
no
in response.

“Ah, well, it ain’t hard to find. It’s just
down the road about six or seven miles, right by the diner,” Gabe
says. I smile, shoving my hands in my pockets, and turn to leave,
but Gabe stops me. “I’d leave him be tonight, though. Just…if you
want my opinion.”

I turn back to face him and shrug. “Why’s
that?” I say, my throat dry, and my voice soft and shy.

Gabe walks back to a large tool chest behind
the car. I notice the rust and dents along its side and trace it
with my hand. It’s an old car, maybe 1970s, but I can tell with a
little love it could be something. Gabe notices my attention to it
and comes over to stand next to me, rubbing his hand along the same
rough paint. “She’s a beauty…Codes should have her in shape in
about a month. You’ll have to come back and see her then,” he
says.

“Is it his?” I ask, my eyes now roaming to
the interior and the dashboard, both just as beat up as the
outside.

Gabe starts to laugh and then tosses his now
soiled shirt in a pile on the garage floor. “Hell no. Codes can’t
afford something like this. It’s a job. He’s fixing it up for some
guy in Cleveland,” he says, leaning his back against the driver’s
side and pulling out a cigarette. He looks up at me and holds it
out, offering, but I just shake my head and scrunch my face. “Not a
smoker, huh?”

“No,” I say.

“Mind?” he asks before he lights the end of
his cigarette. I just shake my head
no
. I don’t really like
the smell of smoke, but I feel like the intruder here, so I just
accept it.

Gabe takes a long drag and holds the smoke in
his mouth, some of it spilling out his nose, before he lets it puff
out above his head. He turns to face me and smiles big. “I don’t
think I caught your name,” he says.

“I’m Charlotte,” I say, pulling the sleeves
of Trevor’s sweater lower so they cover my cold hands. When I look
back up, I notice Gabe’s smile is growing, and he’s starting to
laugh and shake his head side to side.

“What’s funny?” I ask, mentally noting the
$20 still in my pocket, and starting to feel like maybe Gabe was in
the garage the whole time. The longer it takes him to answer, the
more upset I become, and I’m about to leave when he finally
explains.

“Sorry, I’m not laughing at you. It’s
just…I’ve heard about you, you know?” he says with raised eyebrows,
surprising me. My eyes widen when I realize Cody must have talked
about me, and it has my stomach flipping—which in turn has me
feeling even angrier, since I’m supposed to hate Cody.

“What have you heard?” I say. It comes out
defensive, which I instantly regret.

“Ohhhhh, he’s pissed you off, hasn’t he?”
Gabe says, laughing again. “Fuckin’ Cody, he always screws this
shit up.”

Gabe walks out of the garage to the driveway
where he drops his cigarette and stomps it out. I follow, hoping
he’ll keep talking. He stuffs his hands in his jeans’ pockets and
turns to me with a little shiver, the night air starting to get to
him. Gabe looks rough at first glance, and not at all like anyone I
would ever be alone with. But out here at night, in the cold, he
seems like a vulnerable little boy, which somehow makes me more
comfortable with him.

“Look, I know it’s hard, but try to give my
boy a chance. He’s got a shit life, and he deserves better,” Gabe
says. I shrug a little, not fully understanding, and Gabe lets out
a heavy sigh, looking up at the sky before shuffling his feet
closer to me. “That garage, the shop? It was his dad’s. It’s all he
has left, and he’s determined to keep it open. But Jake, his dad?
He had a lot of loans out on it. Cody’s been trying to pay them all
off. That’s why he takes on these extra jobs, like the Chevelle
over there. Anything he can do to make an extra buck.”

I look back at the old car and see it
differently—the potential in it, the artistry of its design. I
would hope someone would pay top dollar to have it restored. I’m
starting to understand Cody’s bitterness, and my insides are
fighting over whether or not I still want to punch him or hug him.
Without thinking, I speak my thoughts aloud. “Why doesn’t Jim just
give him the money?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Who do you think has the biggest loan on the
property?” Gabe says, confirming everything. Suddenly every
conversation, every encounter with Cody here at the Appletons’, is
starting to make sense. Gabe turns to walk back into the garage,
nodding over his shoulder for me to follow. When we’re inside, he
slides out a metal folding chair for me to sit in, and I’m
immediately reminded of the burn on my forearm, and how gentle Cody
was with me. I touch it softly on instinct, and my heart aches.

“What happened tonight?” I ask, now less
interested in the harsh words and cruel accusations Cody spit at
me, and more wanting to know the reason behind them.

Gabe slides up on a worktable, his feet
dangling over the side. He reaches over into a cooler, pulls out
two beers, and tosses one to me. I smile and set it down beside me.
Gabe chuckles softly and looks at his hands as he cracks his open.
“Jim’s come to collect, and Cody and him had it out good the other
day. He told Cody he had three months before he would sell the
place. Cody made a deposit tonight, a pretty good one. He thought
maybe it would buy him some more time, but Jim didn’t budge.”

My heart breaks as I replay it all—the fight
I overheard the night I found out Cody and Trevor were brothers,
his refusal to take the coffee maker…and tonight. Cody losing his
father’s shop would be like someone burning my father’s desk, but
about a million times worse. I’m looking down at my lap, my hands
holding the crumpled money, and feeling ashamed. No wonder Cody is
full of resentment. Here I am, a stranger, and the Appletons have
opened their home to me. But Shelly’s own son is relegated to the
garage. I don’t understand why she isn’t fighting for his
happiness—if this was the only thing he wanted?