Blindness

by Ginger Scott

  My stomach clenches; I push myself from the sofa, trying to weave my way through the couples still locked in kisses and embraces in front of me. I finally get to the kitchen, where Gabe and Jessie are kissing one another and laughing. I hate interrupting them, but I need to stop Cody before he leaves. I’m overwhelmed by the strange sensation that if I don’t find him, I’ll lose him forever.

  “Heyyyyy, Charlie!” Jessie says, slinging her arm around me. “Happppp-Peeeeee New Yeeeeeaaaaar!”

  She kisses my cheek, and it’s wet and sloppy. I want to wipe it away in the worst way, but I don’t, instead just squeezing her back and smiling.

  “Happy New Year, Jessie,” I smile. “Do you guys know where Cody went?”

  They both just look at each other and start snickering. “Youuuuu like him,” Jessie teases. They’re not helping, and they clearly have no idea where he is, so I just pat my intoxicated friend on the shoulder, and resolve to find him myself.

  “Happy New Year, Charlie!” Gabe calls out as I walk away.

  After two loops through the house, I make my way back to my stuff tucked next to the sofa. I pull my coat on and slip my keys from my pocket. The chill outside has crept down to freezing, and the cold makes my skin burn, but I walk the full length of their street anyhow, looking for Cody’s truck. It isn’t here, but there’s one open spot, and I’m sure in my gut it’s the one he left behind.

  It takes me five minutes to walk back to where I’ve parked, and I let my car heat up for a few more minutes while I stare at my phone, at Cody’s name next to his two missed phone calls. I try to talk myself into hitting return. I have pretend conversations with Cody, and everything I come up with saying sounds trivial. I can’t apologize, even though I’m so goddamned sorry—sorry for everything Cody’s been through. And I can’t beg. I won’t. But I want to, I want to curl up under his quilt tonight, bury my face in the nook of his neck, and feel his arm warm around my back.

  Instead, I drive home—this time far slower than the trip to the party. I have nowhere to be, nobody waiting for me, no sense of urgency. I don’t know where Cody’s friends live, and even if I did, I don’t think I’m brave enough to go.

  My apartment is dark, and cold, and empty—still. I have a few new lamps, and I click them all on. I never sleep in the dark—something I’ve carried over from life with Mac. I kick my clothes off, and reach under my pillow for Cody’s shirt. I pull it over my head, hugging myself with it. I try not to wear it often, because every time I do, it takes away the smell. But tonight I need it. I find a pair of thermal pants, pull them on underneath, and curl up under my blanket, my phone still clutched in my hands. I stare at his name, knowing I’m too much of a coward to call him back, but I fantasize.

  My eyes won’t close, half because of the nap I took earlier today, and half because my heart won’t stop burning a hole through the center of my chest. As the hours tick by, the celebrating in the streets dies down. There are a lot of students in my building, and most of them have left for their homes elsewhere over the holidays, so my complex feels like a ghost town.

  The wind has picked up, and there’s a slight flurry of snow blowing by the window. If I lay just right, I can watch the white float against the black sky—like Mac’s stars—and it’s perhaps the only thing left on this earth that can make me smile, and I do briefly, but then I think of home. I haven’t called Caroline since the day I left, not even for the holidays, and I hate myself for it. She hasn’t called either, but I know she’s been occupied with her own rituals and delusions, so I can’t blame her.

  I could call her now—she’d be up. She always is. I worry when I don’t sleep, worry that I’m like her. And at that thought, I shut my eyes tightly, and whisper to myself to go to sleep, wishing for it to come.

  The tapping on my door is light, but I know it’s not just the wind or nature. My windows all face the wrong direction, and my throat burns from the instant spike to my nerves. The apartment is completely quiet, only the odd crackling of the building settling, and outside is much the same. I flip the bathroom light on, the only one not already on in my home, and tip-toe closer to the door, stopping to grab a golf club from my small coat closet.

  “Who’s there?!” I yell, my voice for once in my life strong and not shaking. The room remains quiet, and I’m starting to wonder if I imagined the knock in the first place. I hold my breath and wait…nothing comes…for the longest time.

  “It’s me,” he says, and I drop the club from my hands the second the warmth of his words wraps around my heart.

  When I open the door, he’s filling the frame, leaning against one side, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, and his head slung low, trying to hide the redness of his eyes. But I see it…I see the heartbreak he’s wearing, because I’m wearing it, too.

  “Cody,” I say, just because I want him to hear his name on my lips.

  On instinct, I reach for him, but he steps away—only slightly—but enough, and it cuts me deep. My eyes are pained when I look back at him, but he still can’t seem to look at me. “I know it’s late. Gabe showed me where you live a while ago. I just hoped…I guess…I hoped you’d be up?” He starts, and I fight against myself to reach for him again.

  “I was up,” I whisper, leaning against the spot he just abandoned and folding my arms in front of me to stay warm.

  The outside smells of burning wood, and the snow has started to pick up, dusting the black of his sweatshirt and hat. Cody reaches up to pull his hat from his head, and twists it in his hands, finally tilting his face up to look me in the eyes. His smile is labored, and crooked, tugging at the top of the corner of his mouth.

  “I, uh…I brought you something. I wanted to give it to you for Christmas, but…I…” he looks back down, running his hand through his hair and around the scruff of his bearded face. “I don’t know. I just didn’t, I guess.”

  My brow is bunched, and I comb my eyes over his body, searching for my present. His hands are deep in his pocket again, and I’m terrified he’s going to pull out some fancy piece of jewelry—or worse, a ring! Something Trevor would have bought me to make everything better. I’m readying myself, prepping myself to be polite about it, when Cody looks back up to my eyes and lets his shoulders slump.

  “I need your help. It’s in my truck,” he says, turning to walk back down the walkway to the parking lot. Curious, I fold my hands deeper into my armpits and stuff my feet in my sneakers to follow him.

  “Should I just leave my door open?” I ask, dangling my keys from my finger, not sure what he’s up to, and part of me thinking—maybe even hoping—that he’ll get me in his truck and drive away, kidnapping me.

  “Yeah, we’ll be right back,” he hollers over his shoulder. Damn, I’m disappointed.

  Cody struggles with his walk, and everything Gabe’s been telling me, I witness happening before me. His limp is heavy, probably made worse by the cold, but if his life depended on running right now, I don’t think he could. He looks over his shoulder, and I know he can tell I’m staring at it, because he tries to walk straighter—be stronger. But it’s too hard, and his gait slips back into its painful, slow pattern again.

  We get to his truck, parked along the sidewalk, and he flips the hitch down. All I can see is a pile of quilts and plastic, but the closer I get, the more nervous Cody becomes, and for some reason, my pulse speeds up in reaction.

  “Gabe helped me load it in,” he says, pulling back the tie and pushing down the blankets that are covering my desk. My hands fly to my mouth as a reflex, and I weep out loud. It’s as if my soul has found its way home, as if I can hear the sound of my dad’s keys sliding on the table, hear the roar of his truck in the driveway, and feel the scruff of his chin against my head as he hugs me—all from this one, beaten up piece of furniture.

  It’s exact, nothing on it missing or damaged beyond how it was the last time it was in my possession. I scramble into the back of the truck just to touch it, just to run my hand over the dents and c
arvings, and my body convulses with my cries.

  “Cody, oh my god…I can’t believe it…how?” I say, actually sitting in it and lowering my cheek flat against its surface.

  “I went searching,” he says, his eyes peering down at me, almost happy. “I’ve been looking since Trevor donated it, and I found it, but not until the day after…” he swallows hard and never finishes, instead turning away.

  He found it the day after our fight. And he’s been living with it, keeping it, struggling and waiting—not wanting it to be the reason, not wanting it to be some sort of magic bullet to fix what went wrong with us.

  “We should get it in, the snow’s picking up,” he says, stepping down and reaching out his hand for me. I grab it hesitantly at first, mostly because I’m afraid I’ll never be able to let it go, and he squeezes me hard when he helps me lower myself back to the ground. I start to stretch my fingers free, but Cody fights against my movement. He holds my hand tighter in his, looking at the pairing, memorizing it. And I savor every second, knowing any moment it will all go away.

  Finally, he climbs back into the truck and slides my desk to the edge for me to grab one end. When we have it lowered to the ground, he reaches up and takes one of the quilts to wipe the wet snow from the top and to cover it while we carry it inside my apartment.

  We stop in the middle of the room, and I tell him to leave it here. I can tell he’s glad to be done lifting, because he doesn’t argue. Instead, he walks backward, leaning against my kitchen counter to catch his breath.

  My mind is racing, trying to find something else—a reason, any reason, for him to stay…just a little longer. But Cody seems to be searching for the exact opposite.

  “Right, well…I should head home. You probably have things you need to do tomorrow, and it’s late, so…” he lingers, and I can actually see his mouth twitching while he looks at me. He wants to stay—I know it in my heart. But he can’t bring himself to ask—to say the words. That invisible barrier is too thick, and it’s stopping him. “Yeah, so…Happy New Year, Charlie.”

  Cody awkwardly leans forward, presses his lips on my forehead with his cold hands on either side of my face, and turns away quickly, opening and shutting the door behind him in one motion. It’s almost morning, and he’s racing away. I wished for him all night, and here he is—real and in front of me—but he’s running away.

  I can’t let him go, and I don’t care if I have to take the blame for everything—if I have to be his out-clause for why his father’s shop was demolished. And it’s not because he found my desk, or because he knocked on my door in the middle of the night, or because I can tell he cried the entire trip here. It’s because I love him, and I don’t want to love anybody else. And as long as I can feel his arms around me again, I’ll do it—I’ll wear that burden every day, forever.

  “Cody! Cody, wait!” I say, running after him and catching him as his hand is on the door to his truck. He freezes at my plea, and his body tenses. At first, I think it’s from the cold, but when he faces me, he doesn’t hide it, letting me see the tears streaming down his face and the shaking of his lips. He’s raw man—tough, quiet and strong—but this rift between us has stripped him to his core.

  “I’m so sorry,” he says, his body shaking more, and his arms frozen at his sides, his hands balled into fists. “God, Charlie. I’m so sorry—” he stammers, wiping his eyes along the back of his sleeve.

  I can’t let him suffer, and I forgive him instantly, running to him and throwing my arms around his body, bringing him to me tightly. I won’t let him back away this time—this time I will make him feel me, make him get past it all. He grips me just as forcefully, his lips vibrating with sobs and short breaths as he bites at his bottom lip trying to force himself to stop, to breathe.

  “Come inside. Stay,” I say softly, forcing my forehead to his and waiting for him to open his eyes. He never does, but only nods yes, and reaches around me, lifting me to him. He presses his lips to mine, sucking in my bottom lip, and pushing his way inside with his tongue.

  He’s carrying me, and I know he can’t do it long, but I won’t stop him. He walks us quickly back to my apartment, and as soon as I feel we’re inside, I slide from his arms against the warmth of his chest and kick the door shut behind him. I want to kiss him again, but he has his hands on either side of my face, his thumbs stroking against my cheeks tenderly.

  “I choose you,” he says, his body shaking once with emotion. He sniffles and shakes his head from side to side, pushing his lips together tightly. “I was wrong, and I didn’t mean what I said, Charlie. I was so fucking hurt—it was like watching my dad die all over again. But I don’t give a shit about the shop, Charlie. Everything I care about—the stuff that really matters, the shit that goddamned fucking matters—walked out the door when I turned my back on her.”

  He holds my gaze for the longest time, taking tiny steps closer until our noses touch, and our lips tickle against one another. Our breathing is in sync, and I want to taste his lips so badly that my own tingle from withdrawals. But he doesn’t kiss me yet. He looks from eye to eye, like he’s reading me from the inside out, searching for my doubt, so he can destroy it.

  “I choose you, Charlie. I’ll always choose you. And I don’t think I can sleep alone again, not knowing how your lips feel, or knowing how your heartbeat sounds. I can’t do it, so please…let me choose you,” he says, his hands sweeping my hair from my face, and cradling my head.

  I grip his wrists and look right back into his eyes, and they look lost—almost terrified. I want to bring the blue back, and I can’t fathom not seeing them every day.

  “Stay. Stay here, with me. Keep me safe, sleep with me every night, talk to me until we dream, make love to me before sunrise—just don’t leave, Cody. I’ve only fallen in love—in real love—once, and I’m never going to get over it. I don’t want to get over it. I need it. I need you—to breathe,” I say, watching his eyes, waiting for them, waiting for his smile. It comes just as his lips touch mine again, and I hear a whisper of laughter mixed in, the low rumbling kind that lets me know he’s truly happy, and I can’t help but smile in response.

  “I was so scared, Charlie. I tried to come here for days. I swear, the lady two doors down thinks I’m a stalker,” he says, running his hands over my face slowly, with the gentleness of an artist. We’re standing in the middle of my stark living room, but it feels like I’m at Cinderella’s ball the way he’s swaying me slowly side-to-side in his arms.

  “It was like I knew, though,” Cody continues. “Like I knew that somehow…I don’t know…giving you back your desk? The thing you lost? That somehow it would make losing the shop less important. I know it sounds stupid, but it’s like we’re connected—like we share a heart—and healing yours somehow makes mine beat stronger, too. That’s stupid, isn’t it? I sound like a crazy man.”

  I smile at him, and run my fingers through the scruff on his chin as he presses his lips to my fingers to kiss them. I’m smirking, and I know Cody thinks it’s because of what he said. He turns a little red and squeezes his eyes shut tightly, embarrassed. But that’s not why. I’m grinning because everything he said is true. And I can’t wait to show him everything I’ve done, and I can’t wait to watch his heart come back together in front of me, in my hands.

  Chapter 22: Jake’s

  “It’s not that I have trust issues, I just don’t do well with blindfolds. I feel dizzy…oh, oh, Charlie, stop. I think I’m going to be sick. Is this really necessary? I mean, it’s New Year’s Day; isn’t your office, like, closed and shit?”

  Cody has been rambling and trying to talk his way out of his blindfold for the last 30 minutes. I probably could have just brought him up, and then made him close his eyes when I showed him the video presentation, but then he’d know Gabe and Jessie were here, too—and I just feel like I need to make this a big deal.

  “Charlie? Charlie? Charlie…I’m being calm. But I swear to god, if I don’t get to take this off in
the next minute, I’m going to become hard to deal with,” he says through gritted teeth. I can’t help but laugh, even though I know he’s not entirely joking. I think Cody might be a little claustrophobic, because I can see the sweat beading along his brow.

  “Is someone laughing? Who’s there? Who’s whispering? Charlie?” he says, his hands flailing out in front of him, looking for me. I left him in the hallway while I set up the video and pulled the leather seats around for everyone.

  “Jesus, for a guy who purposely drives off cliffs at high speeds, and flips over 200-pound bikes in the middle of the air just to blow off some steam—you’re freaking out over a little bandana on your face,” I say, kissing his cheek and loosening the knot in the back. As soon as he feels me start to untie his blindfold, he pushes it off completely, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head like he’s trying to regain feeling. When he stops, his gaze fixes right on me. He immediately breaks into a smile and kisses me.

  “Okay, so…what’s this all about?” he asks, as I take his hand and lead him into Jeff’s office. He stops briefly when he sees Gabe and Jessie, then looks at me with his eyebrows pushed in.

  “I wanted them to see your face…when you see. That’s all,” I smile, and then push him forward to his chair.

  “You in on this…this…whatever this is?” Cody says, plopping down in the cushy leather chair and kicking his feet up on the giant ottoman while he folds his arms behind his neck, quickly making himself comfortable.

  “Nah, man. I’m not in on it. I know what it is, but what you’re about to see…that’s all this girl right here,” Gabe says, tugging at my sleeve, while I lean on his arm rest and pick up the remote.