Blindness (23 page)

“So, I didn’t understand any of that, I hope
you know,” I say, not thinking, and leaning into his side. His
muscles tighten at my contact, and he folds his arms across his
chest, almost as if he’s protecting himself from me. His smile is
tight-lipped, and I’m worried I’ve already ruined this
progress.

“Well…I seem to remember a certain
concert
that a certain
someone
promised in exchange
for tutoring?” Cody says, his eyes staying on mine, playful, and
not shying away.

I laugh at his comment, mostly to buy myself
time. I don’t think Trevor would mind if I took Cody to the
concert. I just don’t know if it’s a good idea anymore.

“Sorry, I get it. We don’t have to go. I
didn’t really expect to anyhow…” Cody’s already backtracking, and
it causes me to take a leap.

“No, no…I just didn’t think you wanted to
go…you know, with me?” I admit.

Cody stops walking and tugs lightly at my
sleeve, turning me to face him. “I’d go
anywhere
…” he says,
stopping short, and leaving me to fill in the blanks, unravel the
words unspoken.

My head feels light, and I’m starting to
sweat. Not wanting to misstep, I just smile. “Well, that’s good,
’cause you’re driving. Show’s next Thursday,” I walk ahead, in the
direction of Cody’s truck, secretly hoping his eyes are following
me.

The rest of the week continues the same.
Every morning I get up and meet Cody downstairs. He even drops me
off at my internship and is waiting for me when I’m done. Things
almost feel normal, like this is our routine—what we’ve always done
as friends. It’s Friday. He’s driving me home from tutoring,
talking about the Killers, while I thumb through his music on his
iPhone. When he’s not looking, I tap into my iTunes account and
secretly download a few more songs that I think he might like,
making a
Charlie
playlist. When my phone buzzes, I jump in
my seat and quickly put his back in the center console. I look down
at my phone in my lap and am torn when I see Trevor’s name.

I almost don’t answer, but Cody turns to me
and smiles. “It’s okay,” he says, leaning his head forward, urging
me to answer.

“Hello?” I say, timidly, like I have no idea
who’s calling.

“Hey, baby. Flight’s leaving in an hour. Just
missed you,” Trevor says, his voice happy and naïve. “Oh, you sound
like you’re in the car. I’ll let you go, drive careful.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m with Cody,” I say, not
able to stop my words. I shut my eyes and brace myself for his
temper, expecting a lecture.

“Oh, good. Hey, put him on,” Trevor says,
shocking me. I’m not able to speak for a good four or five seconds.
I hold the phone in my lap and look at Trevor’s name and picture,
then turn to Cody, who’s listening to every word despite his
laser-like attention to the road.

“He, uh…wants to talk to you?” I say, not
sure if Cody’s okay with this. By the look on his face, I can tell
he’s just as surprised as I am. I think we both thought Trevor
would get back to Washington and forget about the bond they started
to forge last weekend. Trevor never once mentioned Cody or his
contract plan during my nightly phone calls with him. Of course, I
never asked either.

Cody takes the phone from me and presses it
to his ear with his shoulder; I struggle to hear both sides of the
conversation.

“Well, I guess I have that…I mean, it’s not
really anything formal, like written down and shit, but I can put
something together,” Cody says. A few minutes pass, and I can tell
he’s listening.

“Uh huh…Okay…Yeah, man,” Cody says, pausing
and taking in a deep breath. “Seriously…thank you.”

When Cody hands the phone back to me, I
notice that Trevor’s hung up. I look at the blank screen for a few
more seconds before I push the phone back into my purse and stare
at Cody. He’s rubbing his neck with one hand and gripping the wheel
with the other. When he finally glances at me, he forces a smile,
and then turns his attention back to the road.

“What…did he want?” I ask, confused that
Trevor spent more time on the phone with Cody than with me, and
even more confused at Cody’s reaction to it.

“Oh, he, uh…He’s pretty serious about this
plan of his. He needs my business plan, five years, ten years, you
know the drill…at least, I hope you do, because I don’t know a
thing about business plans,” Cody says, laughter seeping into his
words. His smile lifts more with every second. “This really might
work, huh?”

I smile back at him and fight the urge to
unhook my seatbelt and hug him with all my might. Instead, I just
nod
yes
and hold my tongue.

“Oh, and he said he’s bringing that guy,
Kevin or something like that? The golfing dude,” Cody says, his
voice almost sounding excited. “He’s bringing him for Thanksgiving
in a couple weeks. His wife, too. Said he wants us all to have
Thanksgiving dinner.”

I’m so thrown by all of this; I can hardly
absorb it fast enough. I don’t know what to question first, so I
start with the most difficult question. “You mean, with Jim and
Shelly?” I ask, my question lingering in the air, the truck cabin
silent with our thoughts.

“Huh. Yeah, I think so. He says he’ll have
everything ready by then; that’s when I should try to talk to Jim,”
Cody says, his hands tapping nervously on the steering wheel. I can
tell he’s done talking, his mind busy racing through everything he
needs to get done for Trevor—everything he needs to do to save his
father’s memory.

By the time we pull into the driveway, the
energy is practically peeling off of Cody. He’s short, but
pleasant, when he says goodbye, and I watch him rush up to the
carriage house to get started.

It’s almost evening when I hear Trevor’s cab
pull in, and I rush down to greet him. He’s barely inside the house
for five minutes before Cody’s there too, and the two of them are
huddled around the kitchen counter sifting through pages of notes.
I’m amazed at how much work Cody was able to do in the few hours
before Trevor arrived, but what stills me is the sight of the two
of them sitting, talking. There’s an instant respect, and it’s
beautiful—something that weeks ago I never could have imagined
would take shape.

“That’s amazing. You actually know how to
take that out and rebuild it,” Trevor says, trying to keep up with
Cody’s mechanical talk. Trevor’s out of his element, but there’s
genuine interest lighting up his eyes. Within minutes, the two of
them are heading outside to Cody’s garage, and Cody’s propping up
the hood of the latest special project he’s taken on.

I stay back, wanting them to have this
moment. The longer they talk—the longer they connect—the more
satisfied I am with my decision. I love Trevor, and I know I do.
And I know I care about Cody, probably more than I should. But I
also know I care about him enough to not want to mess
this
up.

I head upstairs and crawl into bed to read
until Trevor finally comes up to join me. He’s talking a million
miles a minute, as excited as Cody was after their phone
conversation, and I’m starting to feed off his adrenaline. He pulls
his shirt and jeans off and slides into bed next to me, turning the
light off as he does. When he pulls me into him, everything finally
feels normal—right. He’s kissing the back of my neck, his fingers
stroking my hair out of the way, when he whispers the most
important words he could have said.

“Thank you, Charlotte. Thank you for forcing
me to listen, and giving me my brother,” he says.

I lose my breath, and I’m hit with a sudden
sense of mourning. I squeeze Trevor’s arms tightly against my front
and chase sleep, just waiting to see Cody in my dreams—knowing now
that’s the only place I can.

Chapter 12:
Just…Friends

Trevor spent most of the weekend with Cody at
his garage, and I managed to get completely caught up with my
drafts and homework. I rush out of the house each morning
early—purposely waking before Cody, so I can drive myself and not
have to spend time alone with him in his truck. I need this
distance, this time to get my head on right.

The first time I did it, Cody asked why I
didn’t wait, and I told him that I was behind on drafts and was
spending extra time in the art room. He seemed to buy it, because
he quit asking, and this morning, I noticed his truck was gone
first.

It’s Thursday, and we haven’t had time to
talk about the concert. I’m actually thinking about holding my
breath, hoping the entire night passes without him remembering so I
can survive this. But it seems my calculus grade has other plans
for me.

“Ms. Hudson, you need to spend a little more
time in the tutoring lab,” Dr. Rush says, slapping down the stapled
packet that was our last quiz. It’s covered in red, and the
F
can be seen across the room. I know it can, because Cody’s
on his way toward me, mouthing, “What the hell?”

“Charlie, why didn’t you ask for help?” he
says, sitting down in the seat next to me. I can’t tell him the
truth…that I didn’t want to be alone with him because every time I
am, I start to question things, and my stomach flutters, and my
palms sweat, and I imagine kissing him again.

“I didn’t want to distract you…from the work
you’re doing with Trevor.” I lie. It’s a good one, and I know it’s
laced with guilt. And Cody feels it, sighing heavily in his seat
and leaning forward to rub his temples.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy. But I want to
help you. Even if we weren’t…” he starts, but never finishes that
part of his sentence. “Helping you is actually my job. Besides, if
Trevor finds out I let you fail, he’ll kick my ass!”

He reaches over and pulls the quiz from my
desk, flipping through the pages and shaking his head. He stands up
and walks over to Dr. Rush. I try to busy myself, pretending not to
listen. But I hear him ask if I can get a retake, and he actually
gets me one for Monday morning.

Cody is smiling when he walks back toward me;
it’s a cocky smile that I’ve only seen him wear once or twice, but
it’s sexy as hell, and I’m feeling myself step over that invisible
line just a little in my mind. I shake my head to get myself back
over it the second he slaps my papers back on my desk.

“Okay, that’s it. We’re hitting the books
this weekend—hard!” Cody says, and I open my mouth to tell him it’s
okay, that I can study on my own, but he shooshhh’s me—actually
holding his finger up and “Shooshhhhhhing!”

He leans over my desk, the ink and muscles of
his arm exposed in the pushed-up sleeve of his black thermal. “No
excuses. You know this stuff, and I’ve got nothing to do
all
weekend,” he says, biting his tongue a little as he stands up
again.

I nod once and pack my things to walk out
with him, my insides bouncing between nervous excitement and fear
that I’m going to be alone with him.
I’m not ready. I’m not
ready. I’m not ready.

“Oh, and so…I guess, I’ll pick you up at six
for the show? I’ve got some work at the shop, so I’ll swing by the
house,” Cody says.

I nod
yes
and give him a thumb’s up
like the weak-willed loser I am. I can’t say no to Cody.

I don’t want to.

I’m pacing in the driveway, swinging my keys
around my thumb, trying to get up the nerve to drive to the shop
and cancel on Cody. I’ve actually put the keys in the car three
times, and gotten back out each time, only to pace more. Meanwhile,
minutes are ticking away, and now I’ve found myself at less than an
hour until Cody’s coming to pick me up.

Jessie’s Volkswagen pops when she pulls up
the driveway, like it’s announcing her arrival. Her car is loud and
unapologetic, just like her. She pulls right up to my feet and
stops her engine, getting out, her gum popping in her mouth, and
her hands dangling from the pockets of the hoodie she’s
wearing.

She pushes her toes right up to mine and then
tilts her head, staring me in the face. “What are ya doin’?” she
asks, twisting her neck to the side with a crack. She’s staring me
right in the face, her chewing slow and methodical—like she’s
trying to break me.

I don’t know how to answer her. Honestly, I
haven’t a clue what I’m doing. I suck in air swiftly, and then blow
it out slowly, my posture deflating along with the tiny bit of
confidence I have left.

“I have no idea,” I say, my eyes tearing a
little as I speak. I try to blink them away, but it only makes it
worse, and within seconds, I’m actually crying in front of the
toughest girl I’ve ever met.

“Shit,” she says, reaching for my hand and
pulling me inside the house. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. Come
on, where’s your room?”

I lead Jessie upstairs to my bedroom, and
once we’re inside, she shuts the door behind her. She walks around
the room slowly, her face somewhere between a laugh and confusion.
“
You
live here?” she asks, touching the dresser and running
her finger along the bottom of a picture frame.

I shrug my shoulders, still recovering from
my breakdown.

“It’s just…it doesn’t really look like you.
Like…at all,” she says, and I know exactly what she means. It’s not
me.

Jessie notices my desk finally, and she comes
over to sit at it, tracing the dents with her fingers, just like
Cody did. “Well, I take that back.
This
is you,” she says, a
tight smile forming when she talks.

“That was my dad’s,” I say, letting out every
last bit of air and tension when I do. “And you’re right. About
everything.”

Jessie nods
yes
and pulls the gum from
her mouth as she stands. “Trash?” she asks. I direct her to the
bathroom, and she is in there for a few minutes, no doubt looking
at all of the ornate fixtures and the oversized closet.