Blindness (39 page)

“You fucking liar! You did this—all of this!”
Cody’s completely gone as he lands punch after punch into Trevor’s
head and chest. Trevor’s covering for protection, but clearly
overpowered. I can’t watch this happen, so I reach for Cody’s arm,
trying to hold it still, trying to stop it, or slow it down.

“Cody! Cody! What are you doing?!” I plead
with him. I finally get a grip on his wrist, but he tosses me from
him, throwing me to the gravel.

“
You
! You knew about this!” he shouts
as he points at me again.

“Cody! I have no idea what
this
is!”
I’m desperate, and I’m blubbering, I’m crying so hard. I feel like
a switch was flipped—and everything that was so close to perfect
was stolen from me, like a cruel joke. I’m praying I’m wrong, but
deep down, I know I’m not. I can see it all unraveling, and I don’t
know how to stop it.

Cody kicks Trevor one more time before he
stands up, wiping his face along his arm, and rolling his shoulders
straight. “That was Gabe, Charlie. It’s done—everything,” he says,
his eyes shifting from me to Trevor. “Fucking cops showed up and
started hauling all my shit away, clearing out the shop—every car,
Trevor! Seems
someone
told them I was running a chop shop.
Goddammit, Trevor…that’s my father’s name up on that sign, his
goddamned memory. Do you really think I’m a criminal?”

I look to Trevor, hoping I see confusion on
his face, hoping that he isn’t part of this, and I can tell he’s
not. But I also know that Cody won’t believe him. At least, not
right now.

“Jim showed up with them, said he has sole
ownership now, and demanded they lock up everything, board up the
windows, and take it all!” Cody says, kicking up scoops of gravel
into the air.

He turns back to me, his nostrils flaring.
“They took
everything,
Charlie!” Cody says, his voice
cracking, and his eyes glassy. “My dad’s old car! The tools and
photos and most of the books! And Jim said I should ask
you
about it. Said you knew this was going to happen. How? Why…why
didn’t you tell me?”

I’m going to throw up. I feel it coming, and
the corners of my eyes are bright, like the world is closing in. I
keep moving my mouth, trying to explain it all away, but I can’t.
Nothing on me is working—I’m stunned silent.

Jim warned me—he said he would destroy Cody,
destroy his dream, if I did anything that hurt Trevor. I turn to
Trevor, lying helpless on the ground, and can’t make sense of any
of it. I know he didn’t cause any of this—he couldn’t, could he?
Cody’s walking away from us to his truck, and he pulls the seat
forward to reach for my coat and bag, tossing it on the muddy
ground in front of him.

“Here’s your stuff,” he says, climbing into
his truck and slamming his door closed. I manage to get to my feet,
and I run to his truck, my palms flat along his passenger window as
his engine roars to life.

“Cody! Where are you going? Wait! Wait, let
me explain!” I beg. Cody rolls his window down, and I try to reach
inside, to touch him, but he pushes me away—like poison.

“I have to get back and help Gabe, Charlie. I
have to figure this shit out, this goddamned mess,” he says,
looking down at his lap. He takes several deep breaths, his body
shaking while he tries to force himself back to calm. When he looks
back at me, he reaches for my face and runs his fingers down my
cheek, but his hand falls back inside the truck, and his face is
full of disappointment.

“Please! Take me with you, let me help you!”
I say, my hands gripping the handle of his door, pulling on it even
though it’s locked.

Cody shakes his head and keeps his eyes down
while he chuckles insincerely before he finally raises his eyes to
meet mine, and they look heartbroken. “You
knew
! Jim said I
should ask
you
! I trusted you, Charlie. I trusted you…with
everything.
And now…I can’t,” Cody says as he rolls his
window up quickly and drives away.

My body goes limp; I crumble to the ground,
gripping the small stones in my hands and throwing piles of them at
a time into the air at the trail left behind by Cody’s truck. I
hear Trevor stirring, and I rush to my feet, running to him. I
slide on my knees against him and start smacking his chest with my
palms, over and over again.

“How could you do this?! How?” I yell, not
letting him sit up or uncover his face from my barrage of slapping.
“Did you do this to get even? Because I fell in love with him?”

I can barely breathe, I’m crying so hard, and
my hits are coming in slower and slower, until finally Trevor is
able to grab both of my wrists. He holds them tightly in his hand.
“Stop it, Charlotte! Jesus, just stop for a fucking minute!” he
yells, his voice harsh and cruel. The Trevor who loved me is
gone.

I fall back on my ass hard, and pull my knees
into my chest, and my hands cover my mouth. “What did you do?” I
ask, my body now rocking back and forth, preparing for the
worst.

Trevor stands to his feet and brushes the
front of his sweater off, pulling a tissue from his pocket and
holding it up to his still-bleeding nose. He doesn’t make eye
contact with me for minutes until he takes a deep breath. “I didn’t
do anything,” he says, his face flat. “I have to make some calls,
but I think this is all my dad. I think this was probably his plan
all along.”

He starts to walk to his car, and I stand to
follow him. He’s pulling his phone out and dialing, but stops short
to stare at me, to warn me—it’s clear he doesn’t want me around for
this. I find a nearby bench, and I sit and watch as Trevor paces,
making call after call. He seems almost as frustrated as Cody did,
but he’s cooler—calmer. Probably because he’s not losing the only
thing he really ever cared about. Of course, he did lose me.

Trevor’s on the phone with at least a dozen
different people for almost an hour, and I just sit, folded on the
bench, watching his every movement, searching for clues. When he
hangs up after his final call, he pauses and stares out over the
rows of headstones for several minutes. His shoulders finally fall
as his head turns and his eyes find me. He pushes his phone into
his pocket and walks over slowly. I’m biting at the skin around my
fingers, already having chewed away every last fingernail.

“Like I said…this was all Jim. He has a guy
who’s investing in the land with him. They planted some evidence to
knock Cody out. They want to tear the shop down, put up condos and
shops,” he shrugs, looking away from me briefly before coming at me
again. “What the hell, Charlotte? What the hell happened…to
us?”

I can’t answer him. I know he deserves one,
and I wish I could give it to him. I wish I could love him, because
it would be easier—and I wouldn’t feel dead inside. But I can’t
answer him. Not today—maybe not ever.

My mind won’t stop racing, because I don’t
know where Cody is, or how I’m ever going to explain that Jim
warned me, and I didn’t listen. I was selfish, because I wanted
him
so damned much. I don’t know why any of this happened.
And I don’t know where to go from here. I don’t know where to call
home; I don’t have one. The only thing that’s certain is I can’t
stay here—in Louisville. This place ruins me—ruins everything. And
I can’t wait to leave it.

Chapter
19: Homeless

“Just stay. It’s fine,” Trevor says, packing
what remains of his from the closet we shared into two
suitcases.

We didn’t talk at all on the plane ride home;
in fact, Trevor sat in a single seat, leaving me two rows behind
and across the aisle. When we arrived back at the house, late last
night, Trevor pulled out the extra pillow and blanket and slept in
a spare room. I didn’t sleep at all—instead, staring out the window
at the darkness across the driveway. Cody’s truck never pulled up,
and his lights were off all night.

I started a dozen text messages to him, but I
deleted every one. They weren’t enough—you can’t put what I need to
say to Cody in a text. And I don’t know that he’ll listen to me in
person.

“Trevor, I’m not staying here. It would
be…weird. And I’m pretty sure your father hates my guts,” I say,
pulling out my own suitcase to start packing my own bag. I don’t
know where I’ll go—maybe a hotel for a night or two. But there’s no
way I’m staying in this house ever again.

Trevor doesn’t fight me and just shrugs,
turning his focus back to his packing. I hate how things ended, and
I hate this feeling in the pit of my stomach. I want to talk to
him, like I used to, but he’s so far away despite being in the very
same room.

“Trevor…I’m…” I start, but he cuts me
off.

“No. You don’t get to say sorry. Not yet,” he
says, tossing a shirt into the pile that’s building in his bag. He
just stares at me with a hard gaze; it’s more than disappointment—I
swear I can see actual loathing.

“I’m stuck, Charlotte. I’m stuck somewhere
between being hurt and hating you. I want to fucking hate you. God,
do I want to hate you!” he says, sitting down on the edge of the
bed and rubbing his forehead. “But I don’t. I just want to
understand. Damn it, Charlotte…I thought we were happy. I thought I
knew what you wanted. What went wrong?”

I sit on the opposite corner of the bed,
pulling my leg up sideways and turning to him. I want to reach for
his hand, hug him. I fold my hands in my lap and look down,
breathing slowly through my nose to give me time to gather my
words. I’ve practiced this speech a million times, and I perfected
it on our flight home.

“We were happy, Trevor. Or at least, what I
thought was happy. But I was so blind,” I say, and Trevor starts to
stand, rolling his eyes. I reach for his hand and grab hold of his
pinky, startling him, but stopping him. “Please…you have to listen.
Even if you decide to hate me.”

He slumps forward and relents, taking his
seat back, this time a little closer to me.

“I’m not talking about Cody. Trevor,
this…
this…
isn’t about Cody. It’s about who I really am, and
the me you
think
is real,” as I say the words I feel Trevor
tense, and his brow curls with his confusion. “I had one
year—
one year
—of my life that was normal. I had a dad that
loved me, and he started to pull these things out of me, these
pieces of who I would become. But he left. And I got lost. All I
knew was what I didn’t want to be—Caroline, Trevor. I wasn’t going
to dwell on my dad’s death, I wasn’t going to live sheltered and
afraid, and I wasn’t going to be alone. So I ran away—to Western.
And I met you. And you were…everything that every little girl puts
down on paper when they dream up their future prince, Trevor.”

He grimaces at me, throwing me the bullshit
card. But I keep going, because I’m telling him the truth.

“I’m being honest,” I say, balling my hand
into a fist over my heart and closing my eyes. I can feel my breath
starting to fade, and my voice is starting to shake. “God,
Trevor—you are perfect. You’re perfect in so many ways. And I wish
I could turn our story into the fairytale. But there’s just so much
about me that you don’t know—don’t see—those things you
ignore.”

He’s shaking his head at me, not
understanding. “Charlotte, I
know
you. I loved you…I was
going to marry you!” he says, reaching up to rub his temples.

“And I’m so lucky to have had you, Trevor,” I
say. “But…you didn’t really know me. If you knew me—if you
understood me at all—you never would have thrown away my father’s
desk.”

The silence that hangs over us is thick, and
I can’t stop the one tear that glides down my cheek. I look at the
corner of the room, where my desk once sat, and then I look back at
Trevor, and I see the pain hitting him again.

“Don’t…” I start, scooting closer to him and
reaching for his hand. “You thought you were doing a good thing,
Trevor. You were being thoughtful. It’s just…that thoughtfulness is
meant for a different girl.
This
girl likes old furniture,
is
desperate
to shop in the junior’s section and find her
youth again, and…god I’m sorry Trevor, but she doesn’t want to move
to the city.”

Minutes pass without a word…without a breath.
For a second, I swear Trevor is crying, but he’s fast to wipe the
tears away. On instinct, I put my other hand on top of his,
squeezing it. Trevor lets me, but only for a brief second before he
pulls away and stands, turning away from me. I hear a few more
sniffles, and then he goes back to packing his suitcase.

“Like I said, you can stay here…if you need
to,” Trevor says, finishing up his packing, and zipping up his bag.
I don’t respond, but instead slide the ring from my pocket, leave
it on the bed, and back out of the room. I retreat to the kitchen
for coffee. I sip on a cup for a few more minutes while Trevor
finishes packing, and I hear him drag his bags through the front
door. I watch from the window as he puts them in the trunk and gets
in the car. Seconds later, he’s gone.

And I’m back to being alone.

All I can think about is Cody, finding him,
and telling him everything—how Jim threatened me, why I tried to
stay away. I have my only final exam tomorrow, and part of me hopes
Cody will be at the study session. I know it’s where he
should
be, but I also know it’s not where his heart is—all
of his attention is ten miles away with the last thing his father
built.

I go anyway, full of hope. The room is
packed, more so than on regular weekend study sessions, but I know
the second I step foot in the room Cody isn’t here. I gravitate to
the seat I sat in the first time I saw him. Habit, I guess, though
I’ve only been here once or twice. Somehow I feel like being here,
sitting there, is a connection to him.