Blindness (3 page)

Cody sees me all the way to my car, still in
his chair. I don’t see anyone parked near me, so I know he’s gone
out of his way, but I’m too nervous to ask how he’s getting home.
I’ve made enough of an ass out of myself already.

“This is me,” I say, clicking the unlock
button on my keys. My Honda lights up, and I pull the passenger
door open to drop my bags inside. As I do, my portfolio unbuckles,
and a few of my drawings slide onto the ground. I rush to get them
before they get dirty, but Cody’s already bent forward to save
them. “You do these?” he asks, sliding them behind one another as
he sorts through them in his lap.

I shrug a little and just nod
yes
. I’m
always uncomfortable when others look at my work. He’s looking at
my home collection—which are my most personal drafts. The series is
based on my own dream for a childhood home, and there’s a lot of
Mac in those drawings—things he always talked about doing to his
Bungalow. I find myself reaching to grab the drawings back as my
throat closes at the memories.

“Sorry, I’m running late,” I lie. I have
nowhere I need to be, but I just had to stop his questions before
they started.

“No problem. You’re good at that, you know.
The drawings, I mean,” he says, swallowing hard. I can sense how
unsure he is at his words, and I’m starting to break into a
sweat.

“Thanks,” I say, coming off shorter and
colder than I mean it. I try to repair it by smiling at him again,
and then I curtsey
. I actually curtsey
. My eyes fly wide
open, and he struggles not to laugh at me.

“Wow, did you just bow?” he asks, rubbing his
hand along the back of his neck and shaking his head, grinning at
me.

“Yep. I sure did,” I say, my voice cracking a
little at the last word. I walk over to the driver’s side in a
hurry and open the door. I lean over the roof of the car to say
goodbye. “Thank you so much for today,” I say and decide to end it
there. I give him a small wave and crawl into my car, mumbling to
myself as I pull the seatbelt over my chest and fumble with my
keys. I’m pretty sure my lips are moving as I berate myself when
his tapping on the window registers. I start the car and hit the
window button to open it all the way, now extremely desperate to
drive away.

“Here,” he says, writing something on a small
notecard, and then tossing it through my window onto the passenger
seat. “My number. Give me a call…you know…if you need more help
with calculus. Or…just give me a call.”

I look at the card on the seat, and I pick it
up, nodding at him with a smile even though my insides are
screaming to remind me: “Trevor!”

“Will do,” is all I say, closing my eyes
again with instant regret at my stupid words. I roll the window
back up, and he turns to leave. When I drive away, I watch him in
my mirror as he heads back into the building.

I know I should toss the card out the window.
Just as I know I should never come to a tutoring session again. I
tuck it in the folds of my book instead, but I make myself a
promise to stay away, forcing my imagination to replay my morning
with Trevor—and focus on our perfect, quiet future. No matter how
hard I try, though, I can’t seem to completely erase the blueness
of and the crinkles around Cody’s eyes. And I know why—and it’s
making me sick.

Chapter 2: Timing Is Everything

I’ve lived with Lilah for three years. We met
as freshmen in the dorms and got our apartment together before our
sophomore year. Lilah is really my only girlfriend, and we’re not
extremely close. We’re roommates, and that’s about the extent of
it. I guess that’s why she wasn’t so worried about turning me out.
I know it may be naïve to think that I would stay here forever.
If…
when
I marry Trevor, I would be moving in with him
anyhow. But I guess I just wasn’t ready to be pushed from the nest
so quickly.

“Man, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say
you were downright depressed about moving in with me,” Trevor says,
only half-joking, as he leans into me next to my bed, which is
covered with my socks, shirts, shoes, and open suitcase. I shove
him playfully. I hate that he thinks I’m not excited to live with
him. It’s only that I didn’t quite expect us moving in together to
go quite like this or to happen so quickly.

“I’m not depressed. I’m sorry if I made you
think that,” I shrug, and then slouch down on the bed amidst my
pile of clothes yet to be folded and packed. “It’s just…I wasn’t
really prepared is all. I mean, I still have my furniture, and I
was thinking I’d sort of get a drawer first. Not that I’m not
grateful and totally excited to be staying with you.”

Trevor kisses me quickly and playfully. I
know he’s a little hurt that I’m not overjoyed, but he’s doing his
best to keep me positive. When Lilah asked me to talk last weekend
after I came home from tutoring, I thought it was going to be about
moving Kyle in with us. Turns out, she’s moving in with Kyle—in a
week. There’s no way I can float the rent on our apartment on my
own. When Trevor called me later that night after he checked in to
his hotel, I was in a full-on panic. So when he suggested I just
move in with him, I jumped at it, eagerly, without thinking
anything through—
namely
, the fact that Trevor lived with his
parents.

“You’re going to have so much space, and you
won’t need any of this
old stuff
,” Trevor says, kicking the
leg of my old desk lightly. I just smile, nod, and scoot closer to
him for a hug. When he can’t see my face, I let my smile fall. I
love my old junk. It’s Mac’s old junk. Hell, his initials are
carved in that desk from when he was a teenager. But Trevor isn’t
much of a nostalgic, and I know the things in his parents’ house
are far nicer than I could ever afford.

When I told him I was putting my furniture in
storage, he just rolled his eyes at me. I think he hopes I’ll let
it go once I’ve lived with him for a while, once we move from his
parents’ house into our own place. Trevor’s staying with them while
applying for his apprenticeships, mostly because he doesn’t know
where he’ll be sent. I’m hoping it’s local. But for Trevor, I’ll
move.

I’m brought back to my list of tasks by the
sound of Trevor’s phone ringing. He steps out into the hall so he
can hear over my TV, and when he comes back in, he seems
excited.

“Good news?” I ask.

“Maybe, I’ll know more later,” he’s being
evasive. I twist my mouth at him a little and squint my eyes. “I’m
not hiding anything. I just don’t want to get too excited. I should
know more soon.”

“Okay,” I sigh. I’m sure it’s about his
interview tour last week, and I’m desperate to know where he’ll be
heading next semester. But I don’t push.

I’m not quite sure how, but we manage to get
all of my belongings, minus the furniture, in both Trevor’s and my
car. We pull up to his parents’ house just after lunchtime, and his
mom, whom I’ve only really met a handful of times, comes out to
greet us.

“Charlotte, I’m so happy you’re staying with
us. Let Trevor and his dad unload the car, you come in and enjoy
some lunch with me,” Shelly Appleton puts her arm around my
shoulder, guiding me inside, and gives me a wink. Trevor’s mom is
easy. I’ve always gotten along with her. She’s usually a little
tipsy, but nice nonetheless. Shelly is beautiful—short but thin,
and the perfect platinum blonde. She’s a stay-at-home mom, not that
she really is caring for anyone any longer. Trevor’s been grown for
years. So, I guess, it’s more accurate to say Shelly doesn’t
work.

We sit in the kitchen at the counter, and
Shelly slides me a plate filled with meats, cheeses, and veggies.
She doesn’t really talk much after that, instead flipping through
the pages of her
People
magazine while I try to catch a
glimpse of the various articles and pictures upside-down from the
other side of the counter. I pick at my food while Trevor and his
dad walk in and out the front door, hauling boxes of my belongings.
I’m a little uncomfortable sitting back and watching, especially
since I’m not really keeping Shelly company. As soon as I’m done
eating lunch, I excuse myself and help with the last few loads.

Trevor’s dad, Jim, just nods at me. I’ve had
much fewer interactions with him; he’s a lawyer for some big
real-estate company and spends most of his time flying from Ohio to
Atlanta for meetings and deal closings. The Appletons live in
Hunting Valley, a super rich area just outside of Cleveland, only a
few minutes from Western’s campus. Trevor said that his parents
thought about moving to Atlanta several times, but his dad has just
as many meetings in Chicago, so they decided living in the middle
made the most sense. I’ll admit, while I’m not comfortable
encroaching on the Appletons’ space, I am pretty excited about
living in a 6,000-square-foot house and commuting only minutes to
school every day.

I spend the next four hours unpacking my
belongings, tucking things into Trevor’s drawers, and finding open
spots in his closet. His room is large, and he has his own
bathroom, so it’s really not much different from my apartment.
Trevor is downstairs with his dad, watching football, and I hear
them talking as I come down the steps behind them.

“You think Sumner’s going to come through?”
Jim asks.

“It’s looking really good. I should know by
tonight, tomorrow morning latest,” Trevor says. I thought his phone
call earlier had been about his interviews. But hearing that
there’s a good chance he’ll be heading to Washington in the spring
has my heart thumping with panic. Then Jim’s words stop me
frozen.

“You let
this one
know yet?” he asks,
nodding his head toward the stairs. “She’s going to want to follow
you, you know.”

I’m waiting for Trevor to swoon, to tell his
dad he hopes I’m willing to uproot and move with him anywhere he
goes, because he loves me, and can’t imagine life without me. But
instead, he just shrugs and gives a short, “Yeah.”

Yeah?
I play it over again and again
in my head, trying to make sense of the tiny one-syllable word. It
sounds so foreign coming off of his lips, so indifferent and so
unlike him. I’m thinking about turning around, running—somewhere.
But then I hear Jim tell his son that dinner’s going to be ready
soon, and I notice him notice me from the corner of his eyes. I’m
caught, without escape. So I swallow hard to settle my nerves, and
then clear my throat so Trevor hears me coming.

“Hey, you get everything settled?” he asks,
reaching for my hand and pulling me to his lap. I’m embarrassed to
be so affectionate in front of his father, and Jim seems
uncomfortable, too, as he gets up from the sofa and leaves the
room. My mind is reeling as he walks away, trying to understand
Trevor’s dismissive attitude about me just seconds ago. Before I
can look dejected, though, Trevor tilts my chin to him and presses
his lips on mine, tugging my tucked shirt from the back of my
shorts, and running his hand up my bare skin, sliding his fingers
temptingly under the inside of my bra straps. Chills cover my body
instantly, and I know my cheeks are red.

“I’m going to like you living here,” he
smiles, flashing his eyes suggestively. He nuzzles his nose on my
cheek a little before he moves to my ear, where he bites softly on
the lobe. “Mmmmmm, I get to do this anytime I want.”

Just as I’m about to lose myself in him, and
forget about the strange conversation I’d overheard, I see his
mom’s flowing dress whisk by to the kitchen, and I immediately
scoot from his lap and straighten my shirt. Trevor laughs at me,
and stands, reaching for my hand to help me up. “They’ll give us
privacy. But I get it,” he smiles, kissing me once more on my
cheek.

We walk into the kitchen where Shelly is
pulling some plates from the cabinet, and another woman is
assisting, prepping some food for dinner. I’m truly out of my
element now—it seems the Appletons have a
cook
. When it came
to dinnertime at the Hudson house, that job fell to me. I’m
probably more at home with the help here.

“Oh, Charlotte sweetie, will you be a dear
and reach the pitcher above the stove? I’m too short,” Shelly
giggles. She’s short, quite short. I’m a good 5-foot-10, so I’m
used to being called in for tall jobs. I smile, turn, and fetch the
pitcher.

“Here you go,” I say, handing it to her. I
notice her hand tremors a little as we make the exchange. She just
smiles, realizing I saw, and trades hands, shoving the shaky one in
a pocket briefly, pretending to reach for a tissue. The entire
thing is strange, but she doesn’t let me dwell on it long.

“Thank you, dear. Why don’t you and Trevor go
get ready? We’re having a special dinner to welcome you,” she says.
I immediately feel bad; I don’t like to make a fuss. But I know
this means a lot to her, and Trevor’s already dragging me upstairs
to change.

I manage to fend off his
very
persuasive
advances while I change into a yellow cotton
sundress. I pull my hair back into a low ponytail, and spray a dash
of my favorite perfume along my collarbone. I want to look nice,
but not so overdone that I seem out of place. I feel better when I
see what Trevor’s wearing. He changes into a pair of dress slacks
and a plain blue button-down shirt, which I am instantly imagining
unbuttoning later tonight.

Trevor and I have always had a very physical
relationship. I trusted him quickly, and I liked the way my heart
raced when we were together. To be honest, I also liked the jealous
stares from other women when we were out. And I think part of me
felt lucky—lucky that he picked me. And I wanted to make sure he
was
satisfied
enough to stay.

I trail behind Trevor as we head back down
the stairs, and I can hear his father’s voice raised. I can’t quite
make out what he’s saying, but I recognize the tone. His voice
sounds more than angry—his words are disgusted, and reflect
frustration. I’m starting to slow my steps, not sure if I should be
walking in on the conversation Trevor’s parents are having, when
Shelly comes up behind us. “You two look lovely. Dinner will be
served in just a few minutes. Go on in and grab a seat,” she says
as she steps by us and heads into another room down the hall.