Blindness (37 page)

“They got him, Cody. They actually fucking
caught him,” I whisper and then turn back to watch the carpet some
more.

I’m catatonic.

I haven’t moved since we got back to
Caroline’s house. I know Brian gave me a million bits of
information after the identification. What happens next, how long
until we can expect a trial—he talked for almost an hour. I didn’t
hear a single word. Instead, I just replayed the sounds of that
night—the light sound of the radio in Mac’s truck, the quiet just
before the gunshots, the screaming of the tires as the car sped
away.

Trevor refused to stay another night at
Caroline’s. He didn’t say goodbye when he left, just said he’d be
at the hotel in town. Caroline attempted to make Cody and me
dinner. I think she was hoping it would bring me out. She’s
actually a decent cook, if you can get past the disgusting
condition of the kitchen. But I wasn’t hungry.

I can hear Cody helping to clean up down the
hall. I’m lying in here with my tiny pink lamp illuminating the
room of a teenaged girl I can’t remember being. Cody’s shutting
down everything in the front room, and I’m embarrassed that he’s
winding through boxes of trash everywhere he turns. He didn’t even
flinch when he walked in and saw the conditions my aunt was living
in.

The door creaks as Cody slides it open, and
my lips hurt as I try to smile. I’m so happy to see him, but every
movement feels impossible. He pulls his shirt from his body and
kicks his shoes and jeans off in the corner by my chair—by the
blank space where my desk used to sit when I lived here. He turns
the lamp off as he slides into bed next to me, and in seconds, his
arms are around me, like a warm blanket that keeps me safe. It’s
the first time he’s held me like this since we made love, and I
hate that it’s here, in this house, on the night I faced the
murderer.

“I’m so proud of you, Charlie,” he whispers,
his breath hot against the wisps of hair along my neck.

I don’t know how to respond, so I squeeze his
hands and pull his hug tighter around me. We lay in silence for
almost an hour, listening to the whistle of the wind through the
cracks in my window. And he never makes me talk.

“I hate him,” I finally say.

“I know you do. And that’s okay,” Cody says,
brushing my hair from my face repeatedly, soothing me.

“I want him to die,” I say, and I let a tear
finally hit my pillow. I feel ugly wishing that for someone, but I
hate him so much. His name is Michael Croft, and he’s only three
years older than me. He has a mother and a sister—all here in
Louisville. He’s a big dealer downtown. Brian says they have enough
on him to put him away for years, even without getting the murder
conviction. But he’s pretty sure they’ll get it. They traced the
gun back to him and matched a few prints.

And then there’s my testimony—me…on the
stand.

I know it won’t be for months, maybe even
years. But I’m terrified to face him, to stand up there and point
at him in front of a room full of people. And the room will be
full. Mac’s death has been
the story
of the town for the
last three years, and there are a lot of men and women in blue who
are waiting for this closure. They need it, and they need to see
justice prevail.

You don’t get away with killing cops.

“Tell me about Mac,” Cody says, rolling on
his back and pulling me into him, holding me close.

I shut my eyes tightly and force myself to
remember my life here in this house—before. It’s a flood of
memories, and some of them feel like lost pieces, parts missing
their whole. We spent so many years just existing, but not really
knowing
each other, and I think that’s what I regret the
most.

“He liked to watch me golf,” I start, the
smile spreading on my face as I remember Mac cheering for me
loudly, breaking all the rules of the course. “We didn’t really get
along until my senior year, but that last year…he was my best
friend.”

I choke on my words. Mac was stolen from me,
and I wasted the time I had with him, and I’ve been beating myself
up over it since the moment his heart stopped.

“Why didn’t you get along?” Cody asks. I knew
he would; I wanted him to. I wanted a reason to share all of me
with him. I want him to know me better than anyone else. I think I
need him to.

I take a deep breath before I start, and I
turn my body into him, putting my hand on his chest so I can feel
his heart beat. I can’t look at his eyes when I talk, they see me
too well—like he sees through me—and I know I’ll never make it
through the story of
me
if I have to look at his eyes.

“My mom was a junkie. She had a fling with
Mac, got knocked up, and kept me secret for a long time…until she
couldn’t take it—take me—any more. I was seven, and she just left
me with him and took off. I haven’t seen her since,” I say,
realizing how little I think about my mom, how little I remember of
her.

Cody doesn’t speak; he pulls my head in
closely and waits while I continue. I tell him about those first
few weeks, how scared I was to leave my room, how I slept with the
light on until I was 16. I tell him about the boy who hit me, and
about how my dad woke up that day and finally became my father. I
tell him about my daily routine of school, golf, homework, and
dinner—all with Mac.

We talk about Caroline, about the time I
caught her rocking back and forth on the kitchen floor, counting
out sunflower seeds, and starting over every time she lost count. I
tell him how much worse she’s gotten since Mac’s death, and he just
listens—he doesn’t judge, or tell me what I already know, that I
need to get her help.

I talk for hours, sometimes laughing,
sometimes crying, but Cody just lets me go—stroking my hair,
chuckling when he should, and embracing me when he senses I’m about
to fall apart. By the time I run out of stories, it’s 2:30 in the
morning, and I’m fighting to keep my eyelids open.

“You’re tired. You should sleep. We’ll head
back tomorrow—if it’s okay with Trevor, I’d like to drive you?”
Cody asks. I know if I go with Trevor I’ll be back in time for
school. I have a few days left in my semester, and I need to study
for my calculus final. But I know the school has excused my
absences for the next week given my circumstances—that was the only
call I made before we left the airport on our way to Louisville.
And Cody’s going to end up tutoring me anyhow.

“That would be really nice,” I sigh into his
chest, nestling in and pulling the double blankets up tight under
my chin. Caroline keeps the house cold—so much so, I can actually
see my breath inside.

I’m fighting the waves of sleep as they lap
against my chest, each time pulling me down farther and farther.
Cody’s saying my name, but it almost sounds like an echo. I scratch
my way back to the surface, just long enough to understand what
he’s saying. “Tomorrow, before we go? We should go say goodbye,” he
says.

I nod
yes
and let the final wave take
me away completely, but I carry on our conversation in my dream,
and I feel my body tense up despite how deep my sleep is. He wants
me to say goodbye to Mac, and I don’t even know if I’ll be able to
find his tombstone. I didn’t go to the burial, and I never
visited.

And I’m not sure if I’m brave enough yet.

Caroline has decided today is a good day for
cleaning. Of course, in Caroline’s world, this means pushing all of
the boxes against the walls and vacuuming the main hallways over
and over until the carpet bends in just the right direction. I
swear I can actually smell the fibers burning from her constant
mowing when I wake up and find my way to the shower.

Thankfully, her various collections seem not
to have made their way to the bathroom…completely—though there are
a lot of recipe cards in the two drawers. No recipes, just the
cards she’s collected.

The shower takes minutes to heat up, and I
stand outside with my hand under the running water, my body wrapped
in the towel for warmth, until I feel Cody slide in behind me.

“Cody! Get out of here!” I whisper at him,
pushing against his chest, trying to force him back out the
door.

“Relax, your aunt didn’t see me come in. I’m
pretty sure she’s moved on to the den now. She should be at it for
a good 30 minutes,” he says, a crooked smile on his face. He’s
nervous about making a joke, not wanting to hurt my feelings.

“Probably an hour,” I say, making the same
smirk back at him. He laughs lightly, relieved that he didn’t
offend me.

“How’d you sleep?” he asks, pulling me close
and wrapping me up in a hug while he holds his hand under the
running water.

“Okay. You?” I wonder if he even slept. I
know he was awake each time I rolled and turned, and his shrug says
he probably didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.

“I’ll be a’right,” he says, pulling his
long-sleeved T-shirt up over his head.

“Cody!” I say, my eyes darting between him
and the door.

“Oh, yeah…right,” he says, turning around and
flicking the lock in place. When he turns back to face me, he’s
wearing
the
grin. It’s so cocky and confident—and it amazes
me every time he does it, because on anyone else I think I would
despise it. But when Cody flashes me the deep dimple—his lip curled
up only on one side and his eyes heavy and intense—I melt. I
absolutely die and become desperate for him.

He kisses me before I’m ready, and I back
into the shower on instinct, carrying him with me, soaking his
jeans and the towel that’s now barely clinging to me. I giggle
uncontrollably, and I can feel Cody’s smile stretching across his
face while he’s kissing me, but he doesn’t stop. He pushes his
jeans down to his feet and kicks the now sopping-wet denim out the
shower door along with his boxers and socks, laughing when the
clump of material gets stuck on his toes. He tosses my towel out
next, all the time our lips not parting, despite how much our
bodies are moving and our faces are grinning.

In seconds, though, my laughter is replaced
by rapid breathing, and Cody has me pinned against the back wall.
The hot water is quickly steaming up the entire room. Cody’s chest
is flush to mine, and his hands are roaming my arms and bringing
them above my head where he holds my wrists together tightly while
he continues to kiss me. My eyes roll back as he leaves my lips,
trailing his tongue down my jaw and finding his way to each of my
breasts.

It’s like he’s drinking me in, the way he’s
devouring me. He’s forceful and rough as he bites at my skin, his
hands starting at my hips and rolling up my stomach and breasts
until they’re buried behind my head and tangled in my hair. Cody’s
pulling my face tightly against his again, kissing me and sucking
my bottom lip between his. The roughness of his unshaven face is
what I notice most—not because it scratches, but because so many
times I stared at it and wondered how it felt, wanted to rub my
cheek across his jawline and feel it.

Cody pauses, holding either side of my face
in his hands, and presses his forehead to mine. His breathing is
hard, and his thumbs are stroking my cheeks gently while he looks
at me.

“The way I see it, your aunt can’t hear a
thing over that damn vacuum,” Cody whispers in my ear, biting at it
lightly before he backs off and looks me in the eyes again, tucking
his bottom lip under his teeth and smirking to the side. I don’t
say anything in return, only mirroring his look, letting him know
it’s okay—that even after everything that happened—this trip to
Louisville, the way Trevor found out—
this
is okay.

Cody runs his hand slowly down my back,
trailing his fingertips slowly until he reaches my hips. His grip
becomes stronger as he reaches under the back of my leg, and then
pulls me forward, bending my knee and wrapping me around him. I’m
caught off guard, my heart beating too fast to give me time to look
at him—and I can feel him hard against me.

“Cody, we can’t…” I start, not wanting to
stop him, but also not wanting to have unprotected sex with him in
the heat of the moment. I know all too well what can happen when
people make rash decisions out of passion. And that worry consumes
me. It’s why I’ve always been so scripted with Trevor—every
intimate moment carefully planned.

Cody backs away, but only for a few seconds.
He reaches into the pocket of his wet jeans for a condom and pulls
it on quickly. He’s back in front of me in seconds, and I suddenly
find myself full of nerves. My hands are shaking, despite the steam
surrounding me; I’m shivering, and I feel like I might faint.

“We don’t have to…” Cody starts, when he
feels my hands quiver in his.

“No, I want to. I want
you—
here and
now. I just, I feel like I might not be enough…like you might
realize you made a mistake. I’ve never done anything…you know…like
this?” I say, my face flushing with embarrassment.

Cody reaches under my chin and pulls my face
up to look at him. “Neither have I,” he says, and I laugh it off at
first, but his grip is strong on my face, not letting me shy
away.

“Look at me, Charlie. I mean it—neither have
I,” he shrugs his shoulders and raises the corner of his mouth,
shaking his head and grinning. “I love you. You’re the first. I’ve
never felt anything like I feel when I’m with you. Yes, you’re sexy
as hell, and
that
part of me wants you for the way you look
right now, soaking wet and naked in my arms.”

“But this part…” Cody lifts my hand in his
and presses it flat against his chest. “This part wants you because
it needs you. It needs you to live and survive. And it scares the
shit out of me, Charlie, because I’ve been burned before—and I
wasn’t in love then. But I’m more afraid of what might happen if I
don’t try. I’d regret it for the rest of my life, and I’m sure of
it. So the only mistake I could have made was leaving you alone,
letting Trevor take you away—not telling you how I feel. But being
with you now? Coming here with you and holding you all night in my
arms? Feeling you tremble in the shower in, oh, say about 15
minutes? Yeah, I’m pretty sure there’s no way in hell I could ever
think any of that was a mistake.”