Blindness(100)

We shut the lights out by eight, and I know there’s no way Jessie is falling asleep. But she pretends. I lay awake for hours, counting the train six times before I hear the door slide open quietly and watch Gabe empty his pockets on the kitchen counter. He slips his sweatshirt over his head, drops it to the floor, and pulls his shoes from his feet to leave them by the door. He’s tiptoeing along the back of the sofa around me when I whisper.

“Thank you, Gabe,” I say. My thanks for far more than the pillow under my head, and he knows what I mean. He bends down and presses his lips on my forehead, pulling my blanket up on my body and tucking it along my back. His bedroom door closes seconds later.

The train whistles five more times before the sun rises, and I never shut my eyes.





Chapter 20: The Prettiest of Pictures





“Seriously, I don’t even know why you’re looking at apartments. You can stay with us next semester. We don’t mind,” Jessie says as she walks around the tiny apartment, the sixth one we’ve looked at today.

I don’t mind this one. The kitchen is nice, and it’s exactly halfway between school and my internship, which I plan to extend now that I’m no longer leaving for Washington.

“You and Gabe need your space,” I say, lifting one side of my mouth in a half grin. “Besides, the couch? Yeah, that’s shit to sleep on.”

Jessie laughs a little, and finally nods.

“Yeah, I know. But you’ve only been there for a week, and I’ve kinda gotten used to you…you know? Being, like…my roommate?” she’s kicking the floor while she talks, and it’s funny to see a girl whose wearing studs around her wrists turn shy.

“I know what you mean,” I smile back. “Hey, though…now you can come over here, especially when Gabe is driving you nuts!”

She laughs at that and heads back into the bedroom to look around a little more. I’m pretty settled on this place, and I know I can afford the rent on what’s left in my bank account and the small stipend I make at my internship.

We head to the front office and finish the lease agreement before lunch. Another perk to my new apartment is the proximity to three great restaurants. Jessie and I are trying out the deli today, but tonight Gabe’s coming over to help move a few things in that were left in my storage facility, and then we’ll splurge on the fancy Italian place.

I blow on my soup and sip at it slowly, keeping my gaze settled on my bowl. I know Jessie can tell I’m avoiding her—avoiding asking about him. I haven’t asked about him once in the last week, and she’s tried to talk to me about him every night. I always shut her down, but she’s got the advantage here—we’re in public, and my mouth is full of hot soup when she strikes.

“So he’s a f*cking mess, you know?” she starts. She throws it out there—tempting bait—because she knows I’ll worry. She knows if I don’t ask now, it will gnaw away at me, and eventually I’ll come begging for details.

I’ve practiced this, prepared for this moment. This is where I pretend I don’t care, that I am unaffected and over him—or that I never loved him at all. Funny how the reality plays out so differently, though, because this tiny insight into Cody and what he’s feeling has my heart burning a hole through my chest, it hurts so badly.

I fold my hands in my lap and just stare down at my thumbs. I hate that he’s hurting. I hate that I’m not there to help him with it. And I hate that I still love him after what he said.

“How bad?” I say, my eyes still staring into the steam rising from my bowl.

Jessie leans back in her seat and wipes her lips with her napkin, pushing her plate forward and folding her arms. She’s been waiting for this moment—an in.

“At his worst, and then worse than that,” she says, forcing my eyes up to hers. I’m expecting to see a hardened face—the angry one that comes to Cody’s defense. But I don’t. Instead, she looks worried, and she looks genuinely sorry for me.

“Where is he?” I ask, biting hard on my lower lip as I wait for her answer. I lie awake every night wondering if Cody’s near by, wondering if we’re listening to the same whistles of the train.

“He’s in Cleveland, staying with a friend of ours. His name’s Danny; we knew him from the tour,” she says, holding her breath, holding back more.

“Oh,” I say, moving my gaze back to my lap and reaching for my spoon.

“He knows you’re with us. That’s why…” she starts, but then she looks out the window, literally biting her tongue.

“Why what?” I ask, my voice a little louder now.

“That’s why he doesn’t come over. He’s afraid to see you,” she shrugs, then reaches for her pack of crackers and rips them open, crumbling them on the plate in front of her and picking at the pieces.

“Afraid to see me?” I say, my voice now drawing the attention of the older women sitting behind Jessie. I ignore their stares and whispers, and press on. “He says I didn’t give him a choice, Jessie, but he made his choice pretty f*cking clear that night in Jake’s shop, and it’s obvious he blames me for everything that happened!”

Jessie stands up from our booth and throws twenty bucks down on the table, grabs her purse, and heads for the door, jerking her head forward and urging me to follow. Once we’re outside, she stops and props her foot up on a bike rack, tying a loose lace.