Blindness(103)

“And this,” he starts, turning away from me and walking to the window to look at it more closely. “This one…it’s the heart, isn’t it?” Jeff says, not realizing exactly how right he is.

I nod yes and sit softly on the edge of the chair. I tuck my hands under my knees, forcing myself to leave my drawings out there, exposed. Every urge, every instinct, has always been to tuck them away, hide them from all eyes but mine. But they need to be seen, and they need to be loved. They are my way of breaking free, my way of being honest about everything I want, and everything I have ever cared about.

“Charlotte…” Jeff starts, finally putting the drawing down on the stack of about 20 that fill his desk. “This? This is extraordinary. I didn’t know you had all of this inside of you—it’s beautiful, and it feels so real, like a place I want to be.”

I’m blinking at him, my mouth twitching, afraid to smile, and nervous for the but that’s about to come out of his mouth.

“You have a gift. Architecture is an art, but very few are truly artists—just going through the motions with the things they build. You made home,” he says, his eyes willing me to smile, to breathe, and relax. And I do.

“Thank you,” I say, my eyes stinging a little with tears. “I was hoping you would like them. They’re pretty personal.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” he says, holding a tissue across his desk. I take it and dab at my eyes, giggling a little as my nerves finally escape me. “So, you ready?” he says, standing and sliding my drawings back in order, tucking them into my folder.

“Ready? Oh, yeah…for today. Sure, what do you need me to get started on,” I say, letting the air flap my lips as I let out my last exhale, suddenly feeling like I belong here.

“Oh, ha…no, I meant are you ready to show these to the project team?” he says, and I fall right back into my chair, my pulse beating loudly in my ears. Holy shit!

Jeff continues to laugh as he slides my repacked portfolio back to me and drinks the last drops from his coffee mug before turning to pull his jacket from the hanger on the wall behind him. “Come on, it’ll be a cakewalk. I’ll be there the whole time. Just pull them out—one at a time—like you did for me,” he says, patting me on the back as he passes and holds the door open for me to follow.

My gulp is loud, and I start coughing uncontrollably until we reach the midpoint of the office, and I step away for a few seconds to drown myself in the water from the drinking fountain. I hadn’t thought my plan through this far—I was only going to win over Jeff.

I catch up to him and follow him to another office, with a senior partner whom I’ve never officially met. I fight against my nerves and present everything to him, just as Jeff suggested I do. And he reacts exactly the same.

We move on to another office, and another after that, until a few hours have passed, and I find myself waiting between Jeff and a woman I now know is Donna on a sofa outside the vice president of the firm’s door. We walk him through the same presentation, and then leave him and a few of the partners alone to discuss.

My legs are bouncing uncontrollably. The office door finally cracks open, and I hear the gravelly voice of Thomas Bryant, the Bryant in Bryant and Michaels Design.

“Ms. Hudson? Mind coming on in to chat with us for a bit?” he asks, his voice gentle and kind, but somehow still intimidating as hell.

I smile faintly and manage to find my feet and follow my two handlers into a massive office with leather chairs and a huge stone coffee table. For the next two hours, I listen and answer questions about my concept, and by the end I realize what’s happening—they are actually taking my drawings seriously, as in going to sell them to a development company, and make everything I spent hours putting on paper come to life.

And Cody’s garage—the neon sign spelling Jake’s—is what they talk about the most. The heart, as Jeff called it.

My heart.





Chapter 21: Twelve O’One





“Charlie, come on, pleeeeaaaase! You have to let me tell him!” Jessie pleads with me over the sink. We’re washing dishes after one of Gabe’s amazing meals. They’ve had me over for dinner every night for the last three weeks, and I update them with the latest on my project.

“Not yet, but soon. I promise, Jess. Soon…it’s got to be ready,” I say, smiling, and patting her on the shoulder with my soapy hand. She blows the bubbles off at me and grimaces.

“Fine, whatever!” She drops her spoons and forks into the hot water and leaves me to finish. I don’t mind, though—it’s the least I could do for the many nights of company they’ve given me. Jessie and Gabe have become my family, even spending most of the day at home with me over Christmas, just so I didn’t have to be alone.

My concept drawings earned me a part-time position at Bryant and Michaels until I graduate in the spring, and then I’m guaranteed a full-time position. Thankfully, I also squeaked by with a C in calculus, so I don’t have to worry about losing credits either. The position is a little better than entry level—a lot of grunt design work, and long hours to start—but it’s doing exactly what I’ve always dreamed of doing. And frankly, the hours have been welcome company lately.

They sold my concept quickly to a group of builders that they had already been working with to retrofit an old space in one of Cleveland’s oldest neighborhoods. We still have to present everything to the city council, but I’ve been told the right people love the idea. They’re going to call it The Square, giving it a high-end feel they can sell. The spaces will all be down-to-earth, with a focus on trades and artists—the kinds of businesses people appreciate…and miss.