Blindness(111)

“I don’t know…am I? Don’t you need to, like…I don’t know, set this up?” he says, his hands suddenly sweaty along my arms, showing his nerves.

I smile and shake my head no. There’s nothing to say that he won’t see in the video, so I push play, and then tilt his chin away from me so he see’s everything from beginning to end. I don’t need to watch the video. I have it memorized—by heart. So instead I spend the next five minutes studying Cody’s eyes.

The first emotion is pride, and I know it’s because he sees my name as a project leader. He gives me a squeeze, and his smile grows a little. It grows a little more when he starts to see my early sketches, the renderings of Mac’s home, the Craftsman styles modernized, and he actually lets out a prideful laugh when my images fade into the 3-D rendering.

What’s filling the screen is the beginning of the story—like we’re taking a walk, on a journey. The further we move along the fictional neighborhood street, the more real it becomes, with people and cars added to the busy streets, and children out on sidewalks laughing and playing. Soon, the storefronts come into play, and Cody shifts in his seat. Part of me thinks he can sense what’s coming, and he’s nervous.

We go through the mock-up of the grocery store, dodge in and out of the barber, and pass through the patio of a café. Then slowly, the entire rendering starts to slide, shifting over actual video of the real neighborhood in Cleveland, drawings of building fronts locking into place over the shuttered spaces that are there now. The large one in the center is grayed out, its drawing blurry and vague on purpose. It’s the final piece of the puzzle, and, according to Jeff, it’s the closer for this whole deal—the lasting image that is going to leave everyone nodding yes and begging us to break ground sooner rather than later.

The pink of the sign flickers on, a cool effect one of the graphic artists added at the last minute, and when it does, I feel the blood actually drain from Cody’s body. Locked on his eyes, I wait for the rest to come into view—first the green windows of the bays, next the vehicles up on blocks, and finally the entire building. Jake’s glows in the center of the screen—the heartbeat of a vibrant neighborhood, one designed purely with the intent of taking something broken and forgotten and making it new again—the perfect homage.

Cody is motionless, but his grip on me is tight. I have to stand, so I kiss his cheek softly and nudge his arms to let me loose. He moves his eyes to stare at me while I stand, his mouth stuck in awe. I know he’ll be embarrassed about crying in front of Gabe and Jessie later, but for now, he lets the tears pool up, and he forces his lips into a tight smile, trying not to cry more than this. He’ll be glad to know that Gabe is doing the same thing when I tell him about it later.

My hands are shaking when I reach into my bag, and I’m flustered, not able to find the folder I’m looking for fast enough. When I finally do, I lift it out, and kiss it—then hold it tightly to my chest.

“You know, my boss has this theory,” I start, leaning back along Jeff’s desk for support for fear that my legs are going to give out at any moment from shaking so badly. “He says the garage is the heart of the project. And he’s kinda right, you know?”

I force myself to stand again and walk closer to Cody, kneeling down once I’m next to him, so I’m at his level while he’s sitting. “But I think the heart of this,” I say, gesturing to the screen, and then settling my gaze back on his eyes. “The reason any of this, any of us, are here at all…is right here,” I say, pressing my hand flat to Cody’s chest.

Cody holds my gaze, and I watch in wonder as the small crinkles form on either side of his eyes. The way he looks at me is from a dream—the one I had every night we were apart. The one I wished for at night as a teenager, and the one I convinced myself didn’t exist when Mac left. And I never want to be without it again.

“Charlie,” he breathes, but I kiss him quickly to stop him from saying more, and when I pull away I leave the folder in his lap. “What is this?” he laughs, flipping it open and thumbing through the dozens of documents, all stamped with his name and LLC.

“It’s a gift. And I can’t take full credit for it,” I say, nestling into his side on his lap again while he continues to look through the papers. “I made a call early this morning, while you were still sleeping, and Trevor emailed these to me. It’s your property documents, only one slight tweak. He had your LLC all set up, so he just changed it. All you need to do to apply for a lease with request-to-own is file these papers with the company listed on the back the second the city approves the project. And they’ll be expecting your call.”

Calling Trevor this morning was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, even harder than admitting my feelings for Cody in the first place. I didn’t expect him to answer, and when he did, I expected him to hang up the moment I started talking. But he didn’t, and I think it’s because it was for Cody.

I can see the conflict on Cody’s face as he closes the folder again and looks at the blank cover along his lap. I’m quick to squeeze his hand so he’ll look at me again, partly because I still worry that if he thinks about it too much, he’ll feel guilty about betraying Trevor. But I know when we lock eyes that he’s in this as much as I am.

“What did I do to deserve you?” he says, leaning his forehead against mine and closing his eyes.