Blindness(30)

“Yes. I leave Friday,” I say, no longer thinking about the sexy bra and panty set in my drawer, but instead of reasons my flight might be cancelled, and wishing for the storm of the century. And for a fraction of a second, Cody looks at me with eyes that are begging me to stay. I can see the plea balancing on the tip of his tongue as he bites it with his teeth, stopping himself.

“Yeah, well…have a nice trip,” he turns abruptly. He’s down the stairs quickly, and seconds later I hear the back door slam closed. I’m at my window immediately, and I see him reach into his pocket for his keys, climb into his truck, and fly from the driveway.





I was hoping class would be a distraction. The seats are all full because midterms are approaching. I know I should be paying attention to Dr. Rush. I’ve managed to bring my grade up to a high C, and I’m sure if I took Cody up on his offers to help, I could be at a comfortable B. But I’ve been afraid of quiet time—alone—with Cody. And last night is proof positive why it’s a bad idea.

“Ms. Hudson?” my name sounds muffled, like it’s being announced from a tunnel. When I look to both sides, I realize the other students are all staring at me, some of them snickering. I’m sure he asked me a question, but frankly, I wouldn’t be able to get the answer right even if I did hear him.

“I’m sorry. I’m a little lost,” I say, hoping that my honesty will buy me a pass. It doesn’t.

“Yes, that seems to be your thing. Getting lost,” Dr. Rush frowns. He’s not going to let this go, so I shrink down a little in my seat to try to shield myself from the heat of everyone’s judgment. My shelter is short-lived, though. “Please, join me at the board.”

Oh God!

I poke my pencil under a few pages of my notebook and slide from my seat to the front of the class. It’s a large class—about 80 students. The tiered seating gives everyone a clear view of my hot, red face. My hand is sweating so much I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to hold the dry erase marker he’s about to hand me. I wipe it on my jeans and look to the side as I do. I don’t know what compelled me, what made me do it—but there he is.

Cody is sitting in the corner seat in the top row. He’s never joined my class. He’s known I was in this section since the first time I went to his tutoring session. Of all days for me to be called out for daydreaming!

“Ms. Hudson, can you please show us the first step in solving problem number seven,” Dr. Rush says, the tone of his voice clearly expressing his expectation for me to blow it. I take a deep breath, and glance at Cody from the corner of my eye. I see him sit up from his slouch and lean forward at his desk, folding his hands together in front of him. He’s waiting to watch me fail, too.

I look up at Dr. Rush first, and he only prods me on, to begin writing. I close my eyes, and then open to look hard at the problem. I stare at the F’s and C’s and the strange horseshoe symbols. I can almost hear Cody’s voice in my head. I decide to trust it, knowing it’s really the only thing I’ve got, and I start to write. Once I complete the string, I click the lid on the marker and put it down. Looking back up to the professor slowly, I say, almost in a question, “You start with the derivative, and first define its limit?”

My throat is instantly dry, and it makes me start to cough uncontrollably. I fight to hold it in. This happens to me sometimes when I get nervous, and I know in seconds I’m going to be virtually choking in front of my entire class, not to mention the man who’s slowly stealing away pieces of my heart.

“Right. Good, you are paying attention,” Dr. Rush says, quickly calling out another name and sending me back to my chair, back to safety. I nearly sprint up the risers to the door at the back of the room so I can get a drink. I manage to calm the tickle, and slip back inside without making much noise at all. Once at my seat, I lean down for my bag so I can sneak a look at Cody, but his seat is empty now.

I can’t deny the disappointment I feel at his absence. I grimace and roll my eyes at myself for feeling downright abandoned because my secret crush left a classroom. Pushing my book open and deciding to follow along, I adjust my notepad to make room. That’s when I see it—the makeshift business card Cody handed me the first day we met. White paper, black pen, his name, and his number—I slide it from the pages of my book and prop it up in front of me.

I’m no longer listening. No, now I’m considering. I tap my pencil on the card while I think, trying to work up the courage. I know I can’t call him. I have no words, and I’m pretty sure I would just start coughing again from my nerves. And that’s if he would even answer. Calling is definitely out—but texting him?

As soon as the professor’s back is turned, I reach down and slide my phone from my bag to my lap. I’m deep enough in the classroom that I have some privacy, as long as Dr. Rush doesn’t pace the aisles. I give it a few more minutes for him to begin working out the rest of the problem I started with a new student, and I start typing in my lap.





Where did you go?





I watch the cursor blink. I sound desperate—and a bit like a stalker. I delete and start again.





Are you spying on me?





Now I just sound stupid.

I lean forward, chew on my pencil, making eye contact with Dr. Rush once or twice so he’ll buy into the idea that I’m paying attention. I know that if he calls on me again, I’m screwed, so I take my time, even going so far as to pretend to take notes. In actuality, I start doodling and writing down lyrics from my favorite Killers’ song.