Blindness(4)

I jump at his voice.

“You’re new,” he says, and I thrust my hair back and bang my wrist on the underside of the table as I snap to attention. The pain is instant, and at first I tend to my hand. I’m about to swear when I look up and quickly shut my mouth again. I’m stunned silent at first—suddenly out of my element—my confidence drained the second I hit his gaze. “I’m sorry?” is all I can seem to stammer. His eyes are clear, a grayish blue, and perfect. The crinkles at the corners must mean he’s smiling, but I can’t seem to leave his eyes to check the curve of his lips. In that millisecond, I soak them in, and I feel like I’m home.

I’m stuck staring at him, my mouth a little agape, as he sits across from me. He just laughs at my awkwardness and shakes his head. “I scared you. Sorry, didn’t mean to. I just haven’t seen you in here before…you’re new?” he holds out his hand this time—a gesture my suddenly teenaged goo brain recognizes, and I shake it.

A few seconds pass, and we’re still shaking hands across the table, but not speaking. He chuckles again and lifts his other hand to cover mine, stopping our motion. My eyes widen, and I’m rushed with embarrassment, my cheeks burning and my heart a pounding drum in my chest. “Oh God, I’m sorry. Yes, I’m new. I’m in Dr. Rush’s calculus class, and I’m falling a little behind,” I say all in one breath. He winks at my words, and something in me flinches at it, forcing me back to earth.

“Okay, let’s take a look at what lesson you’re on,” he nods toward the book, prompting me.

“Right, right,” I say, flipping the pages open manically. Somehow my mind slows down, and I’m finally able to communicate. “It’s the section on complex and holomorphic functions.” I’m grateful I was just able to complete that sentence.

“Okay. Let’s work through one together, and I’ll explain as we go,” he says, flipping the page on my notepad and turning it sideways between us. He clicks the pen, and I catch myself staring at him again. He looks nothing like a calculus tutor. His hair is dark and tossed in various directions—almost messy, like he just removed his hat. His arms are canvases of artwork, swirls of color crawling up each, sometimes winding into his fingers. His wrists are wrapped with black bands, and his ears are pierced—multiple times. He coughs a little, and I realize he’s looking at me…looking at him.

I instantly turn back to the notepad, but not before idiotic words fly out of my mouth. “I’m sorry…you are the tutor, right?”

He just laughs, folding his arms, and leans back in his chair. He looks up at the ceiling for a few seconds, giving me a break before settling back on me. “Yeah, I know. I don’t really scream math geek. I’m an engineering major. Almost done. The math part? Well…” He leans forward, urging me in as well, and looks side to side before he whispers to me, “I’m sort of a mathematical genius.”

I purse my lips and scrunch my brow out of instinct. I’m sorting him out, trying to tell if he’s genuine or just being an *. He seems to sense my hesitation, because he puts the pen down and holds up one hand, like a boy scout, crossing his heart with the other. I tilt my head, and a small smile breaks on my lips. I’m about to relent and believe him when he pulls the notepad forward and starts jotting down numbers and symbols feverishly. Within seconds, he’s solved the first problem from my book. He smiles when he sets the pen down, and the crinkle is back in the corners of his eyes.

“Wow,” I say, my eyebrows lifting. “Rock-star-math-geek genius. Noted.”

He laughs hard this time, and I finally let go of the breath I’ve been holding and join him. “I’m Cody. Not a rock star. Just good with numbers,” he smirks. “What’s your name?”

“Charlie,” as soon as it leaves my lips I want to stuff it back inside. “Well, Charlotte, really. Charlotte, call me Charlotte.” He’s tapping the pen to his lip while I’m desperately trying to turn back time. I don’t want anyone calling me Charlie, and I haven’t said it in years. Why it came out now, I have no idea, but even hearing my own voice say it has my stomach sinking to the floor.

“Charlotte,” he smiles, somehow saving me. “Nice to meet you. How about we figure out what’s tripping you up here, huh?” His smile is soft, and I feel like I dodged some sort of bullet. I nod and lean forward while he guides me through about a dozen problems.

After two hours, I’m starting to understand the material, and I can even complete the work on my own. Cody has been at my table the entire time, despite four other tables full of students clearly needing his help. I’m glad he’s stayed, and I tell myself it’s because I need his help, and I’m finally getting the hang of the formulas. But the truth scratches at my gut, too, and the pangs from guilt are impossible to ignore. I like his attention—and I’ve never been more afraid.

He’s looking at his watch and chewing on his pen cap when I interrupt him. “You don’t have to stay,” I squeak out. “I’m getting the hang of this. You probably have a ton of students to see, and I know the session time is almost over.”

He pushes his lips closed tightly, making a hard smile, and I hear him take a deep breath through his nose. “It’s okay. Most of those students are regulars, and they’d call me over if they really needed something,” he says, glancing back at his watch.