Blindness(69)

His smile is soft, and his eyes seem bluer than normal against the darkness of his clothes. He pushes his sleeves up slightly, a nervous habit of his that I’ve come to learn. It shows off his tattoos when he does, and he looks like some snowboarding Olympian about to introduce the next award at the Grammy’s.

We’re both locked on one another, and I’m frozen halfway down the steps, wanting desperately to run to him—to have him make this aching I feel better. I dressed for him today, wearing the same leggings and sweater with my boots that I did the night we kissed. I’m making a statement with my outfit—I’m begging him to remember that night, to want me the same way I want him.

I almost think I have him, too, but then Kyla comes into view—and she’s f*cking gorgeous. Her hair is jet black, and it’s silky smooth down to the waist of her skirt. Her curves are accentuated by the pencil-thin, long, black skirt she’s wearing, with spiked boots and a lacy top that you can see her bra through—completely. She looks like she belongs with Cody, and I know in that moment that I don’t have a shot in hell.

She follows Cody’s eyes to mine and takes me in. I watch her eye me, starting at my feet and working her way up, and then she smiles, her teeth bright-white against the cherry of her lips. I don’t even realize I’m moving when I only have a few steps left between us, and she’s reaching out her hand.

“Hi, you must be Charlie?” she says. I hate her for saying my name, and I hate that Cody’s given her any sense of permission to use it—I hate that he’s talked about me to her at all. God, I hope he wasn’t with her when he read my text.

“It’s Charlotte, actually,” I say, flashing a look in his direction. He curls the side of his mouth with a short, “Sorry,” but then continues into the living room to shake Trevor’s hand and to talk with Jim. I try not to blame Cody, because I know how important today is, how important this very moment is. He’s been practicing this speech with Trevor for days, and I know he’s ready.

So I indulge in my new acquaintance, doing my best to listen to her every word. “I’ve heard so much about you. Cody says he helps you with calculus?” she says, like I’m some sad, pathetic student—a child—who Cody’s been gracious enough to volunteer his time to help.

I fight against my instinct to push back and tell her I’ve heard about her and what she did to Cody. Instead, I smile and wait patiently for Gabe and Jessie to join the conversation.

“Yes, well…I’m not the best at math,” I say, deciding humility makes me a better person.

“Oh, me neither. I didn’t go to school. I dropped out at 16, actually. That’s when I got signed,” she says, reaching into her purse to pull out a piece of gum, which she starts snapping almost the second it’s stuffed into her mouth. I’m wincing at the obnoxious sound, but am quickly distracted by Jessie.

“Yeah, she’s a model,” she says, making air quotes around the word and causing Gabe to laugh. Kyla shoves him playfully, and that earns her a death glare from Jessie, who’s quick to work her way in between her man and the supermodel-dropout.

“You’re just jealous,” Kyla says, her eyes tight and cruel. When she lands back on me, she relaxes them and puts her smile back in place. “I am a model. I’ve shot a lot this year, actually, for Hurley and DC.”

Of course she’s a model. And of course she’s successful. I watch Shelly walk by with two bottles of wine toward the kitchen, and I follow her, suddenly thirsty.

“Wine anyone?” I ask, playing hostess.

“Ohhhhhh yeah,” Jessie says, hugging me from behind and following me into the kitchen. She whispers in my ear along the way. “She’s a viper. Just don’t let her get to you. It’s all a game.”

I pat her hands and free myself once in the kitchen. Shelly is oddly on her game today, flitting about while the catering crew readies every detail. She’s polished, wearing something designer and fit for a CEO or the spokeswoman for some grand charity. I know now, from the little bit Cody has said, that the image is what Shelly’s always wanted to become. But her reality is depressed—a failure. She still pretends on days like today.

I notice that she and Cody hardly speak. They’re cordial, almost like a business acquaintance you run into at a cocktail party. Even before Mac and I found our groove, you always knew we were father and daughter. And on holidays, there was always a sense of warmth between us. But the air between Shelly and Cody is cold, ice cold. And I’m starting to think there is nothing that will ever be able to warm it.

I pour a glass of wine for each of us, and then add a couple more for Trevor, Cody, and Jim. I take them to everyone, careful not to interrupt the good conversation that seems to be flowing. I recognize the books out on the table, and Jim seems honestly engaged in what Cody’s saying. I know Trevor’s given him a lot of the talking points, but he’s really selling it.

When the doorbell rings, Trevor gets up to answer, leaving Jim and Cody alone, and I join him to give them privacy.

The Sumners enter, and suddenly this lifeless house that I’ve been trapped in for months feels full of family. Cody and Jim join us in the kitchen a few minutes later, and Cody looks pleased. I try to get his attention, but Kyla quickly takes him for herself, stuffing some hors d’oeuvre in his face. I giggle to myself when I catch him spit it out into a napkin when she’s not looking.