Blindness(82)

“Browns game, in the suite. You in?” Trevor says, reaching out a hand for a shake. I sneak a glance at Cody, and his eyes are on me, his face hard and cold. He looks back at Trevor and curls his mouth into a grin and shakes his hand.

“Sounds good, count me in,” he says, looking back at me again, his smile not happy, but full of pain and anger. I want to stop the charade, to pause time and think of a way out of this. But everyone keeps on moving around me, and the only person left paying attention to me at the end is Trevor. When he grabs my hand and kisses it, right over his ring, I feel dead, and I think this might be how I feel for the rest of my life.





I spent the rest of Saturday hiding in my room, drawing at my miserable desk. Even my drawings were sad—I tried new houses, but they all felt lifeless, like no place anyone would ever want to live. Trevor was busy working, using his dad’s office to review a contract file. His dad left early in the day for Chicago—the irony of him running off to be with his secret family felt like lead in my stomach.

I heard the rumble of Cody’s truck outside more than once, and each time I ran to the window, hoping he’d see me and somehow understand. But he always turned the other way.

When I heard Trevor coming up the stairs in the early evening, I rushed to the bed and turned out the lights, pretending to have been asleep for hours. I felt him rub my arm, trying to wake me, to excite me—but I kept up my act, rolling tighter into my blanket. He kissed my head and called me angel when he finally gave in, and he left his arm around me for the night. I let the tears fall without movement, choking on them in my fight to stay still. I was trapped—in every possible way—and my captor wasn’t bad. In fact, he was a decent man…a great man. But he wasn’t the one I wanted.

But that didn’t matter.





I can smell the coffee downstairs, and I hear everyone gathering. Trevor is one of those fanatic type of Browns fan, the kind that have jerseys, and team flags, and team coolers for their beer, and I knew he’d want to get to the game early for tailgating. Somehow, I was going to drag this day out, spread my torture slowly over thousands of minutes.

By the time I get to the kitchen, everyone is packed and ready to go. Cody is leaning against the counter, next to Jessie, and he’s looking purposely away from me. Trevor pulls me to him and holds out a coat—one of his puffy Cleveland ones. It’s supposed to be forty degrees today, so I stuff my arms inside, pulling it over my thick sweater, undershirt, and jeans. My feet are double socked into my Uggs—I figure if I’m going to burn on the inside all day, I might as well be warm on the outside as well.

Cody rides with Gabe and Jessie, ignoring Trevor when he asks if he’d like to come with us. I tell Trevor I don’t think he heard him, but I know he did. I also know he’s been drinking. I can smell him from several feet away, and he smells exactly like the flask I saw him slip into the inside pocket of his leather jacket.

Trevor puts sports radio on in the car—countdown to the game. He’s explaining things to me during the drive, talking about key players being out this week for the Vikings and quarterback match-ups. Normally, I’m smiling and nodding because I don’t really understand a word of it, but today I’m plastering on my false enthusiasm because I’m not even listening. I’m lost in my head, worried about Cody and what I’ve done to him—worried about what he’ll do or what he’ll say, especially now that I’ve smelled him.

I’m thinking about Jessie, too. I finally made a friend, a real one, and I’m pretty sure I’ve lost her by the look on her face last night and this morning. The drive isn’t long enough into the city, and we’re pulling into VIP parking two hours before kick-off. I want to throw up from my anxiety, but I guess this is my punishment—this is what I get for breaking Cody’s heart.

The irony—less than 48 hours ago he told me his punishment was that he gets to love me, but can’t have me, and now here I am exactly where he thought he was.

“Whhhoooooooaaaaa!” Trevor yells out the window as we pull up next to the Sumners’ car. Kevin is grilling some food along with another man I’ve never met. While I usually stress out having to get to know new people, I’m thankful for this stranger today—I plan on spending the next two hours getting to know him.

“Charlotte, what can I cook for you?” Kevin hollers over a booming radio parked a few trucks away.

“Hot dog’s fine,” I say, forcing a smile and finding myself a seat atop one of the coolers.

“Whatcha drinkin’,” asks Kevin’s friend.

“Oh, uh…Coke, I guess?” I’m not really feeling beer today. He tosses me a freezing cold can and comes over to introduce himself.

“I’m Rob, I went to school with Kevin. We go way back, all the way to grade school,” he says, reaching out his hand for a shake. I meet him in the middle, and we do the typical business introductions.

“Charlotte, nice to meet you. You’ll have to tell me some embarrassing stories about Kevin,” I wink, also planting a seed for a good 30 minutes of stories, hoping he’ll monopolize my time.

“Oh, I’ve got stories,” he says, immediately looking at Kevin and laughing. Just as I hoped, Rob launches into a fraternity story from college, something about a prank, and dyeing someone’s hair pink.