Blindness(88)

“I saw him,” I say, my voice flat and lifeless. I know in that instant Mac is gone—he’s left me. I can tell, because my fire is gone, too.

“Charlie, we need to know what you saw. I know it’s hard, and now’s not the time…” Brian starts, but I turn to him, letting the tears drip endlessly down my chin.

“He’s gone. Mac’s gone. He shot him…in the head, Brian. But I saw it…” I swallow hard, and I start to hyperventilate, so I lean forward, holding my hands on my knees. “I saw the entire thing. I saw his face,” I say, “and I’ll never forget it.”





Chapter 18: Welcome to Louisville





Trevor only bought two seats to Louisville, but Cody wasn’t going to let me be there alone, so he drove, all through the night and part of the morning. We got to Caroline’s late. I warned Trevor, but I don’t think anything could have done justice to the craziness he found inside her house—inside Mac’s old house.

The rows of boxes, newspapers, old letters, magazines, soda cartons—you name it, if it’s made of paper, Caroline’s saved it and turned it into a building block for the maze she now lives in. The smell is worse than when I left. She says she doesn’t have any cats, but I’ve seen at least two since we arrived late last night.

We slept in my old room, Trevor on a sleeping bag on the floor, and me in my small childhood bed. Though, I really didn’t sleep at all. Instead, I stared out my window, at the stars outside, and did my best to talk to Mac silently.

When Cody called me this morning, I told Trevor I was meeting him for breakfast, and he insisted he come as well. For the last hour, the three of us have been sitting in the same booth at the Sunday Diner, drinking refill after refill of coffee while I wait for my phone to ring.

Caroline isn’t coming out of the house today. She said the ozone report made her nervous. I don’t fight it any more; I know my aunt needs help, but I don’t know where to begin. I’m not sure I’ll even survive the next hour of things before me, so who am I to judge her and how she copes.

I can’t look at either of them—Trevor keeps bouncing his gaze nervously between Cody and me, and Cody refuses to look up from his cup of coffee. I can feel him only a few feet away from me, and it’s almost like we’re touching. I want to reach out and hold his hand, but he’s purposely sitting as far away from me in the booth as he can—out of respect for Trevor.

The table shakes with the nervous bouncing of Trevor’s knee, and I question quietly the fifth cup of coffee he pours. When he downs it, he smacks his cup down loudly on the table and starts to slide from his seat.

“Fuck this, man,” Trevor says, like a volcano erupting. I wince, embarrassed from the looks we’ve gotten from his little outburst.

“Trevor,” I whisper to him, hoping he’ll find his decorum.

“Sorry, Charlotte…or, I’m sorry, is it Charlie now? Or is that just for him?” Trevor says, bite to his tone.

I look into his eyes, trying to let my regret show. Not that I would change my mind, but I just wish I could have settled all of this sooner, confessed how I felt, been upfront before anything happened with Cody.

“Just…just don’t, okay?” he says, flipping open his wallet to pull out a couple bucks to throw on the table.

My phone buzzes, and I jump in my seat.

“Hello?” I ask, recognizing the 502 area code, but somehow frightened of it.

“Hey, Charlie,” Brian says, his voice heavy, older, and tired. “We’re ready for you, if you can come in?”

I tap my spoon on the table in front of my cup, biting my tongue. I have to do this, but I don’t want to. I’m scared—no matter how irrational I know it is. I’m frightened that the suspect, this man, is going to be the man. I’m also afraid he’s not.

“Charlie?” Brian says, and I can tell he’s worried. He’s afraid I’m going to chicken out.

“Yeah, I’m here. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I say, hanging up on him without a goodbye. I’m short with him, and I feel awful about it, but talking to Brian hurts. I’ve talked to him every six months for the last three years, always rehashing my story, what I saw, anything new I remember. I know he’s just doing his job. I know he’s more dedicated to finding Mac’s killer than most—Brian and Mac were best friends, and partners. But talking to him makes everything inside hurt, and I guess I’m just growing tired of hurting, and then fighting to bury it back down.

Trevor hasn’t left, and I know it’s because he heard Brian call. I’m glad he’s still here. He knows the law, and he understands everything I’m about to do, go through, say and see—and there’s something comforting in that. But what I want more than anything, right now, is to crawl up in Cody’s lap and hide, hide for hours.

“It’s time,” I say, sliding out and walking up front to pay our bill.

“I’ll drive,” Cody says, his fingers grazing my shoulder and arms as he walks by, and for just a few seconds I forget it all and feel good.

The parking lot is full of weeds and cracks—it’s not the best part of town. But it’s the place Mac and I ate, so I wanted to come here. It seemed fitting before I went in to send his killer behind bars for what I hoped would be forever.