Blindness

“Pretty amazing, huh?” Trevor says, reaching around me and pulling me into him. We both stand there and take it all in. It’s impossible to be in front of Lincoln’s legs, carved in white, and not feel it in your chest. “Come closer, you have to read it,” Trevor urges. I follow him at first, but stop when I hear my phone chirp with a message. I know it’s Caroline—she’s been texting a lot lately, on one of her highs. I’m just glad I’m hearing from her, so I’ve been answering them.

“Go ahead, I’ll catch up,” I say, waving my phone in front of me. Trevor knows the drill—he’s seen me communicate with my aunt like this numerous times, and I love that he understands how much easier it is.

I sit at one of the steps and squeeze my purse between my feet, pulling my phone into my lap to read.

Stopped by this morning for coffee. Realized you left… I totally forgot about your trip. Sorry I haven’t been around. And just…sorry.

Shit! I didn’t see this coming, but Cody’s text rips through me like a derailed freight train in a forest. I stare at his words for minutes, trying to understand the meaning. Why is he sorry? And why was he looking for me? Everything that I had neatly worked out in my head by the time I boarded the plane to come here came undone the second I checked my damn phone.

I stand up and curse myself for looking. Trevor is walking around a section of the building, taking in placards and reading through things on the guidebook he brought with us. He’s busy, and I’m thankful for these few seconds I have to process everything.

I’m not angry with Cody. We’ve both been avoiding each other. His avoidance made it easier for me to pretend we were both on the same page. But now seeing his text—knowing it’s lunchtime, on a Friday, and for no reason he came to look for me—has me a little confused.

I don’t know what to say to him, how to respond, so instead I tuck my phone neatly in my purse and catch up with Trevor. He’s quick to fill me in on some of the fun facts he’s uncovered about the monument. I force myself to listen, but my head isn’t here with him. No, my head’s in Ohio, wondering why Cody wants to come over for coffee.

As for my heart, it seems to be straddling a border; it’s trying to divide itself in half—one part logic and reason, the other part…I don’t know! Seconds ago, I was pretty sure my heart was here, but now I’m worried it’s in Ohio as well.

The sprinkles start to pick up. There’s a small bakery stand nearby with some umbrella seating. Trevor suggests we stop for a quick snack and some coffee. I laugh a little at his suggestion—coffee, just like Cody wanted—but not understanding the same irony I’m finding amusing, he just looks at me strangely.

The rain gets heavier the longer we sit. Eventually, we have to give up our sightseeing for the day and take a cab back home. My clothes are wet, and I’m shivering, so I lay claim on the hot shower the second we enter Trevor’s apartment. I’m nervous he’s going to offer to keep me company, but he’s distracted with a phone call from work.

I seem to be spending a lot of time in the shower lately—it clears my head, helps me think. Cody’s text is all I can think about. Or, more accurately, my response to his text is all I can think about. I make a mental list of pluses and minuses, remembering how right it felt when I got off the plane, how easy it was when I saw Trevor and fell into step with him here, in this city—this place where I have imagined myself with him ever since he mentioned his dreams.

On the other side, I have nothing but unknowns—risks. My experience with relationships is extremely limited. Before Trevor, there were a few kisses and bad dates—some dared party make-out sessions in high school, just to feel like I fit in. But the decision to be with Trevor—that always came easy. He fit everything on my wish list; he met all the criteria with his drive, his calmness, and his unwavering sense of responsibility. He was romantic and considerate, and he made me feel like I came from something. It was my little-girl fantasy all rolled up in a perfect, squeaky-clean package.

Cody. Cody is…

That was it—nothing but unknowns.

I know what he’s not—he’s not squeaky-clean. He’s not without tragedy or without trust issues, and he’s not going to leave Ohio. As much as I’m worried that’s where my heart is, I’m sure it’s where his is. Everything that grounds Cody is rolled up a few miles from the Appleton’s, in a garage in Willoughby. The things in life that make me want to run, seem to only make him want to stay and fight. And I’m not so sure I have that same fire in me.