Blindness

I feel like I’m winning, his tension waning in his arm, and I let go, hoping he’ll come back to bed with me and hold me. But the second I leave him, he’s gone. The door slams shut, and the only sound left is the whirling of the heater in his small apartment.

I collapse back on the bed and pull the blankets up into a ball around me, my fists ripping at them. I bury my face in the pillow and scream. I can’t stand the feel of this ring, and I pull it from my finger and throw it hard against the wall and listen as it clanks along the floor.

I know I won’t sleep tonight, so I don’t even try. Instead, I close my eyes and visualize the stars.

The ones in Cody’s bedroom.

Chapter 10: Hear Me

The sun doesn’t come for hours, and the minutes tick by slowly. Trevor’s building is quiet, and every noise has me convinced, believing it’s him—that he’s come home. But it isn’t him—it’s never him.

I shower. I dress. I sit at the edge of the bed, staring into my packed suitcase. I’ll wait to zip it up. My flight doesn’t leave for six hours, but sitting here in Trevor’s empty apartment, alone, feels like a cruel type of isolation.

God, why did I have to bring up his father? And why didn’t he believe me? And why did I say yes?

It’s that last question that’s eating at me most. Here I am, looking at the ring still sitting in the middle of the floor, in the very spot I threw it last night. That ring, that FUCKING ring! Only a few short months ago, I wanted nothing more than to slip Trevor’s ring on my finger. But now it felt like a shackle. And as much as I don’t want to say it’s Cody, so much of it is.

I can’t take it any more. I pick up the ring and slide it into my pocket, zip up my bag, and leave the note on the center of the bed.

Went home.

That’s all I could think to write, and even that felt empty. Home—ha! I don’t even truly have one; the Appleton’s house has never felt like home.

I hail a cab and am off to the airport minutes after locking Trevor’s apartment behind me. I couldn’t even go back if I wanted to now—forcing myself to leave. The trip to the airport goes fast, and the desk girl is accommodating with my situation. Of course, I lie and tell her I need to go home on an earlier flight due to a death in the family.

My fingernails are almost down to the sensitive part of the skin, yet I bite them more. I keep looking down the walkway to all the gates, half expecting Trevor to come running up, to try to stop me. I wonder if he’s even made it home yet? He’s not expecting me to leave for a few more hours, but I’m curious just how far he’ll push things.

They call my flight to board, and I feel the strangest sensation wash over me—it’s not panic, but rather exactly the opposite. It’s more than calm. It’s decision. And I feel a sense of pride that I stood up—for once in my life—and did something.

Wanting to get home quickly, I take a seat at the front of the plane so I can exit first. The little girl next to me is flying alone, and she looks nervous about it.

“Hey, I’m Charlie. What’s your name?” I ask. She looks up from her backpack, which she is clutching to her chest. She reaches her hand out hesitantly to grab mine.

“I’m Sophie. Nice to meet you,” she says, her words quiet and the most rehearsed form of polite. She must be going through finishing school. I look down and notice her shiny buckle shoes, which she’s kicking back-and-forth with nerves.

“So, Sophie. Is this your first time on an airplane?” I ask, trying to get her mind off of all the preparation happening around her. The attendant comes by to check on her and nods at me with a smile, thankful that I’ve taken this one on, I think. Sophie finally nods yes to me and gives her bag a tighter squeeze.

“Okay, well, I have good news for you. I’ve been on, like, a hundred flights,” I say. Truth be told, I’ve been on maybe a dozen flights, but in Sophie’s world, that might as well be a thousand. “That’s why I get to sit next to you. I get to be your buddy, just for the flight. How does that sound?”

Sophie nods with a faint smile, and I can see her grip loosen on her bag, just a little. I nod at it and ask her what’s inside. She zips it open a little and pulls out a panda bear and a big coloring book with a box of crayons. I pull them into my lap quickly.

“This is perfect,” I say, trying to stave off the worry I see in her face that I’m going to take her bear away. “Let’s keep these out and tuck your bag right here, under this seat.”

Sophie lets me store her bag and reaches for her bear. I help her make a pretend buckle out of the extra strap leftover from her own, and we tuck her book and crayons in the seat flap in front of us.