Free Blindness by Ginger Scott

is?” I ask, confused at how Cody could
ride. I watched him struggle just to climb a set of stairs a day or
two ago.
    “Yeah, he still does tricks and stuff for
fun. He modified a bike at the shop, moved the clutch, put all the
gears and power on his strong side. He hooks his leg in when he
rides. He can’t do it long, though. Riding really makes him hurt,”
he says, looking down at the page I still have open.
    “How’d it happen?” I ask, boldly. I hear
Gabe’s breath stop, and I know the memory is hard.
    “Same trick, but it was a week later,” he
says, looking down at his hands, slowly balling them into fists,
and then relaxing them again. “Jake had just died, and Cody was a
fuckin’ wreck. He didn’t even make the turn, the bike just flew
from his hands and came crashing down next to him. But the wheels
spun and the metal got all tangled up with his leg,” I can tell
Gabe’s having a hard time sharing, so I put my hand on his knee and
pat it to let him know I understand. He places
his
hand on mine and squeezes. It’s strange how close I feel to him,
but I do.
    “He lost everything after that—his dad, his
girlfriend, and almost the shop. I think that’s why he’s fighting
so hard to keep it open—it’s like the only thing he has left…you
know, from before?”
    I smile and lean my head to the side before
turning back to the magazines and posters, flipping through a few
more before pulling them all together and putting them back in the
box. I slide it back over to Gabe and suddenly find myself standing
in front of him, reaching out for him to give him a hug. He
chuckles once and stands up to embrace me, wrapping me in his giant
arms, his body smelling of oil and gasoline—it makes me feel home,
more at home than I’ve felt in years.
    “He’s not totally broken, you know?” Gabe
says as we back away from each other. “He’s not the punk he was
when he was 17 and had the accident. He’s strong. Pulled me out of
some dark times—drugs and shit. He’s a good friend. Best one I’ve
got.”
    I nod and smile softly, and then reach into
my pocket to pull out the marker and the twenty, which feels
entirely different than it did when I first stormed over here,
ready to lay into Cody. “You mind if I leave him a note?” I ask,
when I realize Gabe’s staring at me with his brow pinched and a
crooked smile.
    “Yeah, sure. Whatever you gotta do,” he says,
shaking his head and laughing. He picks up the box and lugs it back
to a corner in the garage, and then reaches down for his dirty
shirt to grab it from the pile on the floor. “I’m headin’ out. But,
Charlie?”
    I wince a little, but let it go, realizing
Cody must call me Charlie. And somehow that seems okay. “Yeah?” I
ask, looking up.
    Gabe takes in another deep breath, and then
kicks his feet before nodding and coming back to me, his lips a
hard line working against him. “It’s nothing. Just…just keep an
open mind, okay?”
    I can tell he wanted to say more, but I let
it go. I’m not so sure I’m ready to hear more. I smile and cross my
heart. Gabe nods and heads down the driveway to a motorcycle parked
at the end. When I hear him pull away, I lean over the hood of the
car and pull the cap from my pen. I smile to myself when it comes
to me.
     
    “ Good for one cup of freshly brewed
coffee. Offer good for 8 a.m. sharp only.”
     
    I write my note along the bottom trim of the
bill. Tucking it under the windshield wiper of the Chevelle, I bite
my lower lip, and squeeze my eyes shut, not sure if I’m ready for
what I seem to be starting. I stare at it for a few minutes before
I finally resolve to see this thing through. I leave the garage and
make my way back into the giant house I live in with my
boyfriend—the one I don’t want to sleep next to tonight.

 
    Chapter 5: Playing Fair

    Trevor left to meet a friend for breakfast at
seven, and said he wouldn’t be home for a few hours. I knew about
this—it’s why I wrote 8