He Called Himself Blind and Kept Me Poor, So I Let Him Watch Me Leave novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: April

Floyd is at the apartment before her and admits the date his sight came back; Brinley packs, and a text from Kelsey makes him go still.

Hank got to me first.

He came out of the hotel in his shirtsleeves and held the passenger door of his old Buick open before I could say a word.

"Get in, Brinley. I'll take you home."

Floyd stopped three steps behind him on the sidewalk, breathing hard.

"Hank, I just need ten minutes with her."

"You can have ten minutes at your own door," Hank said. "I'll be parked outside."

He said it in the same voice he used to tell me which claims form was the right one.

I got in the car.

Nobody talked on the drive, and Floyd followed in a cab.

He was inside the apartment before I was, because I had left my key on a tablecloth and he had to let me in.

The overhead light was on.

Floyd never turned that light on.

For three years he had walked through our kitchen in the dark, and I had thought it was because dark and light were the same to him.

He stood by the stove with both hands open at his sides, and he looked at me.

He looked at all of me, my hair, my mouth, my bare cold hands.

It was a long look, and he did not pretend any more.

"You can see," I said.

"Yes."

"How long?"

"April."

I counted without wanting to.

April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November.

"That's eight months," I said.

"Brin."

"I held your arm over every curb for eight months. I cut your chicken. I read you your mail."

"I know."

"I ate crackers for lunch so we could keep the heat on."

His face changed at that, and for a second I thought he was going to cry.

I did not care.

"There were two surgeries," he said. "February and April. Your plan covered them. That's why I asked you to stay at your job. I couldn't let you lose the insurance before they were done."

"I didn't know there were any surgeries."

"I know you didn't."

"You let me think you were going to a rehab group on Tuesdays."

"Yes."

I laughed, and it came out wrong.

"Three years ago you cried at that table and told me you'd provide for us. Do you know what I've been providing? Everything. Rent, food, the electric, your copays. I've put thirty-one thousand dollars into this apartment."

"I know the number."

"You know the number?"

"I kept track."

"Then you know what you owe me."

"Every cent," he said. "I swear it."

"Why didn't you tell me when you could see?"

He did not answer right away.

"Because I thought you wouldn't stay," he said.

I stared at him.

"Why would you think that?"

He looked at the floor.

"I just did."

That was all I got, and I should have pushed.

I went into the bedroom instead and pulled my duffel from the closet.

I packed work clothes, my good boots, my mother's recipe box and the charger from the nightstand.

He stood in the doorway and watched me, and every time I turned, his eyes were already on my face.

I had not known how much it would hurt to be looked at.

On my way back through the kitchen I opened the drawer by the fridge.

The Lowell Savings envelope lay on top, with my name nowhere on it and his handwriting on the flap.

I reached for it.

His hand came down over mine, and it was warm and careful.

"Not that," he said. "Not yet."

"Not yet?"

"It's not what you think. I'll show you. I need you to give me a little time."

"You've had eight months."

"I know."

I pulled my hand out from under his and left the envelope where it was.

I had a duffel bag and eleven dollars, and a man who could watch me go.

My phone buzzed against my hip.

I looked at the screen.

It was Kelsey.

I'm outside. Are you okay? I got your coat. Let me in, babe.

Floyd had read it upside down off my screen before I had finished reading it myself.

All the color left his face.

"Don't open the door," he said. "Not until I've told you something first."

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