Chloë graciously and warmly invited them to come sit, and made room for the four of them to sit together, until they were more comfortable to mingle. Chloë was a good people wrangler; she always managed to put people at their ease.

“What do you want to drink? Xav? Beer? Rum and Coke? Wine? Vodka and cranberry? Spiced eggnog? Fiánne? What do you guys want?”

They placed their orders with Chloë, and settled down. Amber told Mattie about the naked tree at the far side of the room. Fiánne, sitting in a small, comfortable chair near Mattie’s left, was quiet, peering around the room with large eyes.

Chloë brought their drinks in two trips, and then sat down beside them, making them feel welcome and included. She told them that Peter and Andrew were going to get the lights on the tree soon, and that it should be entertaining for everyone, including Mattie.

Fiánne knew she drank her first drink too quickly. She didn’t know what else to do with herself. Amber leaned forward, keeping Fiánne included in the conversations going on.

Mattie made a mathematical calculation that was in observance to Fiánne’s quiet in relation to the number of people in her radius. It seemed that Fiánne spoke freely in the company of one person. With two people in her presence, it took more persuasion to get her to speak, but if she felt compelled, she spoke with her own passion. No half-thought out comments, nothing random, until she knew what she wanted to say, and needed to say it. Once there were three people, her voice became less and less frequent, and Mattie lost her altogether when there was a group.

The tree was decorated in time. Amber had joined in with putting ornaments on branches. Peter let everyone know that Amber was actually a professional tree decorator, and that she had years of experience behind her. Amber was enjoying looking at Chloë’s ornaments, it was a change of festive scenery for her. She drew in Fiánne, getting her to help, keeping her closer so the young woman wouldn’t bolt somewhere.

Mattie joined Peter outside on the deck for a puff. Peter informed him that one of Chloë’s friends had been looking at Mattie for the last little while across the room.

“Yeah,” Mattie said. “Curiosity in action.”

“Maybe she thinks you’re cute.” Peter handed Mattie the joint.

Mattie snorted in derision. He was much more accustomed to the staring because they were curious or fascinated by how he functioned. He didn’t like it, mostly, but it was what he was used to.

When Mattie came back inside, he had lost Fiánne’s location. He wasn’t sure if they were still decorating the tree. He could hear Amber and Chloë, and he assumed Fiánne was there with them, but he could not be sure. He followed Peter to the kitchen for another beer.

“Amber’s friend seems like a nice girl,” Peter said. “I’m glad Amber brought her. She’s pretty quiet, though.”

“Yeah,” Mattie said. “She’s a shy one.”

Peter looked at Mattie, waiting to see if Mattie said anything else about her, but Mattie just opened his beer and took a drink.

Pete shrugged, tapping Mattie as he passed him, and Mattie followed. Chloë, on her way to the kitchen, winked at her husband, and squeezed Mattie’s arm.

“Having a good time, Xav?”

“Yes, I am, thanks, Clo. Everyone behaving themselves?”

“So far, so far,” she said back to him.

Mattie stopped in the living room, getting his bearings. People had moved around, he couldn’t be sure where an empty chair might be. He remembered to smile, but not too much. He wasn’t sure who was looking at him at any given moment.

It started to feel to Mattie like the minutes were growing, but Amber, seeing him there, not moving, appeared at his side.

“Hey, Bro. Did I miss something?”

“You did. You need to pay more attention to Peter when he makes the move.”

“Right. Next time. Where ya headed?”

Mattie was grateful to Amber to give him his own dignity and his own choices, without making it seem like she was looking after him, which they both knew she was.

“I don’t know. Is there a chair?”

“The chair you were in is empty. People left it for you, I think.”

Mattie scowled. “How gracious of them,” he said.

“Hey, don’t knock a free chair, Dude. Pick your battles.”

Amber sat beside Mattie again, watching Riley in conversation with Andrew. She was happy that her boyfriend was having a good time with her friends, and her friends’ friends. He seemed to get along well with everyone, and Amber never felt worried that he wasn’t enjoying himself.

Turning her attention to Fiánne, she watched the girl looking through a Victorian Christmas book. Strangely enough, her expression looked far more comfortable and peaceful as she studied the pages than it had earlier. She must have felt Amber watching her, and she looked up, smiling with slight embarrassment. Amber smiled back. It wasn’t anything knew to her, the idea of being at a party, and ending up engrossed in a book. She’d done it herself. She knew her brother had done it everywhere he’d gone, if he had a chance. That was what coffee table books were for, he’d always stated with a frown. Why else would anyone spend so much money on a beautiful book, if not for reading it?

Amber knew that Fiánne was content with her book, and Riley was content with his conversation about reforestation. She patted Mattie on the knee and told him she was grabbing him a tray of sweets. He nodded, settling back with his beer.

He listened to the snippets of conversation going on in the room. He could hear some of the women out in the kitchen. He heard Peter razzing his friend from work, and he smiled. He was glad he wasn’t the only one who got it from the Newfoundlander.

Amber returned with a paper plate of treats for Mattie, and she headed back to the kitchen to help Chloë with some tidying and getting sweet trays ready.

Someone sat down close to Mattie. “Hi,” said a voice. “Enjoying the party?”

Mattie raised his eyebrows, politely answering that he was.

“I’m a friend of Chloe’s,” the voice said. “My name is Katherine, sorry, I should have said.”

“Ah, Hi. Matthew.” Mattie wiped his fingers on the paper napkin on his knee and reached out his hand.

She shook it. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard all about you.”

“I hope you haven’t heard all about me,” Mattie said. “Do you work with Clo?”

“Yes, I do, actually.”

“We love Clo,” said Mattie. “She’s a wonderful woman.”

“She is. She tells us she goes skiing with you, that’s amazing,” said Katherine.

“What, that she can ski?” Mattie asked flippantly.

He heard Katherine laugh. “No, you know what I meant. I can’t imagine being sent down a hill with a blindfold on.”

“Well, it is a bit more involved than that. It’s not like I was chucked down a hill the same day I lost my sight.”

“I suppose. Still.” She smiled again. “What else do you do?”

Mattie instantly felt like a monkey in a zoo. He instantly felt turned off from this person.

“I mostly just go to work, like everyone else,” Mattie said.

“Where do you work?” asked Katherine.

“At the university. I teach there.”

“You teach at the university?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s incredible.”

“I graduated early from school,” Mattie said. “If you think I’m too young.”

“No, I mean, how do you get around? That’s a big campus. Do you have an assistant to help?”

“I have an assistant, most professors do. But he doesn’t help me around or anything. I’m quite capable of that myself.”

“That’s amazing.”

Mattie was tired of being amazing and incredible. He tried his best not to frown. “I’m about to blow your misconceptions away, Katherine. Just listen.

“I live in my own house, on my own. I carpool to work with Peter, we’re going the same way, same place. I’d carpool with him if I was still driving. I have a job, and I get around it just fine. I have some special equipment in my office, assistive technology, but that’s it. I go to work, I teach students, they learn, I come home. Sometimes in the winter, we go skiing. Chloë is a great ski guide. In the summer, I swim and I go sailing in Pete’s boat. I read a lot and I do dorky nerd things on the computer. I’m really, really not amazing. Really.”

“Well, you’re definitely humble,” said Katherine. “I just can’t imagine skiing blind, that’s all. I’m sure you get used to it, though.”

“Sometimes,” Mattie said. He didn’t feel like elaborating. He didn’t feel like smiling for her anymore, either.

Someone moved close, to his immediate right. He turned his head, tilting it up in acknowledgement.

Fiánne, one eye always keeping track of Mattie’s whereabouts, had been watching the exchange between him and the brunette. She could tell by his expression that the conversation was not too enjoyable for him as it progressed. His smile was painted over his mouth, and while he had most of his expression hidden by his glasses, Fiánne could feel the tension in his shoulders and his chest. She stood up, putting the book aside.

“Hi, Matthew,” she said, letting him know she was there.

“Hey, Fiánne. How is it, are you having a good time?” Mattie wanted to cling to her for rescuing him.

Fiánne nodded, a smile on her lips as she told him once more how much she liked his and Amber’s friends.

“Oh, uh, Katherine? This is Fiánne. Fiánne, Katherine. Fee is a friend of Amber’s. And mine, too,” he added.

Her confidence boosted, Fiánne persisted. “Chloë was talking about next year, maybe booking a sleigh ride around Christmas. Wouldn’t that be cool?”

Mattie smiled, already feeling like he’d been rescued from the sea. “That sounds fantastic. Actually, we don’t even have to wait until next Christmas, we could book a day in January or February, or even March. We could all go. It would be fun.” He remembered Katherine, and though he didn’t want to be too friendly, he also didn’t want to be rude at a Christmas party. “Katherine, have you ever gone on a sleigh ride?”

“I think I went as a kid, but not since then. I don’t really like horses that much, they’re pretty smelly and dumb.”

Mattie heard Fiánne quietly whisper to herself, “They’re not.” It was as if she wanted to argue the notion but could not bring herself to be heard.

“I take it you don’t like the outdoors,” Mattie said, a grin on his face.

“I like the outdoors,” the other woman objected. “I go to the beach all the time.”

“Oh. Right. Well, the beach is outdoors, I guess.”

“It’s totally nature. There’s seagulls and wind and sun and vitamin D. I love going to the beach. You said you swim?”

“I swim. Do you swim, Fiánne?”

“Yes,” she said.

“I mean, I guess sun is good, too, but I like to do stuff outside, not just lay on the beach.”

“I guess you can’t really appreciate the sun,” said Katherine. “That didn’t come out right, I’m sorry. I just mean, like, it doesn’t cheer you up or brighten your day.”

“You’re kidding this time, right?” Mattie shook his head, laughing at her. “The sun is great, it’s warm, it warms the ground, it makes things grow. It’s good for the disposition whether you can see it’s light or not.” Mattie was starting to feel disgusted. He couldn’t imagine Chloë getting along with this one somehow. Maybe alcohol made her ignorant. It could do some awful things, so he gave her sober self the benefit of the doubt.

“But you can’t see it at all?”

Fiánne came to life with a start. “Matthew? I was wondering if you wanted to go outside and look at the stars with me.”

Mattie was surprised, relieved, grateful, and ridiculously intrigued by her. “I’d love to go look at the stars with you.”

“Um, Fiona? He can’t see. He’s blind.” She had lowered her voice, which really didn’t make a difference in this instance.

“It’s Fiánne,” Mattie corrected her. “She asked if I would go see them with her. So.” He stood up, unfolding his cane carefully. “Grab our coats,” he said, finding Fiánne’s elbow easily. “Let’s go.”

“Talk to you later?” Katherine asked hopefully.

“Sure,” said Mattie, diplomatic as he could be.

Fiánne was surprised at the turn of events. She hadn’t expected to have him reach out and find her arm so easily, so expectantly. She hadn’t even moved closer. He just seemed to know exactly where to reach out, and she hadn’t spoken a word to guide him to her.

They found their jackets and went out on the back deck, not needing to change their shoes to boots again. Once outside, Fiánne didn’t know what to say next.

“We don’t have to look at the stars,” she said. “You just looked really uncomfortable.”

“Thank you for rescuing me. That’s so humiliating, when people act like they’ve paid the admission fee to ask me stupid questions and get me to perform.” He took a breath, not wanting to burden her with the weights of his world. “And yes, I want to look at the stars. I used to love to look at the stars. Are they out?”

Mattie seemed to scan the sky with his raised eyes. Fiánne watched him imagine the stars sprinkled across the night’s darkness.

“They are. They are winter stars.”

Mattie smiled. He knew, just from those words, what she meant. They were bright, crisp, flickering in the cold.

“Do you know any constellations?” he asked her.

“I know maybe five for real. But I learned others from a book. It wasn’t easy to get to the stars in town.”

“I suppose not.”

“You have a much closer relationship with the night sky out here,” she mused. “I could probably figure out the other constellations, if I had my book with me.”

“Bring it, next time,” Mattie said before he knew he’d opened his mouth. “What are the five you know?”

“The Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, Cassiopeia’s Chair, Orion’s belt, and the Summer Triangle.”

Mattie grinned. “That’s a great start,” he told her. “You can definitely learn the others from those. Show me those ones. Well, obviously not the Summer Triangle, but the others should be visible.”

The Big Dipper was up overhead. Fiánne looked at it and looked at Mattie. She reached down and picked up his hand, cupping hers around his, holding his index finger straight. She lined his finger in her sightline to the stars above them, and pointed to each star, drawing the lines of the dipper. The image, the line drawing, travelled up his arm into his mind and into his visual cortex, and it formed in his imagination. She looked at the serene smile on his face and moved to show him the Little Dipper. She showed him each constellation she knew that way, and she could tell that the smile on his face wasn’t just a polite one when she’d finished.

He lowered his face as she brought his arm back down to his side. “Yes, you definitely must bring that book next time,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Did that... could you sort of imagine them?” she asked.

He nodded. “Oh yeah. I could totally see the stars with you, we should tell Katherine,” he said, grinning when he heard her breath of laughter. Just a little, but enough that he could tell. “I really could. Thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Are you cold? Do you want to go in?”

“Do you want to risk Katherine?” Fiánne asked.

Mattie sucked in air through his teeth. “Ooh, right, Katherine.” He smiled. “I guess I can handle her. This cooled off my exasperation.”

“That’s good,” said Fiánne, turning back towards the patio door. Mattie moved behind her, needing no guide. She hadn’t grabbed his arm, or said loudly that she was walking inside. She knew he could hear the crunch of her shoes on the mostly-shovelled snow on the decking. She saw he had his cane. She assumed correctly that he didn’t need her grabbing at him here. Somehow, she knew what he needed, and what he didn’t.

“I think you’re safe,” she said to him as he closed the patio door behind them. “She’s talking to Peter and Chloë.”

“Good,” Mattie said.

“Amber just waved at us. Wanna go over?”

Mattie agreed, and they returned back to Amber and Riley, who were just finishing a shared plate of squares and cookies and candies.

“Where’d you two go?” asked Amber casually.

“Outside to look at the stars,” Mattie replied. Amber eyed him and when that didn’t work, she turned her gaze to Fiánne.

“He needed an escape,” Fiánne stated.

“Yeah,” Mattie said. “I was being cripnotised.”

Amber burst out laughing. Riley, unused to Mattie’s puns and wordplay, wasn’t sure if this was a word that was used in the disabled community or if Mattie had just made it up.

“That Katherine one?” Amber whispered.

Mattie nodded.

“I heard she just had a divorce,” Amber said. “Maybe that explains her empty glass and her flattering flirtation.”

Fiánne, in her own way, was going through her own divorce. She was glad she wasn’t as intoxicated and as obviously coquettish as Katherine. She didn’t want to be annoying to Mattie. That was the last thing she wanted to do.

They headed home just after midnight, and as Riley dropped Mattie off at his house, Fiánne wished he was going back with them to Amber’s. She smiled at him, wanting to reach out and squeeze his hand instead. Her heart skipped when he leaned back in with a big grin on his face.

“See ya, Fee,” he said, raising his hand, bending his fingers up and down at her.

“See ya, Matthew,” she said back before her voice gave out into a squeak.

He closed the car door and Fiánne watched him make his way to his front steps as Riley backed up and turned the car around. She smiled to herself, not realising that she hadn’t done that in a long time.

Mattie’s Christmas Eve wasn’t quiet. Amber woke him up, panicking about at least five things at once. Once she and Riley had left for town, Peter stopped in for a minute. Mattie could tell Peter was really looking forward to the following day, and if he had felt more inclined to spitefulness, he would have teased his friend mercilessly. The fact was, Mattie was envious of Peter. He would be spending his Christmas with his wife, and they would be making memories together, to keep as tokens. Mattie was feeling his singleness more and more as Christmases passed. He was the tag-along now, everyone else was partnered-up.

After Peter left, telling Mattie he’d see him later at Amber’s, Mattie ambled to the kitchen. He glided his hand along the counter, locating the kettle easily. He felt such an ache from the battle going between his heart and his mind. Practically, it was an invitation for inevitable heartache. But emotionally, he wanted a partner. He wanted to come home to someone who cared that he came home. But he was stubborn, and he knew he was stubborn and he knew that Amber would say he was too stubborn to admit he was being stubborn.

It had hurt too much. He never let on to Amber how much it had pained his soul, his heart, whatever that place was that made his whole body want to retract inside a shell, that made his breath falter and his eyes well up with burning tears, when Karen walked away. To wake up, to return to life and consciousness, to learn he was weakened, blind, and left behind by the person he had made plans to live life with. There had been too much shock, too much grief, and each subsequent relationship after Karen, after the accident, had shattered each remaining broken piece of his heart. There was nothing left to offer. There was nothing left for him to believe it could be healed. Maybe, he surmised, the heart couldn’t be healed any more than his eyes.

Sitting at his desk in his study with a hot cup of tea, Mattie turned on his computer. He had some things to check before he was set to start writing. He was getting close to his first full draft of a novel set in early days of the European settlers to Canada. He had two novels on the go, the other was set in the nineteen-forties, as the war was ending. He’d done extensive research on both of them, before and after his accident. The accident had given the stories a new perspective, and it changed aspects of his characters and the storylines he had created.

He was working diligently, his Braille reader steadily click-clicking under his fingers. He would one day get a proper full-size Braille display for his computer, he promised himself. He had become spoiled by the one he had at the university. As a reader and a writer with a need for the internet, it was something that he could gladly spend some money on without guilt. He just wished that they weren’t quite so much money.

The line phone on his desk rang, and he picked it up, delighted to discover it was Lilla.

“Are you at home right now?” she asked.

“I sure am.”

“Goody. I’m taking my Christmas presents and cards around and I wanted to give you yours.”

“I’m here. Ready and waiting. I think Santa may have left something here for you, too,” he told her.

Lilla arrived in twenty minutes, her mother patiently waiting in the car for her daughter to play Santa to all her friends. Matthew was an important part of Lilla’s life. There wasn’t a day that Lynne Roberts did not look at her daughter and gratefully bless Mattie MacTavish for saving her little life.

Lilla held out her gift to Mattie.

“Did you make it?” Mattie asked, feeling the box in his hand.

“Yes.”

“Ah, good, I was hoping you would say that.”

“Really? It’s not as nice as stuff in stores.”

“You’re kidding me? Your homemade stuff is a billion times nicer.” He opened the box, which Lilla explained was red, so she didn’t need to wrap it for him and make it too hard.

Mattie’s fingers explored the inside of the box. He was gentle as he touched the gift inside. Lilla helped him take it out, and he held it in the palm of his hand, his other hand tracing its shape.

He could tell immediately that it was a bird on a nest. He felt the tiny twigs formed into the nest, and the oblong shape with the little round head and a tiny pointed beak. She had used a Styrofoam form of a bird, and covered it in little feathers. Her mother, Lilla told him, had found a package of all kinds of feathers, little ones, bigger ones, soft brown and white ones, stiffer blue ones. This little bird, she said, was like a sparrow, that’s what she thought, anyway.

Mattie could tell she had put much time and effort into the little ornament. But then, she lifted the little bird from the nest and moved his hand to touch inside, and there, he felt four little eggs.

“Beads,” she whispered. “White beads. But they look very much like eggs.”

“They do,” he smiled. “They’re perfect eggs.”

“You can sit her in your Christmas tree. If you had one.”

“I have one I’m sharing, at Amber’s.”

“Oh, okay, you can put her there, okay?”

“I will take her over tonight and put her in the tree,” he said. “I absolutely love her. You make me the best ornaments ever.” He stepped to the bureau by the door and took from it a wrapped present with a big gold bow.

“This might be for you,” he said, grinning.

“It does say my name on it,” she said, peering at the gift.

“Does it? Well, then I guess it is.”

There was a card on top, and the little girl excitedly opened it first. Mattie had once again ordered a set of Braille embossed cards, since they had been a hit the year before, and Lilla was very pleased to have another one.

“What does it say?” she asked, and then answered herself as she read the printed text underneath.

“Will you show me more sometime?” she asked, rubbing her hand along the raised bumps.

“More Braille? Of course I will, Kiddo.”

He heard her tearing at the paper, and then a squeal of delight. “It’s a horse painting kit!” she gasped. “There are three horses to paint! And it has paints! And paintbrushes! And it has pictures to use! Oh, I want to make one an Appaloosa!”

Mattie was smiling. He had found this gift online, but he’d gone into a store in the city to buy it, knowing exactly what to ask for. He’d hoped it would fill all needs of a horse-loving girl who loved to do crafts, and it seemed to be doing just that.

“I love it, Mattie!” The little girl, putting the box on the floor for a moment, threw her arms around Mattie’s waist. He realised how tall she was getting every time he hugged her.

“Thank you so much,” she said. “Will you come visit us after Christmas?”

He nodded. “I will. And thank you so much. I could not be happier with your gift to me, it’s awesome.”

“Merry Christmas, Mattie,” the little girl said.

“Merry Christmas, Lilla. I hope Santa brings you everything you asked for, and more.”

When he closed the door, he picked the little nest back up from the bureau and touched it carefully. He was again amazed at the things she thought of that he could appreciate. She seemed to have an intuition about it.

Mattie spoke to his mother on the phone, and then he spoke to Christopher Garnet for a bit. He ended up taking a nap on his chesterfield in the late afternoon and waking up to the sound of his home phone ringing.

“You asleep?” Amber asked him. “I tried texting you.”

“Ugh,” Mattie said, rubbing the corners of his eyes. “I did fall asleep. Are you home now?”

“We’re back. You wanna come over? Any time is good. Barb and Tom are here already.”

Mattie felt the watch on his wrist. “I slept right through supper,” he groaned.

“Well, if you come over, I’ll feed you.”

“You have enough to do,” Mattie said.

“No, there’s no big to-do here. It’s just us hanging out. I can make you something.”

Mattie shook his head. “No, I’ll eat here,” he said. “I’ll be over in a while.”

He knew he’d woken up in a grumpy mood again. He was already resenting the party of couples, excitedly keeping their secrets from their partners until the next morning when their gifts would be unwrapped. He knew Fiánne would not be there this evening, and he wasn’t sure he could coax a smile onto his face long enough to fool anyone into thinking he was in the mood to celebrate.

He had a beer. He thought about making something to eat. He felt even crankier after the second beer. This was not going to fly at a Christmas Eve gathering. And he knew better. He reluctantly went to the fridge and read the labels on the containers he and Amber had made for the week. Sometimes she made extra and they made up meals so he could just stick them in the microwave when he got home. He put his Braille labels on them and put them in his fridge so he knew where they would be, for times such as these.

He let an audio book play on his iPhone as he waited for his supper, and when it was ready, he arranged everything on a plate along with a dinner roll, and sat at the kitchen table. He ate, listening to the book read aloud. He was glad that Braille had become fluent from his fingertips to his brain, because he much preferred reading in his own mind, than hearing someone else’s voice. It was okay now and again, to listen to a story read by another, especially if it was humorous, but, as he had with reading printed books, he much preferred reading on his own. However, one could not read Braille and eat supper at the same time, no matter how proficient one was at both.

He sighed when he scraped the plate clean, sitting back. He knew he’d feel a little better in a few moments, with some food in his belly. Thankfully, Amber did not send him any more texts asking where he was, because he knew they would only irritate him further.

He stood up, taking his dishes to the sink and rinsing them before leaving them for the morning. He headed to the living room, the side of his hand bumping the wall in intervals until he rounded the corner through the entry, keeping left, moving directly to the piano against the wall. He slid onto the bench and lifted the cover, pulling the sounding board out from the piano and tucking the cover behind.

He let his fingers just rest on the keys for a moment, wondering what they would play. He would love to attack and dazzle like Chopin. Instead, he found his fingers playing Mozart, slowly, carefully, no wrong notes to sour his mood, which lifted with each measure.

He was lucky, he thought to himself. He was lucky he still had two good hands. Many people lost limbs in car wrecks, or had spinal cord injuries that would have ended the use of limbs. He had hands to play this piano that his mother had left for him in this house, to use and play and enjoy as he was now. He had hands to read the books he loved, since he could no longer read them with his eyes. He had feet to take him to his brook, his pines, his log bridge. He had his memory, something he needed more than he ever had before in his sighted days. He knew that brain injuries often came with problems with memory and motor skills, and he had neither. He knew he needed to be grateful. Being blind had a whole set of problems, but they were only problems that had to do with seeing or not seeing. Everything else was in working order, and he was thoroughly glad about that. He acknowledged his fingers as they played, and his feet as they pressed the pedals. He remembered the chords to the piece he was playing and that in itself was amazing.

He often wondered to himself what his body had gone through upon impact of the car into his own. That was one memory that never came back, except in dreams, in parts, and he was never sure if any of them were how it had been in reality. He wondered what he had bounced off of, and how fast the airbag had deployed. The seatbelt and the airbag had obviously done their jobs, they were the reasons why he was still alive at all. He’d had nothing that could not be mended over time and hard work, except that one damaged place deep in his head. They had said that it was probable that Mattie had weakened blood vessels, just naturally, within the walls of his optic nerve channel, and nothing would ever had come of them without the blunt-force trauma to his head. He could have gone merrily along in a sighted world, not knowing how close he was to darkness the whole time.

It didn’t matter now. It was done and it was dark and that was all there was to that. It made him angry that other people didn’t even try to do things when they could see and move just fine. It made him angry that people were amazed he could walk around his university, but they didn’t get out of their car in a drive-through for their coffee. He couldn’t be amazed by that. There was nothing amazing in laziness. People needed to do things with whatever means they had, and stop waiting around. He wanted them to stop being amazed that he could enjoy a movie and that he could make tea or live on his own, and start being inspired to get off their asses and do something bigger. If he could climb a wall, they could all climb a wall. If he could ski down a slope, they could ski, or swim, or zip-line, or hike.

As he moved into Brahams, still lulling his nerves, he thought about how some people with disabilities did not want to be inspiring. He only agreed to a degree; he did not want the fact that he ate and watched television and went to work to be inspiring. But he wanted to inspire people to get up in the morning, and make the day their own. That day only happened once, so they needed to get cracking. He wanted to think that if there was a blind kid who knew he was zip-lining along the bay, maybe that kid would decide that he needed to get up there and try. He wanted people to be inspired to do things themselves, not just inspired to say something about how terrific it was that he was out doing things with his terrible disability.

He stopped, feeling his watch. He’d let his thoughts tumble on so long, he’d lost track of time. He realised he’d played the coda at least three times, and he closed the piano cover over the keys and stood up. He felt much more worked through, as if he’d given his thoughts a massage. He felt relaxed and much less disagreeable. He figured he was ready to go spend a few hours with his friends on Christmas Eve.

“You’re here!” Amber said, happily, licking cream cheese from her hand and hurrying over to take the case of beer from her brother so he could take off his coat. She held the little bag he had brought over with his Christmas cards in it.

“I’m here. Did I miss anything exciting?”

“Nope. Give it ten minutes, Barb may give birth.”

Mattie grinned. “She’s ready to go, is she?”

“Yup. Our little Barbie is as round as a whisky barrel,” Amber laughed.

Mattie pulled off his boots and pushed them back against the wall. “Are my red Chucks here by any chance?” he asked Amber.

“Yeah, they’re right there to your left along the wall, past the closet door. Yup, there you go, those are them.”

Mattie finished tying the laces and headed into the living room with Amber right behind him. A chorus of heys came back at him, and he picked out Riley’s voice, and Tom’s, Barb’s, and Chloë’s. He waved at the room, smiling, and Chloë swept in to squeeze his arm and say hello, simultaneously guiding him to an empty seat as she wished him a merry Christmas Eve. His friends had all become adept at helping him without making it obvious to the room, or even to Mattie sometimes.

“Can I get you anything, Xav?” Amber called out to him. “One of your beers?”

Mattie nodded, flicking his index finger toward her, knowing he was safe to have another one now.

Amber returned, pressing a cold beer bottle into Mattie’s hand.

“Hey, Barbie, show Mattie how big your bell-bell is.” Amber beckoned her friend over, who moved to them, carrying a plate with fruit bread on it, a butter tart in her other hand. She shoved the rest of the tart into her mouth and rubbed her fingers on a napkin before taking Mattie’s shoulders to give him a hug.

“Hey, Hun,” Barb said to him, sliding her hand over his and placing it over her abdomen. “See how big he is? Or she?”

Mattie could tell Barb was about to pop. Her belly was round he couldn’t stand up straight when he hugged her, needing to curve over her middle. He couldn’t help but grin, feeling giddy about his sister’s childhood friend being as pregnant as she was.

“How much longer? A couple of weeks?”

“Yup. I’m getting to the point that I cannot wait to get my body back online, my back aches, my feet ache, everything aches, but I’m also hoping I never have to get to the next step.”

“It’ll be fine. It’ll be worth it as soon as you have that little baby in your arms, and you won’t even think twice about it.”

Barb smiled at Mattie. “Thanks, Little Bro. So how have you been?” She sat down in the chair next to his as he returned to sitting, and they caught each other up on their lives. Tom soon joined them, and Mattie was glad that he’d convinced himself to come over. He wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking, not wanting to be with his friends. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t partnered up, because his friends didn’t care, they just wanted him around with them as he was. They made him happy, and he knew he was lucky to have them. Not just lucky, actually, he was gifted with the friends he had.

Now was as good a time as any to give out his cards, he figured. He asked Amber if she would go get the bag he’d brought over, and she grabbed it off the kitchen counter and returned it to him.

He reached inside, feeling the Braille names on the back flap of each envelope under his fingers, and he slid them out. He found Barb and Tom’s and handed it directly over to Barb on his left. Amber helped Mattie deliver the rest of his cards, and when he passed her one for Fiánne, she smiled, telling him he could give it to her the following night.

“I’ll just leave it here, you can give it to her when she arrives,” Mattie shrugged, pretending he didn’t really care. Though he knew he was now counting down the hours.

“Okay,” Amber said, and set it on the mantle.

Everyone loved their cards, as they had the year before. Mattie had sat with the cards in his hands, reading the descriptions and the inscriptions, and trying to decide which card to address to which person or couple. Lilla’s had been easy, he’d done hers first. The others had taken more time, but he felt quite happy with his choices. The cards were something Mattie felt proud of. No-one else gave out such deliberate and beautiful cards, such personal cards. He’d ordered them even earlier online this year, to make sure he would have them to give out on time.

Amber hugged her brother, kissing his cheek. “Thanks, Xav, it’s so beautiful.”

The others admired each other’s cards and Amber and Chloë refreshed the drinks and the fruit tray.

Mattie had the time to chat with everyone there, and he and Riley had a good long discussion about education, the future of news, the future of books, and the best kind of pizza. He caught up with Tom, with whom he hadn’t spoken for a month or two, and Tom was interested in the activities Mattie was up to at the gym. He asked Mattie about how he found his target and kept his balance when he was hitting the punching bag. He wanted to know Mattie’s take, and his questions never were insensitive. Mattie always felt proud to answer his questions, instead of humiliated by them, which happened with so many others he spoke with about the minutiae of his disability.

Everything was going quite enjoyably for Mattie, until he decided to go up to Amber’s bathroom. He was returning into the living room when he tripped over someone’s shoe or boot, and when he tried to save himself, he careened into the side table, knocking over some kind of decoration with bells on it, and a couple of glasses. He knew he’d hit his knee but barely thought about the bruise that would form there, as his pride was already bruised and getting more so by the second as he righted himself.

“No, I’m fine, I’m fine. I’m sorry, did I break anything?” Mattie shrugged Amber off, and Chloë set the table back in place and put the little Christmas tree decoration back on it.

“No worries, Hun,” Chloë told him, picking up the glasses. One had a piece out of it but it hadn’t shattered. “I’ll just take them to the kitchen. The little tree is fine.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Amber asked.

Mattie knew that the whole room was uncomfortable at the moment, and he needed away from it.

“I’m fine,” he said. “I’m just gonna get a drink of water.”

“I can get it—”

“I’ll get it,” Mattie snapped, and got to his feet. No-one was speaking, and he had to get out of there.

He put his hand out and connected with the frame of the wide opening to the living room, following it around into the hall. He headed straight to the kitchen, needing water or fresh air or something to get the ringing in his ears to stop.

He was gulping down a second glass of cold water when he heard Amber behind him.

“You okay, Xav?” She sounded softer than he’d expected.

He sighed. “Yeah, I’m okay.” The buzzing in his ears had faded as soon as Amber spoke. “I fucked up.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“No, someone left their shoes in the path. But I was the one who didn’t see them. Fuck, every time I start to think I’m just a normal guy, like everyone else, shit like this happens. Right in front of everybody. Right in front of your man. Bet he thinks your brother might actually be a burden after all. Shit, Amber.” The last words were low, and he bit his lip and shook his head.

“Anyone could fall, Matthew. Okay? Anyone. Thank goodness it was you and not Barbie, right?”

Mattie couldn’t help but nod at her logic.

“Nothing was broken. You weren’t broken. It happens. Shit happens. Everyone in there cares about you, they already know you’re blind, so it’s not like that is so shocking. They’re just upset you’re upset. You are okay, right? It looked like you hit that end table pretty hard.”

Mattie felt his knee already throbbing. He gathered Amber already knew by the look on his face that she was right.

“Can I take a look?” she asked, waiting for him to answer before moving toward him.

He sighed again and nodded, rolling up his pant leg.

“Yeah, that’s gonna bruise,” Amber said. “It already is, it’s red, but it’s sort of purply in the middle. It doesn’t look broken, or anything, and it’s not bleeding. Can you bend it?”

Mattie nodded again, bending it to prove to her it wasn’t broken. He knew it wasn’t that bad, but he was glad to have her verify it.

He was rolling his pant leg back down when he heard Peter’s voice.

“Hey, Skipper.”

“Pete, hey.”

“Doin’ okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’ll be... okay. I just needed a minute.”

“Yeah.”

“Are they all... are they having a good time again out there?”

“Sure, Xav. They all went back to their thing. They won’t even remember that. You’re pretty forgettable, Buddy. In fact, you could probably go out the back door and come in again, and they’d forget you had even been here. Just a sec, I’ll grab a bottle of wine you can carry in.”

Amber gave Peter a grateful look and he smiled back at her as Mattie laughed.

“You’re such an ass,” Amber said.

“You took t’words right out of his mouth,” Peter replied, poking Mattie in the shoulder. C’mon, Skipper, I’ll give you a game of What’ll Get Ya Kicked Out of a Christmas Eve Party, hey?”

“Is that any better than the one we played last time?”

“Was it Poke the Bear?”

Mattie nodded, smiling. “That’s the one,” he said.

“I think they pretty much both run on the same principle,” Peter mused.

“Aw, jeez,” Amber said, giving them both a nudge toward the living room.

“I think we’ve already started the game!” Peter said delightedly, and Mattie burst out laughing, breaking his own tension as he returned to the other room.

Seeing Mattie laughing, everyone relaxed, and it felt almost like it hadn’t happened at all, after a few minutes. Mattie knew they hadn’t forgotten, but Amber had often reminded him there were people out there; that he wasn’t in a complete spotlight. Everyone was preoccupied with their own problems. He knew that while blindness did put him in somewhat of a spotlight, he wasn’t so special to be the only one anyone ever thought about.

The party did continue, and Mattie finally decided to head home, not because he was still feeling humiliated, but because he was genuinely tired. He wished everyone a Merry Christmas, and he received more hugs than he’d ever had on Christmas Eve.

He had just sorted Amber’s gifts to take over in the morning and was heading for the stairs when he heard knocking on his back door.

“Hey, Xav?” Amber called.

Mattie stopped, turning. “Yeah? I’m here. Turn on a light.”

Amber switched on the kitchen light and Mattie padded down the hall towards her.

“Hey, whatchya doing here?” he asked, going to her, puzzled.

“Just coming over to wish you a Merry Christmas,” she said. “I didn’t really get to.”

He grinned. “You’ll see me tomorrow,” he said.

“I know. I’m just... feeling maudlin, I guess. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I just hated how quiet it got. I felt suddenly like I was...” He didn’t even know the right word, but freakshow seemed the closest to how he felt. Like they were all glad they weren’t like him. “I just didn’t know what else to do. A joke just wasn’t going to cut it there, you know.”

“They were worried about you.”

“Why does it always have to be about me being vulnerable? I’m always the one everyone worries about. And then something like that happens and it solidifies the fact.”

“It wasn’t about them pitying you, Xav. It was about how you handled it. How you handle everything. How you came back out and enjoyed the rest of the party. When you left, it wasn’t pity they felt for you. They were impressed. And proud to know you.”

“But I don’t want them to be impressed. I just want them to...”

“You can’t have it both ways, Xav. Come here. Look at me.” She took his face in her hands, forcing him to hear her words full on. “Because they are going to feel one way or the other. Because you are an exceptional man. You impress us all with how you handle yourself. That is regardless of disability or ability. You are an exceptional man.

“You were shot into that world of being an amazing human being, just like you’ve been shot into the world of disability. You didn’t invite either. But you can use both to your advantage. I know you don’t like pity, and you say you don’t like admiration, but what else is there? You either feel sorry for someone, or you feel inspired by or admire someone. You admire people, people inspire you. It doesn’t matter who it is, as long as it inspires someone to work a little harder. So stop being so hard on yourself. Cut yourself a little slack. You can’t be perfection, and you don’t want to be, Xav, because then people will really admire you and be impressed. Just be you. We all like you. Even me, and I had to listen you gargle the alphabet in my face every morning when we brushed our teeth.”

Mattie’s mouth turned up on one side.

“Amber?”

“Yeah?”

“Go home. Go home and wait for Santa with your Fair Riley, okay? I’m okay. Pete’s right, too, no-one will remember that, especially tomorrow.”

“Yes! Well, you’ll be over, right?”

“I’ll be over.”

“And Mum is coming, and, oh, Fiánne is coming, don’t forget.”

How could he forget that?

“It’s going to be a good day,” Amber predicted.

“Merry Christmas, Amber,” Mattie said, giving her a hug.

“Merry Christmas, Xav. I love you, Little Brother.”

“I love you, too, Sis.” He waved to her as he heard her boots retreating toward her house, and went back inside.

Tomorrow. Fiánne.

So Santa might come after all, Mattie surmised as he headed up the stairs.