Chapter 1
The doctors have some fancy term for it. They have some explanation about macular degeneration and they say you may be able to preserve your remaining vision for a while. What is all boils down to, though, is this:
Marci Stahl is going blind.
It’s not the end of the world. She’s still brilliant and gorgeous and powerful. It’ll just take some adapting, that’s all. She’ll learn to use a cane. She’ll learn how to read Braille. She’ll get her office to accept it all, easy. And as for her personal life --
Well, at least she doesn’t have to worry about Foggy not taking it well. He’s a good person with a kind heart, and he’s got years of experience working closely with blind people.
With a blind person.
And that’s the thing, isn’t it: Matt freaking Murdock. Marci’s boyfriend’s best friend, the guy who disappeared for two months and then just popped up again like nothing was wrong. Foggy loved him so much that when Matt disappeared, Foggy had nightmares almost nightly. Foggy loves him so much that he continues to sacrifice and sacrifice for his sake.
Marci can’t stand Matt.
But she loves Foggy.
It’s because she loves Foggy that she tells him the diagnosis the day she gets it. It’s because Foggy loves her that he offers to ask Matt to teach her how to -- how to be blind. It’s because she loves Foggy that Marci agrees.
Presumably, it’s because Matt loves Foggy that he agrees, too.
The three of them sit in the dining room, warming their hands on mugs of hot coffee. Marci’s trying to get a good look at Matt’s face.
She had thought of going blind as being like flipping a light switch. On, off. Seeing everything and then seeing nothing. That’s what it was like for Matt, after all, right? But for her, it’s different.
She has a blindspot, right by the center of her vision. Her brain tries its best to compensate, but all that means is that, from her viewpoint, Matt Murdock looks like a charcoal grey suit with a charcoal grey cloud where his head should be. She stares over his shoulder instead. At least that way she can see his face in her peripheral vision.
“So,” Matt says, “Foggy told me about your diagnosis. I don’t know how helpful I can be, since our experiences will likely be very different, but.” He shrugs. “I’m here. Ask me anything you want to know.”
“How do you comb your hair?”
Matt actually laughs. “Um, I kind of… just hope for the best. My hair is short, so it’s, you know, not really a big problem? Foggy usually tells me if it’s off.”
“I can help you with that, Marci,” Foggy says.
That is… sweet, but Marci would rather not be dependent on someone else for her appearance if at all possible.
Matt seems to guess at her next question, saying “My clothes have Braille labels on the hangers. Foggy helped me set that up, too. He can probably do it for you, too.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Should she say no offense? Well. She’s saying it as a visually-impaired person to another visually-impaired person, so it’s allowed. Probably. “How do you handle things with screens? Like using a cell phone, or a computer, or -- hell, how do you use a watch?”
Matt reaches across the table and takes her hand. She allows it, just this once. He places his other wrist under her fingertips.
“What time is it?” he asks.
Marci doesn’t understand at first, but she gets it quickly. The thing on Matt’s wrist is a watch, but not like any she’s seen; it has bumps on it. Braille? She’s about to say she hasn’t learned the alphabet yet, but then she realizes that the bumps are more placemarkers than actual labels. She feels the hands, imagines the numbers they’d be pointing to if the watch was on her wrist.
“It’s four-ten,” she says.
“Exactly.” Matt smiles. “As for the other things you mentioned: a lot of technology has accessibility features, thing like Braille displays and screen readers. I’m not sure if you’ll have to use them, though? I thought you still have most of your sight?”
“I do, but… you know. Better safe than sorry.”
“Fair enough. I’ll teach you what I can.”
They spend the next few hours in that Q&A session. Marci’s questions are all practical, “how do you do this?” or “what do you do about that?”
Matt answers, polite and patient, and at eight exactly he’s saying his goodbyes and getting out of there. Marci doesn’t mind, really. They’ve both done what Foggy asked them to. Now they can go back to their best-friend-vs-girlfriend determined tolerance and things can go back to normal.
That night, after a round of semi-awkward-but-still-really-good sex, Marci and Foggy lie in bed and look at each other’s faces. Usually when they do this, they fall asleep soon after. Foggy does, his eyes falling closed even as he keeps smiling at her, until Marci is alone with his snoring and her thoughts.
Right now, from this distance and with her eyesight as it is, Marci can still see most of Foggy’s face. His features are soft, even kind, if a face could be described as kind. Warm.
Foggy Nelson looked like an angel was supposed to look.
And if her sight deteriorated the way the doctors said it might, there would come a time when she would never see him again.
One day, she might forget his smile, might forget the way his hair framed his face, might forget the wrinkles around his eyes when he laughed.
Her eyes fill with tears even as she tries to tell herself it’s nothing to get emotional over.
She takes a shower, trying to soothe herself with warm water and scented soaps. She gets her warmest pair of sleeping clothes and puts them on.
And then she calls Matt.
He sounds sleepy and confused as he answers: “Hello?”
“How do you do it?”
“Do… what? Marci?”
“Seeing. And then -- not seeing. Foggy is your best friend and you don’t even know what he looks like. How do you handle it?”
Matt is silent for a long time. For a moment, Marci thinks he’s fallen asleep. But then he says: “It’s not easy.”
Understatement of the year.
He continues: “Look, there’s -- there’s a lot more to being blind than Braille watches and screen readers. I should’ve let you know earlier. But… Marci, let me tell you something I do.”
“I’m listening.”
“Go back to bed,” Matt says. “Put your ear by Foggy’s chest and listen to his heartbeat. Just… focus on that. It’ll help you sleep.”
It does.