Spending the Holidays Inside

I almost laughed at her making the message longer by apologizing, but I had nothing to smirk with, so I sighed instead. I couldn't be all dramatic with her like this, so open, but I still needed to explain.

"WHEN YOU SENT THE FIRST MESSAGE I WAS JUST LEARNING BRAILLE. I DIDNT HAVE THIS THING YET, OR THE BRAILLE DISPLAY FOR MY MACBOOK, AND MY ASL SUCKED. ITS NOT EVEN THE RIGHT LANGUAGE FOR SOMEONE LIKE ME, SIGN LANGUAGE ASSUMES I CAN SEE TOO. I DIDNT EVEN HAVE MY MASK MY HAIR. I WASNT GOING TO INVITE SOMEONE OVER JUST TO STARE AT MY DISFIGUREMENT WHILE WE TWIDDLED OUR THUMBS TOGETHER."

"I WOULD HAVE TWIDDLED YOUR TWADDLE, ALL THE SAME."

"OMG EW HAHA YOU KNOW WHAT IM SAYING."

"IT'S BEEN SIX MONTHS THO. WE LIVE IN THE SAME CITY AGAIN. YOU NEED TO GET OUTSIDE. YOU NEED SOMEONE OTHER THAN YOUR PARENTS TO HANG WITH."

"BUT IM HIGH MAITNANCE NOW." I had to try three times to spell maintenance, losing my place each time, and gave another white flag only Julia could hear.

"I KNEW YOU BEFORE ALL THIS, LARI, THAT'S NOT NEWS TO ME!"

"YOURE SUCH A BITCH."

"BETTER THE DEVIL YOU KNOW. CAN WE START OVER??"

I paused, unsure what to type but eventually I signed "No," and shook my head, before elaborating:

"NO GOING BACK FOR ME, I AM A DIFFERENT PERSON. I HAD LIFE ON MY OWN. CAR AND BOYFRIEND. NOW THIS. WE ARE NOT IN HIGH SCHOOL ANYMORE." I checked it twice and nervously handed the phone off. There wasn't really a question there.

"YOU'RE THE WORST, LARI. IT'S BEEN 3 YEARS, OF COURSE YOU ARE DIFFERENT, ME TOO. I DON'T LIVE WITH MY PARENTS ANYMORE, ARE YOU KIDDING? I'VE GOT AN APARTMENT ALL TO MYSELF AND YOU CAN COME VISIT ANYTIME. I'LL PICK YOU UP! IT'S COZY AND HAS A GREAT VIEW OF A DILAPIDATED PARKING LOT YOU CAN STILL FEEL LEFT OUT ABOUT NOT SEEING."

There was a gap where I almost thought it was done, I think she had hit the enter key a few times.

"MAYBE SAYING SAME WAS WRONG. SORRY."

I skipped texting back and just reached out to hug her tight, my Julia, nodding "Yes" over and over. Yes, what an idiot I was being. If I still had my sight, I'm sure I wouldn't still be picturing the awkward 17-year-old from before who was too scared of boys even to say hi, never mind bringing one to Christmas dinner.

She was right, we were both new people.

We sat up all evening on the couch chatting, to the point that her boyfriend bailed. Not like I noticed until Julia said so a bit later, he didn't say hi or bye to me, but I was getting used to that.

Eventually someone touched my tired hands and I remembered there was a way quicker way to chat, my mom telling me, "It's almost midnight. Do you want your S-N-E-A-K-A-P-E-E-K?"

The kid in me lit up! Our sneakapeek was an annual tradition, and I guess even with this being my first Christmas like this, everything around me was likely the same, dressed the same, decorated to the nines, Bing Crosby playing on the stereo, snow and wind beating against the windows. I was just stuck in here, but sneakapeek reminded me of the rest.

I nodded my head and hand eagerly, fast, while bouncing a little on the couch to show I was excited. "Yes please!"

Rising up, Mom guided my tentative steps toward the other side of the room, guided my hand out forward until I reached something prickly. The tree!! Of course I couldn't smell the pine needles, I had almost forgotten it was there. While I delicately tried to identify each ornament, some of which I had hung myself a week or so back, she retrieved a box and handed it to me, enough box to fill my hands and mute me. I nodded toward... somewhere, and Mom picked up that I wanted to go back to the couch to open it up.

"Because tonight was hard and we are very proud of you." she signed once I had my hands free.

"I love you both," I signed quickly before digging into the wrapping paper, waxy thin stuff that was really unnecessary when you couldn't see the colors.

Her hand touched my knee, meaning 'I'm here', 'slow', or 'careful', which I took to be the last one. I delicately opened the box and found a card... in braille!! One I could read myself!

"Dear Ms. Larissa Adams, my name is Dr. Evan Jacobs and I'm not one of the many that must have blurred by as you recovered this past spring and summer. I am an advanced prosthetist from Boston, and after being alerted to your story by an associate of mine, I took it upon myself to reach out to your parents, and we have been sending photos and notes back and forth for a few months now.

"I know your plastic surgeon Andrew professionally, and I know his intention was to remove the damaged tissue and bones entirely, leaving a blank canvas (so to speak). This is admirable, functional, and symbolic of what has been taken from you. But I also know how important a face is to identity, and your mother has shown me the mask you wear, with the old blurry yearbook photo printed on it, and I'd like to offer an alternative. Keep up the fight, Evan."

I was frozen. Look how easy it was to keep such an important secret from me now, I thought. But anticipation won out over self-pity and I slowly reached inward. Bubble wrap, Mom stopped my eager advance to snip the tape, more waxy paper, different, and then something soft.

Oh.

What?

It wasn't skin, but it was kind of close, it had a subtle give to it but it wasn't gummy. It was nothing like the hard plastic I wore now. My fingers found lips and a nose, oh my god! They drifted over eyebrows and lashes that felt... real! I touched the eyes lightly, they were hard and smooth, glass or something close. My hands drifted to the edges, two ears too, and the way it tapered off to a subtle edge. With enough makeup I might be able to blend it in, to cover the fading red lines underneath. And my wig would cover the top too!

Mom leant in and I grasped her so tightly I thought we both might break. I wanted to cry!

"Doctor J-A-C-O-B-S said he can trim this so it will still look like a mask, or I can use some concealer to help hide the edge, it's your choice, L." she said, poking my chest.

I couldn't get the words out, and started to feel a few hands patting me here and there, saying they were in the room.

"Does it... look like me?" I finally signed 'out loud'.

"Close. It's very close. Older for the future." Dad said into my hands, before putting another envelope on my lap. "And part 2."

I was overwhelmed, "Save something for tomorrow morning!!" I signed, Mom rubbing my leg repeatedly to let me know someone was laughing. But I wasn't serious, I tore into the envelope, only to find a similar card in braille, a little bigger, different paper.

"Larissa Adams, you have been selected as our scholarship recipient to participate in a pilot Pro-Tactile Sign Language program for one month at the University of Washington in Seattle, including travel and housing costs for you and one caretaker/chaperone. Please find more information in the..."

What?!?

My mom held me, "I know it's far, and you didn't like the plane coming home, but we applied for you to learn that new touching language your teacher mentioned last month, and I will also be going to seminars to teach you and your dad."

At his cue, Dad stepped in, "I'm sorry, L. I have to stay here and work, but..." I didn't let him finish, I just clasped his hands so tight he couldn't sign. He was working for the three of us, of course I understood.

I was drowning in emotion, I wanted to scream out and yell and smile and cry and hold them all, but I couldn't jump and howl like I used to, well not without breaking a table and hip-checking my Auntie Faith. So I just sat there, vibrating, hands shaking trying to sign how I felt so they would know... but they knew. First my dad leaned in, then my mom, then Julia and her family swarmed in.

My silent, dark emptiness had never felt so full.

I couldn't have been happier, but as everyone broke away from the embrace, from my sight, from my little world, the smile inside my head waned again. Should I wear the mask to Seattle? Or should I embrace the new face I'd been left with? Especially in front of other deafblind people, would they care? How soon was it? What would happen if I was left on my own in a city I'd never been to before, like this? What if I had another panic attack at the airport?

Questions for another time.

My dad's hands were still in mine and I squeezed before signing, "So if this was my sneakapeek, I'm getting a pony tomorrow, right?"

I got a bunch of light slaps from that after he translated.

Even just a few hours ago I hadn't been able to see a future living like this, like me, but now I... at least I had something to look forward to. Not a light at the end of the tunnel, no, I'd never get to see that...

But a warmth inside it, sure, I could feel that already.