Chapter 11
Matt gratefully set down the big heavy bag of books on the steps in front of the main library before taking a seat and freeing himself from his backpack, which was just as heavy. He was definitely going to have to stash these books somewhere if they were going to go explore campus. Maybe they could ask one of the librarians to watch them and come by to pick them up later, before heading back home.
It was odd to think of it as home, but even after just one night, Matt was sure he'd get settled in before too long. He'd never spent long periods of time away from home before. The last time he went anywhere was around three years ago when some agency, he couldn't quite remember which one, had sent him to what his dad referred to as "blind camp." Though he couldn't recall the exact name of it, he was pretty sure it was something a little more politically correct, and it definitely had "visually impaired" in the title. While the experience had been pleasant enough, it had definitely brought home the idea of how different he was from everyone else, whether blind or sighted. In a world where people loved to attach labels to themselves and others, he couldn't quite find one that actually fit. His whole world was one of impossible contradictions.
Matt had strange abilities that allowed him to do things he could never have done when he could still see. His sense of balance was heightened, along with his reflexes and general awareness of his own body. He could easily and instinctively perform moves that would have normally required much more conscious control. There were no blind jumps. He could feel where the ground was, even in the middle of a back flip from one of those fire escapes he liked to climb on his nightly adventures. Anything quickly moving toward him could be clearly felt, whether it was a human fist or a fast-moving object. Matt had been taught to react to these things instinctively. Stick had once said that if you had to think about it, you weren't moving fast enough. He had been trained to be a master martial artist and he still kept up his routine even after his master had mysteriously vanished from his life. Matt wasn't quite sure what to do with all of his abilities, but at least he never had to fear for his personal safety. And he loved what he could do, loved the exhilaration and the power. That feeling of being on top of the world, unstoppable, the very opposite of what people saw when they looked at him. That was the gift a mysterious woman had once promised him. His senses were only tools. Being able to move effortlessly through space, connected to everything around him, that was the true gift.
But none of it helped in finding a name for who he was, what he was. Because he was also someone who, come Monday, would have to swallow his pride and go to each and everyone of the men and women who would be teaching his classes and introduce himself as the blind guy. He would have to articulate a need most other people didn't have, and he would have to instruct them in how to meet that need, and every time they did, everyone would know it was for his benefit. It was almost like his whole life was upside down. The things that should have been hard were easy, and some of the things that should have been easy were hard. For all his powers, he couldn't even do something as simple as getting his eyes to work. Next to all the crazy things he could do, it seemed almost silly; like a big cosmic joke. But, it was always going to be this thing to deal with, and his meeting that morning had reminded him of that inescapable fact. He worried that every time he would go in for a job interview, all anyone would ever see was a big price tag; someone who couldn't pull his own weight. He knew he was going to have to be better than everybody else, and for a moment that thought weighed heavy on his mind. "Good enough" wasn't going to cut it, because that just wasn't how the world worked, no matter how many laws were made to make things right.
On the other hand, he had never been one to settle for just being good enough. He knew he was a fighter. He had once lost almost everything he took for granted and had worked hard to get it back. Then he had met Stick and worked even harder, pushing himself to the extreme, breaking seemingly impossible barriers. If he had to rise to the top of his class for someone to take a chance on him, then that would be his new goal. He was going to make sure his future was all that it could be, and that his dad would never have to worry. Besides, who was he to back down from a challenge? It just wasn't in him.
ooOoo
Foggy was out of breath as he half ran to campus. After his conversation with the woman who insisted on calling herself his mother, he had settled comfortably in front of the TV and lost track of time. After that, he had bumped into a couple of their new neighbors and, desperate to make friends, he had decided to stop long enough to exchange more than just a rushed greeting. He almost regretted that now as he spotted Matt on the steps in front of the huge library building checking his watch, probably wondering whether his roommate was stuck under a piece of heavy furniture. As Foggy got closer he saw a reaction in Matt that looked almost like startled recognition. Did he already know he was there? There were people everywhere, he was easily one hundred feet away from him, and Foggy knew his new friend couldn't even see to tell light from dark. How could he possibly know? But it was probably nothing, just a coincidence.
"Hey, Matt!" Foggy felt his breathing becoming even more labored as he climbed the last few steps two at a time. He paused as he saw Matt smile and get to his feet, brushing the dust of his jeans. Still on the ground was his backpack, which looked much heavier than it had that morning, and a sturdy bag that looked like it was full of books.
"Foggy! What happened to you?" Matt had been sitting on those steps for an hour, but that was more due to his being early, which he had expected to be anyway, than to Foggy being ten minutes late.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I lost track of time, I don't know what happened."
"That's okay, it was only ten minutes. I just thought you might be lost or something."
"Nope, this place is a little hard to miss." Foggy's breathing was starting to return to normal and he waited as Matt put his backpack on and reached for his extra bag. "Hey, you want me to grab that?"
"No that's okay. But I think we'd better take these to the library first before we doing anything else. I'm sure we can stash them there until we head back."
"Are those your books?"
"Yeah, now I'm all covered." Matt continued up the stairs with Foggy right behind.
"So how did it go? With your appointment, I mean?" By now they were up by the front door of the library and Foggy noticed how Matt held his cane parallel to the door, moving it in an arc from the side toward the center to find the handle. There seemed to be a trick for everything.
"Oh, it was fine. Seems like most things have been taken care of. I just need to talk to my professors and stuff, but I'll do that when classes start."
"Well, that's good." Foggy looked around the inside of the library. Coming in from the sun, it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Now this was what a real library at a real university was supposed to look like. "Wow, I can't believe how big this place is!"
"I know. I can tell!" Matt breathed in a whiff of air. The smell of old books was everywhere, and the echoes revealed stone walls all around. It was a truly magnificent building. "Now, do you see the information desk anywhere?"
"Yeah, it's right over there." Foggy nodded toward an area on the far right, not too far from where they were standing. He caught his little slip-up when he noticed Matt almost cracking up.
"Um, Foggy? I can't see, remember?" He could, however, sense it just fine, especially since Foggy's nod had confirmed the identity of what he already suspected to be the place they were looking for.
"Sorry, I forgot."
"That's okay. It's good that you're forgetting."
"Well, it's to the right here." Foggy started walking and Matt followed next to him.
"So, tell me, are the librarians hot?"
"What? Of course not, they're librarians!" Foggy couldn't help laughing, it was such an out of left field thing to ask.
"Hey, you never know." Matt was pretty sure the woman they were now approaching wasn't much to look at, however. She smelled like an old person. Not only did old people have a particular old-people smell, they also exhibited certain other habits that were easy to pick up on. This particular specimen was a regular user of the same hemorrhoid cream his old neighbor in Hell's Kitchen used, and her perfume was heavy. There was also a faint trace of denture adhesive.
"Yes, can I help you?" Brenda Kingsley was a person who after decades of serving young people exhibiting a steady decline in good manners with each generation, had simply given up trying to be friendly and now offered little except guarded patience to those who dared approach her. Her voice didn't belie her apathy.
"Yes, I was hoping you might. See, I'm a new student here and I picked up these Braille books at the DSO earlier. They're kind of heavy, so we were thinking that maybe we could keep them here until we head back to our place. If that's alright?"
"Well, I can't see why not." She sighed and gave Foggy a smile that stayed on her lips for just a fraction of a second. She turned her attention back to Matt. "Put them here on the counter, and I'll find a place for them."
"Thank you." Matt quickly did as she asked.
"What time can I expect you back? Oh, and I'll be needing your name." Foggy studied the woman closely as she spoke. Unlike most people, himself included, she didn't seem to flinch even for a split second at Matt being blind. On the other hand, he doubted she would have so much as raised an eyebrow even if the two of them had come in dressed as Tom and Jerry.
"Matthew Murdock, that's with c-k at the end, and I think we'll be back here no later than five."
"Very well." She began to unceremoniously dump them in a pile on a cart behind the counter, and Matt had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from asking her to be a little more careful.
"Okay, let's get out of here." Foggy offered Matt his arm, and they quickly headed toward the exit.
Once back outside, Matt expressed what both of them were thinking. "What charm school did she graduate from?"
"So much for your sexy librarians, huh?" Foggy laughed.
"Okay, so maybe this one was a little older than I like 'em."
"Like them? Do you have a thing for librarians or something?"
"What, me? Never. Guidance counselors, on the other hand…"
"Please tell me you're kidding."
"Yeah, I'm totally kidding. Don't worry, Foggy." Matt smiled, let go of Foggy and headed down the steps.
ooOoo
"Um, Matt? Those are the women's sizes." Foggy looked at Matt who had his hand firmly placed on top of one of the piles of t-shirts that took up two tables in the campus store.
"Okay, my bad." Matt had no trouble laughing at his own expense. "Where are the men's t-shirts then?"
"It's the next table. They look about the same though." Foggy saw Matt take another couple of steps forward and land his hand on the correct pile this time. People around them were looking, and Foggy didn't like it one bit. And it wasn't the first time he'd noticed it since hanging around with Matt.
Matt could easily feel the sticky plastic imprint on the fabric, and he wouldn't have needed heightened senses to do so either. They were only around seven dollars, and a Columbia University t-shirt just seemed like one of those things a new student should have. While tracing the design, he noticed Foggy's discomfort and had no trouble guessing the reason for it. "What's up Foggy?"
"People are looking."
"Well, you'd better get used to it."
"Do you?"
"What?"
"Do you ever get used to it?"
"You get used to ignoring it, it's not a big deal." The idea of constantly being on display wasn't always easy to deal with, but Matt had had more than four years of practice. Of course, it didn't exactly help that having hyper senses made it much easier to pick up on the comments some people made, unaware that he could hear them.
"Okay. I just don't like it."
"Well, what are you gonna do?" Matt smiled and decided to change the subject. Foggy definitely needed a distraction. "What colors do they have?"
"Oh," Foggy started as he checked out the offerings, "gray, black, white, dark blue and red."
"What kind of red? Like bright red or burgundy?"
"I don't know what it's called. It's a dark red. I guess that's burgundy."
"Cool, my favorite. White letters, right?"
"Yeah. It's definitely the nicest one." Foggy picked one off the table in a size large and handed it to Matt who ran his hand through the strap on his cane so he could hold the t-shirt against his body with both hands.
"I think this is a good size. How do I look?"
"You look fine, but you probably shouldn't be asking me about stuff like that." Foggy suddenly thought of the many instances of Rosalind complaining about his sense of style. Or, rather, his non-existent sense of style. On the other hand, the way Matt looked, he would probably look good wearing just about anything. He certainly had the build for it.
"Well, I like it so I'm getting it. But if I find out this is bright pink or something, I'll have your head on a plate."
"I would never do that." Foggy knew Matt was joking, but it still hit him in some weird place.
"Hey, I'm kidding. I trust you. Okay?" Matt knew there was something on Foggy's mind, but he didn't want to ask.
"Yeah, I know."
"Aren't you getting anything?"
"Maybe some other time. It looks better on you than me anyway."
"Not that it's any of my business, but are you okay? You seem a little down."
"No, I'm fine. Really." He was fine, there was just something he couldn't quite put his finger on.
"Okay, I'm going to go pay for this."
"I'll be right there." Foggy looked around the store, keeping one eye on Matt who seemed to be doing just fine on his own. He wondered for a second if he would have been able to do all the things Matt could do if he had been the one who was blind. But he wasn't going to think about that because it scared the hell out of him. It probably wasn't anything to worry about anyway. He was getting more and more convinced that the bad stuff only happened to people who could handle it. Extraordinary people. Not average people like him.
ooOoo
"You seriously think you could get me into shape?" Foggy was skeptical. They had just taken their seats at a diner across the street from their building for a late lunch after having spent most of they day hanging out at the activities fair, checking out clubs, student unions and fraternities. After that, Foggy had registered for his classes and before heading back they had gotten an exclusive tour of the gym and now Matt was getting all kinds of crazy ideas.
"I'm just saying that if you want to come with me, I could show you some moves." Matt was excited about the gym, which even sported a real punching bag that few people ever used, and he was hoping that his enthusiasm might rub off.
"Some moves, huh? Matt, I'm a band geek with crappy coordination. But fine, I'll give it a try. Just promise you won't laugh when I fall off the treadmill."
"I can't make any promises, but I doubt that will happen. You'll be fine. I'm not going to force you to do anything, I just see it as a little quid pro quo."
"What?"
"You help me out with some stuff, and I help you out with some stuff."
"I'm pretty sure I'll look like an idiot, but that's okay I guess." Foggy really didn't mind some help getting in shape, but he saw himself as a complete klutz.
"You won't look like an idiot, I promise." Matt gave Foggy a reassuring smile.
"So have you always been into sports and stuff?"
"Well, my dad wouldn't let me do sports when I was a kid, but I always wanted to. So I started hanging out at his gym when he wasn't there, just practicing. It was a nice way to vent some stuff. And after the accident I did what I could to stay in shape." Matt decided to leave it at that, with no mention of extra-sensory training sessions with mysterious ninja masters.
"Well, I've just never been good at that kind of thing. You could throw a ball right at me, and I still couldn't catch it."
"You and me both, buddy." Matt said it though it was clearly a lie. He could catch anything. Sometimes he hated being a habitual liar, but the truth could never come out or he was sure he'd be poked and prodded by every scientist on the Eastern Seaboard. And in some weird way, he drew strength from his secret too.
"Well, at least you have an excuse. What's mine?"
"We're all good at different things, it's not a big deal. You don't need to be a jock to be somebody."
"I know. I kinda like that about getting older. I like that life isn't supposed to be like high school when you grow up."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. There will always be bullies though, people who take their own stuff out on other people."
"I guess. But it gets easier, right?"
"How should I know?" Matt laughed at the fact that Foggy seemed to view him as some sort of authority on life's big questions. "But I hope so. I really do."
"So I guess we should think about ordering, huh? The waitress is probably going to come by any second. Let me read you the menu."
"That's okay, I'll have what the lady next to us is having."
Foggy was a perplexed. He looked over to his left and, sure enough, there was a woman working her way through a large bowl of pasta, but he'd barely noticed her himself. And, she wasn't making much noise. "How do you know there's even anyone there?"
"You really wanna know?"
"Absolutely."
"Okay, close your eyes." Matt knew it wouldn't exactly replicate his own experience since he could make out her shape at will, but it was close enough.
"Okay." Foggy felt a little silly about it, but he was curious about where Matt was going with this.
"Are you doing it?"
"Yes, no cheating. I promise."
"Okay, now you listen."
"For what?"
"Just listen for a while, and I'll tell you what to listen for in a minute."
"If you say so." He still felt a little silly, but decided to at least give this a try. Before long, he noticed all kinds of sounds he wouldn't normally have paid any active attention to. There was the sound of the cash register somewhere in the background, conversations, silverware against porcelain, a chair scraping against the floor, footsteps, a door opening in the back, and the bell at the front door chiming as a new customer came in.
"Okay, now pay attention to the table next to ours. What do you hear?" Matt listened closely himself, trying to figure out which of the sounds were loud enough for Foggy to hear. It was hard to tell sometimes, since he had become so accustomed to his own exotic perceptions. It was difficult to even remember the world being any different.
"Hmm, a fork against a plate? Someone chewing?" He was pretty sure he wasn't doing this right.
"Now did you hear that?"
"What?"
"She just turned a page. She's reading something from a glossy magazine, not a newspaper."
"Yeah, you're right." Foggy could definitely hear it as she turned another page. It was very faint, but if you listened hard enough it was there. And it didn't have that crackling sound of low-grade paper.
"That's an indication it's a woman. Not solid evidence, of course, but it's a start." Matt listened for another couple of seconds, not focusing on his radar sense at all. "Okay, now she just shifted her weight, the chair moved. Did you hear it?"
"Yeah, I think… Yes, I heard it"
"Did she sound heavy or light?"
"Light."
"That's another piece of information, but we can definitely tell there's someone there, right?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, well since we came in here, I've heard her heel click against the floor a couple of times, her nails, long ones, have been drummed against the table. She's wearing some kind of bracelet, because I heard that too. And she's wearing Chanel No 5."
"You know the names of specific perfumes?" Foggy asked with his eyes still shut. This whole blind thing seemed like an awful lot of work.
"Well, not all of them. Far from it, but that one's pretty popular. She'd have to be at least forty though."
"Why?"
"Younger women usually wear something a little lighter."
"Can I open my eyes now?"
"Sure."
Foggy blinked his eyes open and found Matt smiling at him. "Okay, I can see how that works."
"Yeah? Now watch this." Matt leaned over to his right and turned in the direction of the woman at the next table. "Excuse me ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you, but you wouldn't happen to be eating some kind of seafood pasta, would you?"
Foggy looked at her, curious about her reaction. She seemed baffled but didn't appear to mind the intrusion. "Yes, it's today's special," she said.
"It smells really good. Is it?" Matt really didn't mind showing off some of the things he could do as long as it didn't come across as too suspicious.
She laughed. "Yes, it is. It's very good. That's some nose you've got there."
"Okay, thanks. That's all I wanted to know." Matt turned back to face Foggy
"Hey, nice trick." Foggy didn't quite know what to make of Matt. The guy seemed like a one-man magic show sometimes.
"Well, I've got a good nose," Matt said, smiling.
"You sure it's not true? About the heightened senses, I mean?"
"It just takes practice, that's all." That part wasn't so much a lie as a half-truth. It had taken practice to make sense of the new world he had woken up to in a hospital bed four years earlier, and he still approached many tasks the same as any blind person would. The difference lay not so much in the method used as in the amount of information at his disposal. And there was rarely a shortage of information as far as his nose was concerned.
"If you say so."
"I do. Now how about we hit the gym tomorrow. Are you in?"
"Yeah, I'm in. What the hell, right?"
"Exactly, it'll be fun!"
Foggy seriously doubted that. On the other hand, if there was ever a time to take chances, branch out and just do something different, this was it.
