Page 20 of HoHoHo for You

~ BRIDGET ~

I felt really anxious getting into the car. But while we were still in the garage, Sam made me put on the blindfold and headphones—Bluetooth connected to my phone so if he needed to talk to me he could call.

I had no idea where we were going, or how. But an hour into the drive, my heart slowed. He’d set up my favorite playlist on Spotify, and downloaded several audiobooks.

“Just do whatever you want to do. If you need help with the phone, leave the blindfold on and tell me. I’ll work it for you.”

I had a few tears during that drive, but not because I was sad. I was so stinking touched by how thoughtful he was. I didn’t deserve it—and he didn’t deserve to have such a basket case for a wife. And yet… I literally wouldn’t have survived the previous year without him.

I wassograteful.

He called me after we’d been driving an hour and half—which meant we were probably at the airport.

“You ready, babe? We’re going to get out of the car, and I’m putting you in a wheelchair so you don’t have to walk, okay?”

I was half-excited. I definitely wanted out of the country. But getting there could be terrifying. Airports were theworstfor Christmas Cheer because they wanted everyone to be happy.

It was a little awkward getting out of the car, and I felt really self-conscious. But one of the advantages to being blind and deaf was that I didn’t have to see other people judging me.

Sam left me listening to a book and took care of everything. I don’t know how he did it, but eventually he called me again.

“We’re at security. I’ve explained the situation and they’re willing to let you keep the chair and blindfold while we’re moving, but they have to go through the scanner. So you close your eyes and focus on my voice and we’ll get through this, okay?”

“Sam, I’ve traveled every Christmas. It sucks, but seeing the decorations and stuff is just the price I have to pay before I—”

“Babe, we’re doing our best to keep that stuff away. So hold onto me, and let’s get this done.”

He took off the blindfold and he was right in my face, his eyes intent and concerned. He’d already put our things on the conveyor belt. I had to get out of the wheelchair to go through the scanner, which was weird—suddenly realizing how many people were around me. But the scanner had no decorations inside and I kept my eyes down going in and coming out.

A few minutes later we were rolling through the airport again, and I was blissfully listening toBad Thingby Steven Rodriguez, which Sam had once joked was my theme song. I still laughed every time I listened to it.

We had to switch to a connecting flight after a few hours and went through the entire process again. But it was easier the second time. I’d kind of sunk into myself, and it felt like Sam and I were the only people in the world.

The whole day passed in that strange, surreality. I was in the world, but separate from it—and Sam led me through. And for the first time I could ever remember, I felt safe to let him do it. To let someone else be my eyes and ears and make my decisions.

It was… unsettling. And beautiful.

By the time we landed at the other end I had swung wildly between excitement and self-loathing so many times, I was exhausted. And atinybit nervous because we hadn’t gone through customs which meant we were still in America.

Sam had reassured me that once we left the airport, our final trek was by water. No more people. No more radios. AndnoChristmas decorations. But where could we go in this country where there’d be no Christmas?

He put me back in the blindfold and headphones through the airport and into another car. I fell asleep against his shoulder, so I wasn’t sure how long the drive was, but when we stopped, he nudged me and lifted my headphones.

“Bridget. You can take the blindfold and headphones off. It’s safe from here. Promise.”

He slid the mask off my eyes and I opened them. It wasso strangeto be suddenly bathed in sunlight. My eyes screamed and I had to blink for a while, but eventually I was able to sit up and look outside the car. I grabbed Sam’s arm.

“Thank you,” I breathed.

We were at a small marina. Nothing fancy—one main jetty made from wood, but clean and new. Half a dozen boats were tied to the moorings. Sam stood just outside the door of the car.

“Keep your eyes on me and stay facing this way, okay? There’s nothing to be worried about out this way, and our Captain assures me there’s no decorations on his boat. We won’t have the radio on either.”

“Where are we?” I asked, genuinely curious. The air was warm and the sun bright, but a stiff breeze blew off the ocean. We were in a small bay so the waves were small and broke often.

“The Florida Keys,” Sam said with a small smile. “And we aren’t done yet.”

I got out of the car and tucked myself into his chest, hugging him as some other guy, presumably our driver, darted past with our bags, trotting towards a small, rectangle motor boat with a sunshade over it.

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