Shut Your Eyes

The next morning, Max shuffled downstairs with bedhead and sleepy eyes. I was already busy making the pancake batter, as I knew he’d be up at 9:30 sharp like he always was on days he had practice. Max was a creature of habit, and they were habits I’d memorized long ago.

“Tu faire des crêpes?” (You’re making pancakes?) He mumbled as his bare feet shuffled into the kitchen.

I smiled softly and nodded. Max stared at me for a moment more before tilting his head to the side slightly and letting out a suspicious, “Pourquoi?” (Why?)

I played innocent, shrugging my shoulders slightly before pouring a small circle of batter onto the griddle. “Aucune raison.” (No reason.)

He sidled up to me at the island, stealthily dragging his finger across the side of the batter bowl to get a swipe of it before popping it into his mouth. I swatted at his hand with the spatula, but I was too late; He’d already licked his finger clean of the sweet substance.

“Aller prendre une douche et laissez-moi faire cuire dans la paix.” (Go take a shower and let me cook in peace.) I demanded lightly, attempting to push him away from the counter with my foot. He skillfully stepped away from my advances, and quickly hopped to the other side of the counter where I couldn’t get to him.

“La douche sera toujours là après avoir je mangé.” (The shower will still be there after I eat.) He retorted childishly, a snarky grin present on his face. It was quickly replaced by a thoughtful expression and he began absentmindedly tracing figure eights on the countertop.

“Bon,” He started slowly, “comment tu te sens?” (So, how do you feel?) The question hung out in the air like a rope, just begging for me grab onto. Instead I looked up at Max with as little expression as I could. How was I feeling? Sad. Scared. Confused. Exhausted.

“Je suis très bien.” (I’m fine.) I quipped shortly. I poked at the pancakes slightly as they cooked, testing to see if they were ready to flip yet. Max watched me with careful eyes as if simply by willing it to, my nose would start growing when I lied.

“Etes-tu sûr?” (Are you sure?) He prodded gently, and I began flipping the pancakes over one by one, quietly excited when each one turned out the perfect golden-brown color.

“Bien sûr, je suis sûr. Pourquoi ne ferais-je être?” (Of course I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be?) Looking up at him from under my eyelashes, I silently dared him to say anything else. My tone obviously conveyed an ‘end of discussion’ vibe, or at least I wanted it to.

It didn’t take long for Max to accept the challenge. “Je ne savais pas si tu aviez voulez parler de la nuit dernière…” (I didn’t know if you’d want to talk about last night…)

“Maxime.” I cut him off mid-sentence with his name and a light bang of the spatula against the granite. “Soit changer de sujet ou aller prendre vos douche fichu.” (Either change the subject or go take your damn shower.) I could tell he was going somewhere with his statement, but I wanted to nip the conversation in the bud. He wanted to ask what my nightmare was about – wanted me to talk about it. A part of me wanted to badly. But another part of me knew the consequences of my words. There were things I wanted to tell him, but I knew they would hurt him so I buried them and let them hurt me instead.

Max’s eyes widened at my use of both force and foul language. I was never loud-spoken, and I very rarely used curse words even though I didn’t find them offensive in the least. I simply saved them for moments like these, when ordinary words just wouldn’t cut it. He didn’t seem mad though, or even hurt, just surprised. Max took my warning to heart though, and kept his mouth shut as he nibbled on a handful of dried berries from the jar that sat on the counter behind him.

“Quels sont tes projets pour aujourd'hui?” (What are your plans for today?) Max asked happily, previous moment already forgiven and forgotten. I smiled lightly at his willingness to make idle chit chat with me even when he wanted to talk about something else.

“Tu êtes à la recherche à elle.” (You’re looking at it.) I said with a chuckle as I plated a few pancakes for Max and set them in front of him.

A snarky grin appeared on his face. “Tu aller faire des crêpes toute la journée?” (You’re going to make pancakes all day?) He asked teasingly. I rolled my eyes with a smile and looked over at him.

“Je vais être autour de la maison toute la journée.” (I’ll be around the house all day.) I clarified, running over my to-do list in my head. I needed to call my landlord in Philly, I needed to print and frame the photos from last night, and I needed to clean the house. The last one wasn’t really a necessity, but I was a bit of a neat freak and cleaning and organizing the house would make me feel a bit better.

“Ah.” Max said with grin and continued eating his pancakes. There was silence for a moment before he looked like he’d been struck by a bright idea. “Tu devrais venir avec moi à pratique!” (You should come with me to practice!) He suggested happily.

Glancing up at him from under my lashes, I grimaced a bit. “Je ne sais pas, Max ...” (I don’t know, Max)

“Oh, Allons donc!” (Oh come on!) He whined, a mischievous gleam coming into his eyes. “Ça va être amusante!” (It’ll be fun!)

“Mais,” (But,) I began, ready to deliver a poorly constructed excuse for why I couldn’t be expected to show up, but Max waved a syrupy fork in my general direction and gave me a look that demanded no sass.

“Mais rien. Tu seras là. Je ne vais pas tu laisser à la maison toute la journée pour faire mariner dans ton solitude.” (No buts. You’ll be there. I will not leave you at home all day to marinate in your solitude.) I rolled my eyes and sullenly poked at the pancakes that were cooking away on the griddle. I knew Max meant well, but going to practice meant having to behave like a highly functioning human being, and I did not feel as such today.

But I could see the hopeful look in Max’s eyes; that one he got when he wanted something so badly but didn’t know quite how to ask for it. So even though sitting through a hockey practice in a cold ice rink wasn’t what I wanted to do, I found myself looking Max in the eye and giving him a soft “Très bien.” (Okay)

He smiled and went back to shoveling his food into his mouth while I put the last of the pancakes onto a serving plate and excused myself to go take a shower and get ready for the day. As I made my way towards the door, Max made a sound of protest – a muffled grunt that was the best he could do with his mouth full – and began waving me back towards him with a lazy swing of his hand.

Cautiously making my way over to him, I tilted my head near his and waited for whatever Max had to say. He swallowed the bite of food that was in his mouth and cleared his throat before he leaned in close to my ear.

“Ne prenez pas toute l'eau chaude.” (Don’t take all the hot water) He whispered before pressing a loud sloppy kiss to my cheek. A loud squeal escaped my lips, causing Max to bark out a laugh as he stood up and carried his plate to the sink. I wandered out of the kitchen while trying to rub Max’s spit off of my face. Entering the hallway, I heard him yell out an innocent “Je t'aime!” (I love you!).

“Ouais, ouais, ouais.” (Yeah, yeah, yeah.)I mumbled, a small smile playing on my lips as I made my way to the bathroom.