Shut Your Eyes

My phone buzzed incessantly on the seat beside me. The faint blue glow of the screen shone bright in the dark car, casting a pale sapphire hue on everything it touched.

My eyes cut quickly to the dashboard clock: 10:37. I’d been driving for almost three hours, and still had two more to go before I would arrive in Pittsburgh. The buzzing stopped. A sigh pushed its way past my lips as I ran a hand through my thick brown hair. Endless miles of black asphalt stretched out before me. My phone began buzzing again. I looked down at my purse and saw the tail end of Gavin’s name peeking out from beneath a fold of black fabric. He was awake. Looking back up at the road I reached out a hand and turned the radio on, flipping through channels until I came across a station playing classic rock. I turned it up until it drowned out the sound from my phone, trying to focus more on the road ahead of me than my purse.

Familiar road signs caught my eye, illuminated in the night sky by spotlights. I had made the trip to Pittsburgh many times since moving to Philly. I’d never shown up unexpected though. Max always had at least two weeks warning to hide anything he didn’t want me to see and put something in the fridge other than protein shakes and man food. A small smile tugged at the edges of my mouth at the thought of what was currently lurking in Max’s fridge. My eyes could barely see the small snowflakes that had begun to swirl in the air around my car. I looked down at my clothes and grimaced. Soffees and a t-shirt wasn’t an outfit to wear outside in the middle of December. I sent up a silent prayer that my jeep wouldn’t break down and cranked the heat up.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

I pulled onto my brother’s street, tired and scared. As Max’s condo came into view, I saw cars crammed into the driveway. Light poured out of the windows, giving off an eerie glow like the jack-o-lanterns we used to make when we were kids. Slowly, I pulled my jeep onto the side of the road and shut it off. Sounds of laughter drifted down from the condo, and panic rose up in my chest. This wasn’t exactly how I wanted to meet his friends. The car door groaned as I pushed it open, and I drew in a sharp, painful breath as the cold Pittsburgh air hit my bare legs. I closed it carefully, trying not to make any loud noises. After pulling my duffle bag out, I rummaged around in the back of the car for a bit before finding a thick jacket to put on over my old Led Zeppelin t-shirt. I lifted my bag onto my shoulder and made my way to the door.

The noise from upstairs masked my arrival, and the small snow flurry covered any footprints I made. Against my side I could feel my phone vibrating through my purse. I raised a small finger to the doorbell, hoping Max would be the one to come to the door. A small ding echoed through the house before I could hear heavy feet tromping down the stairs. The door flew open and revealed Max’s smiling face. I could tell he was happy to see me, but confused.

“Maggie what’re you do-”

His eyes suddenly zeroed in on the bruise that I could feel spreading over the left side of my face. Fury filled his bright blue eyes. I could see his hand clench into a fist at his side.

“At-il le faire?” (Did he do this?) Max hissed as he surveyed the damage.

A sigh worked its way past my lips as I nodded, unable to look him in the eye. We stood in silence for a moment, giving Max a chance to calm down. I looked back up at his face, anger still present in his eyes.

“Can I stay here tonight?” It was barely a whisper, and my voice sounded small and fragile in my ears.

Max sighed and relaxed slightly. “Bien sûr.” (Of course)

I shivered slightly from the cold and Max quickly grabbed my bag and ushered me inside. “Come inside before you get sick, it’s freezing out here.” A laugh from further inside the house broke through the quiet. Seeing panic flood my features, Max pointed behind himself in the direction of the game room.

“I can send them home-”

“No, don’t do that. I don’t want to intrude.” I interrupted him.

He looked at me incredulously. “You’re my baby sister Margaux, you’re not intruding.”

“Still, you should finish out the night. You work too hard, you need to have some fun with your friends.” I gave the brightest smile I could muster up, but he frowned at me.

“Do you want to meet everyone? Marc’s here, you remember him right?”

“Not tonight Max. Right now I just want to take a shower and go to sleep.” He nodded, understanding that I didn’t want to meet his friends looking like a member of Fight Club.

I’d met a few of his teammates before I moved, and got to know Marc when he’d joined us for our annual Christmas road trip up to Quebec one year, but I’d yet to meet most of the guys Max was close with. I’d seen them on TV of course, but I’d moved to Philly before most of them arrived.

Max led me through the house quietly, before bringing me into his guest bedroom. The room smelled like fabric softener and new furniture. The walls were beige; Max obviously hadn’t had any time to do any heavy decorating. He tossed my bag onto the chest that sat at the end of the bed. I sat down on the bed gently, hissing when pain shot through my chest. I had forgotten about the broken ribs.

“What’s wrong?” Max asked me, panic lacing his voice.

“I think he broke a couple of ribs.” I admitted quietly, still wincing from the sting.

“I’ve got some tape in my bag. Can you do it, or do you need help?” He had his eyes closed and I could tell he was making an effort not to show how mad he was getting. His voice was a forced calm and frighteningly quiet.

“I can do it.”

He nodded and left the room, coming back with a heating pad and a roll of athletic tape. Max set them down on the bed before standing in front of me and pulling me into his torso. He cradled my head to his body with one hand and rubbed my back with the other.

“Il va bien se passer, Margaux.” (It’ll be ok, Margaux)

“Je sais.” (I know.)

Max then leaned down and pressed a soft kiss into my hair. “Je t'aime, Maggie.” (I love you, Maggie.)

I looked up at my brother and gave him a small smile. Max may have been a bit childish and obnoxious when around his friends, or with the press, but he had a sensitive side as well. He was extraordinarily private, and fiercely protective of his family and friends. Whenever he stopped being “Mad Max” and started being Maxime, his eyes changed. They became softer, deeper. His eyebrows would furrow slightly in the middle, giving away his concern. As I looked up at him, those were the eyes I saw looking back at me. I snaked my arms around his middle and gave a slight squeeze.

“Je t'aime trop, Maxime.” (I love you too, Maxime)