Shut Your Eyes

Vero and I were stuffed.

After leaving the rink, we’d gone out to lunch at a small French bistro that Vero swore tasted just like home. I must say, Vero picked a winner. It was dimly lit, with beautiful arched doorways and dark hardwood floors. Vintage photographs hung on the walls, an element I quite liked, as well as shadowboxes that were filled with trinkets from Paris, Bordeaux, and Cannes.

The hostess sat us in a booth in a cozy nook at the back of the restaurant, and handed us menus that were written entirely in French. In the true French fashion, we took our time with lunch – meandering through the meal with friendly conversation and a lot of laughter. We talked about absolutely everything from work to family, before Vero broached the subject I knew she’d been stewing about ever since practice.

“Qu'est-ce qui se passe entre toi et Crosby?” (What’s going on between you and Crosby?) She ventured with a coy smile, peeking over the edge of her wine glass. I choked on the sip of wine that was already in my mouth, coughing and sputtering as Vero looked on with eyebrows raised in amusement.

“De quoi tu parles?” (What’re you talking about?) I asked incredulously once I’d swallowed my drink, wondering what was going on inside that perfectly styled head of hers.

“Toi sais ce que je parle.” (You know what I’m talking about.) She continued with a slight nod of her head in my direction. “Ne croyez pas que je n'ai pas entendu toi deux chuchotement à l'autre dans la patinoire.” (Don’t think I didn’t hear you two whispering to each other in the rink.)

I rolled my eyes and gave her a pointed look. “Il vient de me demander de venir patiner, Vero. Il était à peine la proposition de mariage tu ce qui en fait avéré être.” (He was just asking me to come skate, Vero. It was hardly the marriage proposal you’re making it out to be.)

She brushed my comment off with a languid wave of her hand. “Je pense toujours que toi deux ferait de beaux enfants.” (I still think you two would make beautiful children.)

A loud laugh flew out of my mouth, causing Vero to smile and laugh with me while the diners that were seated at the tables nearest us turned around to stare. Once our giggling had died down, Vero gave me a serious look and opened her mouth once again.

“En toute sincérité si, je pense que vous deux ferait un beau couple. Sidney a toujours dix balles en l'air à la fois et il a besoin de quelqu'un pour l'aider à se détendre de temps en temps.” (In all seriousness though, I do think you two would make a beautiful couple. Sidney always has ten balls in the air at once and he needs someone to help him relax from time to time.)

My fingers traced lazy circles on the tablecloth, my eyes focused on anything other than Vero. “Je suis la dernière chose dont il a besoin.” (I’m the last thing he needs.) I whispered - more to myself than to her, but she heard it anyway and immediately furrowed her brows and made a tsking noise.

“Pourquoi pas?” (Why not?) I shrugged it off and dismissed her question with a wave of my hand as I spied our waitress coming over to deliver the check. After placing the black leather book on the table she walked away with a smile, leaving Vero and I alone again. With a quickness she must have picked up from Marc-André, Vero snatched the check off the table with one hand and smacked my outstretched fingers away with the other.

“Ne pensez même pas à ce sujet.” (Don’t even think about it.) She murmured as she pulled out her glasses to read over the check and attach her credit card to it.

“Veronique,” I began sternly, but she silenced me with a mere look.

“Toi pouvez vous procurer le prochain.” (You can get the next one.) She assured me quietly, handing the check back to the waitress once she sidled back up to the side of the table. Vero then began chattering on about something Marc had said that morning that made her mad, but I was only half-listening. I suddenly had an uneasy feeling.

Have you ever felt like you were being watched? That someone was staring right at you, seeing every movement of your body, watching every twitch of your mouth or blink of your eye? Suddenly I had that feeling – an uneasy sensation in the pit of my stomach. There was no one behind us; we were in a corner booth, so I looked up from Vero and began slowly raking my eyes over the rest of the small restaurant.

That’s when I saw him. Sitting at a table near the front, his face was distorted in confusion as his dark brown eyes searched my face for some sort of clue as to who I was. If he thought long enough, he’d eventually figure it out. Holt Arnone was one of Gavin’s best friends – and he was staring right at me.

Holt had witnessed firsthand what Gavin had put me through, and had turned a blind eye to it all. Every bruise, every broken bone – he’d even driven me to the hospital once because Gavin was too drunk to, and then told the nurse I’d fallen down the stairs. At a party in college, he’d guarded the bedroom door while Gavin had subjected me to the ultimate abuse – ignoring every scream as I pleaded for him to do something.

I could feel all the blood drain out of my face as I quickly shot my eyes back down to the table. My heart started racing. Did he realize it was me? My chest felt tight, and I could feel myself starting to breathe heavier. Would he call Gavin? I felt a warm hand cover my own so I looked up to see Vero staring at me with brows furrowed in concern.

“Margaux, êtes tu bien? Tu as l'air pâle. Avez-tu besoin de votre inhalateur?” (Margaux, are you well? You look pale. Do you need your inhaler?) While I did have a very mild case of asthma, that wasn’t the problem. Thinking about being in the same restaurant as Holt was making me sick to the stomach. I shook my head and grimaced.

“Je me sens malade tout d'un coup. Pouvons-nous aller?” (I feel sick all of a sudden. Can we go?) I asked in a whisper and Vero nodded quickly, gathering up her purse and putting her coat on.

“Je vais te ramener chez. Je ne veux pas tu conduire comme ça.” (I’ll take you home. I don’t want you driving like this.) She helped me into my coat and wrapped a protective arm around my waist, whispering soothing words into my ear as we walked to the front of the restaurant.

As we neared the door, I watched out of the corner of my eye as Holt rose out of his chair and began walking towards us. Stopping Vero with a light touch of his hand – the same hand that held the doorknob still as I tried in vain to get out of the room – and pointed a finger in my direction.

“Forgive the intrusion, but I just had to ask – do I know you? You look so familiar and I just can’t place your face.” His voice sounded the same as always: a southern accent as thick as molasses with the perfect amount of twang. He’d grown up in Georgia, and moved to Pittsburgh for high school, where he’d met Gavin. He still had a thick head of black hair, but it was longer now and had a black beanie pulled over it.

Avoiding eye contact with him, I continued to look at the ground and answered him in soft, murmured French. “Non, je ne pense pas que nous avons rencontré avant.” (No, I don’t think we’ve met before.) His face fell when he heard the French.

“I suppose not. I’m sorry I bothered you, have a nice rest of the day.” He gave a quick smile and went to sit back down, leaving Vero and I to walk out into the cold winter afternoon. She ushered me to her car, which was parked right next to mine, and helped me into the passenger seat before climbing into the driver’s side and heading off in the direction of Max’s condo.

I invited all the guys over to the condo for lunch after practice since the girls would be off doing their own thing. We ordered in from some restaurant that Jordan and Geno had insisted on, and popped The Blues Brothers into the DVD player in the living room.

Loaded full of delicious carbs like pasta and pizza, we were all borderline comatose and lounging around on the couches until the rattle of a doorknob in the front entryway caught my attention. My head shot up so I could see over the pillows, and Sidney lazily turned his eyes in my direction.

“What’re you looking at, Max?” He asked, his voice dripping laziness.

Before I could answer him the door opened and Vero popped into the foyer, hanging onto my sister by the waist. Maggie didn’t look good; her face was a deathly pale and wore a pained expression. I jumped up from the couch, almost landing on Jordan as he lounged on the floor, and ran over to help them inside. Vero helped me prop Maggie on the stairs, sitting her down on one of the steps.

“Mon Dieu, Vero, ce qui s'est passé pour elle?” (My God, Vero, what happened to her?) This caught the attention of Kris and Marc, who quickly ran over to see what I was talking about, Geno and Sid right on their heels.

Vero broke our usual “No French around other people” rule and answered me quickly, talking as she moved into the bathroom and came back with a wet washcloth. “Je ne sais pas, je pense qu'il aurait pu être quelque chose qu'elle a mangé. Elle était bien jusqu'à ce que nous étions sur le point de partir et puis elle est tombée très pâle et avait du mal à respirer. Elle ne serait pas utiliser son inhalateur bien.” (I don’t know, I think it might have been something she ate. She was fine until we were about to leave, and then she got really pale and was having a hard time breathing. She wouldn’t use her inhaler though.)

I could hear Kris softly translating for Geno and Sid as he and Marc ushered them back into the living room while Vero and I tended to Maggie. Turning back to her, I held the wet cloth that Vero had handed me to her head and started talking to her. Maggie pushed my hand away from her head lightly, even though I repeatedly tried to put it back.

“Margaux, tu vas bien?” (Margaux, you alright?) She nodded slowly, eyes closed.

“Je vais bien, Max, tu pouvez arrêter servile sur moi, tu sais. Je pense que j'ai juste besoin de se coucher.” (I’m fine, Max, you can stop fawning over me you know. I think I just need to lie down.) I nodded, and let her get up and walk to her room. Once the door shut behind her with a soft click, Vero tapped me on the arm.

“Her car is still at the restaurant, I wouldn’t let her drive home.” I nodded and made a mental note to go pick it up.

“Alright. Thanks for bringing her home, V.” Vero huffed and dismissed my comment.

“No need to thank me. Just keep an eye on her alright?”

“I promise.” She smiled softly and wandered into Maggie’s room to say goodbye to her, coming out a few minutes later and walking into the living room to say goodbye to Marc. I followed her in there, reclaiming my spot on the couch and turning on ESPN. The boys watched me with a silent curiosity on their faces. I could tell they wanted to say something, but knew that they wouldn’t.

Jordan was still passed out on the floor, oblivious to everything going on around him. I chuckled a bit while looking at him before getting Marc’s attention and pointing a finger in the blonde giant’s direction. Marc laughed and got up to run into the kitchen before coming back with a couple of sharpies. He tossed one to me, before handing out the others to Kris, Sid, and Geno.

“Let’s have some fun.”

I felt better when I woke up. The nausea had subsided, and I no longer felt like I couldn’t breathe. Stretching my arms above my head, I cuddled down deeper into my fluffy down comforter and listened. While I usually would have heard silence, maybe the soft hum of the TV as Max watched a football game, today I heard yelling – and laughter; an unusual combination, even for this house.

I climbed out of my bed slowly, my sore muscles protesting the movement. My body was healing, albeit slowly, and moving still had its painful moments. I pulled on an old Penguins hoodie over my usual sleepwear of a t-shirt and soffees and slipped on a pair of black and white knee high softball socks.

Venturing cautiously out into the hall, I realized the yelling was coming from the living room. I quietly padded in there and peeked around the corner before walking into the room. I bit back a laugh as I saw what all the commotion was about.

Jordan was standing in front of the couch wearing an angry expression and a sharpie mural on his face, as well as his arms and legs. I knew Marc and Max had to be behind it, especially when I saw that someone had drawn a penis on his cheek. Sidney and Kris were on the couch wearing identical innocent expressions on their faces, eyes gleaming with amusement. Marc rolled around on the floor in a fit of laughter that only got worse with every sentence that came out of Jordan’s mouth.

“You guys are assholes. This is sharpie! How the fuck am I supposed to get this off?” He asked angrily, pointing to his cheek.

Kris stared at Jordan with a seriousness that only he could muster in the face of such a comical situation. “The penis? How are you supposed to get a penis off?”

Jordan nodded with a “are you kidding?” look on his face. Sidney, in a rare moment of outspoken crassness, picked up the joke that Kris started and gave Jordan a disappointed look. “Staalsy, shouldn’t you buy Kris dinner first before you start asking questions like that?”

Jordan pointed an angry finger in his direction as Kris and Marc broke into loud fits of raucous laughter. “You shut your mouth.”

Kris stopped giggling long enough to put a hand to his chest and paint a disgusted look on his face exaggeratedly. “Seriously Jordan, what kind of man do you think I am? I have standards, you know.”

Another laugh at Jordan’s expense went up around the boys, causing Jordan to roll his eyes and spot me lurking over by the doorway. “Maggie, look what your brother and these assholes did to me!”

Marc, Kris, and Sid all looked over at me, still wearing matching smiles on their faces. I grinned at Jordan. “I can see that. Speaking of my brother, where is he?”

Marc sat up from the floor and smiled at me. “He and Geno went to go pick up your car, he’ll be back any minute. How’re you feeling?”

“Much better, thanks. Even more so now.” I said and chuckled a bit as I lazily pointed in Jordan’s direction. He frowned and gave me a disbelieving look.

“Now you’re laughing at me too?” I gave him a small nod and a big grin, making him roll his eyes and smile back at me. Deciding not to torment him any longer, I nodded my head in the direction of my bedroom.

“Come with me, I’ll get the sharpie off.” His face lit up like a firework and he quickly jogged over to where I was standing so he could follow me as I turned and began walking towards my bedroom. He followed me in like a puppy dog as I led him through my room and into the bathroom, where I grabbed my nail polish remover from under the sink and a bag of cotton balls.

I positioned him where I wanted him to stand and then hopped up on the counter so I could reach his face more easily. We existed in a comfortable silence for a few moments, and I was surprised that being alone with him wasn’t nearly as panic-inducing as I would have found it when I first arrived.

I’d given him the bottle of nail polish remover to keep him occupied while I worked, much like a mother would for a small child. He busied himself by reading the back, before opening it up and sniffing the contents only to pull back and cough when the pungent smell hit his nose.

“Damn.” He muttered to himself and set the bottle down on the counter. I smiled as I dabbed away at the thick black lines all over his face. Max complained every time I used that stuff, claiming it made the entire house smell like a chemical plant.

“I never knew you could use this to get sharpie off.” He marveled, and I nodded.

“Yep. You’d be surprised how much stuff has more than one use.” He cocked his head to the side and looked at me suspiciously.

“Like what?” I pulled my hands back from his face and bit my lip in thought.

“Um, you can use WD-40 to get crayon off walls. You can mix lemon and salt to polish silverware. A little honey and sugar makes a really great lip scrub, not that you’d need to know about that. You can use baking soda and water to brush your teeth. A little dab of lotion can shine your shoes in a pinch, and it keeps the leather moist. You can use coffee filters to get broken cork out of a bottle of wine.” Jordan was looking at me like I’d just rattled off a math equation, a mixture of shock and awe.

“How do you know all that?” He asked curiously.

“Just part of being a girl, I guess.” I replied with a chuckle. He smiled. Looking around, he spotted my pair of running shoes sitting by the closet door. I hadn’t been able to go running since I’d been in Pittsburgh, mainly because Max didn’t want me to go by myself and he absolutely loathed running. I didn’t want to go running by myself either, so there they sat – sad and alone by the door, just waiting to be used.

“I didn’t know you ran.” Jordan sounded impressed.

“I used to, but I don’t really like to go by myself and you know how Max is about running.” He barked out a laugh and nodded. Then he looked back up at me like he’d been struck with a bright idea.

“You should come running with me! I pass by the condo every morning, I could pick you up and we could go together!” Jordan looked so thrilled by his idea that I found it impossible to say no. I found myself nodding along and agreeing.

“That sounds fun. Now stop moving so I can get this penis off your cheek.” He barked out a laugh and tried to stay as still as possible.

“It is kinda funny, isn’t it?” He asked, the humor that Sidney, Kris, and Marc found in the situation catching onto him as well.

I chuckled along with him as I began to scrub away at the obscenity. This newfound ease at which I conversed with Jordan both excited me and scared me at the same time. He, just like the other boys, made me smile and laugh in a way that I’d almost forgotten to. They were starting to feel like family, even though I’d only been around them for a week.

He continued to chatter on about unimportant things, just he and I in the bathroom getting to know each other. That’s how we stayed, too, just the two of us and the sounds of our laughter carrying through the house as I scrubbed every last bit of black sharpie off of Jordan Staal.