Shut Your Eyes

“So, where to now?”

Maggie’s breath clouded out in front of her as we sat in the car, trying to decide what to do next. She pulled a bit of her bottom lip into her mouth as she stared blankly at the radio, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“Well,” She started teasingly. “How opposed are you to more shopping?”

The very thought of having to look at more combinations of color and fabric and whatever else was going on inside that head of hers was enough to make me dizzy. I stared at her for a second, trying to decide if she was serious or not. The soft giggle that bubbled out of her was the only answer I got.

“I’m just kidding, Sid. I won’t drag you through a furniture store until we get done painting the house – and who knows how long that’s gonna take with your schedule. Don’t look so anxious.” She gave me a soft smile before turning her attention back to the window so she could watch the snow covered lawns and houses pass by in a blur.

“How about this,” I started. Maggie’s head turned in my direction – a soft smile on her lips. “Let’s go back to the house and start painting, and then we can tackle furniture next week.”

She nodded, causing her thick curls to bounce around. “Sounds perfect.”

The rest of the ride home was spent in a comfortable silence. Every now and then Maggie would comment on how beautiful someone’s yard was, or if someone had particularly obnoxious holiday decorations. Most of the time, if a girl was in the car with me I insisted on turning the radio on. It was like a shield – it prevented a lot of awkward conversation when, let’s face it, I wasn’t hanging out with them for the conversation.

When I was with Maggie, my hands never strayed towards the radio knob. I never once thought of turning music on to drown out her voice, instead I found myself wishing she would talk more. She had the strange ability to turn a sentence about heinous blow-up Christmas decorations into something endlessly fascinating.

By the time we pulled into the driveway, it had stopped snowing, but I still wouldn’t let Maggie carry any of the paint into the house – a gesture she protested adamantly.

“I could’ve helped you, you know.” She said quietly once we were standing in the foyer, snowy shoes forgotten by the door. She wore the same soft smile she always had, as she watched me take off my coat and hang it in the closet.

“You did help me, you carried the brushes.” I shot a teasing grin her way and watched her narrow her eyes playfully and throw a glove at me.

“You know what I meant.”

“I know what you meant.” I sighed, still smiling at her as she carefully folded her coat over her arm, along with her hat and my scarf. Once she set them down on the table by the door, she looked up at me with a toothy Talbot grin.

“Should we start moving furniture?”

She was wearing one of my old Penguins t-shirts that I’d offered her so she didn’t get paint on her sweater. It practically swallowed her, drowning her petite frame in black jersey cotton. She looked so cute, all messy hair and sparkling eyes. I enjoyed the sight of her in one of my t-shirts a lot more than I’d be willing to admit to anyone out loud.

While I opened the paint cans, I noticed Maggie looking around the room from the corner of my eye. “Looking for something?”

Her eyes shot over to mine quickly, and she started to nibble on her bottom lip – a habit I was starting to notice more and more. “Do you have ipod speakers?”

I nodded and pointed towards the black docking station on one of the shelves that were built into the wall on the other side of the room. She wandered over to her bag and pulled out her ipod before shuffling over to me in her sock covered feet, and handing me the small black brick with a shy smile. “Pick something.”

At first, I didn’t understand the massive undertaking that was “picking something.” Maggie had over five thousand songs on her ipod, from every genre and sub-genre imaginable. There were playlists that had Beethoven and The Sex Pistols right beside each other, which no doubt had the famous composer rolling over in his grave.

I looked up at her with my mouth hung open in confusion. “I couldn’t pick a color out of a line, and you expect me to pick something out of all the music you have on here?”

Maggie giggled as she poured paint into the roller trays, careful not to spill any even though we’d put down more than enough protection. “Don’t you like music?”

Her question was softly spoken, curiosity lacing her voice. I nodded, glancing back down at the ipod before looking up at her again. “Of course.”

She didn’t even look my way as she began rolling a thin layer of paint onto the walls. “Then I don’t see the problem.”

I’d lost count of how many times Margaux had managed to silence me with a simple phrase. She did it to everyone, unintentionally of course, and it never failed to take us by surprise. Jordan was usually at the receiving end of it; rendered speechless when Maggie would point out something painfully obvious that had managed to slip right past his notice. Marc said it was because she saw things differently, whatever that meant.

He’d tried to explain it to me once after practice while we watched Max and Jordan drag her around on the ice like a child. Marc didn’t know if it was the photographer in her or what, but he claimed Maggie noticed tiny details where most people only saw a big picture, and when everyone else was too focused on the little things, Maggie saw a bigger pattern.

What I thought was too much music to choose from, Maggie saw as an abundance of options – more than was even necessary. She didn’t exist in the same world of boundaries and lines that the rest of us seemed to live in, myself more so than everyone else.

Instead of answering her, I just looked back down and began scrolling through the many options she’d presented me with. I figured I couldn’t go wrong with choosing the ’25 Most Played’ playlist, so I plugged it into the docking station and hit play. Soon the room was filled with the sounds of Led Zeppelin, and a smirk ghosted its way onto Maggie’s face.

“Nice choice.” She complimented. “Now come over here and help me, I’m not gonna do this by myself.”

Making my way back over to where she was standing, I picked up a roller and started covering the wall in paint. Beside me, I could hear Maggie softly humming along to the music. Her head bobbed and hips swayed lightly as she listened, obviously enjoying herself. Suddenly her eyes cut over in my direction.

“Tell me about yourself.” She suggested lightly, still rolling paint onto the wall.

“What do you mean?”

“Tell me about yourself.” She repeated with a chuckle. “Things about the real you; things I wouldn’t know from being a hockey fan.”

“Well what do you want to know?” I prodded with a smile.

“Anything and everything.” She answered, eyes shining with mischief.

“That might take a while.” I teased.

She glanced around at all the beige walls and raised an eyebrow at me. “I think we have time.”

I laughed and continued to streak color onto the wall in front of me.

“How about this, I’ll ask questions and you answer them.” Nodding, I looked over at her.

“Sounds like a plan.”

She bit her lip in thought as she searched her mind for a good question. “What’s your favorite food?”

“Steak.” She laughed and continued.

“Favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“Favorite movie?”

“The Boondock Saints.”

The questions went on and on, ranging from simple ones like my favorite band or TV show, to more complicated questions like the three things I’d have to grab if the house was on fire, or what I would do if I couldn’t play hockey.

We worked until Maggie ran out of questions, which took longer than you’d think, and then decided to order a pizza and eat before attempting any more painting. She sat on the floor in the living room, legs crossed underneath her as she fingered the worn cuffs on the sweatshirt I’d thrown at her once we stopped painting. Maggie had watched me carefully as I’d ordered the food, and continued to stare at me after I’d hung up the phone.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” I asked.

She pointed up at me lazily. “You have paint on your face.”

“Where?”

“Right there.” She pointed at me again, but I still had no clue where she was seeing a streak of green.

“Maggie.” I complained, dragging her name out more than I usually would’ve. She laughed and picked up a tissue that was sitting beside her before standing up and walking over to me and wiping at my face with it. All it took was one second of cold paint hitting my skin to realize what she was up to. Her roguish grin didn’t hide much either.

I brought a finger up to my face and wiped off a line of the paint she’d just smeared over my cheek and dragged it along her nose like I was applying war paint. Her eyes went wide, mouth hanging open in shock that I’d done it back to her.

It didn’t take long for the famous Talbot grin to spread across her face. She bent down and pressed her small hand onto the paint lid, covering it in green dye. Without a word, she stood up straight and set it onto the front of my face.

I couldn’t help the smile that broke onto my face once I wiped the paint off my lips, ignoring the rest of it on my face. “Wrong move, Talbot.”

She shrieked quickly, darting behind the barrier of plastic covered furniture in the middle of the room, but not before she grabbed a roller and doused it in paint.

This meant war.

I picked up the other roller and dipped it in paint before trying to decide how to get to Maggie. I could see her blue eyes peeking out from the top of the furniture, watching my every move like a hawk.

“You can’t hide back there forever. You started this, now come finish it.” Her head popped up just a little further, enough for me to see the teasing grin on her face.

“I can stay here as long as I want, it’s not like you’re going to make me move.”

Another shriek flew out of her mouth as I lunged behind the couch where she was hiding. With a quick dart of the hand, I managed to leave a streak of color on the sleeve of her sweatshirt and hand. Her laughter floated through the air as she scurried around towards the other side of the furniture, but I was two steps ahead of her, and went around the other side.

But when I poked my head around the corner, Maggie was already waiting for me with her paint roller ready and she left a wide line of paint down the center of my chest before trying to dash back behind her wall.

I caught her by the waist and pulled her back towards me, but ended up losing my balance and falling forward with her. We landed in a heap of drop-cloths and wet rollers, with Maggie underneath me laughing. I’d held myself up with an arm so I didn’t crush her, and watched her get the last of her giggles out.

“Admit defeat.” I prodded with a grin.

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly and sighed. “Fine. You win, as usual.”

She’d ended up covered in paint like I was, green smears all over her face and clothes. In the back of my mind I noticed the presence of a small hand resting on my arm, whether on purpose or on accident I didn’t know.

Her eyes were wide and bright, and bore straight into mine as she stared up at me from the floor. The room was quiet except for whatever Journey song was playing in the background. Maggie’s silence was slightly unnerving. Her dark curls were splayed around her head and framed her face perfectly, and I let a small smile slip onto my face. Maggie’s eyes shifted down shyly.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her quietly, even though it was just the two of us.

“I’m scared.” She whispered with the ghost of a smile on her face.

I raised an eyebrow at her in confusion. “Why?”

Maggie’s eyes glanced back up at my own and she bit down on her lip like she always did. “No one’s ever looked at me the way you just did.”

I didn’t know what to say, so instead I just continued to watch her as her bright eyes searched my face for a reaction to what she’d just said. As she stared up at me, something inside my head switched on and suddenly I felt completely strange, like the distance between us was much smaller than what I could see from where I was. Like that line, always so clear to me, had somehow shifted, or had never even been where I’d thought it was at all.

The phrase “It’s now or never” suddenly leapt into mind, and I decided to do the one thing I’d had in mind since meeting her. It was either the bravest thing I’ve ever done or the most idiotic and in that moment I was painfully aware of how hard it was to tell the difference.

My heartbeat pounded in my ears as I leaned in slowly, watching her carefully for any sign that she wanted to bolt – but she never gave me one. Maggie’s breath stilled, and her eyes shifted down shyly before meeting mine again. Her grip on my arm tightened, and I could feel her pulse racing through her body.

As quickly as her eyes fluttered closed, my good luck ran out.

The doorbell rang throughout the house, and I suddenly remembered the pizza we’d ordered. Maggie flushed bright red as her eyes opened, and she looked anywhere and everywhere except for at me.

I let out a frustrated sigh and squeezed my eyes shut. “I better get that.”

She nodded and we sat up, her gathering up the paint rollers as I grabbed the money I’d left on the counter and headed to the door, ready to murder whatever poor soul was standing on the other side of it.

It was the pizza, and as I handed the money to the delivery guy I noticed him staring at the paint that was all over my body.

“Did I come at a bad time?” He asked with a cocked eyebrow.

I let out another sigh and gave him a stony glare. “You have no idea.”