Shut Your Eyes

It’s not often you wake up to the smell of burning food and a Staal staring at you.

Jordan was standing beside my bed, poking me in the arm like a small child would. I opened my eyes slowly, squinting when the bright light hit them. Jordan stared down at me with his bright baby blue eyes and a tired look on his face. “Max told me not to wake you up, but he’s about one pancake away from burning the kitchen down.”

I nodded and pushed my covers back. My eyes zeroed in on the cut below Jordan’s eye and I stared up at him in confusion. “What happened to your face?”

“Your brother. We had a slight disagreement at practice, we both said some harsh words, and then he threw a puck at me. Now we’re making pancakes. You know, typical Tuesday.” There was a million things I could’ve said, but I couldn’t choose one so I just shook my head with a sigh and pulled myself out of bed before following the smell of burning pancake batter out of my room and towards the kitchen.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but I didn’t think I’d be seeing Max trying to chisel a crisp black pancake off the griddle with a spatula. Marc was sitting by the bar cringing with every muttered curse that came out of Max’s mouth. With Jordan following right behind me like a shadow, I walked over to Max and gently pried the spatula from his grasp. “That’s enough of that.”

He chuckled apologetically and then sent a glare Jordan’s way. “I told you not to wake her up, asshole.”

“Don’t start with him, if Jordan hadn’t woken me up it would have been the smoke detector.” My voice was still husky with sleep, and I sighed before giving up on the brick of batter that was stuck to the griddle.

The boys were silent as they watched me carefully, waiting for me to say something. Instead of lecturing Max about his constant misuse of kitchen gadgets or asking Marc why he didn’t try to stop my brother I simply walked back into my room and threw on a pair of jeans and an oversized knit sweater. Slipping my feet into my combat boots, I grabbed my purse and my coat before wandering back into the kitchen where the boys were still standing around the attempted breakfast. They stared at me with wide, confused eyes as they silently tried to figure out why I was dressed.

I held up my car keys and jingled them lightly. “I’m going to IHOP. Who’s coming?”

Twenty minutes later we were all piled into a booth with menus in our hands and steaming cups of coffee sitting in front of us. The boys had argued about who got to sit next to me since my size would give them more room and Jordan eventually won, claiming he earned the privilege since he prevented Max from burning down the condo.

I stifled a giggle watching Max and Marc mutter curses in French under their breaths as they tried to get comfortable, earning stares from more than a few people in the small restaurant. From under the table I heard Jordan kick something, and judging by the look on Marc’s face it was his shin.

“You boys better behave, or your mother and I are taking you home.” Jordan muttered as he looked over his menu.

I bumped his ribs lightly with my elbow and shot him an amused look. “Really, Jordan?”

He pouted his lips a bit and looked down at me. “Oh come on, they are ruining breakfast for me.”

Marc rolled his eyes. “Oh shut up, nothing ruins breakfast for you, you fatass.”

Jordan raised his eyebrows and conceded, nodding with a small smirk on his face. “Yeah, you’re right. Where’s our waitress? I’m starving.”

Just a few minutes later, our waitress came over and took all of our orders before wandering off to leave us alone. We sat quietly for a second, all of us either looking out of the window or down at our coffee mugs. Marc looked over at Max with a snarky grin. “You know Max, it would’ve been quicker to just set the whole bowl of batter on fire.”

Max sent him a steely glare, but gritted his teeth to remain silent and keep the peace. I smiled at him over the rim of my coffee mug before turning my attention to Marc. “What exactly were you boys doing at the house anyways? Don’t famous hockey players have better things to be doing than hanging out with my brother?”

“Vero’s out of town.” Marc deadpanned. “So, no.”

I rolled my eyes and looked over to Jordan. “What about you; what’s your excuse?”

“It was either this, or go buy a new couch.”

“What happened to your old couch?” I asked quietly, eyebrow cocked in confusion.

Max barked out a laugh. “You don’t want to know, Mags.”

Jordan nodded in agreement, leaving me confused and slightly concerned but I left it alone and smiled silently up at our waitress as plates of pancakes and other breakfast foods were arranged around us. Conversation was dropped for a little bit so that everyone could eat. The boys’ hunger was obvious from the way they nearly inhaled their food, but then again they always ate like that.

“What’re you guys doing after this?” Marc asked as he sipped quietly on his coffee.

“Maggie’s coming with me to the furniture store.” Jordan announced with a smile as he slung an arm around my shoulders. Max and Marc snickered along with the blond giant.

Amused, I looked up at him incredulously. “I am?”

He pouted slightly. “How else am I going to find something that looks good? You’ll decorate Sid’s entire house, but you won’t help me pick out a couch?”

“At least Sidney had the good sense to ask her beforehand.” Max pointed out with a grin.

Jordan looked down at me with pleading bright blue eyes. “Please, Maggie? Don’t make me go by myself.”

I rolled my eyes, but reassuringly patted the hand that he’d rested on my shoulder. “Don’t panic, I won’t make you go by yourself. We’ll go after breakfast.”

He perked up immediately and pulled me closer to his side, not noticing when I stiffened under the contact. Max watched me carefully, waiting for some sort of reaction. After a moment or two I relaxed under Jordan’s arm and smiled up at Max slightly.

He grinned at me before turning his attention on Jordan. “Hands off my sister, asshole.”

Jordan glanced around to see if a waitress was watching before flinging a small forkful of food at Max’s head. “Mind your business.”

Max grabbed for the syrup, but I snatched it out of his grasp with one hand while smacking down Jordan’s fork with the other. “Stop it, both of you.”

“He started it.” Max muttered childishly.

Our waitress sidled up to the table with a concerned look on her face. “Are you okay over here?”

Marc smiled over at her gently. “We’re fine.”

She wandered off, leaving us to finish eating. We did just that, somehow managing to get through the rest of the meal without a food fight erupting. Once we were finished and there was nothing left on our table but a mosaic of empty plates and coffee cups, we paid the bill and were on our way.

“What about that one?” I asked the blonde giant standing next to me.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Jordan crinkle his face in distaste like he’d been doing for the last forty-five minutes. He stared down at the black suede for a moment before shaking his head and looking down at me. “I don’t like it.”

A heavy sighed heaved its way from my chest. We’d been wandering around in the furniture store for almost an hour, and were no closer to finding Jordan a couch than we were when we walked in. He’d turned down almost everything from leather couches to suede ones, brown ones to black ones, sectionals and every other combination of couch possible.

“Jordan, there has to be fifty different couches on this floor, just pick one.”

He pursed his lips slightly and looked around at the sea of furniture before throwing an arm around my shoulders. “Maggie, I’ve made a decision.”

I smiled and gave a light sigh of relief. “Really? Which one?”

My eyes followed his outstretched finger to where it was pointing in the room full of couches. When I saw what he was pointing at, I rolled my eyes. “You’re kidding, right?”

Jordan shook his head resolutely. “Nope. That’s the one.”

I stared at him for a moment. “That’s the exact same couch you have right now.”

He nodded happily and waved over the salesman that had given up on helping us after only twenty minutes. “Why mess with a good thing?”

The salesman came over cautiously. He was short & thin, probably still in high-school, and was wincing at the mere thought of having to help Jordan again. “Do you two need some help?”

I looked over to Jordan, but he’d wandered over to the couch and was making himself comfortable by laying down on it like he was already at home. Rolling my eyes, I looked back over at the salesman. “Yes, he finally picked one out.”

“Maggie come try this couch, it’s amazing.” Jordan called to me from halfway across the showroom. The salesman and I stood next to each other and watched Jordan bounce lightly on the seat like a child, a giant grin never leaving his face.

“Will you need that delivered, Mrs. Staal?” I glanced over at the boy from the corner of my eyes and chuckled.

“You think I’m married to that giant five year old?” I asked quietly, amusement dripping off my words.

“No?” It sounded more like a question than a statement, but I let it go with a smile.

“Yes, he will be needing it delivered.”

After we left the furniture store, Jordan decided he wanted to go downtown. He’d said something about wanting to get coffee at this one particular café, a place that Kris had ranted and raved about for weeks. I’d also been itching to visit an art shop that I’d seen on my many trips downtown, but had never gotten the chance to go into. If Jordan could pull me around a furniture store for an hour, I could drag him into an art shop for a few minutes.

“Maggie, where is this place?” He whined, sticking close to my side in the chilly air. I pulled my coat closer to my body and nodded my head over towards the corner.

“It’s just around the corner, Jordan, you can make it.” A grumbling sound came out of his mouth, but he sidled up next to me and hurried me along down the sidewalk. We hurried inside the store, named “Lucky 13 Art & Photography”, and were greeted instantly by the cozy, warm atmosphere and the faint smell of cinnamon.

Jordan had to duck to keep from hitting his head on the doorframe, and jumped slightly when a bell jingled upon our entrance – alerting whoever worked there that we'd just walked in. The store was empty, except for Jordan and I, and I could tell from the way he stood right next to me that Jordan wasn’t sure what to do with himself inside an art shop.

One half of the shop was dedicated to art, painting supplies specifically, while the other half was full of photography equipment. I gravitated to the photography equipment while Jordan trailed along behind me like a lost puppy. I’d been debating buying a new lens for my camera, and it wouldn’t hurt to look at the ones that the shop offered.

“How’d you get into photography anyways, Mags?” Jordan asked curiously as he inspected a row of tripods, being careful not to touch anything.

I smiled at his question. “I’d always loved taking pictures of things. Papa had to start keeping his camera on the top shelf of the closet because I would abscond with it and sneak off to take pictures of the neighbor’s dog or the boys skating out on the pond. When it finally broke & he had to buy a new one, he gave the old one to me to play with. I brought it everywhere with me – church, school, the market. The Christmas after I turned twelve Max, Will, & Franck all got together and bought me a camera. It was beautiful – black and bright silver with a black leather strap.”

I stayed quiet for a second when it hit me that I’d left the camera in Philadelphia. It was sitting in a hatbox in the closet along with several other family trinkets & heirlooms I’d wanted to keep safe. Jordan was glancing at me from the corner of his eye, probably wondering why I’d stopped talking. “What’s wrong, Mags?”

Quickly lifting my eyes back to his, I forced a small smile. “Nothing, I just lost my train of thought for a second.”

He gave me a toothy grin. “You and Max are so alike, it’s scary.”

My phone began vibrating in my pocket. “I’ll be right back Jordan, someone’s calling me.”

He nodded at me as I walked outside the door, standing in the cold January air. I fished my phone out of my pocket and held it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Hello Margaux.”

My blood ran cold. I should have hung up, thrown my phone into the street, anything – but I was too shocked to move. I hadn’t heard his voice in weeks, but I would have recognized his quiet, steely tone anywhere.

“How did you get this number?” I whispered. My voice sounded fuzzy & far away, even to my own ears.

A rough chuckle came over the line. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find you? You’ve been running all over Pittsburgh playing house with Mr. Hockey and you didn’t think I’d find out?”

His voice was getting louder, and I started to wince at the sudden spike in his volume. I didn’t know what to say to him, so I stayed silent. He was having none of it, though. “Margaux! Answer me when I’m talking to you!”

A small squeak worked its way through my lips as tears stung behind my eyelids. Just hang up, I told myself repeatedly. Just hang up the phone & go stand with Jordan. Just hang up the phone & call Max. Whatever you do, just hang up the damn phone.

Suddenly the line became quiet. Faintly, I could hear Gavin breathing in and out – steady like a freight train, sharp like a razor. Eventually he spoke in a deathly serious tone. “You’ve had your fun down in Pittsburgh, but now it’s over. You have one week. One week to get your ass back to Philadelphia, or else.”

“Or else what?” I whispered, suddenly feeling confident.

“Or else I’ll drag your ass back here myself.” He whispered.

A moment of silence passed between the two of us before he spoke again, this time in a normal, almost nonchalant voice. “Oh and Maggie, lose the sass. It doesn’t look good on you.”

Gavin hung up the phone with a click, leaving me standing on the sidewalk feeling violated. The door to the art shop opened behind me with the jingle of a bell. Jordan came and stood beside me, throwing one of his giant arms around me like he’d been doing all day. I shrugged it off of me quickly like it’d sent a shock through my body.

“Maggie, what’s wrong?” Jordan asked with concern coloring his voice.

I looked up at him apologetically. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong; hell, he hadn’t even done anything wrong. I was what was wrong. “I’m not feeling very well all of a sudden. Do you mind if we go home?”

He furrowed his brow at me, but nodded and followed after me as I began walking in the direction of our car. He kept a healthy amount of distance from me on the way back, but was always within arm’s reach – a kindness I didn’t feel I deserved, not from someone as trusting as Jordan.

I was lying to him.

I was lying to everyone.

And that realization was enough to add a biting edge to the already frigid winter air.