Shut Your Eyes

I don’t even know how I got here.

Even when I was a child, I always thought things through. Carefully spontaneous. There was never a time that I hadn’t planned any and all possible outcomes of the things I did, and yet here I was sitting in a parking lot with absolutely no idea how I’d gotten there or what I planned to do.

The county courthouse was a tall and intimidating building with a roof as black as pitch. Ornate windows scattered across the walls; a fortress of stone and glass. On all accounts it was a very beautiful building and on many trips downtown I’d found myself admiring it from the sidewalk, wondering if the resilient charm on the outside was reflected on the inside as well. Now that I was faced with entering the building I’d once been so curious about, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know anymore.

As I stepped out of the car, I tugged my jacket even closer to my body. Even though it wasn’t snowing the air was thick and cold and it blew through my body like a freight train. Downtown was fairly deserted. Everyone was either at work or in school, and those who weren’t were kept inside by the cold.

My boots scuffed against the street as I walked and I could silently hear Max’s constant reminder for me to pick my feet up. He always knew when I was dawdling because my shoes scraping against whatever I walked on would give my shuffling gait away in a second. Whether it was school, or work, or anything else I wasn’t particularly excited about Max would come up behind me and bump his knee into my leg before reminding me with a laugh, “Pick your feet up, Margaux, you aren’t marching to your death.”

I picked my feet up with a heavy sigh and walked up the stairs to the courthouse, reminding myself to breathe deep with each step I took. As I was reaching my hand toward the handle to pull the heavy wooden door open a middle aged man opened it from the inside, startling me and causing me to jump back a bit in surprise.

He just stared at me for a moment, obviously not expecting me to be on the other side of the door, but he held the door open and nodded his head towards the inside. “Coming in?”

I silently nodded. He chuckled. “Didn’t mean to scare you, you’ll have to forgive me.”

“It’s alright; I’m a bit absentminded today.” I entered in through the door he was holding open for me. Taking a few deep breaths, I attempted to slow down the beating of my heart and find someone who could point me in the direction I was looking for.

The inside of the courthouse was as beautiful and ornate as the outside. Everything was furnished with dark, rich wood or polished marble, and ceiling-high murals graced the walls around me. Suddenly I felt like it was my first day in school. The hallways here were so big, and I was so small, and unlike my first day in school I didn’t have Max’s hand to hold. I stuck close to the walls, peeking around corners like a child playing hide and seek.

“Need some help?”

My body froze and I spun around slowly with cheeks flaming red in embarrassment from being caught wandering. A woman in a dark blue pencil skirt and a white blouse was staring at me with a small smile on her face.

“I’m not sure where to go.” I admitted quietly, glancing around at all of the staircases and hallways. She gave me a reassuring look and stepped a bit closer.

“Where are you trying to go?”

“I don’t really know…” I started slowly, nervously taking my bottom lip between my teeth. “I think I need a restraining order.”

The reassuring smile on her face faltered for a moment and she gave me a look that was full of pity. She lifted her arm and beckoned me over to her, replacing the pitying look on her face with a determined air. “Come with me.”



Her name was Lucy.

She was only a few inches taller than my short stature, even with heels on, and from the looks of her office she was quite fond of traveling and a dog named Biscuit. She had blonde hair, green eyes, and a beautiful diamond engagement ring on her left hand. This was all I knew about her.

She had ushered me upstairs to her office and seated me in a black armchair that looked like something straight out of IKEA before telling me she would be right back, and she was. She came back into the room holding a few papers and sat down at her desk with a small smile.

She handed me a clipboard and a pen before leaning over to point to certain lines that she’d marked with an arrow. “Just fill the marked lines out, the rest is for me.”

I nodded without a word, looking down at the official looking papers below me. Lucy leaned back in her chair and reached for something below her desk.

“Do you like coffee?” She asked curiously.

I nodded again and she grinned and pulled out a Starbucks Frappuccino bottle from a mini-fridge beneath her desk. She handed it to me and pulled out another one for herself.

“Thank you.” I murmured with a small smile. The paperwork was fairly straightforward. I knew there were more papers than the one she had given me; this one seemed to be more of a record of my visit than anything else.

I finished it quickly and handed it back to her. Lucy looked it over and smiled up at me. “Alright Margaux, you’ll just have to fill out a few more pages and then we can get started on the next step of the process.”

She handed the clipboard back with the rest of the papers secured to it. I didn’t start filling it out immediately, still waiting for her to continue on with her spiel, but when she remained silent I became confused. “That’s it? No questions asked?”

She shook her head with a knowing grin. “I’m not legally allowed to offer you any advice, that’s what the judge is for.”

“The judge?” The words were coming out of my mouth slowly. I was a photographer, not a lawyer, and this visit was leaving me with more questions than answers.

“After you fill out your paperwork you’ll be seen by a judge. The judge will review your paperwork with you and consult with you on whether or not a PFA should be issued.”

“Oh.”

I was still confused about the whole process but there would be time for questions later. Right now I needed to focus on the papers in my hands. The questions ranged from my address and phone number to whether or not I felt my life was in immediate danger and if so, why? A part of me was uncomfortable answering such personal questions as I sat in a room with a perfect stranger.

“So, Margaux, what do you do?”

Her question caught me off guard. “Excuse me?”

“As a job. What is it you do?” Lucy was obviously the friendly type. She needed small talk and empty conversation to fill the silence, while the chaos in my head was more than enough to keep me company while I worked.

“Um, I’m a photographer.”

This piqued her interest. “Really? Do you shoot weddings? My fiancé and I have been trying to find a photographer for months.”

Mentally I stopped myself from sassing her. All I wanted to do was fill out my paperwork and go home, yet here she was curious about my job availability. Instead of giving her the disbelieving look that was rising up inside of me, I bit my tongue like my mother always told me to do and continued on with my paperwork like her inquiries didn’t bother me.

“Sometimes. Depends on the couple.” My answer seemed to satisfy her. She simply nodded and grinned before going back to working on her computer and waiting for me to finish up the papers in my lap. I took a sip of the drink she’d handed me only minutes before and sighed.

Anything to get me out of this office.



Lucy’s heels clicked softly against the hard marble as she led me through the hallways towards the judges’ chambers. We stopped in front of a large wooden door and she pointed me towards the bench that sat just across the hallway before knocking on the door and heading inside with my paperwork.

A moment later she came back out and smiled at me. “Judge Robertson will be right out. Best of luck to you, and don’t be surprised if you get a call about shooting my wedding!”

I bit back a nasty comment and smiled at her. “Thank you for your help.”

She just nodded, walking back down the hallway with her heels clicking on every step. Soon she disappeared around a corner and the clicking faded from my ears. The halls were as empty and quiet as they’d been when I’d wandered into the building.

Without giving it too much thought, I fished my phone from my pocket and searched through the contacts until I found the number I wanted. I clicked the call button before I changed my mind and waited through an endless amount of rings. I knew he wouldn’t pick up; I didn’t need him to.

“Talbot. Leave me a message or I won’t call you back.”

The beep sounded through my ears and I breathed a heavy sigh into the phone. “Hey.”

My voice sounded sad and far away. It echoed through the hallways, forcing me to drop my volume to a whisper. I wasn’t sure what to say; I hadn’t thought of anything beforehand. I sighed again and lazily ran a hand through my hair. “I love you. I didn’t tell you that before you left, and I’m sorry…I’m sorry for everything.”

My thumb quickly found the ‘end’ button, and I shoved my phone back into my pocket before I could say anything else. I didn’t need to say anything else.

“Miss Talbot?”

I glanced up at the middle aged man staring at me from the doorway. He looked as tired as I felt.

“You can come in. This shouldn’t take very long.”

Standing up, I gripped onto the cuffs of my jacket and followed him into the chamber before hearing the heavy wooden door slam shut behind us.



“Deux mois?” (Two months?)

I sighed and swirled the wine around in my glass. “C'est ce que dit le juge.”(That’s what the judge said.)

My mother scoffed. I could see her now, pacing around in the kitchen while my father sat in his chair and attempted to calm her down every now and then with reassuring words. I’d called her the moment I’d gotten home from the courthouse to fill her in on everything that had happened since she’d heard from me last.

“Pourquoi pas plus tôt?” (Why not sooner?)

I told her exactly what the judge had told me. The court would grant me a temporary order of protection until after the hearing, which would occur in two months. The judge had been hesitant to even issue a temporary order, according to him I didn’t seem to be in any immediate danger. I was living with my hockey playing older brother in a city five hours away from the person I wanted a restraining order against. By all accounts, I wasn’t in any danger, but after I explained what Max and Kris had done and the convenient fact that they were out of town for the next week the judge reluctantly agreed and issued the order.

I would have two months to compile any and all evidence against Gavin, as well as to gather any witnesses that would be willing to testify on my behalf. Gavin would be served and notified of the court hearing. He would also be filled in on the terms of the temporary order, in short, he couldn’t abuse, harass, stalk, or threaten me; he had to stay away from where I lived and worked; he was not permitted to harass my relatives; and he couldn’t have a gun or a gun permit.

After I finished explaining all of this to my mother she huffed again. “Je n'aime pas ce juge.” (I don’t like this judge.)

A chuckle worked its way from my throat. “Il est ce qu'il est, maman.”(It is what it is, mama.)

“Toujours. Je ne sais pas ce que je ressens avec tu seul dans la maison.” (Still. I don’t know how I feel about you being in the house by yourself.)

“Je vais bien, maman. Max sera bientôt de retour.” (I’m fine, mama. Max will be back soon.)

The doorbell rang out through the condo. “Je dois y aller, maman. Vero est ici.” (I gotta go, mama. Vero is here.)

“Bon, ma chérie. Je t'appelle demain. Je t'aime.” (Alright, sweetheart. I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you.)

“Je t'aime aussi.” (I love you too.)

I hung up the phone and bounced off of the couch with my wineglass still in my hand. Swinging the door open with a smile, my grin only widened when I saw Vero standing on the other side of the door in a ratty t-shirt and paint stained sweats.

“I’m ready to help!”

I giggled and pulled her inside. “Let’s get you some wine and paint some walls.”

And we did. We spent the rest of the day painting every last wall in the condo, only taking a break for some more wine or to pick up some Thai food for dinner. By the end of the night both Vero and I were exhausted and lying on the living room floor discussing the only thing that still bothered us about the condo.

“What should we do with it?”

I glanced over at her and shrugged.

“Get rid of it?” She suggested lightly.

Shaking my head, I sighed. “He’d be heartbroken; I can’t get rid of it.”

Max’s recliner was judging us from the corner of the room. It looked terribly out of place amongst Max’s sleek, black living room furniture. I would figure something out eventually, but nothing else was going to get done tonight. Vero and I were tired, and we had no more energy for anything other than drinking wine and maybe moving our lazy selves to the couch to watch the boys’ game.

“What are you doing tomorrow? Maybe we can buy him a new one.” Vero suggested.

“I was going to go over to Sidney’s tomorrow. He left me a key so that I could keep an eye on the place while they’re gone.”

“Oh really?” She asked with a grin evident in her voice.

“Don’t overthink it, V.”

“I didn’t say anything!” She insisted.

I smiled over at her. “You didn’t have to.”

Rolling her eyes, she nudged me on the shoulder. “Alright so you’re busy tomorrow, what about the day after?”

“Probably still painting at Sidney’s. I want to finish it before he comes home.”

Vero’s eyes lit up. “Ooh! I’ll help you! It’ll be fun and it’ll take less time with the both of us.”

“That’s true.” I admitted quietly, still wondering what to do about Max’s chair.

“We can make a day out of it. Lunch downtown and finding Max a new chair, and then back to Sid’s place to paint.”

“We can try that new Chinese restaurant!” I suggested happily. Vero’s enthusiasm was contagious; it was hard not to get excited when she was around.

“Perfect! Now let’s stop worrying about that chair and turn the game on. The boys will throw a fit if we don’t watch them play.”

We got up off the floor, made ourselves comfortable on the couch, and enjoyed a few more glasses of wine as we watched our boys beat Vancouver four goals to one.



“I’m so full!” Vero remarked as I fiddled with the lock on Sidney’s door. We’d spent the better part of the afternoon downtown searching for a replacement for Max’s chair, and even though we hadn’t found one, we did come up with an idea. Max would be happy, I would be happy, and the living room wouldn’t have such an eyesore anymore.

“That’s because they gave us more Chinese food than should be allowed.” I giggled. I knew the full feeling Vero was experiencing, the result of being offered a lot of food that was too delicious to say no to.

“It was so good, though. We’ll have to take our boys when they get back.”

“Max doesn’t really care for Chinese food.” I reminded her as we set our purses down in the foyer.

“Good thing I wasn’t referring to Max.” She said slyly.

I rolled my eyes and went to dig the paint we’d need out of the broom closet where Sid left it. “Well I don’t know who you’re referring to. Max is the only boy I claim as my own, and even then it’s out of necessity.”

She stuck her hands on her hips indignantly. “You’re trying to tell me that you don’t claim Sidney as your own?”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Veronique.” I sighed.

“Of course not Margaux, because you make such a habit out of kissing the whole team goodbye before road-trips.” I glanced back at her. She was staring at me with an amused look on her face, almost daring me to deny what she’d said. But since what she’d said was true, I could do nothing but gape at her for a second before shutting my mouth and pulling the paint out of the closet.

Vero came over to help me with the heavy cans of paint. We pulled them out and brought them into the hallway that we would start in, making sure to put down plenty of plastic tarps first. I looked down at our clothes and realized that neither of us was dressed for messing around with paint. “Um, Vero?”

“Mhmm.” She mumbled, attempting to open one of the cans of paint.

“We might need to change our clothes.”

She looked at herself, and then at me, before grimacing. “We didn’t bring any extra clothes. We might have to borrow a couple of shirts from Sid.”

“I don’t think he’ll mind,” I assured her. “We can always send him a silly picture to soften the blow. Besides, I know where he keeps the old ones.”

“I’m sure you do.” Vero teased as she followed me up the stairs.

I sighed, but didn’t say anything, choosing instead to silently lead Vero into Sid’s bedroom and through to the closet. His closet was quite big, and it was painfully evident by the organization that the closet was Sid’s. Everything was folded and hung precisely, nothing out of place.

“No snooping, V.” I warned and she waved a hand at me.

“I’ll put everything back where I found it.”

I steered straight for the bureau of drawers that I’d seen Sid pull a t-shirt out for me to wear when we’d started painting his house in the first place. I grabbed two shirts out for Vero and I to wear while we painted, making sure that the ones I chose already had paint spatters on them so we didn’t mess up any shirts that weren’t already beyond help.

After tossing one to Vero, I stripped off my own shirt and pulled on Sid’s, enjoying the wave of his scent that came with it. Vero put hers on as well and after deciding that it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if we got paint on our jeans we wandered back downstairs and started taping off the walls in the foyer.



“I think your phone is ringing, Maggie.” Vero said as I put the finishing touches on the upstairs landing. Vero and I had managed to paint every remaining room in Sidney’s house and now it was just a waiting game for the paint to dry so we could move all the furniture back to where it belonged and take the painter’s tape off of the baseboards and windows.

“Who is it?” I questioned, not exactly thrilled at answering a call with paint covered hands.

“It’s your boyfriend that isn’t your boyfriend.” She replied smoothly.

“Can you answer it? I’m wrist deep in paint.”

“Hello Sidney!...You don’t sound thrilled to be talking to me.” I barked out a laugh and continued carefully tracing paint against the corner of the wall and the ceiling, trying not to get paint anywhere it wasn’t supposed to go.

“Maggie is busy painting your house, so she can’t talk right now.”

“Tell him I said good luck in the game tonight!” I called out.

“She says good luck tonight….Maggie?”

“Mhmm?”

“Sid said to tell you that Max’s phone has been messing up and that he got your voicemail, but couldn’t call you back. He’s going to call you after the game though using someone else’s phone.”

Internally I breathed a sigh of relief. When Max hadn’t returned my call I grew worried that I’d angered him more than I’d originally thought.

“Alright, thank him for me.”

“She says thank you…you might want to come home soon, Sid, we’ve raided your closet….well you can’t expect us to paint in our own clothes!....don’t lie to me, I know how much free stuff you get, just tell someone you need some new t-shirts and you’ll get an entire box!”

“Leave him be, Vero.” I reminded her with a chuckle. “They are his clothes, after all.”

“Oh hush, Maggie….I can say what I want to her, Sid. I swear you two are so defensive of each other….I’ll make sure she watches the game, don’t worry. She hasn’t missed one yet….Alright Sid, she’ll talk to you later...goodbye, send our love to the rest of the boys.”

Vero hung up my phone and looked up at me from the bottom floor with a snarky grin on her face. I was afraid to ask, but her conversation with Sid had me curious. “What’s put you in such a fine mood?”

“Not your boyfriend, huh?”

“For the last time, no, Vero. He’s not my boyfriend.”

She just shrugged and put my phone back with my things before looking up at me with the same wide smile on her face. “Sid wanted to make sure you’d be watching the game tonight.”

“I always watch the games, he knows that. What makes tonight so special?” I asked curiously.

“Nothing. He just wanted to make sure his lucky charm would be watching.”

My head snapped in her direction and her grin spread even wider, if possible.

“His words, not mine.”