Shut Your Eyes

Max called me on the way home from the grocery store. When I picked up, he immediately began talking, not even giving me a chance to say hello.

“You came to the rink and didn’t come see me?”

I smiled. Obviously Max found his phone.

“You can find the time to take a stroll all over the fucking building with Flower, but you can’t take five tiny minutes to come say hello to your favorite brother? You wound me Maggie, you really do.”

My eyes rolled at the fake hurt dripping from his voice. My brother the drama king. Even though I couldn’t see him, I knew he was placing a hand over his heart and trying to look as emotionally tormented as possible.

“Hello Max.”

“It’s too late now, I don’t want a hello.” He said childishly. I could hear voices in the background. He must have been in the locker room.

“Max, is there a real reason you called? Or was it just to complain about me not coming to say hi to you?”

“I called to thank you for bringing my phone; I didn’t know I’d left it.”

“It’s no problem. The rink was on the way to the grocery store so I figured I’d drop it off in case you needed it.”

Max was quiet for a moment, digesting what I’d just said. “Wait, when did you go to the grocery store?” He asked, confusion evident in his voice.

“Just now. I needed shampoo and stuff, not to mention the lack of good food in your fridge.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the food in my fridge.” He pouted slightly. “And is it really such a good idea for you to be doing that?”

Now it was my turn to be confused. “A good idea for me to be doing what? Buying food?”

“I’m wondering if it’s a good idea for you to be running around town by yourself.” He spoke softly, probably to keep his teammates from hearing the gentle tone in his voice.

“Max I lived here for three years; I think I know my way around.” I dodged his implication, unwilling to think about it.

“Maggie I know you won’t get lost.” He didn’t seem amused. Max knew I understood what he was trying to say.

A sigh worked its way past my lips. Deep down I knew Max was only looking out for me.

“I’ll be careful Max, and if it makes you feel better I’ll drag you along on my errands from now on.”

I could almost hear the smile in Max’s voice as he spoke, and it made a grin spread across my face. “That’s all I ask. I’m bringing home lunch, what do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

“You asked for it. I’ll see you at home.”

I heard something a soft whack on the other end of the line, followed by a roar of laughter and my brother letting out a string of expletives in French. “Which one of you assholes threw that?”

…………………………………………………………………………………………

When I pulled into the driveway, I noticed that Max hadn’t gotten home yet. The sky had shifted from blue to a soft shade of gray and I found myself shivering through my jacket. Snow was on its way. It took more than one trip to get all of the bags out of the car. Normally I could have piled them on to each arm and it would be done, but it seemed like every muscle that contracted made my ribs hurt. A doctor probably would have advised me to lie in bed and get some rest, but the last thing I needed was time to think. I already wore his calling card on my skin; I would try my hardest to keep thoughts of Gavin from polluting my mind as well.

I put the groceries away slowly, organizing as I went. Max had a nasty habit of just throwing things into a cabinet without thinking. By the time I was through with it, his pantry no longer looked like he’d stuck a homemade firework in there. I leaned myself against the island in the center of the kitchen and admired my handiwork. Instead of chaos, there was a semblance of order. I chuckled darkly to myself. My personal life may have been in rubble, but I could organize a pantry pretty damn well.

Suddenly the door into the garage flew open and Max tore through the house like a bat out of hell. I watched him from my spot in the middle of the kitchen, raising an eyebrow at him as he ran right passed me and into the guestroom.

“Maggie?” His voice carried through the hallway and I rolled my eyes.

“Je suis dans la cuisine, Maxime.” (I’m in the kitchen, Maxime.)

He rushed back out into the main area of the condo, where the kitchen and living room met each other. He looked guilty.

“J'ai essayé de les arrêter.” (I tried to stop them.) He spoke so quickly the words blended together, flying out of his mouth like a rocket.

“Qui avez-vous essayé arrêter?” (Who did you try to stop?) I asked, a million scenarios racing through my head.

“Ils ne voulaient pas prendre non pour une réponse.” (They wouldn’t take no for an answer) He barely took the time to breath between words.

“Maxime, ce que tu racontes?” (Maxime, what are you talking about?) I kept my voice steady, trying to get him to slow down. Max was rambling. He always rambled when he was nervous; in fact, I’d seen him do the exact same thing when he tried to ask the neighbor girl to a dance in grade nine.

Before he could answer me, the doorbell rang. I padded barefoot through the condo to the foyer and opened the door hesitantly. Nothing could have prepared me for who was standing on the other side.

Five large men stood crowded onto the stoop, bright smiles gracing their faces. The brightest smile of them all, however, belonged to none other than Marc-André Fleury holding a huge bag of what I could only assume was take-out.

“Hello Maggie!” He greeted cheerfully.

I turned back around slowly, wide-eyed and suddenly very self-conscious. My brother stared back at me looking like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. A guilty smile painted itself on his face.

“Désolé?” (Sorry?)