Chapter 23

The sun had come up, but the room was still dark, closed in with thick black curtains. A phone alarm started ringing. Elia felt the arms around her start to pull away. She turned over. “Don't go yet,” she mumbled, putting her hand on Brad's shoulder. He looked down at her, “I've got to go to practice.” Elia frowned, then grinned devilishly as she slid her hand down under the blanket. Brad laughed, “Oh no, I'm not getting into that trap again.” He rolled out of bed and turned the bedside lamp on. Elia closed her eyes to go back to sleep. She didn't want to face the world yet. Someone had recognized her leaving the game yesterday and she knew there would be a million opinions on the internet and coming in on her cell. She had turned off her phone on the way home. Brad came back from the other room, “Hey, have you packed for Vancouver yet?” No, she planned to do that at the last minute. She opened her eyes and looked at Brad, who was holding up a Bruins sweater. “No,” she said. He looked back at her with a face of frustration.
“I'm a Blackhawks' fan, sorry I'm not sorry, I can't wear another team's shit.”
“You got on the bandwagon a year ago, I don't think--”
“--Whoa, whoa. Let's not go there.”
Elia took the jersey from him and looked at it. The black and gold, the big B, it all looked so wrong.
“I'm just not sure I'm ready to take this step in our relationship...I'll try it on though.” She said, grinning as she slipped it over her head. Getting out of the bed and standing up she slipped out of her underwear.
“Ohh, don't do that. You look too good in that jersey.” Brad said, smiling and putting his hands on her waist.
“How good?” She put his hands under the jersey.

Brad was late for practice that day, but the way he had been playing in the series, Claude Julien wasn't really worried about it. Elia took the jersey off as soon as Brad left. There was no way she could wear that outside of his apartment. She sat on the edge of the bed, thinking about what to do with the day. Brad's apartment was that of a man who barely lived there. His bedroom was small, like most apartments in the area, with exposed brick on two walls. A bed, two night stands. Some clothes in piles in the closet. The first time she had been there she found he had no hand soap in his bathroom. The apartment was undecorated except for some metal flowers on the wall above his couch which had been left there by the previous tenant. Most importantly, there was no coffee maker in the apartment. Elia didn't feel comfortable adding things to the place yet, and had resisted buying one.
She stood up and nudged her sleeping dog. “Hey are you awake yet? Do you want to go for a walk?” The little brown dog stretched and yawned. “You are the laziest dog I've ever met. You better be ready for a walk once I'm done showering.” The corgi stared at her with small beady black eyes.
The two started out twenty minutes later. The apartment was in the north end of Boston. Elia wasn't sure if it was just directional, or called the North End. They walked down a small tree lined sidewalk called Charter Street Park. Elia didn't understand what Bostonians considered parks, because they all seemed to be just trees coming out of concrete. There was no grass, and the sidewalks came right up to the building and stepped right into the street. All the streets were narrow and the buildings seemed to lean in around her. It was a short walk, but took about ten minutes with the dog stopping to smell things and prancing with her tiny stub legs. An older couple stopped them as they walked and asked to pet the dog.
“Is it a he?” the man asked.
“No, it's a she. She's doesn't know though.”
“What's her name?”
“Byfuglien.”
“That's a strange name, is that celtic?”
“Yeah.”
Elia didn't know what it was, really. The corgi played it up for the old man and woman, jumping on their legs to be pet and wagging her nub. They walked away smiling. Everyone was always so happy to see that little dog. A few more blocks and they reached their first stop: Sulmano's Meat Market. Next up was a stop at the Equal Exchange for some coffee. Once they both had snacks they walked to Langone Park. There was some grass there, though it was mostly for the baseball fields. They sat down against a fence, and Elia gave the dog a chicken leg from the butcher and drank her coffee. She hadn't decided if the dog raw food diet fad was legit or not but it was easy.
“Are you ready for this Buffelina?” Elia asked the dog. Byfuglien wasn't listening, engrossed in her food. Elia took her phone out of her pocket and turned it on. It sounded like it might explode as it tried to ping for every text, email and missed call she had accumulated in twelve hours. Voicemails from her publicist, Sam, Kaner, Quennville, she cringed, her mom, her manager, Abby, Elina, Paul. She didn't listen to any of them and checked her texts. Adam Burish had texted her for the first time in a year to tell her she was a bitch. Sam texted: “P in the V from a B girl getting the dirtyyyy yea”. Her publicist sent a series of links, “If you think you can ignore my calls read these articles before you decide.” Elia clicked on the first one. It went to Yahoo! Celebrity: “Everything You Need to Know About Elia Downs' New Boyfriend.”
“Oh god.” Elia muttered aloud. She read through the short boring introduction about how Elia was fervently supporting him through his first year in the NHL. He was a Canadian hockey player, ok obviously. They started seeing each other while she was still dating Jeremy Renner, according to sources, and Elia has been obsessed with him ever since. Sources? It sounded like somebody in the Marchand clique was talking to the press. She thought about calling her publicist. Instead she called Sam.
“I KNEW IT!” Sam yelled through the phone.
“You didn't know anything!”
“I did, I knew it. Don't try to deny that I always know. You want me to call Stacy don't you?”
“Yeah. Just tell her I have nothing to confirm or deny right now, and I probably won't until the series is over.”
“You and the man haven't talked about it, have you?” Sam pried.
“Not exactly.”
“He called you his 'girl' on tv, so there's that.”
“Really?” Her phone beeped. Abby was calling. “Sam, I've got another call. Go keep the publicist happy please.” She switched over to Abby.
“Hey girl!”
“EL-I-A! What the heck?!”
Elia listened as Abby ranted about keeping secrets and wanting to know all the gossip, and then going into a tangent about Patrick. While she listened she pulled a small bowl out of her bag and filled it with water from a bottle for the dog. Finally Abby remembered why she really called and asked Elia what was up with her and Brad Marchand. Elia told her they had been seeing each other regularly now for a few months but hadn't made anything official.
“These athletes El, they will always try to give you the run around, and be like 'Oh I can't think about that right now, I'm focused on the game, but then it's like 'Were you focused on the game last night while you out drinking with your friends and then playing X-Box?!'”
“Abby are you drunk?”
“What, no. It's not even noon.”
“You sound drunk.”
“El.”
“What.”
“I can't drink right now.”
“What.”
“I might be pregnant. Don't tell anyone! I haven't even been to the doctor, I've only done the home test.”
Elia wasn't sure how to react to the news. Should she congratulate Abby, or warn the world that another Sharpie might be on the way? Suddenly Elia's problems seemed inconsequential. Who cares if she is or isn't in a relationship with Marchand? They talked for a while longer, and Elia promised to drink enough for the both of them. She had finished her coffee and now walked back to Hanover Street. Her next stop, now that it was after eleven, was Umberto's for some arancini. She needed to make it back by one to pack for the flight to Vancouver.
Her and the dog had been to Umberto's enough in the past month that she didn't need to place her order, they knew as soon as she walked in. If the older guy was working he would chat with Elia about the neighborhood and talk about the Sox and the Bruins, but the younger guys in today weren't talkative. Elia checked her twitter, “@strombone1: .@Eldowns i'm going to stop trolling you on twitter, it would just be too easy now”. Fucking Roberto Luongo. She could excuse him from being an asshole a lot of the time just because he was so hilarious. The response was too obvious, “@strombone1, that's cool I don't want to have to count up all the goals youve let in for boston”. The two had been ripping on each other all series long. One of Elia's favorite things to do was call Roberto early in the morning and play Chelsea Dagger in to the phone. He often responded by sending her creepy pictures of the Sedins, of which he seemed to have an endless supply.
Once the rice balls were done Elia and the dog walked back to the apartment. Brad wasn't back yet. Elia sat on the couch cross-legged and read while she ate. When she finished she had to pack, and make sure she had her passport and the dog's travel papers. It was actually good the dog was so mellow because Elia had started taking her everywhere. The flights to and from Vancouver were at least eight hours each. Elia was the one that got antsy on the flights. Luckily for her they sold cocktails on planes. Friends and family were able to go on the same flight as the team, but weren't seated in the same area as the team. Elia didn't mind sitting apart from the team, things hadn't exactly been friendly between them.
Packing wasn't difficult, she had basically been living out of a suitcase anyways, it was just a matter of putting her few clothes back into it. She picked up the Bruins jersey and put it into the suitcase. Maybe her luggage would get lost in the flight? There was one shirt she was fine wearing that had the Bruins logo, it was an “Original Six” t-shirt she got online.
She was laying on the couch when Brad returned, dozing off with a screenplay on her chest. He sat down on the edge of the couch and kissed her forehead.
“I'm not sleeping!” She said instinctively, sitting up, clutching the script. He sat back on the couch, pulling her legs over his. She leaned forward and stretched her arm around his neck, resting her head in his chest.
“I thought you wanted to sleep on the plane.” He said, rubbing her leg.
“I do. I will.”
He picked up the script and started flipping through it. Elia encouraged screenwriters to submit their work to her production company, and tried to at least start reading each one of them. If she thought they were good the next step was trying to put together money to make them.
“'How I Live Now,' It must not be very good if you are falling asleep.” Brad said.
“No, it is rather interesting, teen cousins hooking up and weird shit. I think I'm going to greenlight it. It's about the end of the world.” Elia said, drawing out end-of-the-world dramatically.
“You're always reading about the end of the world and it always puts you in a bad mood. You should try reading a comedy once in a while.”
“Nobody sends me comedies, they only send me gloomy end of the world movies!”
“That last movie you made could have been really romantic and happy except you killed off that Gatsby guy at the end.”
Elia stared at him, trying to figure out if he was being sarcastic or if he truly did not understand what it was actually about.
“I just want you to be happy.” He said, putting the screenplay aside and taking her head in his hands. He pulled her in for a long kiss.
“If you keep doing that I will be very happy,” She said in between kissing him again. This was how they always ended up being late to anywhere. Brad finally took the mature road and stopped them so he could finish packing. They had to be at the airport in an hour.
Once they arrived at the airport and got through security they would separate. Brad always went to hang out with his teammates, Elia went to sit with his sister Melissa or Tuukka's girlfriend Jasmiina. In the early rounds of the playoffs, only a few of the WAGs and family members showed up to the games, almost none to the away games. Elia had been watching the games mostly alone, sometimes Marc Savard would sit with her at home games. Now that it was the finals, everyone was going to the games, and Elia was grateful for the company. Melissa reminded Elia of a less refined version of Elina. She was studying fashion at a university in Toronto and always writing articles for her blog. She had a very keen sense of style and new trends. Jasmiina was the only Bruins' WAG that would talk to Elia, but she was on the quiet side.
Life had fallen into a routine of never ending pregame rituals and between game rituals. Flying to somewhere, flying back to Boston. Over, and over. Vancouver won game 5 and they flew back to Boston. Sulmano's, Equal Exchange, Umberto's. Boston won game 6, and they flew back to Vancouver. Elia was excited for the final game, and couldn't wait for the Bruins to crush the Canucks. She wanted revenge for the Blackhawks, but left that part out when talking to Bradley about it.
The night before game seven, Brad and Elia took the dog for a walk together like they always did. Brad was acting strange, only half listening to what Elia was saying and looking red in the face. They sat down on a park bench a few blocks away from the hotel. The corgi crawled under the bench and started eating grass.
“Are you nervous about the game?” She asked him. He didn't look at her, “No, not at all, actually. I feel really good about the game.”
“What's wrong? Hey.” She turned his face towards her with her hand. He sighed loudly.
“I'm nervous about talking to you.”
“What?” She said, surprised and getting a little scared. “Why?”
“I think we need to talk about what's going on, what the plans are.” He took her free hand in his hands.
“I know you have this boat trip with you friends, but after that I want you to come to Halifax with me for the summer.” They had already talked about this a little before, and Elia had expressed enthusiasm for it then.
“Yeah, I thought that was the plan, I want to.” What was he getting at, Elia wondered. Suddenly it dawned on her.
“This isn't about Halifax, you are worried about what happens if you win the Cup and go on a week long drinking binge.” Elia said, half stating, half questioning. Brad looked up at the sky. He always did that when he was uncomfortable.
“Do you want to...hook up with other girls?” Elia asked quietly.
“No.”
“What are you trying to say, I don't want to guess anymore!” Elia's heart was starting to race.
“I don't know. I...I don't want to have to worry about doing something that will upset you, I don't know what I want to do.”
Elia pulled her hand away from his and looked out away from him. She wondered if this happened to all the player's girlfriends. She couldn't even imagine the possibility of wanting to hook up with someone else, but Marchand was considering he might end up doing that? Is that what was happening? She thought about Abby and Patrick, and how she chose to look the other way to stay with him. Did Elia want that?
“I mean, you're going to be on a boat with Bissonnette and maybe you want to just--” He started saying.
“What? No, I don't want to be with anyone else, just...Don't even start that.” She really wished she hadn't quit smoking. For the first time in months she really wanted a cigarette. She turned back to face him.
“If you're going to be with me, you can only be with me. I'm not an open relationship person or anything like that.” She took a deep breath. “So maybe you should take the next two weeks to decide if you want to be with me, only with me. And then let me know if I should come to Halifax.”
Brad seemed relieved, but Elia wasn't sure how she felt. She had an idea of what went on post-Stanley Cup, she was friends with Kane after all. She wanted to say he shouldn't hook up with anyone. He shouldn't make out with shot girls, or bottle girls, or whatever kind of girls followed the Stanley Cup.

Game seven was a shutout. Brad scored twice, and assisted in one of Bergeron's goals. Roger's Arena was eerily quiet after Boston's first goal. They were never able to recover. For the second year in a row Elia was on the ice for the Stanley Cup. It made her miss the Blackhawks more than she already did. She was thinking about Kane and Toews when Brad skated over to her. He leaned over to kiss her, his face dripping with sweat, “Hey babe!” he yelled as he took her in his arms, “I love you!” He was kissing her again, and then he pulled away. She never had a chance to respond, Tyler Seguin was pulling his arm, pulling him away.

Notes