Chapter 32

When Elia stumbled in at a quarter past two Brad was still awake. He was sitting on the couch in the dark, watching one of Elia's movies. A vase of flowers sat on the coffee table. She tripped over a dog toy on the floor as she walked in to the living room, holding a bottle of Magner's in her right hand. She stood for a moment, swaying, watching the television. A younger Elia lay in a field of grass and flowers next to Dominic Monaghan. They were laughing and smiling, and pointing up at the sky. The ground started to slide out, replaced by dirt, sand, ocean, the world was spinning. The Fault Lines. It was the first movie Elia had ever written, directed, filmed, everything by herself. She had spent a summer in Ireland before starting college, riding for Ballydoyle Coolmore. She and some friends made a movie for fun, just something to pass the time. It ended up winning a Best Original Screenplay Oscar.
Brad hit pause. He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, staring at the flowers on the table. He looked up at Elia. “I hated knowing that you weren't at the game,” he said quietly. Elia frowned. She walked over, sitting down next to him, and put her head on his shoulder. “I hated it too.” He leaned back and turned to look at her, putting his hand on her cheek, and setting her bottle down on the table. “I'm going to find a way to make this work, okay?” He said, and kissed her. He took her in his arms and picked her up. He carried her into the bedroom and lay her carefully down on the bed. He got into bed with her, and held her close against his chest until they both fell asleep.

The Bruins left for North Carolina the next day and Elia left to go home. Brad and Elia shared a solemn goodbye, with Brad promising he would make some time with her in Chicago away from the team. His flight left earlier than hers, and she sat in the apartment for a couple hours by herself. She found herself staring at the flowers on the table. It was a beautiful arrangement of peach Amaryllis, light pink Pieris, soft rose Cala lilies and sage Dusty Miller. Some flowers Elia couldn't name. She picked up the vase and moved it so the dog could smell them, taking the card out of the center. It hadn't been written in. “Flowers say I'm sorry, chocolate says I love you,” she told the dog. She threw the flowers in the trash and rinsed the vase in the sink before she left for the airport.

Her usual driver picked her up from O'Hare and took her downtown to the Hilton. The Winnipeg Jets were in town and she had to pay a visit to her dog's namesake. Byfuglien was sharing a room with another former Hawk-- Andrew Ladd. The dog Byfuglien was so excited by the sight of the two men she promptly peed all over the floor. Big Buff shook his head, “You can't be bringing this dog in here if shes gonna do that.” “She's so excited to see you she just peed and you don't even appreciate it!” Elia yelled. She grabbed a towel from the bathroom to clean up while Ladd told her about his wedding over the summer.
“How's it going in Winnipeg?” Elia asked when she was done.
“Just signed a five year extension,” Ladd said.
“When are you going to come visit us for a home game?” Buff asked.
“To be honest I don't even know where Winnipeg is. I know that's where Tazers come from so, that's already scary.” Elia replied.
“We play the Bruins at home in December I think,” Ladd suggested.
“Yeah, that would be cool. I'll find some time to come up regardless.” Elia said.
They tried to convince Elia to become a Jets fan for several minutes, their main argument being that they also had a Kane. She met the rest of the team and hung out for a while before leaving to see her own Kane.

Patrick was waiting at her house when she got there, playing Fable and drinking a Miller High Life. She sat down next to him on the sofa. He looked tired, pallor, his skin tight around his cheek bones. She thought about what he said once, about not needing to be managed. Elia realized that she did need to be managed. Sometimes she wondered how she had survived so long without having a handler. How did civilians make it out alive on their own? They had friends, families, caring neighbor's. She put her hand on Kaner's shoulder. “I'm keeping track of you, you know? Don't forget that.” He looked over at her, “I know, I'm keeping track of you too.” She walked to the kitchen to grab a beer. There were some pictures on the counter, drawn in crayon. She asked Kane what they were. The neighbor kids down the street that took care of the chickens had brought them over when they saw him go in the garage. One was the chickens, the two silkies Jordan and Jared, and two Bantams Eric and Marc, standing in the garden. There was a picture of Byfuglien sitting with a turtle and a squirrel, she wasn't sure why. She imagined the life she would have had, being here all summer. Summer in Chicago made the winters worth it. Festivals every weekend, beach parties, boat parties, rooftops and baseball games. Kids down the street playing with the dog, catching home runs by the fire station on Waveland. Had it been worth it?

After a few beers they walked down to the Boundary on Damen and Division. The cool fall air felt good in their lungs, but crisp on the skin. Patrick walked with his arm around Elia, who pulled herself tight together for warmth. Unwilling to admit winter was coming she had stepped out in just a v-neck and jeans. Boundary was a bro bar in the middle of hipster town, a little over a half mile from Elia's house. Down the center was a partition with booths on both sides, a bar to the right and another wall of booths on the left. In the summer the front windows opened up onto a patio, but tonight there were closed in. The ceilings opened up to large timber support beams and duct work. Elia and Pat sat down at a booth in the center of the pub. It was early in the evening still, on a weekday, and a tall willowy brunette came by to get their orders.
“Hi, I'm Amanda I'll be taking care of you tonight, are you ordering food tonight or just drinks?”
They asked for food menus, and ordered drinks. Elia ordered a bottle of wine. Patrick asked if the waitress had any recommendations. Elia looked at Patrick, confused. They were at a bar that labeled Miller Lite as a Macrobrew to sound cool. What kind of recommendations could there be? The server was just as confused and suggested Revolution Anti-Hero. Kane agreed, and the server asked for ID's. She took them, read the names, looked at Elia and Patrick, and said she'd be back with their drinks. After they had finished eating a couple burgers Pat asked the waitress if she wanted to play shuffleboard with them. “Sorry, I have to work.” She said sincerely. Once she was out of ear shot Elia asked Patrick eagerly, “Dude were you just trying to hit on her?” Elia had never witnessed Patrick actually try to pick up a girl. Sure, she had been out with him when he went home with girls, but they usually approached him and then just sort of followed him out. “I just thought she might want to play shuffleboard,” Kane said, shrugging it off.

They ended up playing by themselves for a while. Elia over shot a lot in shuffleboard. The gentle nuances of tapping the disc required too much concentration, especially after drinking. Pat could play shuffleboard or golf, or soccer, or any kind of sport in his sleep. The only sport Elia ever beat him in regularly was tennis. Less patience required. They drew “We <3 Toews” in the sand on the board and texted a picture to Jon. A couple of young women came over and asked to join them. One of the girls did follow them back to Elia's. Pat and the girl, Jennifer, disappeared into the second floor bedroom shortly after arriving. Elia took the dog out in the backyard before ascending to the master bedroom floor. Her head was spinning as she fell onto her bed. The dog whined on the floor, and she rolled out to pick her up. The last thing she consciously remembered doing was reading a text from Brad, “luv u”.

In the morning Elia woke up on the floor next to her bed. Byfuglien was sprawled across the middle of the bed. She checked her phone. The Bruins lost to the Hurricanes, but at least Brad had scored in the third. Still in her clothes from the night before, Elia headed downstairs to get some water. Jen was in the kitchen trying to find some coffee. “Sorry, I don't really live here,” Elia apologized. They walked to the Starbucks at the six corners. Back at the house they watched “Good Morning America”. Halfway through the episode Elia realized Pat was supposed to be heading to morning skate. She jumped up and ran to wake him, calling her driver as she walked. A bottle of Cuban rum sat on the bedside table, one which was normally in a locked liquor cabinet. That was fucking embargo rum, not one night stand from Boundary rum. It took a half hour to get Kaner on his way, but he would make it in time. Sitting at the house by herself again, Elia suddenly wondered, why the fuck am I not at morning skate?
Between trying to unpack her suitcase to change clothes and calling a cab, Elia missed half of the practice. She walked into the team's bench at Johnny's Ice House and sat down on the bench next to Mike Kitchen. She sat discreetly, talking softly with Mike until he gave the word that she could interrupt. Then she stood up, leaned over the boards and yelled, “Yo BOLLY WHERE'D YOU GET THAT BODY FROM??” The team slowed down, looking towards the bench. Dave Bolland, seeing Elia, yelled back, “I GOT IT FROM MY MOMMA!” Elia, Kane, Bolly and Kitch (at Elia's request) started dancing. Mike quit dancing first, laughing at the rest of them. Elia missed Campbell and Skille and Buff and Versteeg, the old dance crew. Michael Frolik was dancing though. New crew. Toews skated past, pointing his glove at Elia, mouthing “You better lock it up!” All was back to normal. She sat back on the bench for the rest of the workout.

After practice Elia waited for the guys outside the locker room, talking to Q and the other coaches. Ashley Hinton, one of the public relations managers, came by to say hello. She hadn't planned on coming to the skate, but hearing Elia was in town stopped by. They wanted Elia to shoot the puck during intermission at the Bruins game. “What team does the score count for?” She asked, winking. Jonny and Pat came out of the locker room to take her to lunch. They went to Xoco, near Pat's, for lunch, then walked down by the river together. They sat on the edge of the Chicago river, talking about everything and nothing. Even though Elia and Jon talked on the phone and Skyped a lot it was still better to be in catching up in person. His playful smirk and dark brown eyes didn't translate as well on a phone's video chat.
“You know, I was reading on the internet the other day,” Elia started saying, “There are a lot of people that say they met you Jon, and you were an asshole.”
Jon was surprised and taken aback.
“Like this one person said that you were like mad they didn't know who you were,” She continued.
“Why would I, I wouldn't be mad about that. I've never been an asshole to someone.” Elia started to argue that. “I've never been an asshole to someone other than you,” Jonathan clarified. Elia laughed. “No, I've figured it out. It's just because,” She started laughing again. “It's just because of your face.”
“What's wrong with my face?” He asked, offended. She tried pointing out that his normal resting face was an angry face. “See, look at my face,” she said. They stared at each other. Jon started to smile, “You have two faces, either a sly grin like you just did something bad or a confused furrowed brow.” She turned their heads so they were pressed next to each other, “Kaner, who would you rather talk to?” He looked at the two of them, Elia was in tears from laughing, Jon was trying to smile so hard he looked like a sociopath. Pat took a picture of them and tweeted “This is what I have to put up with”. They stopped making faces and Elia made the three of them take a picture together and uploaded it to Instagram #bff. Across the river a large jet of water started to arc over the channel. The Centennial fountain water cannon. It shot water every hour on the hour for ten minutes. It was getting late in the afternoon.

They walked back to Trump to put a movie on and take a pregame nap. Elia and Kaner fell asleep on one couch and Jon on another. It was like old times, waking up and heading to the United Center. Elia met the new players, and then everyone kicked a soccer ball around together before the game. Sharpie had Elia sneak into the visitors locker room and put confetti into Byfuglien and Ladd's skates. Post shenanigans she headed to the box to watch the game with Abby, Elina and Sylvie. Towards the end of the first period they all went downstairs to first floor concourse to sell signed pucks for charity. They missed the entire second period, staying through until the second intermission was finished and then went back to watch the game.

The Bruins had flown in to Chicago while the Blackhawks were playing the Jets, and Brad had gotten the go ahead to stay at Elia's house instead of at the hotel with the team. She and her driver picked him up on the way back from the United Center. Elia was excited that they were finally in Chicago together and wanted to welcome him to the city in a fun way. They drove up Lakeshore Drive and took the Fullerton exit into Lincoln Park. The car turned North on Clark St and stopped in front of the Wiener's Circle. A small brick building with a plain brown roof and picnic tables outside. Brad laughed, “I don't think the team nutritionist is going to be happy about me eating hot dogs.” “Brad, do you want to be a Wiener or a loser?” Elia said, laughing. “Are those my only two options?” he asked. She nodded and dragged him inside to join the line. It wasn't very crowded being a weeknight, but there were a few young men in line in front of them, arguing with the employees. Elia hadn't been there in a while, but the employees recognized her when their spot came up and knew what she would order. She made Brad agree to try a Chicago style hot dog and then yelled, “Poochie, Bradley wants a chocolate milkshake too.” “I do?” He asked Elia. She just smiled and nodded. A large woman walked over to the order counter, “Boy you got $50?” “$50 for a milkshake?!” He objected. Elia pressured him to get the milkshake. “Okay, I've only got a hundred...” Brad said, taking a Benjamin out of his wallet. “That's fine I'll take a $100,” the woman took the money and back into the kitchen. Brad stared back at Elia, bewildered. Poochie came out from a side door to the front of the restaurant, lifted up her shirt, and started dancing on Brad, shaking her large breasts in his face. “There's your chocolate milkshake white boy,” the woman said, finishing up and walking away. The other customers cheered. Brad stared at Elia, confused but laughing, “Wait, I don't get an actual milkshake?” A couple bros patted him on the shoulder as they walked up to the counter, congratulating him on getting a chocolate milkshake.
When their food came out they took it outside and sat down on a picnic bench. Brad was still perplexed about having lost $100 and gotten boobs in his face at a hotdog stand. What a crazy place this Chicago was, no wonder Elia had turned out so weird. She ignored his chirp and described the meal. This was the char dog variation of the Chicago Style hotdog, using a split grilled hot dog instead of the typical steamed. The toppings were traditional: mustard, onions, relish, pickle, tomato, celery salt, sport peppers. Although that was the quintessential Chicago dog, there was also a Depression Era Chicago dog which was a hotdog with mustard, onions, sport peppers and fries packed in.
“I didn't know Chicago was so obsessed with hotdogs. I thought you guys were all about deep dish pizza,” Brad remarked after his hotdog history lesson. It was a common misconception. They had invented the wonderful food of deep dish pizza, but it wasn't something that was eaten on a regular basis. More typically eaten was a thin crust square sliced pizza.
“The hotdog is good, but these fries are pretty sad Elly.”
Elia sighed.
“I know, it's just nacho cheese, there isn't any gravy or cheese curds. We had better go back to Canada.”

The dog ran down the stairs and jumped happily at Brad wagging her tail when they arrived back at the house. Together they took her outside one last time before heading to sleep. Up in Elia's room Brad looked around her room for the first time. For as long as they had been hooking up, Brad had never been to her house. He looked at the picture of Elia, Jon and Pat on the ice after the Blackhawks beat Philly, turned as if to say something, but stopped. He turned back to look at the photos. Elia took off her shirt and jeans, and walked over to Brad. She lifted his shirt over his head, and reached around to undo his pants. He turned back towards her and together they went to bed.

They stayed in bed about an hour after the sun woke them up, talking and laughing, before Brad made them get out and get some food. For breakfast they walked to Feast where Brad had some fruit and eggs and Elia had french toast with blueberry and peach compote and whipped cream. It was a great morning until they had to walk back to the house. There was a slightly uncomfortable business of Brad needing to go practice with the team and Elia not being able to go with. She pushed past it, suggesting to Brad that he could drive one of the cars or take the driver to the rink. Being driven wasn't his style, so he checked out the garage offerings.
“Why are you driving around Boston in an electric car when you could have brought that out?” Brad asked, pointing at the 1971 Plymouth Hemi Cuda. “Cause I got your Lambo if I need style!...If you drive that just remember: there are only 11 of those cars in existence. And also don't forget we are getting lunch with Toews and Kane.”

The late lunch was at Blackbird, and Kane was a no show. The restaurant was framed in white from the outside, with a large glass window that looked into the space. The whole lower level of the restaurant was visible from Randolph street. It wasn't large, with a small section of bar seating and a row of tables along the left wall. Inside it was simple, all white walls, wood floors, wood chairs. Elia and Brad sat along the bench on the wall, Jon sat across from them in a chair. It had started off awkward, as the three of them had waited for Patrick to show up. When he never did they resolved to have lunch without him. It turned out that Jon and Brad knew each other more intimately than they had previously let on. They had roomed together at the World Juniors in Sweden in 2007. It was strange to think that only four years ago they had won gold at juniors and now they both had their names on the Stanley Cup. With the ice broken, Jonathan thought he would try to make a joke.
“I think you've set a great precedent keeping Elia out of your practices and away games. I wish I could have done that.” Elia kicked him under the table. Brad laughed, “I thought it would be a lot easier than it is because she has a natural fear of Chara.”
“Can you guys not talk about me like I'm not here?” Elia asked, disgruntled.
“You have any tips?” Brad asked Jon.
“Yeah, just forget about it, there's no controlling this one. You'll only make yourself crazy.”
“Hello? Are you even hearing me?” Elia asked, waving her hand in front of Jon's face. He pushed her hands away without looking at her.
Brad stopped laughing suddenly, staring down absently at the table. He blinked and furrowed his brow, then looked up at Jon, and then at Elia. Looking back at Jon he said, “I just remembered the funniest thing, from World Juniors.” He trailed off for a second. “We were all watching a movie one night, and Toews was reading Cosmo magazine.” Jonathan's face went back to serious. Brad continued, “We were all chirping him you know, 'Why are you reading a girl's magazine,' and 'Oh getting good tips to please your man?' and stuff like that. And he said, 'Oh no, I had to get this because Elia Downs is on the cover.'” Brad was staring at Jonathan with an odd smile on his face. He put his arm around Elia's shoulders. Jon forced a laugh, “It wasn't just because of that,” he struggled to come up with a different reason for reading a Cosmo while his face turned pale.
“You had a crush on me when you were a teenager? I can't believe I am only just now finding out about this. I missed out on two years of making fun of you!” Elia said, not noticing the sudden tension between the guys. For her, it wasn't the first time someone had a celebrity crush on her once. She didn't think anything of them anymore, obviously he had gotten over it by the time they met. “Heh,” Jon tried to laugh, breaking away from Brad's stare and looking down at his glass of water. Shortly there after Jon excused himself from lunch. He said he needed to find out where Kane was. Elia offered to help but he assured he he wouldn't need it and left.

The Bruins beat Chicago in a shootout that night. At times Elia didn't know who she wanted to win, but by the end she was cursing Tim Thomas' name as he stopped Toews, Kane and Sharp from making a shootout goal. She started cursing Corey Crawford's name as well for letting Seguin get a goal but Sylvie started shouting back at her. The Boston team wanted to go out after the game, and Elia went with them to Bull and Bear. She didn't stay long though, and her and Brad went back to her house for a calmer, more romantic evening just the two of them. They watched a movie in the screening room with a bottle of wine before going to bed.

In the morning Elia drove Brad back to the Bruins' hotel where the team was staying. They would be heading to Toronto to play the Leafs. It would only be a few days before they would see each other again in Boston, but they went on for several minutes talking about how much they'd miss each other. Next it was on to Elina and Niklas' condo where Elina was throwing Abby a baby shower. They played weird games like guess the melted chocolate in diapers, and trying not to say the word 'baby'. Everyone started getting mad at Elia when she started referring to it as a fetus instead, but she didn't know what else to do since she couldn't say 'baby'. Part way through the games Elina brought out a white frosted cake that was pink inside. Abby would be having a baby girl. Between Abby and Patrick it was sure to be the most beautiful baby in the history of babies. Ever since Sharp had found out he would be having a daughter he had been staying in more and partying less. Elia was happy that Abby was happy, but she was worried it wasn't a permanent transformation.

Before heading home from the party Elia drove Abby home with the baby gifts in the back of the Land Rover. It was late afternoon by the time she got home. She sat in the backyard with the dog for a while, watching Byfuglien chase around Jordan. One of the new interns from the production office brought over some footage for her from a project she had going in Vancouver. She listened to music while working on piecing it together in her office. Around one in the morning Kane came stumbling in to her house. He had been at Boundary drinking alone. She put him in bed with some water and stayed up for another hour.

The Blackhawks had the day off so Elia let Pat sleep in. She made waffles when he woke up and they played video games while eating breakfast.
“Dude why didn't you ask me to meet you out last night or something?” Elia asked. Kane just shrugged.
“How come you still get hangovers like its your first time drinking? Its like you haven't built up a tolerance at all--”
“--El, lay off it.”
She dropped the subject. They were taking turns playing video games, first Red Dead Redemption and then Fable, a role playing game set in a sort of medieval time. There were quests to complete which would earn gold or trophies. Around noon they were surprised by Jonathan walking into the room.
“Every time I come over here your back door is unlocked,” he said as he walked into the room. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a cold waffle and sat down in a leather arm chair. He asked what they were playing and Pat explained the game.
“Except Elia doesn't even play right she just runs around trying to steal stuff all the time and trying to get wives in every town,” Patrick said.
“Hoes in different area codes!” Elia shouted.
“Pat you said you were going to go shopping with me for a new winter jacket,” Jon said in between bites of waffle. Pat shrugged. Jon looked at Elia. She glanced at him before turning back to the game.
“Don't look at me I am going out to the barn in a while. You could come with if you're bored, but I'm not going shopping.”

The sun was setting in their eyes as they drove west out to the barn, and had settled below the trees when they finally pulled into the driveway. Lessons on Sunday evenings ended by six and only a few students were left, cooling down their horses. Some parents were sitting in the office viewing area, and whispered to each other as Jon and Elia walked through to the arena. Was that the owner? Was that Elia Downs? They wondered. She led Jon down a barn aisle off the arena, heading to the last stall on the left. It was empty. The horse was outside. She grabbed a halter off the door and they headed out the back end of the barn, past another barn until they reached a small paddock.
There were three horses in it, Amaryllis, Cincinnati, and Coltan, Elia's three. She pointed out which horse was which to Jonathan, telling him about each one. Amaryllis he already knew about. Cincinnati had been the first horse she bought herself, he was retired as a race horse by four and she retrained him as a jumper. He competed in the last summer Olympics, with Clark Montgomery. Coltan had come back from Africa with her after filming “the Poisonwood Bible.” They walked out across the grass, wet with dew and Elia showed him how to put on the halter and lead Coltan. He was a big chestnut horse, with a bouncy step. Jon wasn't sure he wanted to ride him, but Elia assured him he was the safest one. He was bomb proof. She had literally shot bottle rockets from his back. Jonathan wanted to know how she came to figure that out but she told him not to worry about it.
Together they groomed the horse and got it ready to ride. She got Jon a helmet and they walked back to the indoor arena. A young girl was riding a small bay mare around the arena. They waited for her to pass then continued to the middle of the ring where a wooden step was seated. Elia walked Jon through the process of getting on the horse, and adjusted his stirrups for him. He picked up the reins and held on to the front of the saddle.
“Here, that is all wrong,” She reached up and adjusted his hands, placing the reins around the top of his index finger and through between his ring and pinky. “When you want to stop or slow down, gently pull back. But if you keep pulling back, Coltan will back up, so don't freak out if that happens. Pull right for right, left for left. It's pretty simple. Keep your heals down.”
Jon nodded, and softly kicked the horse in the side. Coltan leapt into a trot and Jon fell forward.
“Too much gas. Pull back, softly,” Elia called from the middle. “Don't lean forward, sit back in your seat. Heals down. Keep your hands down. Straighten your posture. Shorten your reins.” They settled down into a nice walk. “You girl, you're putting too much weight in your stirrups, use your legs right or I'll take your stirrups off.” The girl readjusted her stirrups and dropped the weight down into her heals. Her horse rounded her back, threatening to buck and the girl fell forward again. Elia called for her to come in to the middle. She motioned for the girl to jump down from the horse. Together they pulled the saddle off, and Elia ran her hand down the horses spine. Towards the middle the horse flinched under the pressure.
“A horse may buck because it's ornery or it might be sore. I could tell it was stepping off okay, when you were riding around. Is this your horse or a lesson horse?” Elia asked.
“It's your horse, a lesson horse I mean. Callie said if I groomed and tacked the lesson horses today I could ride after classes were done.” She replied. Callie was the barn manager and head instructor.
“What's your name?” Elia asked.
“Isabelle.” She said shyly. Elia thought she must have been about ten. She asked her a few questions to see what her riding level was, and then told her to put the mare away and go get Cinci. She ended up giving a riding lesson to Jonathan and Isabelle that night. Watching Jonathan be out performed by a ten year old and having a reason to yell at him all night was an experience Elia would never forget. The barn was all but empty when the two students had finished putting their horses away. Elia and Jon sat with Isabelle on the front porch of the office while she waited for her mom to pick her up. She wanted to be a professional rider, and did chores at the barn on weekends for extra riding time. Tonight was like a dream come true.

Jon was staring at Elia, smiling, when they started to drive off. “What?” she asked him, confused. “You're glowing,” he said, “I've never seen you so...in your element.” She loved teaching, and used to do it a lot more. She forgot how much she used to enjoy it. “I've never seen you so out of your element.” She replied, still smiling. He felt like he was always out of his element when he was around Elia, but in a good way. “Nah, I knew exactly what I was doing,” he replied. Elia laughed at him. They talked the whole way back about how awesome it was to interact with young fans, and to help them along and encourage them. Over the summer Jon had done a lot of that at the local ice rink with the youth hockey teams. He thought Elia should get back into it.

The thought stayed on her mind for a long time, and once she was back in Boston Elia started visiting local barns to see if any would be a good fit for her to start teaching once or twice a week. She was staying busier, working during the day editing movie trailers or writing. The coffee shop near their apartment let her bring the dog with her, and she would bring her computer and hang out. The second week she was back she received legal clearance she had been waiting for to use two songs for goalie music videos. One she had shot the year before with Pekka Rinne and was a spin on MGMT's “Time to Pretend”. That band had been impossible to get in contact with, and then they wanted to see the video before allowing her to purchase the rights to use the music. She uploaded it to her website. The second was a video that her production team had shot and she had just finished editing.
It started with Rachel McAdams, wearing a black halter top and black pants, walking down a typical main street as music started to play. She started to lip sync, “A scrub is a guy that thinks he's fine, is also known as a Busta. Always talking about what he wants, but just sits on his broke ass, SO--” the camera pulled back to show Henrik and Daniel Sedin walking beside her one on each side, wearing black sequined tank tops. They all continued with the chorus, breaking into a choreographed dance, as a car pulled up to the curb. The camera tilted to the right a little, to show the car. Cory Schneider was driving with Roberto Luongo in the passenger seat. The lyrics continued, “NO! I don't want no scrub, a scrub is a guy that can't get no love from me, hanging out the passenger side of his best friend's ride, tryin to holla at me. I don't want no scrub.” The trio looked over at Lu in the car and shook their heads. The video continued with Rachel, Daniel and Henrik rebuking Luongo's attempt at getting their attention. At the end Daniel, Rachel, and Henrik held up signs reading “We don't care if you call us sisters, because girls can play hockey too, hockey is for everyone.” She sent it out to the Canucks for final approval.

Instead of going to the Bruins games, Elia often stayed at home, or took a cab to a local bar she had found that would put the Blackhawks on for her too. It was more fun than hanging out with the other WAGs. One night Karen Julien invited her over to watch the Bruins at her house, and Elia had given it a try. She wasn't the typical player's wife, having married Claude when they were both older and he was starting out as coach. There was no drama or cliquishness about her. They drank wine and watched the game, hanging out with the Juliens' young daughter. A middle aged woman and a small child became Elia's first friends in Boston.

When the world slowed to a stand still and Elia was alone she started to wonder, was this the life she had in mind? Her living one life, Brad living another, intersecting at small points in the day. He never asked about her work, and she stopped asking about his. But those times were rare, and easy to push out of her mind. On the outside they looked the perfect couple. They attended charity dinners together, and Elia had participated in some of the wives fundraisers. The pair was photographed together for the Boston Globe's Most Stylish Bostonian's issue, to be published in December.

Elia was sitting in the coffee shop gchatting up a storm while reading some production notes on a film she was financing when she got a phone call from a number she didn't recognize. She let it go to voice mail. They didn't leave a message. It called again. She answered, “Hey what's up?”
“Jelly Belly?”
Elia froze. It took her a moment to find her voice again, “Who is this?” She asked hesitantly.
“It's me, it's your Dad...” The voice on the other end kept going, but Elia wasn't listening. She suddenly felt like a helpless little kid again. “How did you get this number?” She interrupted. “Your assistant gave it to me. Elia, I'm being paroled...” Paroled? They were letting him out early? She wasn't ready to deal with this, she had compartmentalized that part of her life as something she didn't have to think about for another four years. “Don't call me again, and stay the fuck away from my mom and my brothers,” She tried to yell but it came out as a whisper. As soon as she hung up the phone she turned it off. She took her emergency phone out of her purse and called Kalah. She wanted to yell, and scream, but instead just told her to change her phone number and never accept calls from Illinois Correctional Facilities again or anyone claiming to be her father. Elia resisted the urge to throw her computer off the table and quietly packed up her belongings. She headed back to the house and tried to do some yoga but found it difficult to focus. She tried calling Brad, but knew he was probably already dressed for the game against the Blue Jackets. Instead she laced up her running shoes and hit the road. She ran south, not heading anywhere in particular, and wound up outside the Franklin Park Zoo. It was closed, so she sat down against the stone entrance gate pillar. Her legs ached, but her mind was still sharp. There was only one other solution.

When Brad arrived home from the Bruins game he found Elia laying on the couch watching “Life as a House” and drinking from a bottle of Tequila through a straw. Her eyes moved to look at him when he came in, but besides that she gave no notice of acknowledgment. “Whats up with you Babe?”
“I had a bad day and feel emotionally distraught.” She said in monotone.
“Do you want to go out? A group of guys are going out and bringing their girls, so you will have company,” he started to say. Elia scrunched her face, “That sounds absolutely horrible.”
“You complain that I don't invite you out with the team and now you don't want to go?” Brad countered. She stared at him. “Come on, let's go. It will be fun,” He was walking into the bedroom to change, “You should probably fix your makeup or something,” he was saying as he disappeared. Elia frowned. She spit the straw out of her mouth and sat up. In thirty minutes she was changed into a tight, short, light blue and gold Balmain mini dress. Her eyes were covered in a soft smoky grey, and her feet were tucked into black suede boot heals. She carefully curled her dark brown hair into cascading waves around her face. As she put on her lipstick Brad came up behind her and looked into the mirror at her. “You look amazing,” he said, kissing her neck. She looked at herself in the mirror, and saw an illusion.

They took a cab to Tunnel, picking up Seguin and Lucic on the way. A lot of the guys were already there, sitting at a table with a couple bottles. The club was dark, with rows of LED lights tracking across the ceiling and a green light emanating from behind the bars. Elia was drunk, and in a mood not to give a fuck about the Bruins and their attitudes. She stood on the outside of the booth, and ordered a round of Irish Car Bombs for the group telling everyone they better get turned up. Brad and Bergeron were texting with the other guys and letting them know where everyone was, and had their phones sitting on the table. Elia was trying to dance with Tuuka and Jasmiina. Phones were ringing on the table. Elia passed one to Bergeron, his girlfriend Stephanie was calling. “B, your phone is ringing,” She said absently, before looking at it, “It's Katrina?” She said, passing it along to Brad. He took it and silenced it before slipping it into his pocket.
The DJ started playing a remix of Selena Gomez's “Love You Like a Love Song” and Brad took Elia to the dance floor. They were getting pretty hot and heavy on the dance floor when Brad said he had to go to the bathroom. The music transitioned into Chris Brown's “I Can Transform You,”. Tyler came to the dance floor. He started dancing with Elia, leaning in and shouting, “Brad wants us to be friends,” Elia yelled back “Ok, whatever,”. She wasn't in the mood for his shit. They dance. The beat played on, “I can change your life, Make it so new make you never wanna go back to the old you,”. Seguin was getting closer now, behind Elia, grinding up on her. He ran his hand down her side, and started to bring it back up under her dress. “You know, Brad and I share everything,” he said into her ear, his face so close to her she could feel the heat from his face. Elia pushed him away, “I swear to God Tyler, you ever lay a hand on me again and you can share a drawer at the morgue!” She yelled to him. He grabbed her arm and pulled her closer to him, “Come on, everyone knows you had a threesome with those Giants pitchers, whats the problem?” She stared at him, disgusted, and pushed him away as she walked off the dance floor. It was an old internet rumor that wouldn't die, something that had manifested from a joke with a friend. Something said sarcastically in passing, but she had never actually had a threesome with anyone.
As she ran to door of the club she pulled her dress skirt down, feeling dirty. The air outside was cold but refreshing, she felt like she was gasping for breath. A few guys and a girl were smoking around the corner. She walked up to them and asked for a cigarette. They obliged, and proceeded to ask if she was Elia Downs. How incredibly tired she was of answering that question. Yes, she was Elia Downs. Elia Downs. What did that even mean? They wanted to take pictures. She took pictures. They wanted to go down the street to another bar, Emerald Lounge. She went with them. They drank, they danced, the bar closed. Elia took a cab back to the apartment.

She was getting a glass of water from the tap when Brad came in. “Where the fuck did you go?” He asked, angrily. “I don't know, Emerald Lounge or something,” she muttered. Her head was starting to hurt. “You can't just leave without telling me!” He replied. She blurted out what Tyler had said to her. He shook his head, “I don't know what your problem is with Seggy but I wish you would both just drop it already.”
“I don't care about Seguin, this isn't about Seguin.”
“Then what?”
“I moved out here to be with you, and all that has happened is I sit around waiting to spend time with you and you treat me like some kind of trophy that you put on your shelf and only take out when you want to show me off!” She stumbled slightly sideways in her heals, spilling water on the floor.
Brad shook his head again, “That is not at all true, I love you like crazy, I don't know what else I have to do to make you happy. Just because I can't be with you every second of every day I'm the bad guy?”
“You never ask me about my day, or what I'm feeling, or thinking. I have emotions and I need you to be there for me!”
“I'm here!”
Elia's phone started ringing. She hit the decline button. It rang again. She hit the decline button. She got a text, it was from Jonny. “Need to talk. Now.” The phone rang again, it was Jon. She answered it, “Hey, whats going on?”
“Who is that?” Brad said, starting to raise his voice. She put her ear to the phone, “Kane didn't show up to the game tonight, he didn't show up to practice yesterday, or the game before that,” Toews was saying.
“Sure, answer the fucking phone for Jonathan Toews, you've always got time to take a call for Jonathan Toews,” Brad was yelling. He had never sworn at her before.
“Fuck, okay. I'll be there as soon as I can.” Elia said, hanging up the phone. She started texting Kalah to get her a flight. Brad was still shouting at her.
“Brad, I am so enamored of you, but right now I have something I have to deal with.”
“Who says 'enamored'? You're leaving right now? Are you serious?” Brad was asking. She tried to explain to him, Paddy cakes, she had to go see him. Her words were slurring. Brad scoffed at her.
“You're going to leave in the middle of this to go see that asshole? I don't know how you can be such 'best friends' with him, he runs around with this sense of entitlement like he is the best thing that ever happened to hockey--”

“--Bradley Marchand if I ever hear you speak that way about Patrick again,” She couldn't finish her thought. Brad stopped talking though, he gave Elia one last long look, then walked back out the front door. She paused for a moment, wondering if she had made a mistake. But she couldn't worry about Brad now, she had to go back to Chicago.

Notes