Chapter 47

They stood side by side in Elia's large walk-in master closet, staring at the endless array of clothes, shoes and mislabeled boxes. She hardly went in to the closet actually, her normal every day clothes were in a continuous rotation in the laundry room. They went from the clean pile to the dirty pile, into the wash, then out of the dryer back into the clean pile. Jon pulled a box from the top shelf and set in the floor so Elia could find out what it was. It was another stack of screenplays, they had already been through two boxes. Elia said they were scripts the world deserved to see but not the ones it needed right now. She stored them on her computer, on a cloud, on a flash drive, and paper copies in boxes. She had lost a lot of work in what she called the Great Laptop Crash of 2007. “Those were dark times Jon, dark times,” she said. There was a box of photo albums, a box of ribbons from horse shows she was in as a kid, medals from high school track meets. She showed Jon some of the pictures, telling him the names of horses and teammates. She was a small, thin, gangly creature, all limbs like a new born foal. Some people said they were awkward growing up. In Elia's case he believed her. He put the boxes back up for her, keeping one picture of little Elia standing with a pony named Cinnamon. They would put that on bedside table next to a picture of little Jon in a Blackhawks jersey.
“I could clear out this entire side of clothes,” Elia said, pointing to the left. She could have the girls over to see if they wanted any of them. Pieces that designers had sent and she had never worn. Before it was no trouble to just stick them on the rack and forget about them. But now Jon needed somewhere to put his stuff. She had seen his closet, and just his skate hoarding alone was going to take a lot of space. It was like he had never thrown out a pair of skates in his entire life. Elia couldn't complain though, she had at least a dozen pairs of riding boots. The ones for comfort, for working around the barn, that had been broken in over years and perfectly molded to her feet. Her paddock boots for training, set up with spurs, her new ones, the slip on ones. Then there were all the tall boots. Field boots, dressage boots, worn in boots, brand new boots. But she kept them all at the barn where they belonged, or in the tack box in the back of her Range Rover.
“All your hockey sweaters are bulky and take up too much room,” Elia started to say. Jon was about to argue when she cut him off. “I'm not going to say you shouldn't keep them! But you have all your youth jerseys and instead of keeping them in the closet we could frame them and hang them up somewhere,” she said quickly. He looked at her apprehensive face and smiled. He took her in his arms, leaning down to kiss her. His phone vibrated in his pocket. He let go of Elia and pulled out his phone. Kane was getting ready to leave to pick Jon up for practice. They were stopping by Jon's place afterward to pick up some of his things. He walked back out of the closet into the bedroom to grab his clothes out of a suitcase on the floor.
“You're just practicing, right?” Elia asked, following behind him. “You're not playing tonight are you?”
Jon glanced quickly at her worried face. He had started skating again while she was in Arizona the week before. Since her return a few days before he had made sure not to mention experiencing any symptoms. Luckily she had been out of the house a lot for work and hadn't attended any skates.
“I'm just practicing. Doctors won't let me play if I'm not 100%, promise.” He said, kissing her on the forehead and avoiding eye contact. They only had two regular season games, tonight against the Wild and a Saturday day game against the Redwings. There could be up to a week off before the playoffs started. That was enough time, regardless if he was 100% or not.

For the past month Jon had basically been living at Elia's house, and they had been dancing around the elephant in the room. Was Jon moving in? They had already started making so many decisions together about the house, about the backyard. It wasn't until her trip away that Elia realized how much it mattered if he lived there or not. She always wanted to be able to come home to him. One night, after dinner with Theo Epstein and his wife, she had gone back to her empty rental and felt so separate from Jon. She was picturing him back in his condo, away from her, from the bed they shared and the dining room table where Jon tried to read the newspaper and she tried to interrupt him all the time. When she got home he wouldn't have been sleeping there, and it would just be her empty house. It was late, but she called him anyway. “Will you be home when I get home?” she had asked. “I thought I was picking you up from the airport?” he had replied. “Oh, yeah.” she said, suddenly feeling sheepish. It had only been a month, how could she think of bringing up moving in? Jon could tell something was bothering her though, between the late night call and now the silence at the other end. He eventually got it out of her, and had been feeling the same thing. He didn't want to sound weird, but he had actually spent the night before at her house, sleeping on the couch in the basement with the cats. Just like that, it was decided. Jon was going to move in.
As far as Elia could tell, there was no better feeling in the world than knowing your best friend, who was also your sexy boyfriend, was going to be moving in. She spent the rest of the week walking around Mesa and Phoenix with a big stupid grin on her face. It was a busy trip. There were Cubs games to attend, endless journalist interviews, dinners with the Ricketts, general managers and other baseball execs. A world she had almost forgotten about since getting into hockey. There was the commercial shoots with the Coyotes at the end of the week, and in between a lot of drinks. The internet had been busy too, rife with pictures and videos telling their own stories. TMZ was running with a picture of Elia “rekindling” a romance with Tim Lincecum (she had seen him out one night and said a brief hello). Perez Hilton was betting on Jeff Samardzija, based on a picture of the pair eating ice cream in the bullpen at a game. And of course, the old stand by, Paul Bissonnette. With whom Elia was seen golfing, hiking, attending a pool party, and doing karaoke. Elia didn't have time to be googling herself though, and didn't even realize.

While Jon went to practice, Elia drove up to the north side for the Cubs' home opener against the Nationals. She spent two hours reading answers off note cards to reporters about Wrigley renovations and their new facility in the Dominican. The previous week, at spring training, she had told a reporter the season ticket holders deserved to be refunded for the terrible 2011 season. Since then it was decided she couldn't speak to media alone. After the press session she had to walk the stadium with Tom (not even the fun one of the Ricketts family) and talk to fans. That was a little better, she always enjoyed meeting people, and they rarely asked her hardball questions to her face. Still, it would have been a boring day if not for the fact that Bill Murray was throwing out the first pitch. He found her walking the concourse and told Tom that Crane Kenney had sent him to get Elia. He really just wanted a drinking buddy. Elia had done two movies with Bill, Broken Flowers and a Wes Anderson picture. They spent the afternoon catching up about mutual friends they hadn't seen in a long time, and seeing how many people would give them their food and beer. It was a lot. They accumulated a nacho helmet, five hotdogs, three cookies, french fries, two mai-tais, a burger, and a lot of beer. A lot of which Elia unloaded from her purse when she got home.

“Oh yeah, and Stephen Strasburg can throw a mean fastball but that kid reminds me too much of Prior. He's never going to be sound.” Elia told Jon back home after the game. “How was practice?” she asked.
He skated on a line with Kane in practice today, and would possibly play on Saturday. Elia looked at him skeptically, like she often did during his recovery. “I feel great babe,” he assured her, kissing her on the head as he walked toward the stairs. He was trying to get back into his game rhythm and wanted to get a nap in before the Blackhawks game. Elia felt like she was starting to sober up from the Cubs game, but didn't feel like getting a mid day hangover. She grabbed a bottle of wine from the cellar and walked up to her office to play some music.

That night the Blackhawks lost to the Minnesota Wild, failing to score in four power plays. Now they needed to beat Detroit on Saturday or they would be the sixth seed going into the playoffs. Elia wasn't sure why that made such a big difference. Either way they had to beat somebody in the first round. Saturday came and Jon still didn't play, even though he repeatedly told Elia he was ready. She could tell he regretted the decision to sit out when the team lost to Detroit in over time. They needed two points to push past the Redwings in the standings. The playoffs would start Thursday. In Phoenix.

Elia's latest movie had premiered at South by Southwest a few weeks before to rave reviews. It had been picked up almost immediately by, of course, the Weinstein Co., back to torture Elia further. They requested a re-cut of several scenes, and wanted to hire someone to rework all of the sound. She had mentally moved on from the project but sent them over additional footage for their own editors to rework. Now it was set for a limited release on April 13th to coincide with hockey playoffs. She would have to fly to Los Angeles for the day for a press junket and to walk the red carpet. As soon as it was official she made sure to tell Jon. They had just finished eating dinner at home when she brought it up. Jon didn't seem upset by the news at all, so Elia decided it was a good time to talk about something else. Scheduling. She told him what she couldn't change: New York at the end of May, Lousiana at the end of June, and Paris July through October. She would really like for him to come with her and be on location with her if there weren't hockey games.
“Obviously I know you'll be playing in May, possibly in to June. I mean for sure you will be. And I could get a little flexibility on Wolf of Wall Street, I know I can get those scenes knocked out fast, Scorsese doesn't do a lot of takes. So I could get back here every few days if I needed to. I was hoping you could spend July and August in France with me.” she said, starting to ramble.
He knew this would come up eventually, and had already thought about what he would say. “Whatever needs to happen we are going to find a way to make it work. I'm going to find a way to make it work.” He walked over to where she was standing by the kitchen counter and put his arms around her. She leaned against his chest. Fall would be difficult, once he had to start playing in Chicago again. But they could do it. She could push back the start date of her next directorial project. Next spring Sin City 2 was filming in Texas, but that wouldn't be so bad, and Interstellar was shooting in Alberta. From then on, new projects they could figure out together. It was weird to think about things a year in advance, but it needed to be done.
They spent the evening googling pictures of Corsica and Hawaii, day dreaming together about spending a few months on location. Renting a villa and flying out their friends and family. It wasn't all hard, they had to remember how lucky they really were.

The elation lasted until Thursday. The game started out great—the only goal in the first period was Jon putting the puck in the net with help from Kane four minutes in. In the second period the Coyotes came out big, scoring twice and shutting down the Hawks offense. Elia watched the game with Pat and Jon's parents, listening intently to the play by play the dad's were giving. Almost at the end of the third period Seabrook scored, sending the opening game of the playoffs into over time. The Coyotes finally seized the game for themselves. Elia could picture Jon back in the dressing room, seething silently in anger, doing pushups or sit ups or some kind of penance for their failure. Later back at the hotel she would sneak into Kane and Toews' room like she always did, and fall asleep with her face pressed against Jon's back. He wouldn't want to talk but he would want to know she was there.

Celebrity bloggers were having a field day with the series Elia came to find out in L.A. All anyone could ask was whether she wanted the Blackhawks to win or Paul's team to win. I want my boyfriend's team, the Blackhawks to win, she wanted to say. Instead she strongly denied ever being in a relationship with Paul and tried to shift the focus back to the film. Eventually she just stopped answering questions and stood smiling for the cameras. This was exactly why she didn't want to announce her relationship just yet. She couldn't imagine how irritate Jon would be having cameras shoved in his face as he walked in and out of Jobing or the United Center. She dutifully stayed at the after party until one in the morning, heading out with Kristen to stay at her place over night. Her flight back to Phoenix landed just as morning skate was ending. Jon wasn't in the mood for socializing, so she went to lunch with Kane, Leddy, Shaw and his girlfriend.
The second game again started with a bang as Bickell scored three minutes in on a power play. The Coyotes were playing an aggressive, physical game, but the Blackhawks were hanging on. Again the game was pushed into over time, but this time the Hawks came out on top. The play would head back to Chicago for game three.

There were three days on the calendar between games, but travel would steal one of them. They stayed in Phoenix the night after game two, and flew back to Chicago early the next morning. The team went straight to practice, then home to sleep. Jon had himself on a strict schedule. Elia found it interesting to watch his daily routine, observing him from a distance around the house. She seriously wondered sometimes if he had obsessive compulsive disorder. When he came home from practice he would put his entire outfit into the washing machine, even his shoes. If he had worn a suit the UC, which he did if there would be press, the entire thing was immediately brought to the dry cleaner. Not even one by their house, he would take it the a specific cleaners that he first used when he moved to Chicago.
Rain had been coming down across the midwest for days, and the city streets were waterlogged. Inside the house Elia restlessly watched the rain run down the windows.
“What are you doing today? Do you want to go do something? Museum or movie or something?” Elia asked, knowing the team had an off day. Jon had been sitting in the living room reading most of the morning.
“I've got to do that thing at the store on Michigan,” Jon said. Of all the guys on the team, Jon and the Patricks had to do the most for publicity. The Captain, the Star, and the Handsome guy. Extra interviews, magazine shoots, promotional parties at the Blackhawks Store.
“Is Kaner going to be there?” she asked. Jon shook his head, and continued reading.

Elia looked back out the window. The planters they built on the deck were big boxes of mud. Murky water was spilling over the top, leaving a trail of silt spreading across the patio. “Oh my god!” Elia yelled, jumping off the floor where she was laying and running to find her cell phone. Jon, accustomed to her outbursts, barely glanced up from his book. She came back down the stairs a while later, wearing a busted pair of jeans, a hoodie, and muck boots. She grabbed her black Burberry Taffeta trench out of the hallway closet to wear over her clothes.
“I'm going out with the boys,” Elia said, giving Jon a kiss, “I'll be back for dinner, probably.”
“Alright, call me if that changes.”

It was an hour and a half drive north to Wheatland, Wisconsin. If Pat and Dan didn't know better, they would have thought Elia was kidnapping them and taking them somewhere nobody would ever find the bodies. They took back road after back road, turning on to a gravel road, and eventually on to a narrow, bumpy dirt road that wove through budding tree branches. Eventually the road opened to a large field on the left, and a thinned out tree grove to the right. The passed an old camper and and out-house, a fire pit, and a few cleared out circles.
“I used to come camping here every summer when I was a kid,” Elia explained. An old friend of the family owned the property, but Elia was certain nobody would be around this time of year. Especially with the rain.
“We had a pop up camper we would park back between those two trees,” she said, pointing over her shoulder. Her dad and his friends would drink beers, shoot guns and let the kids run wild every weekend. She pulled over next to a small gazebo and they unloaded a box from the back of the Wrangler, setting it on an old picnic table. There was a cooler in the back with a case of Miller Lite and they all cracked open a can. The rain was coming down in a light drizzle now but the ground was soft and muddy. They finished their beers and got back in the Jeep with Pat driving. Elia directed him to the left, towards another dirt road. It led up a small hill where they stopped to look down at a big mud puddle. Pat turned, looking questioningly at Elia. She put a helmet on and then nodded. Carcillo told him to gun it. They flew down the hill, muddy waters covering the windows as they splashed through, the Jeep swerving trying to gain traction, and soon they were back on dry land heading into a torn up lane between trees. Elia cranked up the country on the radio and they kept driving, plowing through mini lakes and doing donuts in big muddy fields. The road curved back into the woods and up an embankment where the hill had eroded from higher up creating a small rocky canyon.
“If you hit this too far to the right you will roll the Jeep,” Elia cautioned, “So consider if you and Carcillo could push it back over before you decide how to take that.”
Pat turned to look at Carcillo in the back seat, who was shaking his head. He was not interested in rolling the Jeep. They took the road slowly on the left side and drove around to another downward slope. Pat slammed on the gas and the muddy water sprayed up from the grill, covering the windshield and raining down on the canvas top. He swerved to the left and the Jeep caught on a rut under the water, tossing them sideways. Everyone screamed. They came up out of the puddle and waited for the wipers to clear the windshield. Dan was tired of sitting in the backseat, so they all switched places and kept going with Carcillo in the driver seat. They swung by the cooler to shot gun another beer before looking for more mud.

“I thought we were going to get stuck in that last drive through,” Carcillo said when they stopped back by the picnic table to have lunch. The last puddle they had bottomed out on a deep rut, but with the ground as saturated as it was they were able to get out of it. With Elia and Kane pushing.
“Don't have a winch for nothing,” Elia said, pulling some sandwiches out of the cooler and a bag of cheese curds they got at a gas station.
“Where would we have hooked up the winch, we were in the middle of a field.” Kane pointed out, laughing.
“Were we even stuck or did you just want to soak us with mud?” Elia asked Dan. The spray back from the tires had painted them with dirty water. Elia could feel the slime in her pants and down her boots. Pat punched Dan in the shoulder. The rain stopped and the sound of birds singing filled the air. It felt good to get out of the city for a while and just sit around in the middle of nowhere. Elia and Pat picked up a couple rickety shelves that were leaning against the back of the gazebo and walked them out to the field. Next they placed a long board across the top, and placed their empty cans in a row. Target practice. Pat and Elia put some ear plugs in, took the 20 gauge shotgun out of the box on the table and walked away from the table to take some shots. Dan turned up the radio on the Jeep and grabbed his guitar out of the backseat. He set it down on the table and laid out, listening to the music and the gun shots. Mudding, shooting, and country music.
Elia had always been a poor shot. When her dad first tried to teach her in that very field she couldn't hit a pop can 10 feet away. Brad had tried his best to help her but she was just a lost cause with a gun. Kane was reloading when Elia pulled his ear plug out. He looked over at her.
“So you want to tell me what happened with Amanda?” she asked him. She had avoided bringing it up, thinking he would eventually, but he had kept quiet on the topic. He sighed. When Pat's family had come to visit for two weeks, he had wanted Amanda to meet them. He was really excited for her to meet them. But then Amanda had to get all weird about it, he said.
“All of a sudden she was asking me what I wanted, if I thought our relationship was serious. It was crazy. The only thing I said was that I didn't know. Because I hadn't really thought about it. And then she cried, and then she broke up with me.”
He locked the gun barrel back in place.
“And now she won't return my calls or texts. And she unfriended me on facebook.”
Elia rubbed his shoulder.
“Now I'm fucking thinking about it all the time.” Pat continued. He looked sadly at Elia before putting the ear plug back in. That was all he was going to say about it. She walked back to where Dan was laying, hitting him in the stomach as she sat down. He instinctively tried to curl into a ball. He gave Elia a quick shove before laying back down. Elia lay back on the table too. It had been years since she had driven up to the property in Wisconsin, a place she used to know so well.
In the mornings she and Brian would be the first ones awake. They would take family dog out and walk through the trees trying to surprise wild turkey. Climbing trees was always a favorite activity. One summer Elia fell and cut her leg bad on a tree branch. She and Brian taped paper towels around it and kept playing. Her mom was furious when they got home on Sunday and Elia ended up needing stitches.
She learned to drive on these back roads when she was twelve. Her dad's friend Shane stacked books on the front seat of his F-150 so she could see over the steering wheel. She had to sit at the edge of the seat just to reach the pedals. That was the summer she learned the term designated driver. It was fun at the time, being wild kids, running around, climbing trees and driving trucks. Looking back now though it all felt a bit strange. Somebody should've been keeping an eye on them. Even Peter Pan had Tinkerbell.

"Where's Jon?" Dan asked, bringing Elia back to the present. He was sitting up with the guitar in his lap. Elia sat up, leaning back on her elbows.
"Didn't think this was a good activity for someone with a concussion." She said, picking at some paint peeling off the table. Dan looked over at her. She met his eyes, frowning. Then turned back to the table.
"Doctors cleared him to play, he's been in two games," Dan said. Elia sighed.
"They can only diagnose on what he tells them. I can tell by the way he skates, I can tell by the way he fumbles when I hand things to him." By the way he doesn't want to have sex, she thought to herself. "I would be surprised if the coaching staff doesn't realize it. My guess is they don't want to know. You won't tell anyone, right?"
Dan looked at her, astonished.
“Why aren't you telling anyone?" He asked.

Elia knew it wasn't something she could question. Jon knew the risk he was taking. He had made up his mind that a Stanley Cup was worth it. If she made him sit out, and the team didn't keep winning, he would never stop wondering what if. A man has to make his own decisions. Because I don't want him to resent me, she thought. Is that a selfish reason? They both stopped talking as Kane approached. Dan passed the guitar over to Elia.
“Trying to teach this girl to play something other than that hillbilly instrument,” Carcillo said, looking up at Pat. Elia rolled her eyes. They all cracked open another beer, Elia's last since they would soon be driving on actual roads.
“My sister sent me the youtube video of you singing karaoke with Andrea Doan,” Pat said.
“That's on youtube?” she asked.
“It's got almost a million views El, have you not been on a computer in a month?” Pat said, surprised.
“What song?” Dan asked. Elia moved her fingers up the guitar, finding the right chord.
“I got a pink guitar, a Lincoln town car, from ole what's his name I met in a bar,” she started to sing, “Got a high rise flat in Hollywood from a married man wasn't up to no good, I'm hell on heels, baby I'm coming for you.” She put her hands over the strings, stopping the music. “Pistol Annies,” she added.
Dan nodded, he knew the song. He started laughing.
“I really appreciate the irony of singing a song about gold digging with a gold digger,” he said."What makes you think she's a gold digger?" "El, come on. If you don't find someone loyal before you get into the AHL, you're pretty much ending up with a gold digger."
Kane agreed.
“Pretty much true.”"If you guys don't like it why do you keep going for the girls that have already decided to make a living on their looks? Bottle girls, bartenders, models," Elia started listing."Not all of us want that, please don't lump me in to that category." Dan said. Elia was surprised to see he was legitimately offended."Sorry," she said quietly. She realized she had never really seen Dan with anyone. She had no idea what kind of girls he went out with. She had just assumed he was into something ratchet from his gross, infamous tweet a few years back. He was so different from his on ice persona, she wondered why he chose to be like that.

When she got home later that evening she parked the car out front in the street. It was a masterpiece she intended to show off for as long the weather allowed. A thick layer of mud had dried onto the Jeep, and inside. For whatever reason they had ended up taking one last lap with the doors off. She unloaded the valuables into the garage before heading up the steps to the house. She sat down outside to take her boots off, and the door opened."Buff started barking when she saw you," Jon was saying. The dog ran out and immediately started rolling in the boots. Elia tried to push her away."What happened to you?" He asked, looking down at her. She took off her jacket. Everything that had been underneath was relatively clean except for what had dripped down her neck. Her jeans were a mess though, as were the socks. She dropped the coat on the patio and peeled off her socks, dropping them on the pile."Want to jump in the shower with me?" Elia asked, starting to unbutton her jeans. There was no way she could bring the pants into the house."Get over here girl you can't be outside without pants!" Jon said.
He picked Elia up, holding onto her ass as he walked them both inside. Elia was disappointed when he set her down shortly after stepping inside. He had reservations at Au Cheval, and she should go get cleaned up. In a surprise turn of events Jon had also gotten them tickets for the Hunger Games movie, and since Elia had read them with Kane he invited him out with them. The three of them hadn't been out together in a long time and it was a lot of fun. The movie turned out to be a great distraction for Jon, particularly because of all the residual questions he had. Now he wanted to read the book. Elia knew he was going to hate it, but they would walk over to Myopic Books in the morning to pick up a copy anyway. At the end of the night she lay her head down on Jon's bare chest and fell asleep.

When Elia woke up the next day she was the middle spoon between Jon and the corgi. She tried to push the dog off the bed but Byfuglien just lifted her paw up and looked at her. Jon felt her wake up and stretched his arm around her, grabbing her breasts and kissing the back of her neck. His hand moved down the curves of her body, stopping at her hip to gently pull her into him before continuing south. She felt his hand slide between her legs, and leaned back into him. The dog leaned back too, trying to lick her mouth.
“Ugh gross!” Elia yelled.
“What?!” Jon said, stopping what he was doing.
“This freakin' dog,” she muttered, pushing Byfuglien to the edge of the bed. Was the dog born weird, or did it become weird from being named after Dustin?
The momentary distraction taken care of, Jon picked up where he had left off. It wasn't long until Elia felt him enter her, his arms holding her close to him as he thrust into her. Afterward they lay in bed for several minutes, neither speaking a word. Slowly, Jon got up and walked into the bathroom. Elia heard the water turn on in the shower. She got up and walked over to the bathroom door. Jon was standing under the rain with his eyes closed, both hands pressed into the wall, leaning. She stepped in with him, and he looked over at the sound of the door opening. He kept one hand on the wall, putting the other on the back of Elia's neck. She reached up, cupping his face with her hands, the water running down Jon's face and splashing on to her body. They looked in to each others eyes for a long time in silence, saying everything without words.
Elia got out of the shower first, putting on a tshirt and heading down the stairs to let the dog outside. She fed the cats, put the coffee on, then went back to the bedroom to put some shorts on. Jon was out of the shower now, getting dressed to go to practice. Elia's phone rang from one of the bedside tables. She unplugged it from the charger, looking at the caller ID.
“Why is Eddie O calling me?” she asked out loud. Jon shrugged. Elia answered. They chatted for a few moments before Jon heard Elia say “Why would anyone ever want to be enclosed in a small space with him?” She looked at Jon.
“NBC wants me to go 'Inside the Glass' with Pierre McGuire for the game tonight,” she said to Jon. He raised his eyebrows, “Interesting,” he laughed. With the last two games against Phoenix going into overtime, NBC was hoping the game would draw a bump in viewers. Putting Elia in with Pierre was a cheap way of trying to draw more females into the sport.
“I don't like this 'Let's have Olczyk ask because she will say yes,' tactic that is clearly happening,” Elia said. “Well yeah, I've done intermission chats with Konroyd but those guys aren't fuckin' weirdos,” she continued. “Okay, okay, fine, I'll do it, for the good of the league. But just to let you know I'm going to make pot brownies and get Pierre and I stoned as fuck, and whatever comes of that is on your hands.”
Elia held the phone away from her head with Olczyk still talking. She asked Jon if he was okay with her doing it. She didn't want to be a distraction so close to the team.
“I think everyone would appreciate having someone to buffer McGuire with,” Jon replied, smiling. It was one of the last times Elia would see Jon smile that series.

She had been joking about the brownies, but Elia did have a couple beers with Eddie and Pat before heading into the small box with Pierre for the game. Doing somewhat scripted videos with the players was one thing, but this was actual live game commentary and she was a little nervous. It was also weird to be asking the guys critical questions, like how they felt about their lack luster power play, and their opinion on Andrew Shaw's suspension. Stranger still was talking to the Coyotes like they weren't the enemy right now. Elia didn't like putting her partiality aside for the sake of journalism. Overall though, it was kind of fun. Pierre was weird, there was no doubt about it. But he was essentially just a huge dork that loved hockey.
The game got off to a fast start. Elia rarely sat so close to the ice and the intensity was magnified. She watched as the puck moved from end to end, no team could keep possession for very long. As soon as the Coyotes would bring it down to Corey the Hawks would take it back. Jamal Meyers got the puck in the corner and passed it up to Hossa. He took it up past the blue line, turned back and sent it over to Meyers again, who was heading up the rink on the other side. If Elia hadn't been right there, she may have been following the puck up the ice. Instead she watched as Raffi Torres collided with Hoss just as he was turning his head. One second he was up and skating, and the next he was lying on the ice, not moving except for the rise and fall of his breath.
Someone was screaming, and it wasn't until Pierre grabbed her around the shoulders that she realized it was her. The play had continued up the ice, and she started yelling for everyone to stop. Why wasn't there a penalty? She started yelling at McGuire, calling for a whistle. Brandon Bollig had realized what happened now, and tried to take down Torres. The refs were all over them now, and a team of medical personnel was on the ice with Marian. The danger, which had for so long lurked under the surface was now right in front of their faces.
She couldn't stand there, she had to do something. She tried getting out to him, but couldn't move. "Elia," Pierre was saying something to her, he was pulling her back, out the door. They walked down the aisle and down a corridor to the lower levels of the United Center. Stan and John almost ran into them as they were making their way down. "Has anyone called Jana?" Elia choked out in between tears. She didn't even realize shed been crying. "Get her down here," Stan was saying to someone. "She's not here, she's back in Slovakia," Elia whispered. Together they kept walking quickly down the hall in the direction of the dressing room. Hossa was coming out on a stretcher and was heading toward the exit to the parking lot. Elia ran up to head trainer Mike Gaspi, who was walking along with their emergency Dr. Chiampas. She handed Mike her cell phone. It was dialing Jana. "Please talk to her, take my phone with you I can get it later." He thanked Elia as they exited to the lot and into an ambulance.
Warm spring air blew through the open doors, oblivious to tension within the building. "How can they keep going?" Elia asked to no one. She couldn't go back out with Pierre. It was too disheartening, and watching Torres skating around was making her sick to her stomach. She retreated to the suite where the WAGs were watching, feeling all too aware of her soft woman's heart. Why did they have to play this gladiator game? The wives all had horror stories when it came to their men. They swapped tales like veterans wives, consoling each other. Just last year, Dayna reminded them, Torres had knocked Brent out of play.
Elia hated the feeling of being a bystander. She felt helpless. The rest of the game went by in a blur. And then when things couldn't get worse--they did. Phoenix won the game in overtime.
The Blackhawks were slow to leave that night. Everyone wanted to get out of there, get home and into bed and try to put the game away deep in their memory. They couldn't help it though, it was as if their bodies moved in slow motion. Quennville was angry and didn't even try to hide it. He openly called the officiating a disgrace. Jon tried to be more politically correct. Yes, of course they were angry, but they need to focus on the next game.
There was a knock on the locker room door. Nobody ever knocked. It was Abby Sharp.

"Hey, sorry to barge in here, but ummm... Elia is kind of getting arrested right now, and she said Kaner knows where to get bail money?"

Notes

Thank you so much for reading!