The Moonstone Starlet

Chapter 52

The Kane's rented apartment in Biel, Switzerland was modern but cozy. Homes in Europe were rarely as large and sprawling as they are in the States, and this was no exception. Elia and Donna sat at a small table in the kitchen, warming their hands on mugs of tea. The room was lit by a medium sized window which looked out onto a street cut down the middle by the canal that ran through the city. Winters here were mild, rarely falling below thirty degrees, but it felt cold compared to the south of France. Donna was telling Elia about the girls. Jessica was going to be graduating in May and was already applying for internships. Jackie had recently been promoted at work, and Erica was still deciding on a major. They weren't sure if they would be able to visit. There was no telling how long Pat would be playing in the Swiss league.
“Okay, here it is! I almost couldn't remember where I put it,” Pat said, coming back into the kitchen carrying a blue hockey sweater. Elia spread it out, holding it by both arms. It was almost Cubs blue, with yellow bands around the top of the arms, and the red EHC crest along the forearm. Sponsor names cluttered the jersey.
“I kind of think it's cool that your number is on the front too,” Elia said.
“You would.” Pat replied.
“My new life goal is to have every Kane jersey ever!” She exclaimed, pulling the sweater over her head.
“Alright, I'll get you an away sweater too,” Pat said, laughing.

Patrick had a practice and a meeting with his team, so Elia spent the day with Momma Kane. She had been in Biel/Bienne for a few weeks now, and had started to figure out the city. It was still difficult being in a town where they spoke two foreign languages—german and french. Luckily Elia knew enough of both languages. She had learned to speak french in Africa, and taken german in high school. Working with two german actors in Inglorious Basterds had helped her learn to converse even better, and she had also been coached in Parisian french for the film. The women went to Cafe la Boheme for lunch. It looked like somebody's grandmother's dining room, with old wood furniture and elaborate china plates, but the food was delicious. They took a drive to the lake and walked along the shore. Across the water the mountains rose out of the horizon, and vineyard trellises dotted the lower hills. The town was famous for watch making and was home to Rolex, Omega and Swatch. It turned out that Donna had been enthusiastically waiting for Elia's visit. Patrick had no interest in any of the historical sites or museums, and so she had waited patiently for Elia's arrival, keeping a list of things to see. That was fine by Elia, she loved that kind of thing.
Later in the afternoon they met Pat back at the apartment. After running around town for hours Elia was ready for a nap and curled up with Pat for his pre-game sleep. Going to the game that night was strange. There was something unsettling about seeing Pat in a blue jersey, and even more so seeing him playing with Tyler Seguin. It was a hockey game, but Elia stayed in her seat in the stands the whole time. No locker room shenanigans, no meeting all the players. She was a spectator now.
Elia and Patrick didn't go more than a week without seeing each other from then on. Either Pat would fly down to Aix or Elia would travel to Switzerland. A few times Donna came with Pat, and she and Elia checked out some local wineries.

On one trip to visit Kane, Elia and Donna took a mini road trip to see EHC Biel play Bern, since it was only a forty minute drive, Elia and Donna made the trip for the game. Bern was a much larger city, and seated at the base of the Swiss Alps, home to much larger mountains. And, according to Donna, a much larger party scene. During the game she correctly predicted that some of the team would want to stay in Bern for the night. Patrick's mother hadn't moved to Switzerland with him just to see the country of Switzerland. After photos of the Cinco de Mayo trip to UW Madison had leaked to the internet, Kane had found himself on thin ice. The Blackhawks organization had been disappointed in him, and some fans were again heralding the call that Patrick needed to be traded. Donna had packed up and gone to Switzerland to keep Patrick in check. Still, she didn't hold Pat back from having some fun once in a while. She thought it would be fine for one overnight in Bern.

Since Pat and Tyler had ended up playing on the same team, and renting in the same building, the two had become good friends. Even though they were on a hockey team, surrounded by other people all the time, it could be lonely in a foreign country. They were in a completely different culture, with different languages and customs. Pat and Tyler found something familiar in each other that was comforting. Kane also saw a lot of skill in Seguin, and had gained a lot of respect him on the ice that had translated into a deeper friendship. He hoped Elia could learn to play nice with him.

Elia didn't want to hang out with Seguin, she didn't want to hang out with any other hockey players. As far as she was concerned, there was a finite number of hockey players someone could be friends with, and she had far exceeded that number. They had ended up causing her nothing but trouble.

Still, she went with to the bar, Silo Lounge, with the rest of the EHC Biel team. The bar was huge. It had several floors and was styled like an industrial loft. The duct work was all exposed, and iron beams stood between the floor and ceiling. There was cement and wood finishes everywhere. The group sat around a table on smooth black leather sofas. After a while, some of the guys got up and walked around, getting drinks at the bars or mingling with other patrons. Elia stayed on the sofa, slowly drinking from a pint glass.

Pat couldn't help but feel worried about Elia. He watched her from across the bar, sitting at their table quietly, drinking a beer and not making eye contact with anyone. He remembered the first day he met her, how she smiled as she talked to everyone, laughing and making jokes with Burish and Campbell. The way she would sing with Versteeg and dance like an idiot without a care. Even when she was moody in the early days, it wasn't like this. She wasn't sullen, it was more like she'd given up.

Surprisingly, Tyler was concerned too. He came up to Pat after they had been at the bar about an hour, and gestured toward Elia.
"What's the matter with her?"
"What do you mean?" Kane asked, trying not to reveal anything.
"That girl used to be all fight. She hasn't so much as given me the finger tonight."
Pat looked at Seguin inquisitively.
"It's just kind of sad. She still not over Marchand?" Tyler asked.
"No, it's not that." Pat replied. Tyler said nothing, but walked over to where Elia sat. He stood next to the table for a moment, waiting for her to acknowledge him.

"Don't feel like drinking? Or what?" Tyler asked Elia after a minute. At first she didn't realize he was talking to her. She blinked and looked up at him.
"Did you just talk to me?" Elia asked him. He half smiled before deciding she wasn't joking. "Yeah, I was. It doesn't seem like you're that into the scene here. There's a mini golf place up the street from here, you want to play a round?"

Elia stared at him in disbelief.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"You look bored, come on let's get out of here."

Still confused about what was happening, Elia found herself being led out of the bar and following Seguin, Kane and Reto Berra down the street. The mini-golf in Switzerland was not nearly as elaborate as it was in America. The indoor course was in a big open room which almost looked like an old lady's garden. There were plants all over, with simple tracks in between to golf on. Many of the holes were not concealed by obstacles, the difficulty came from angles or slopes. Seguin and Kane were great at mini golf, obviously masters of sticks already. Elia lacked the patience necessary to play well, even if she did understand the strategy. Reto was hit or miss.

Elia wasn't buying Tyler's charade of friendliness, but couldn't figure out what he was trying to accomplish. He was standing to the side of the fake grass, watching Kane try to help Reto line up his ball. He was wearing slim fit black jeans and a button down with the sleeves rolled up to show off his tattoos. He turned to look back at Elia and caught her scrutinizing him. Walking over to her he tapped her golf club with his.

“Having fun?” he asked.
Elia nodded, maintaining eye contact.
“Seguin, I don't know what you're trying to do. But if you think you can drive a wedge between Kaner and I like you did to me and Brad, don't even waste your time. Kaner and I are blood brothers, we've got a covalent bond, we fucking share electrons, alright? It would literally never happen.”

Tyler flashed a smile before putting on a fake frown.
“Why would you think of me like that? I'm trying to be nice here. A friend of Patrick's is a friend of mine.” He stepped closer and tried to give Elia a hug.

“Okay, whatever, just don't touch me.” She pushed him back.

“No, for real. Pat talks about you all the time. He's got mad love for you. Hell, the second I tried to say shit about you he was calling me out and defending you. I'd be an idiot not to respect it, and I am sorry I misjudged you before. I really want to try and make it up to you.”

Elia stared at him skeptically. He had made her life Hell for months on end, and in a few weeks Kaner had changed his mind about her? Had Brad never tried to defend her in the entire time they were dating? She felt a flush of emotion thinking about how deep of a trust she and Kane had with each other.

“Segsy, it's your turn,” Patrick called from behind them. Seguin gave her one more knowing look before walking back onto the astro turf.

It was a strange turn of events, being halfway across the world with her best friend and her worst enemy. As fall turned to winter, and the lock-out continued, Kane, Seguin and Downs became an unlikely trio. They hung out in Switzerland, and took some trips around Europe. Elia had learned to tolerate Seguin, but still didn't want him n her house. Instead they spent a weekend in Paris, a few days in Milan and Munich. One weekend Tyler went to see Patrice Bergeron and Elia and Kane visited Antti in Finland instead.

Pat still found time to visit Elia's house in France. He had started to get to know some of her friends in town, and learning his way around the city. Elia never talked about plans to move back, in fact, she rarely mentioned the States at all. One weekend, close to Christmas, Patrick had a five day break between games, and flew to Aix. The town had set up a Christmas market along the Cours Mirabeau, with little vendor houses of gifts, snacks and spiced wine. Elia had become quite the fan of the spiced wine. Mostly, she liked the idea of carrying around cups of warm booze in the middle of town like it was nothing. Southern France was rather temperate, it's climate being influenced by the warm jet stream coming from the ocean. Most days hung around forty degrees farenheit, dipping into the 30's in the middle of the night. It wasn't optimal standing-around-outside temperatures, but it wasn't very cold either. Elia, Patrick, Taylor, Spencer and Cheyne stopped by the Christmas market after dinner one night and hung out on the benches along the road.

Kane sat on a bench alongside Taylor and Spence, sipping on hot wine. The trees along the boulevard were decorated with white Christmas lights, and the fountains down the middle of the road were draped with blue. Many of the American students from the University had gone home for the end of the semester, but the streets were still crowded with passersby.

A ways down the walkway Cheyne and Elia were picking out Macarons together, a kind of French cookie. Patrick watched them from a distance. They seemed to hardly speak to each other, communicating in some kind of unspoken language. Cheyne was always around, lurking. He rarely spoke to Kane, passing in and out of the house like a shadow whenever Kane was there. Over time Patrick had figured out that Cheyne lived in an apartment above the barn, and took care of the animals and fixing things. But he wondered what else.

He raised his paper mug towards the two, “What's up with that guy?” he asked Spence and Taylor. They followed his gesture.

“Cheyne?” Taylor asked.
“The physical representation of Elia's subconscious dark side?” Spencer asked, sarcastically. He and Taylor laughed.
“What do you mean? Are they...hooking up?” Pat asked.
“No, no,” Taylor insisted, shaking his head.
“What do you mean then?” he continued

“It's this joke we have,” Spencer started to explain, “Elia puts on this face to the world like she is fine, she's happy. And Cheyne shows up one day and is the most sulky mother fucker on the planet. So we're always calling Cheyne the expression of the dark side. It pisses him off and makes him sulk even harder,” Spencer laughed again.

“Don't you think that's bad for Elia to be around?” Pat inquired.
“Nah, it's fine. Actually, Cheyne is lightening up a little.” Spencer added.
Taylor laughed. “You say that so nonchalant!”
“What?” Spencer asked defiantly.
“Okay,” Taylor turned more towards Patrick on the bench. “One day we're heading to the train station to go to Paris, and this guy walks up to us and starts asking for money. I ignore him. Then he starts cursing at me, saying every French curse word I know and some I don't. Talking about how he is homeless and has to eat rats. And that is how we met Cheyne, and Spencer acts like Cheyne is just pissed all the time for no reason. Like, he was fucking homeless and may or may not have eaten rats. Of course he's pissed all the time.”

They stopped talking as Cheyne walked up to the bench. He stood in front of them, drinking wine. His dark eyes flitting side to side.
“Hey Darkside, how would you say Elia is doing? She okay?” Taylor asked. Cheyne directed his glare to Taylor.
“Bien, elle ne s'est pas coupée, l'oreille et l'a envoyée à son ex.” he replied, shrugging with a smirk on his face.
“See, he makes jokes now!” Spence said. Taylor shook his head.
“He just said, basically, 'She hasn't cut off her ear and mailed it to her ex-lover yet,'” Taylor translated. “You know, like Vincent Van Gogh.”

“What about Van Gogh?” Elia asked, having just walked up behind them with a pink box full of cookies.
“You're having a blue period.” Taylor said. Elia rolled her eyes.
“Picasso had a blue period, not Van Gogh,” Cheyne muttered in English. He turned away from the group to light a cigarette. He turned back towards them, and something caught his eye behind them. He nodded.
“Taylor, est Naeva,” he said. Taylor and Spencer both looked over their shoulders, then stood up.
“Naevy owes us forty euro,” Taylor said. The three boys headed across the street.

Elia looked back at Kane, shrugging. “I don't know what that's about.” She opened the box she was holding and offered a Macaron to him. He took a bite. It tasted like strawberry.

“So, some people I know are heading to Ibiza for New Year's Eve. I think Orlando and Leo, and that crew. Would you want to go? Maybe ask Seguin and some of the other Biel guys?” Elia asked casually. Pat finished eating the Macaron, brushing some crumbs off of his lap.

“I'm probably going to head back to Chicago at the end of the month El. This thing might be over soon and Q wants us to start working out and skating together again.” He paused, looking at her. “Aren't you supposed to start filming Sin City 2 soon?” he asked.

“Uh, no,” she said, “I'm not doing that anymore.” She looked away from Pat, and took a sip of her wine.
“What do you mean you're not doing that anymore?” Pat stammered, afraid he knew the answer already.
“I just didn't feel like doing it anymore so I pulled out a couple weeks ago. Same with Interstellar...” She added quietly, trailing off.

Patrick stared for a second in disbelief. How many times had he heard Elia say she wanted to work with Chris Nolan? A hundred? More? How many times had they watched Sin City with Elia talking about how much she loved the style? Dozens? They sat in silence for a moment, before Pat sighed and started to talk.

“El, don't you think this has gone on long enough?” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“This, all of this! You're just running away! Your whole life is in Chicago, and you just drop it all and stay down here where nobody makes you feel anything--”
“--You say I'm running away, I say there was nothing keeping me there anymore. This is a life here, and maybe it's quaint, but it's fine. Everything here is fine.”
“This is a fantasy,” he muttered. “You're hiding yourself in ancient cathedrals and cobblestone roads and pretending it's your world but it's not.”

Elia was staring straight ahead, through the small wooden Christmas market booths and the white stone buildings behind them. “Noted,” she whispered, turning her wine cup around in her hands. It was the only time Patrick brought it up. The next day they both went on as though nothing had been said, although the sentiment lingered between them. They spent the Christmas holiday in Switzerland, with Elia's mother and other brother flying out. And then, just before the New Year, the Kanes traveled back to the United States.

Without Patrick around, Elia drifted back into the so called fantasy land. Full of all new people that didn't know her heartbreak, all new places that weren't thick with old memories. A landscape she could paint with new daydreams. She didn't go to Ibiza for New Year's Eve. Instead she trekked to Paris with Taylor, Cheyne and Spencer, to a party some of Taylor's university friends were going to. It wasn't in a fancy apartment or a ritzy hotel. There were no other movie stars, no rock stars or fashion designers. Just young twenty-somethings drinking and laughing and trying to flirt with the cute guy or girl from across the room. Playing apples to apples and some french games Elia didn't know. Talking about One Direction and Miley Cyrus and whatever the young people were into these days. Her mind wandered back, back, three hundred and sixty five days back. Her and Jon were lying in a hammock, holding hands, drinking champagne. “We should just always do New Year's together,” she said, and he had agreed. Just another promise he hadn't kept.

Half past midnight Elia left to take a walk. She took a pack of cigarettes from someone at the party, and strolled the empty streets smoking slowly. Every now and then a group of party goers would spill onto the street and hop into cabs. Paris was cold and damp, more like Chicago than the sunny south of France. Sometime around two she found herself at the Arc de Triomphe. She sat down underneath the arch, holding her knees to her chest for warmth, imagining the avenues spreading out through the city. Maybe she could catch the sunrise one more time, maybe she could pick a new direction. It would be too cold to wait so long, and she was already shivering now. She got up to leave, and as she walked away a hand grabbed her arm. Elia jumped, having not seen anyone approach or heard any footsteps. She turned around to see that old gypsy woman from long ago. Elia stared at her in shock, wondering if she was dreaming. The old lady reached out her hand, offering her the moonstone necklace. Elia hadn't worn it in months, ripping it off sometime after Toews had left. How many of those did this woman have?

“I don't want that anymore, it's cursed. You cursed me!” she said angrily, pushing the woman's hands away. The woman said nothing, just looked at her, with her wrinkled face sagging with sorrow. She took Elia's hand, and pulled off her glove. Elia tried to pull it back, but the woman was surprisingly strong. She took her index finger, adorned with an emerald ring, and traced it across Elia's hand, nodding and humming.
“Vous verrez encore votre véritable amour. 3000Km, ça va vous prendre beaucoup de jours y arriver.” the woman said, pointing to the East.
“What?” Elia wasn't understanding correctly.
“Vous verrez encore votre véritable amour. 3000Km, ça va vous prendre beaucoup de jours y arriver” She repeated, slower.

Elia could work it out that time.

Notes