Chapter 53

He was doing the slow creep past her house for the fourth time since he had been back in town. Except this time, instead of coming straight down Elk Grove, he was driving down the cross street, Honore. He stopped at the stop sign, looking diagonally across to the turquoise glass. It had snowed through the night, and the sound of shovels hitting asphalt ricocheted through the street as people started to dig out their cars. Jon was distracted by two people setting patio chairs in their now clean parking spot. The Chicago “dibs” rule. If you shovel the spot, you claim it for when you return. He shook his head. In Winnipeg this wouldn't even count as snow. It was merely a dusting. And why bother shoveling out a spot when the snow mobile was made for this?

Movement across the street caught his eye. A tall, thin, bearded man had stepped out of Elia's house and started to shovel the front porch. He wore skinny, faded black jeans, and a Carhartt jacket. Jon waited, expecting the dog to run out anytime, or Elia to step into the doorway. But neither ever came. He jumped when the car that had come up behind him started laying on the horn. Quickly he put the car back in drive and turned to leave.

With the season finally starting in a week, Jon was feeling both excited and apprehensive. It had been a long, hard off season, and not just because the lockout was dragging on. Unlike most of the players, Jonny had secretly felt relieved about the long break. Even by the end of the summer, he hadn't felt back to normal since his concussion. Turning his gaze too fast would cause him to lose his balance, and it was hard to visually focus on objects. The long period of rest was driving him crazy. He hated sitting around lazily and wanted to run and work out and get out some energy, but he couldn't. At the end of October he had traveled to Georgia to visit the Carrick Institute of Life University, on the recommendation of Sidney. He had experienced similar issues after his concussion, and found relief with treatment from their chiropractic neurologist. After a couple weeks of treatment he finally started to feel normal again. Still, he wasn't sure he was ready for the season.

He wasn't sure if he was ready to see her again either. Jon knew he had really fucked up. Everything was overwhelming him in the beginning of summer. The stress of the playoffs, the stress of his head not being right. Realizing that maybe he wasn't ready, that maybe he couldn't handle it, couldn't live up to what she needed. Obviously she wasn't ready to settle down either, running around with Paul behind his back, and now this guy. Deep down, if he was being honest with himself, he had been scared. For the first time in his life, there was something he couldn't control. Something that forced him to open up and be vulnerable. The unpredictable nature of being in a relationship with someone else, and putting your heart in their hands was more than he could deal with. And so, he ran away. Ran away and buried his head in the sand for months.

At first, he ignored the problem. He had listened to all the voicemails, and felt compelled to do something, but some how, just couldn't get started. Once summer was over, he would head back to Chicago, and they could find a way to get through it. She would probably show up at practice, and they would fight, and then everything would be back to normal. But the off season never ended. Now he was back in Chicago and afraid of what might happen. Especially since Kaner had been freezing him out the past week of practice. Sure, they were playing fine and talking, but he could tell that Kane was pissed at him.

Today's practice at the Ice House was more of the same, but Jon felt he had an upper hand now. While everyone was packing up to head home he walked over to where Kane was standing, putting a phone charger into his bag and looking at his cell.
“Hey man,” Jon said.
“Hey,” Pat replied, not looking up from his texts. Jon tried to make small talk awkwardly, but Kane just replied “Uh huh,” or “Not really.” Viktor Stalberg and Patrick Sharp, who were standing on the other side of Kane, turned and walked across the room to talk to Bolland. Now Kane and Toews were alone.
“I don't know why you're still giving me the cold shoulder when El already has another boyfriend.” Jon said angrily. Patrick just shook his head.
“Some bullshit on TMZ doesn't change the fact that you're piece of shit Jonny,”
“I didn't see it on TMZ wise guy, I saw him with my own eyes at Elia's house!”
That got Pat to look up from his phone. He turned to Jonathan, his face scrunched up in exasperation and confusion. He must have remembered something then, because his face changed in an instant.
“You're an idiot.” Pat said, annoyed. He thought about walking away, but instead, looked straight into Jon's face.
“Why were you at Elia's house anyway? And that's not Elia's new boyfriend, alright? That's some tech start up dude that is renting Elia's house. Because she moved. To fucking France. And isn't planning on coming back, because of you. Because you fucking broke her Jon. You know she doesn't laugh anymore? She doesn't joke, she doesn't play around--”
“--alright stop it.”
“No you stop it! I'm trying to be friends to both of you, but you're making it real fuckin' hard Jon. I think it's better if we just don't talk about it because whenever I think about what you did, I hate you.”

Jonathan didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't that. Where was Elia, coming through the door on her cell phone, filling guys' boots with shaving cream and glitter, or some other kind of prank? What had he done? He felt his heart rate going back up, felt beads of sweat starting to gather on his forehead again. The reality was starting to sink in. Across the room the guys were starting to shout at each other.

“Hey,” Toews yelled. “What is this about?” He walked over to the group. They were placing bets on who would get the first goal of the season, who would get the first penalty, who was the most out of shape from the long off season. Sharpie was antagonizing Stalberg.
“Guys, none of that. Come on.” Jonathan said, trying to break up the games. There were jeers of 'Captain Serious' from around the room, but he ignored them.

Actually, maybe he didn't even care. Toews quickly left the room, heading to the bathroom. He felt like he might pass out. Hunching over the sink he splashed cold water over his face, keeping his eyes closed as he let it drip off his chin. What had he done?

Notes