She Will Be Loved

“You’re gonna be at the game tonight right?” Patrick whispered in the silence of his bedroom.

“Yeah, sure.” Charlotte giggled blowing her bangs away from her face.

“I got you a jersey.” Patrick smiled pulling her naked form closer to his. “With my name and everything.”

“Kay.” She yawned and closed her eyes snuggling into his chest.

“You know where the arena is right?” Patrick asked breathing in her scent.

Charlotte let out a groan silencing the man and pulled the sheets over her head falling asleep. Patrick lay in the silence as he listened to Charlotte’s steady breathing as she slept soundly in his arms. A smile made its way to his lips as he thought about how long it had taken him to get to where they were now.

She would show up everywhere. In the coffee shop after practice, at the grocery store, at his friend’s barbecue, at the diners he went to for dinner; and soon his dreams. Yet whenever Patrick saw her, she was always on the arm of a different man. Finally, at a party he asked her out for dinner. She agreed, they dined, and he didn’t see of hear from her for two weeks. Then on the sidewalk, he spotted her window-shopping with a tall muscular man, whose arm was wrapped tightly around her tiny waist. She smiled up at him as they entered a store, and Patrick sighed defeated. The next week it was an Italian named Pascal, she met in her Journalism class at the community college. They fawned over each other as Patrick picked tomatoes at the farmers market. His stomach in disgusted knots. Then the Italian was flown out to Vietnam to cover a story for the journalism class, and Charlotte was alone, but not for long. The next time Patrick spotted her at the store he was quick to ask her to lunch, to which she- of course- agreed. Therefore, it went on; Patrick would have her for a day, and the next she would be gone. He was always there for her to fall back on when one lover left. He would fill the void in her little heart. Patrick was always there to help her and she always belonged to someone else.
Charlotte was a messy child; a free spirit, untamed by age. Her apartment was always a mess, food littering the floors, articles of clothing strewn in unsystematic places. Patrick often stumbled across something vile in a drunken stupor as Charlotte’s hand pulled him to her room. One look into her green eyes beneath those careless bangs and he was a goner. Falling fast in love with the maverick girl. Charlotte did not have a phone, or even a computer. She was never home enough anyway. Always out, always in an affectionate haze for another man. One lazy summer day, Patrick Berglund decided he had had enough. He drove for miles and miles until he wound up at her door. She was alone for once, just stepping out of the shower. She opened the door and his heart almost stopped. She was wearing a worn old green towel around her slim body, water droplets cascading down her bony shoulders from her damp hair, and those bangs still in her eyes. She gave him a questioning look when the lamest thing came out of his mouth.

“Charlotte will you go steady with me?” He whispered then mentally slapped himself for his foolish words.

“What’d you mean?” She slurred kicking a coke can away from the doorway.

“I want to be the only man in your life, no one else Charlotte. Please, make it just me.”

She looked up at him quizzically from behind her bangs. She shrugged and pulled in inside by his tie. Planting her thin lips against his was the only conformation Patrick needed. He believed that she was now his, yet deep down he knew that it was not that easy for Charlotte.

*

“Charlotte?” Patrick whispered to the young woman who slept soundly against his side.

“Mmm,” She mumbled into the skin of his side.

“I have to go; I’ll see you at the game.” He whispered leaning in to press his lips against her in a longing kiss.

“Good luck at the game.” She mumbled against his lips making him smile.

“Thanks, I left the jersey in your closet,” He stated, “Wear it, okay?” She nodded and offered him a smile.

“Bye Charlotte.” He added kissing her forehead before picking up his discarded clothing from her messy floor. After redressing, he left her apartment and was off to his hockey game.

*

“Get your head in the game man!” TJ Oshie shouted over the commotion of the crowd into Patrick’s ear as they skated around the ice. They were down 0-4. All hope seemed lost.

“I'm trying!” Patrick shouted back shaking his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He searched the crowd every chance he got. Yearning for a glimpse of his redhead.

“Maybe she got lost.” TJ offered giving his friend’s shoulder a shove.

“Maybe,” Patrick sighed as the game resumed.

*

“Alright, I'm heading out.” TJ said later in the locker room. “Mar’s making steak.” TJ paused to smile. “She makes good steak.”

“Yeah man, have fun.” I said forcing out a smile. “We did alright tonight.” He added referring to how they tied up the game.

“We did.” TJ agreed. “Oh, and good luck with Charlotte alright? You take care.” TJ said before slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder and walking out of the locker room.

Patrick was set on finding his girlfriend. He was determined to find out why she had missed his game.

*

Patrick’s sleek porche pulled up alongside of Charlotte’s apartment. He quickly surveyed the scene and stepped out of his car, turning the alarm on. He was always wary of the neighborhood Charlotte lived in; and at one point begged her to move. Charlotte wasn’t one to care much where she lived. Every day was a different day for her. Every day there was a different man for her. Stepping through the musty halls Patrick opted out to take the steps up to her apartment, instead of the questionable elevator. Finally reaching her level he searched for the door labeled 3C, that he knew so well. He reached the door and took a big breath lifting his hand to knock, when suddenly someone was at his side, clearing their throat.

“Eh…Bonjourno…” The man stated. He looked familiar to Patrick, his hair black and slicked back. His clothes pressed and neatly ironed, and a thick, expensive cologne permeating the air around them. Pascal the Italian had returned from his trip to Vietnam, and he was back for Charlotte. “I ‘ave come-a to take Charlotte wiz me. I will marry her.”

Would Patrick surely let this man take his beloved and marry her? Would he allow such a thing to happen?

“Um, well m-me and Charlotte are kind of…together.” Patrick stuttered out rubbing the back of his neck.

“You have-a married my Charlotte?” The Italian gasped placing his hand on his chest.

“N-no, I haven’t married her.” Patrick said.

“Very good.” Pascal said and pushed Patrick aside opening the door to Charlotte’s home.

He was not expecting to see Charlotte in the position she was in. In fact Patrick wasn’t expecting a lot of what occurred in the next few minuets. There she was, the woman he was in love with in the arms of a man. He had seen this man before as well. He was laying on Charlotte’s sorry excuse for a couch, with her straddling his lap, their lips fused together.

His mouth seemed to go dry, his palms sweat, and his legs fill with concrete, rendering him unable to move.

“Carlotte.” Pascal said loudly making her pull her face away from the man on the couch. “I ‘ave come-a to marry you, my love.” He said, although his eyes held a certain sadness. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand she stood from couch guy and made her way over to Pascal.

“Oh Pascal, I didn’t know you were back,” She giggled wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Let’s go Char, my car is taking us to the airport, we are going to Italia,” He explained taking her hand in his.

“Italy? Oh Pascal!” She exclaimed pressing her lips to his check. She pulled on his hand, dragging him out of her apartment walking past Patrick as if he was a stranger; his jersey hung carelessly over the arm of the couch. Then, in the blink of an eye, she was gone. Off to Italy to marry Pascal, and live the life of a married woman. Yet for Charlotte it was never that simple.

He learned something about Charlotte that day. Not just the fact that she could never commit to one man at a time, but she felt no strong connection to one man. Who knows how things would go for her and Pascal, but Patrick knew that things for himself and Charlotte were over. Charlotte was not the type of woman who sat by the windowsill waiting for the car lights of her love to drive into her driveway. She was not the type of woman who devoted herself completely to one man, thinking of only him every second of the day. Patrick learned that men for Charlotte were like a swoop of her bangs; one minuet they are in her eyes, the next they are carlessly swept away. Most of all he realized that Charlotte did not know how to love. She knew not how to feel the emotion and passion that every human being craves. Yet Patrick knew that Charlotte would be all right, he knew that she herself would always be loved, even though she could never love in return.