To Make One Feel Wanted

They had the most cliché relationship. Their story was the kind of story that would make people ‘aw’ and wish that they had what Boston Bruins player Patrice Bergeron and his girlfriend Mollie O’Donnell had. But, it wasn’t always that cliché or perfect…
Heartbroken, Patrice Bergeron walked through the Boston Common wondering what he done wrong. He thought he had the perfect relationship with her, that they were going to be in it for the long run, that they would get married, have little hockey playing babies, and grow old together. Inwardly sighing/groaning, Patrice sat on the closest bench he could find to mourn the breakup that had just occurred between his girlfriend of five plus years, Stephanie Bertrand.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, lost in his own world while watching the people walk by him, not even noticing who he was. Patrice liked it that way, not being recognized…it made him feel almost normal for once in his life. Lost in his own thoughts, completely lost to the world around him, Patrice almost missed her rush by. Later, he couldn’t recall if it was the vibrant long blue hair that ran in so many directions as she hurried by or the sounds of crying escaping her mouth. Whatever it was, he was drawn to it and quickly got up and went after her.
He chased her for fifteen minutes before she dropped to the ground in a secluded area that was swallowed up by trees and let her sobs shake her body. After looking around and noticing that no one was even paying attention to the crying girl with the shimmering blue hair and paper white skin, Patrice made his way towards her.
“Are you okay?” He asked softly as he knelt down next to her. The girl lifted her head off of her pulled up knees in surprise.
“Who are you? And no, I’m fine.” She rushed, frightened written all over her face, bright, crystal, blue eyes widened like saucers.
“My name is Patrice and you, my darling, do not look fine at all. Why are you crying ma chere?” His voice, laced with a French accent, murmured as he reached out to stroke her hair.
“Well, Patrice, my boyfriend just broke up with me after three and a half years of dating and a proposal. So, no, I am not fine. Why do you care anyway?” The girl managed to get out before a new set of tears started to trail down her abnormally red cheeks. For some reason, Patrice had a flashback to a childhood movie he had watched when he stayed with his billet family during his first year in Boston, Snow White. Face white as snow, cheeks red as blood. Hair black as ebony…well, that description didn’t fit to well, Patrice thought with an unknown smile.
“Ma chere, I am so sorry. And I care because…” But Patrice couldn’t bring himself to tell the girl that it was because for some odd reason he was infatuated with her, that just being near her lifted his spirits, even though not even two hours earlier his girlfriend dumped him.
“Patrice, not to be rude, but can you just go away? Because, unless you have any idea of what I am going through, which as a man, an attractive man I must add, you probably don’t, I would like to be left alone.” The girl stated. Patrice, feeling elated that she referred to him as attractive, didn’t even bother to leave his spot next to her. Instead, he opened his mouth and said,
“I have, er had, a girlfriend. Her name was Stephanie and we dated for almost seven years. I thought she was the one, you know? I even bought a ring, was gonna propose to her next week. But, just two hours ago, she dumped me. Her reason, she couldn’t date someone who was gone all the time and didn’t have a stable job.” Patrice carefully worded the last part because he could tell that she had no clue who he was besides a random guy in the park.
“Patrice, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know!” The girl exclaimed, instantly feeling sorry for the man whom she thought, with his designer clothes and beautiful looks, had the perfect life.
“Don’t worry about it ma chere. You’re the damsel in distress here. Not me.”
“Why do you keep calling me ma chere? What does it even mean?” the words came out of her plump pink lips that were glossed over.
“It mean my dear and I don’t know your name so I have to call you something.” Patrice informed.
“Mollie. My name is Mollie. Mollie O’Donnell.”
“Well, Miss Mollie O’Donnell how about you give me your number and if you ever want to talk, give me a call.” Patrice said as he pulled out his iPhone 4S.
“Why? Do you have to leave?” Mollie questioned, shocked by how the thought saddened her. With Patrice, she forgot about her problems and only focused on the handsome man who was talking with her.
“Yes, I have to go home and get ready for…work.” Patrice worded with some hesitation before handing her his phone. Taking it in her small, delicate, pale hands, Mollie put in her number.
Patrice spent many days trying to contact Mollie, but he hadn’t heard her voice or seen her since their meeting in the Boston Common. Today, Patrice was going to the hospital to do some charity work before he headed off to Québec for the rest of his summer. He was just about to leave after being there for four hours, working and entertaining all the sick or injured children and he was elated that he was able to make them so happy when he heard it.
“Well, Miss Mollie, that is all for today. When you come back next week we’ll finish up the last bit of chemo and hope for the best.” Patrice heard a man’s voice say from the open door he just passed.
“Okay, thanks Sean.” Patrice felt the blood drain from his body as he heard Mollie-HIS Mollie- reply. Patrice stood there awkwardly in front of the door waiting for her to come out.
“You have cancer.” Patrice stated bluntly when the girl with the long, shimmering blue hair exited the room.
“Patrice!” She gasped. “What are you doing here?” Patrice, not really wanting to explain why he was here because it would give his profession away, simply said,
“Visiting.” She nodded, not fully believing him.
“How bad is it?” Patrice asked after a moment’s silence.
“Not bad. Or at least I don’t think so. I have, as you probably heard, my last round of chemo next week and then yeah…” Mollie trailed off.
“So, that explains your blue hair then.” Patrice said with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood.
“Haha, yep. When all my hair fell out, I purchased this wig, wanting to be different and such.” Mollie said with a laugh.
“Well, it certainly is different.” Mollie didn’t have a reply for the man in front of her, only a smile.
“Why didn’t you call?” Patrice asked after another silence.
“How about we go for coffee? Talk there instead of in the halls of a hospital.” Mollie suggested.
“Good idea.” Patrice said before he led her out of the hospital, his hand on the small of her back the whole time.
“So, why didn’t you call?” Patrice asked again once the two were sitting in the corner of the small coffee shop in the back, coffees in both of their hands.
“Because I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“My…my last boyfriend, the one you found me crying about, broke up with me because of my cancer and I didn’t want you to do the same of we did escalate to being more than friend.” Mollie admitted, embarrassed of her reason.
“Mollie, I would never hurt you like that.” Patrice immediately stated.
“That’s what Matt, my last boyfriend said.” Mollie admitted before her phone went off, playing a tune with the words,
“Molly, my Irish Molly, my sweet achusla dear, I’m fairly of my trolley, my Irish Molly when you are near…” Mollie produced her phone from her bag and answered it.
“Dia duit?” (Hello?)
“Grandmum, tá mé go maith” (Grandmum I’m fine.) Mollie answered after a pause.
“Tá mé le cara anois agus beidh mé a bheith sa bhaile go luath.” (I’m with a friend now so I will be home later.) Another pause followed that response, Patrice completely lost in what was occurring in front of him.
“Maith go leor grá agat. Slán.” (Okay, love you. Bye.) Mollie said before hanging up.
“What language was that?” Patrice asked the moment she hung up.
“Irish Gaelic. My Grandmum is from Ireland and she prefers to speak her native language rather than English.” Mollie explained.
“But isn’t English like one of the main languages over there?” Patrice asked, displaying some of his knowledge on the country, since he himself was half Irish.
“Yeah, I know. But, for some reason that’s just what my Grandmum prefers.” Mollie said with a shrug.
“So, that was an interesting ringtone you got there.” Patrice commented, nodding his head towards the iPhone that was now sitting on the table. Mollie laughed the most melodious laugh that Patrice had ever heard and he instantly fell in love with it…he could have listened to her laugh all day .if he wanted.
“Haha. It’s my song so therefore I made it my ringtone!” Mollie vaguely said.
“Your song?” Patrice wanted a deeper explanation. The laugh left Mollie’s face almost instantly, but it was quickly replaced with a soft, heart melting smile.
“My Dad, when I was a little girl, would always sing it to me. Shortly later, it was deemed my song by everyone who knew either me or my family. That’s why I’m sometimes called Mollie-O…in honor of the song.”
“That’s really cool. I’ll have to listen to the full song someday. Who sings it?” Patrice questioned, genuinely interested in the girl that was sitting across from him.
“Well, it’s originally sung by Daniel O’Donnell but the version I have as my ringtone is by Emmet Cahill from the singing group called Celtic Thunder.” Mollie informed.
“That’s cool; you and the original singer share the same last name.” Patrice noted with a gentle smile on his face. Mollie turned a crimson red under his stare as she silently muttered,
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
After talking for another five minutes, Mollie finally asked the question that Patrice had been dreading because he knew he would have to answer truthfully and that there was no way around it.
“What do you so for a living? Do you even have a job? Well, obviously you do, you’re dressed so nicely.” That last part accidently slipped out of Mollie’s mouth, but it went unknown by Patrice, who blanked after the first question came out of her mouth.
“I’m…I’m a professional athlete. I am the assistant captain for the Boston Bruins. That’s a hockey team by the way.” Patrice let out in a total of two breaths, trying to get it over as quickly as possible. Mollie’s jaw dropped and a million red flags went up in her head. He was a hockey player. He was a well-known athlete. He probably didn’t want anything to do with her and was only with her to keep up an image. Saying the only thing she could think of, Mollie quickly excused herself and made an attempted to run away before she could let herself fall for someone and get hurt again.
“Mollie! Wait!” Patrice shouted, getting the attention of both Mollie and everyone else in the café. When Mollie turned around, Patrice couldn’t help but notice the tears streaming down her abnormally pale face. He instantly felt guilty and knew that he should have told her his occupation from the start…it probably would have kept her from the hurt she was feeling now.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why are you even with me now! Is it to make you look good? Why Patrice! Why are you playing with my emotions?” She cried. The both of them couldn’t help but notice that the people in the shop were watching them like they would a thriller movie.
“Why would you want a girl like me to hang out with?” Patrice noted that her voice had dropped several decimals. He took a total of two steps closer to her before pulling her close to him so he could lean down and whispered in her ear,
“Because you are soooo different from all the other girls; you are with me for ME, not my money. And I like that; it’s a standard only my closest friends have and a pretty high standard to live up to. That is why I am with you now. Why I wanted and waited so desperately for you to call me back, because you’re different than all the other girls.” When the two finally pulled away, Patrice noticed the tears running down Mollie’s face…and the smile.
3 months later…
Patrice Bergeron and Mollie O’Donnell were inseparable after that day in the coffee shop caused by Patrice’s finding out of Mollie’s illness. Patrice had taken to team events (which everyone on the hockey team along with the staff didn’t mind, for they all liked Mollie and her friendly personality) and Mollie had had him over to dinner with her and her Grandmother every night that he was available. Everything was done as “friends” though, for neither of them really tossed around the option of becoming more than just friends; even though they were definitely thinking it.
“Patrice! Patrice! MILAN!” Mollie shouted as she ran through the hallways at the Ristuccia Arena where the Boston Bruins were holding their practices for this season. Milan Lucic stopped on his way into the locker room and turned around just in time to see the blue-haired girl run into him. Laughing, Milan asked,
“Mollie! What are you doing here? I thought today was your ‘big reveal’ as Bergy put it.”
“I know! That’s why I need to see Patrice. Now where is he!?!” Mollie demanded, too excited to sit still, therefore bouncing up and down with every word, acting like a two year old instead of the twenty-six year old that she was.
“He’s in the locker room. If you can sit still for more than a minute I’ll go get him for you.” Milan laughed at the immaturity of the girl who was older than him.
“HURRY!” Was all Mollie exclaimed as the big, muscular hockey player headed into the locker room shouting,
“Berg! Your girlfriend wants you!”
“She’s not my girlfriend!” Mollie could hear Patrice say as he exited the room.
“I’m free Patrice! I’m officially cancer free!” Mollie didn’t even wait for his greeting as she jumped on him the second his body was visible. Patrice barely had time to process what was happening before Mollie pressed her lips against his. The sound of hooting and hollering broke them apart, leaving them both wide eyed. Before any of them could say anything, Mollie did just what she did in that coffee shop only a few months ago…she ran away. Except this time, Patrice didn’t go after her.
“Did that really just happen?” Patrice thought to himself, or so he thought he had.
“Yeah man, it did and may I be the one to say, you should’ve went after her.” Milan informed his team mate and friend.
“Why?” Patrice questioned the twenty-three year old, even though he knew the answer already.
“Because you will probably only get one chance in your lifetime to meet a girl who likes you and not the money you make, a girl who has a great personality and is fun to be around, a girl who everyone likes, not just a few, a girl who is gorgeous and confident in herself without being stuck up and rude about it. And most of all, a girl who isn’t a complete pain in the ass bitch. Mollie O’Donnell was that girl Patrice.” Milan told his team mate.
“Where the hell do you come up with all this deep love advice Luch?”
“I’m just awesome that way. Now if I were you, I would get your ass undressed and into some normal clothes and go after her.”
“We got practice man, I can’t ditch.”
“I’ll give a good reason to coach, now GO! Before it’s too late!”
Of all the places, he didn’t expect her to be where she was. After looking around Boston for more than two hours, Patrice wandered over to the Boston Common thinking of one last possible spot where Mollie would be. And she was there.
“Why did you run?” Patrice blurted out, scaring the girl so much she jumped.
“I…I…” Mollie was lost for words. She knew deep down her reason for why she left, but she also knew that it was a silly reason, one that would not exist for Patrice Bergeron, a guy who had been nothing but great to her since the moment they met in this exact location.
“Please tell me Molls.” Patrice pleaded as he sat down next to the girl, debating whether or not to put his arm around her.
“Because, I want a guy who will always be there for me. A guy who will tell me I’m pretty even though I’m a cancer patient, a guy who will make me feel beautiful, a guy who will treat me like a princess and brag about me to all his friends, a guy who will be the Prince Charming that I have always dreamt of finding, but never quite did. A guy who will make me feel wanted.” Mollie stated.
“Mollie O’Donnell I want to be your Prince Charming and I do think you are drop dead beautiful, the prettiest girl I have ever met. You’re my hero. You’ve so far have managed to survive and keep your AMAZING personality through the world’s biggest death cause. Mollie, I wanna wrap you up, wanna kiss your lips, I wanna make you feel wanted. And I wanna call you mine, wanna hold your hand forever and never let you forget it. Yeah, I wanna make you feel wanted. I love you Mollie.” Tears brimmed her eyes has Mollie smiled at Patrice lost for words. No one has ever said anything that beautiful, that nice to her. When she got over the initial shock that someone felt that way about her and thought of her in that sort of way, she said the first thing that came to her mind,
“I love you too Patrice.” And, they sealed the promising start of a lifelong relationship filled with happiness and love with a passionate, sweet kiss.