The Alpha's True Love

Clientele

I maneuvered my car down the narrow lane of Grimfur Hall slowly, lost in thought. My first day on the job had been as I expected. Hectic. Disorienting. And exhausting. Gloria had made quick work of introducing me to everyone in the office (five people total). She then gave me the names, files, and addresses of all the patients I would be seeing for the next three months. I found out I was filling in for a therapist who was on maternity leave. That information alone brought me stress. She didn't leave the company entirely, she was on hiatus. That meant her patients expected her to come back and probably didn't want some random newbie assisting them every week.

Make no mistake, I was not brand spanking new to this field. I've been out of college for two years and went straight into the workforce after passing my licensing exams shortly after graduation. I had some experience but for many patients, a younger person was not good enough. 

After Gloria had briefed me on each client (a caseload of the same twenty every week), she'd wished me well and sent me off. Today I stayed in Gearhart. I completely blew past my first patient's driveway and spent five minutes trying to reroute to her home. She'd been pleasant enough and had answered all my questions politely. I could tell she had no intentions of doing what I recommended, even though my recommendations were based on the previous therapist's plans. I'd have to work on that.

My second and third patients were a male and a female, both in their eighties. They knew each other and asked about the other when I visited. The man was having memory problems and asked me my name often. He confused me with the other therapist a few times as well. The woman was having trouble doing everyday tasks due to arthritis. She'd grumbled at me the whole time I was there, yelling at me when I got remotely close to her. At one point she blatantly watched me back into, and trip over, her dog without giving so much as a word of warning. I fell on top of the dog, causing it to nip at me. I also smacked the back of my head against the wall pretty well. I had every intention of returning to Grimfur Hall, grabbing an ice pack, and going to my room.

My last patient of the day was the most...interesting. When I arrived, I stepped out of my car and looked up at the house. The blue paint was peeling. The upstairs shutters were hanging haphazardly. An ancient-looking tv antenna stuck out of the roof. The chainlink fence surrounding the house was rusted and had holes cut in some areas. When I knocked on the door, the owner pulled the door open as far as the door chain would allow. With a voice like nails, he bit out, "Whadda ya want?"

"I'm Megan Anderson. I'm here for your therapy session."

"No, you ain't. My therapist is Wendy."

"Yes, sir. However, Wendy is out on maternity leave. She just had her baby. I'm her replacement until she returns."

The man eyed me skeptically. I noticed his eyes flicked to my hair, his resolve to not let me in slowly deteriorating. Slamming the door and undoing the chain, he yanked the door back open as he grumbled, "At least you're blonde."

I stepped inside, brushing past him. I frowned at what he said. "What does being blonde have to do with therapy?"

"I like blondes. Wendy was a redhead. Ugly girl. Lord knows what man found her attractive enough to shag and impregnate."

I ground my teeth, fighting my shock. Don't judge him yet. Maybe he's having a bad day. I tried to be fair, but a niggling part of my brain was screaming Pig!

Closing the door forcefully, the man pushed past me, his burly but squat frame jostling me into the wall. I regained my balance, clutching my bag to my torso. Digging through my bag, I pulled out his file and searched for his name. Mr. John Macciata.

Mr. Macciata waddled to a recliner in the corner of his dingy living room and plopped down. I noted the numerous beer cans cluttering the floor at his feet and on the coffee table. The tv was on, the huge flat screen silently broadcasting a previously recorded showing of a baseball game between the Mets and the Yankees. A few pictures of birds were hung crookedly on the walls, which were stained yellow from cigarette smoke. My lungs burned as I adjusted to the pungent odor. There was another smell emanating from somewhere in the house. I couldn't put a word to it, but it was unpleasant.