Desperate, But Not Hopeless

Heather slammed the door behind her against the wind and torrential downpour coming from outside. Shaking the water out of her long black tresses the woman turned to see a quiet waiting room scene.

They do know that they don't have to be god damned mute right? She thought.

Walking through the room of silent people the only sound that could be heard was the slight thunk of the woman's high heeled Doc Marten boots. Sure she knew they were probably a little unprofessional but hey they had amazing treads for traction on rainy days like these and besides they looked like regular black boots under her jeans. Heather quickly took off her black pea coat, beanie, and grey gloves. Piedmont, California was typically mild weathered but every now and then they'd get these cold snaps and horrendous rain would turn everything dark and dank. After putting away her shoulder bag with all her current case studies and files in her office the dark haired woman made her way over to Grace, the main office secretary to get her days work and any messages that she'd missed from the day before.

"Hola chica!" Grace exclaimed in an upbeat girly voice. Her bright and sparkling personality always amazed Heather especially at 7 am.

"Hey, gurla what's on the docket for me today?" Heather responded leaning her back against the secretary's desk.

"The usual Monday appointments, oh and you have a diagnostic in room 13 right about now."

The last part caught Heather by surprise, Diagnostics were for people who were coming to the psych clinic for the first time and needed a diagnosis so that treatment could be determined for the long term. Usually this was pawned on the new therapists to give them experience in diagnosing and family interaction. But now that Heather was a 5 year veteran, she had stopped doing them a while ago.

"Who slated me for a diagnostic? It was Cam wasn't it?" Heather half questioned, half demanded turning around to lean her palms on the brunette girl's desk, leaning in with discern.
Grace sighed, "Yes, BUT," she raised her voice before the quick tempered woman could object, "she said it's an important patient and that she thought that you two would be the most compatible of all the people in the clinic."
The last part was rushed out because Grace knew that Heather would take any chance to gripe about the head psychologist of the clinic, Dr. Cameron Sidarski. Heather took her hands off the desk and stood up still disgruntled but also a little flattered that her boss would give her an important patient let alone say she was compatible with them. Typically Cam liked to point out Heather's sloppy paper work or her "unorthodox" style of dress. Heather would typically just ignore it knowing her work was more than sufficient and that she was within the recommended dress code of the clinic, she just refused to wear ugly skirts and pant suits.

"Huh" was all Heather could muster for the time being

"Yeah that's what I thought" Grace responded smirking slightly knowing her friend was stumped. Grumbling Heather held her hand out waiting for the perky woman to hand her the diagnostic paper work and a folder. Feeling the familiar slap of manila and paper in her palm Heather turned to go but was again stopped by her comrade behind the desk.

"Wait! What shirt are you wearing? I can't see it under the blazer." Grace pointed to Heather's midsection indicating the black t-shirt underneath the buttoned black and white vertically striped tuxedo blazer. Heather looked down and unbuttoned the jacket to reveal "The Mr. T Experience" emblazoned on her chest. She looked up confused, Grace was never all that interested in what band shirt she was wearing that day, in fact Grace probably didn't even know who The Mr. T Experience was.

"Why do you care what I'm wearing?" the dark haired woman asked curiously.

"Oh nothing I just think your patient will appreciate it, you should leave the blazer unbuttoned." Grace quipped smiling like she had a juicy secret. Knowing the process of attention seeking inside and out Heather brushed off the comment slyly to her friends disappointment but kept her jacket unbuttoned. Any little thing that could help her gain the new patients trust would be an advantage.

"Ok then thanks for the advice, I'll see you later." The roughly well dressed woman walked away from the desk and over to the wooden door with the number 13 painted across it. Before entering Heather began getting into "therapist mode": exhaling smoothly, rolling her shoulders back, and straightening out her shirt and jacket she held her head high and proceeded into the room. There on the couch the first thing she saw was a shock of bleached blonde hair slightly spiked out at every which way. The woman quickly realized that this was a man in his mid thirties which surprised her slightly. WIth her "youthful demeanor" as Cam had deemed it, Heather was usually given teens and young adults as patients, not full grown men. Closing the door behind her Heather walked over to the plush seat across from the couch and cleared her voice as she sat down.

"Hello my name is Dr. Anderson and I'll be performing your diagnostic admittance test. I'm going to start by asking you some questions about your life and we'll see where it goes from there, is that ok?" Heather ran through her opening spiel for diagnostics in the cool, neutral, yet friendly voice that she had acquired through her years of practicing. The man seemed startled having not heard Heather enter the room due to what she made out as an iPhone. The man quickly locked the phone and turned to put it in his coat pocket.

"Uh yeah that's fine. Sorry about that I was texting my wife, something about my daughter getting into the lipstick," the man finally finished depositing his phone and turned around holding his hand out and leaning forward on the couch, "I'm MIchael Pritchard by the way but please just call me Mike." The man was smiling but all Heather could do was sit there and try to keep her composure. There sitting before her was, Mike Dirnt, formerly known as Michael "Mike" Pritchard.