Psychological GutsA Chapter by EmilyThe second chapter of Alamo."Gran, I don’t need a shrink. I’m perfectly fine. You don’t need to pay for something that I won’t use."Weslie was arguing with her adoptive grandmother Judy again. She hated it, but the now 95 year old was spending money like she had nothing to lose. Gran had everything to lose. A giant house in town, lots of land, and more money in the bank than the federal government. "Weslie, just do this for me. Please." Judy was old, but spry. She always smiled, and was in a weekly square dancing class. She knew how to persuade Weslie. Weslie sighed and acquiesced. "All right. When’s the appointment?" "The appointment is in an hour in McAllen, 4200 Peacemaker Drive, Suite 151. Your psychologist is Dr.Malroy." She told her excitedly. "I better get goin’ then. Can’t be late."She muttered. *** "Miss Chevelle, your doctor is ready for you." the receptionist called. "This way." She led Wes to a prim and neatly organized room with pictures of cowboys on the trail and cattle routes. Crook, she thought to herself. "Dr. Malroy?" Weslie called. "Are you my 3 o’clock?" he answered. “I suppose so. Do I see myself or are you going to come out?"Weslie was already getting to be annoyed. He walked out like he was important. He had a black frock coat, a pristine white shirt and a long bow tie. This Dr. Malroy was extremely attractive, his softly curled dark chocolate hair hidden by a cowboy hat and had deep blue eyes like the twilight sky. He was clean-shaven and tall. Weslie was utterly wowed. She picked up her jaw before he noticed and said, "Well, Mr. Earp, I didn’t know you went into psychology." He sat down in a red velvet chair that belonged in the 1800’s. Weslie noticed that he had a clipboard. "You writing a book, Wyatt?" "Yes, in fact, I am. It’s about human psychology, particularly in the love department. Would you care to sit?" "Am I intimidating?" "Slightly." A smirk appeared on Weslie’s face. "Good." Dr. Malroy knew that he liked this woman a lot. She appeared strong and fearless. He made a deal with himself to find out more about her than her problems. "Let’s begin." he said."Why are you here?" "My adoptive grandma Judy in Wharez made an appointment without me knowing. I don’t need a shrink. I need to go and feed my horse, Doc Holiday. You’ll like him." Weslie started to be comfortable. She liked being the superior one. "You have no biological grandma?"Dr.Seely Malroy questioned. Weslie knew she would have to start telling her story soon, so she decided to start now. "No. No mom or dad, either. They died in a car crash looking for me after I ran away. They were great parents, but I was in a phase. Some Mexican was bookin' it from their dump of a country into our one horse town and T-boned our Dodge. I was 15. I'll never forget." There was a pause. "Now that I've poured my guts out, I'm going to ask a question. What’s your first name?"Wes asked. "Seely. Yours?" "You don't know my name?" Weslie asked, surprised. "Judy didn't tell me." he answered. "My name is Weslie Colt Chevelle." "Hell of a name."Seely said. She agreed. "Indeed."Dr. Malroy hungered for more about this mysterious woman. "What's the story behind it?" "Hey, take it easy. Leave some for later." He tried to coax her to tell him more about it, but she firmly refused. Seely looked at his watch. "Oh.I guess our time is nearly up. It’s 4:15.My next appointment is at 4:30." "Then speed things up." Weslie said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Do you have any friends?" "Of course. My best guy friend is Butch Booth, and my best girl friend is Aspen Hill." "Anything else to finish it off?" he inquired. "Call me." When the appointment was over, they both had a smile on their faces. © 2012 Emily |
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1 Review Added on March 25, 2011 Last Updated on May 2, 2012 Tags: chapter, Malroy, psychology AuthorEmilyCAAboutHey, I'm Emily. I go to Los Angeles Valley College, and I write poetry and some short stories. In my free time, I draw, play video games, and play with my dogs Zeke and Roscoe. Zeke is a Great Dane/Bo.. more..Writing
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