Dr. Deirdre Fontaine

“One would think that driving a shipment of alcohol to a destination would be a fairly simple task. Apparently one would be wrong. This is what I get for encouraging my regular guy to follow his dreams.” Safiya sighed, venting out loud. She wasn’t too upset over it all but after being on the phone all day, the vent seemed necessary just to let go of some frustration.

“Alright, but now I’m curious about what exactly went wrong?” Deirdre began with a calm disposition, before her voice took on a more impish tone. “Because all I imagine is crates of alcohol flying out the back of a truck, and your ‘regular’ swatting away teens who still managed to sneak off with a few intact bottles.” She bounced her dark brows with a quiet smirk, softening her expression a moment later sympathetically, “Hopefully it wasn’t too much of a loss?”

“I’m not too sure. Something about shared interests and mutual trust. It all escapes me now. Besides, we balance out each other’s doucheness, don’t give me all the credit.”

“Firstly, you have to tell me your name so I can peruse my own music and see if there’s a song I know. Secondly, I can’t say the same because Deirdre by The Beach Boys is a classic. Although they do pronounce it differently than I do.”

Finger trailing along the rim of an empty glass like he were trying to coerce more liquor to rise to the surface, Elliot craned his neck to peer across the bar, a default scowl set in place. “See that guy over there?” Knocking an elbow against the ribcage of the person sat next to him, he nodded toward a particularly shadowed corner. “I watched him walk out of the bathroom earlier without washing his hands. He just got up and left like..– like some kind of uncultured swine. Frankly, I’m debating calling the police.”

How many drinks had she downed? It wasn’t like her to find comfort at the bottom of a glass. But the day had gone sour, from one incident to another. “Hm?” Deirdre hummed in reply, her attention drawn from her own half-empty drink, cold blue eyes - however warm they were in her therapy sessions - flicked towards the man in question. She scrunched her nose up in mild disgust at the share, swallowing the sip she had taken just before the distraction with effort. “How hard is it to wash your hands? The worst part of it is, he had a wedding band on his finger. I feel for his wife, or husband. They’ve certainly settled. In any case, you’re welcome to call the police. It’s a crime against humanity.”

“It’s a friend of mine, who happens to be a worker such as yourself. Maybe you’d know him and where he is? ... But then again, you don’t seem too sociable.”

“I don’t mind giving you a ride. I’m not in a rush to go anywhere and you seem to have somewhere to be.” Amal said as she smiled. “It’s fine. I’ll call my brother and arrange for your tire to be replaced.”

“A stranger offering me a ride, hmm. And how would I know you’re not working with some creepy man in a white van around the corner? Only joking. Ish.” Deirdre debated for a moment, before throwing her hands up in the air figuratively. She really did need to make it to her appointment. “Thank you. How could I ever repay you?”

Amal laughed, shaking her head. “Oh no, I don’t even watch television!” She said as she sighed. “It’s because of my parents. My dad’s a neurosurgeon, my mom’s an ob/gyn and my step-dad’s a cardiologist.” She explained. “I’m 22 years old, I have about 5 years until I hit residency so I have all the time in the world.”

“What? You don’t watch television? Whatever do you do in your spare time?” Deirdre joked in return, dropping her mouth to convey her disbelief. “Ah, that’s awesome. A family of doctors. There should be a TV show about this,” she said with a twitch of her lips. “I could even guest star. I am a doctor. Just the psychologist kind.”