Chapter 1

Claire's POV

It's a busy street no matter how cold the weather is. People pass by without glancing each other with their phones on their hands. It makes my heart chills a little. These are the people who've always been saying they are working to support their families but in fact are way too occupied in their works that they actually forget about their families. That's the thing of being a psychiatrist I guess. You give a shot of what's people thinking. But the funny thing is I have no idea what I'm thinking. I'm walking towards home from the job seeking centre and I can't believe I'm leaving my job to be a caregiver! Wiping people naked body, change his pampers with him occasionally farts right in front on my face...

Job description mentioned that it should be a girl but it never mention who am I going to take care. Hopefully is not some 80 years old pervert because $20000 is really a huge amount. I'm already feeling rich before I start working. And it would definitely help a lot in keeping my psychiatric centre.

I'm living in a real life drama.

My mom welcome me with a big hug when I reach home. My dad is in the living room, sitting on a wheelchair while drinking his coffee. It makes me feeling even guiltier. My mom and dad has given me their saving for me to start my career and here I am, facing the truth that the centre will be closed within another week. I fail them. I still have to shoulder all the responsibilities of taking care of my families, including my 5 years old adopted brother.The day when my parents adopted my brother, my dad was still having his job, as a manager. An accident took his legs, but not his life. He's still having this family day thing every weekend. Somehow I'm amazed by his positive attitude.

"How's the day?" My dad peeps out behind the newspaper, greeting me with a brightest smile of the day.

"Fine, I've gotten a job interview by tomorrow morning 8.30."

"Clean job?"

I give him a dad-are-you-serious look.

After lunch, I'm spending my time preparing some questions the interviewer

s

might ask.

Tell me about yourself.

Why do we want to hire you?

What do you expect to do when you're spending your time with this old man?

Why do we choose you instead of others?

Are you capable of cleaning the feaces?

Within the scale of 1 - 10, how much would you range your tolerance?

And the lists go on.

It's 8 in the morning when I reach there. It takes me five minutes to examine the place I'm going to work in. Luckily I'm not interviewed to be a cleaner, I would've die of exhaustions spending too much time sweeping the floor. The building itself is a classic Italian style with some touch of modern classic design. The kind of house that you see in Google when you're too fed up of your own life and decided to search: world's most luxurious stay. The kind of house that you would spend your entire life in it without feeling sorry for yourself.

I'm welcomed by a woman in black dress after she excuses another woman who looked like of similar age with her.

"Hi, good morning." Greeting me is a woman in her mid 40s which is surprisingly younger than I've expected for anyone who lives in this place.

"Good morning!" I greet her with the sweetest smile I've always put on whenever I'm in an interview, not sure if I'm looking like an idiot. She seems nice by the way.

"Claire Grace Dawson, Miss Dawson, nice to meet you. I'm Mrs. Easton." She holds out her hand.

"Nice to meet you Mrs. Easton."

She directs me to a study room, and gestures me to take a seat. The sweet scent of flowers brightens me up.

"Lily of the valley." She smiles.

"What? I mean... pardon me?"

"The scent. It's made with a type of flower named Lily of the Valley."

"Ah, Lily of the Valley. " I swear to god I'm 25 years old but still a virgin to Lily of the Valley. If I'm not here today, I would've die without knowing what on earth is Lily of the Valley.

The room is very big for a study room, rows and rows of books arrange neatly on the roof-to-floor racks according to category and alphabet. If I'm here by mistakes, I'd think that it's a mini library. Sitting in the corner is a table made of wood with an iMac on it, size big enough to hit me with the truth that buying this kind of computer would be a pain in my ass. There's

another rectangular table with 8 seats surrounding it sitting in the middle of the room. And now I'm sitting on the seat on one side of the table and Mrs. Easton is sitting right across the other side, eyes starring into mine.

"I believe you're here to interview to be a care assistance. Are you aware of what you're going to NEED to do?"

The way she emphasizes the word NEED makes me nervous a little.

"To be honest? The job description didn't mention anything so I guess it would be taking care of an old man, responsibilities would be feeding him, assisting him with daily needs, spending time with him, wiping his ass..."

Mrs. Easton snaps her head upwards from the resume she's been looking at.

"I mean, making sure he's clean. Ha-Ha." I'm pretty sure this is one of the most awkward Ha-Ha I've ever had in my entire life.

"Psychiatrist? Wow, why are you here?"

I prepared this question! I can remember the answer I've memorized! I can remember! Let's just think carefully what to say. I can remember.

Maybe I can't.

"Some financial difficulties, but if I'm given this job, I'll definitely shoulder my responsibilities, I'm not working only because of money."

"Great. I just need you to know that this job is on yearly basis, let's just hope that no withdrawal is made within this period."

"Sure, Mrs.Easton. "

"Do you have any experience in taking care of quadriplegic patient?"

"Of cour... quadriplegic?"

"Yes."

"Quadriplegic, no. Paraplegic, yes." But I'm not that good though.

"Okay. Do you have any hobbies that you think you can share or do together with the patient?"

"That's a lot. We can read together, we can sing together, not sure if he liked singing, we can watch Once Upon A Time together!"

"Mom, I like her." Another voice come out of nowhere making me jump. "Hi, I'm Alexa, the person you need to take care though I did tell mom I don't need any caregiver."

Oh, it's a lady that I'm going to take care of.

"Hi, I'm Claire." I'm about to hold up my hand when I suddenly realize that she can't take my hand.

The lady who's sitting a wheelchair in front of me is that kind of girl that makes you want to flirt with in a high-class restaurant in Paris. She has a pair of blue eyes, so blue that I thought my iris is going to shrink by just looking at her.

She's a brunette and probably has the most perfect curl I've ever seen in my life, that kind that looked so smooth that you thought she's having her hair treatment everyday. Or maybe she does. And on top of that, she looks really sunshine, so warm, and indeed, doesn't look like she needs a care assistance. I wonder what have happened to this beautiful lady in front of me. Quadriplegic, it's definitely something more than anyone of us can tolerate.

"You like her?" Mrs. Easton turns towards her daughter.

"Yeah. She doesn't make me feel pressured when I'm around her. I don't want another 43 years old mom to babysit me and spend our boring afternoon learning handcrafts. Although I can barely use my hands."

"Well, is it okay with you to start working on tomorrow, miss Dawson?" Mrs. Easton turns back and faces me.

What?

I can't believe it takes me only five minutes to get this job.

"Absolutely."

"See you at eight tomorrow."

Mrs. Easton guides me to the front door and Alexa follows us. Maybe this job is going to be better than I think. Both Mrs. Easton and Alexa seem nice. I'm thanking Mrs.Easton when Alexa turns away on her electrical wheelchair and murmurs something before the door is closed by Mrs. Easton.

"Who the hell watch OUAT when she's old enough to watch Game of Thrones. "