Page 1 of Unexpected Alpha's Claim

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MONICA

“The Thrill Is Gone.”

There was so much passion in that old song. B.B. King had created a masterpiece, a timeless classic. It had been around since 1969 and would continue to live on long after his passing. I had enjoyed it on more occasions than I could count. Relaxing nights in with my gal pals. Endless talks with one or both of them. I used to put it on repeat. More often than not, I would hear it six or seven times in a row, before playing something else. It was my favorite song. B.B. King’s magnificent voice, his amazing guitar skills, and those incredible lyrics have been with me since my childhood. They reveal a man’s truth, once he realizes that whatever he had with his special someone is gone. It’s his way of saying “goodbye” to her, without becoming too emotional or melodramatic. He admits he’s going to be lonely, but, as far as he’s concerned, there’s no other way but to leave her. He’s got to move on with his life and wishes the best to his girl.

In all the times I had hummed it, one thought never crossed my mind.

That a day would come when I would sing it for a reason.

Jack Donahue had given me that reason. Or rather, mymarriagewith him.

Like most marriages in this day and age, it had started well. He worked in advertising, and I was a doctor at the New York Metropolitan Hospital. His reassignment to Cleveland hadn’t gone down well with either of us. He didn’t like the fact that he would have to spend four days a week over there any more than I did. However, being in love with each other helped us find a silver lining. We thought some time apart would do us good. It would give us space and help us appreciate each other more. By missing one another, we would be tighter than ever.

And this was true in the beginning. For a few months, Jack was the caring man I had known and loved for three years. He would fly back to the Big Apple, loaded down with presents, flowers, and a huge sexual desire. A couple of nights with him helped me brush aside the fact that he had been gone. Yet, once winter drew in, there wasn’t much he or I could do. As time went by, going back to an empty apartment after a grueling shift became unbearable. I would make myself dinner, and wishing he could be there to share his day with me because that’s what partners do. It is one thing that makes them “partners.” I would crawl under the covers and stare at the space in my bed, wishing I weren’t alone. However, the truth was cold and bitter. It screamed in my face: “He’s gone. He’s hundreds of miles away. You’d better suck it up.”

Suck it up?

In all honesty, I tried my best. Afterall, I had agreed to take him “for better or worse.” This wasn’t our best time together and we knew that. I wanted to get past all the cold, lonely nightsand focus on the love we used to share. But, once Jack had changed into an insecure, jealous man, trying to hold on to that love got harder by the day. Perfumes and jewelry went right out the window. In their place arose an angry predisposition, which manifested at the worst possible times. Picking me up from the hospital, he would get upset because I was being “too friendly” with a male colleague. And our surroundings didn’t deter him one bit. In a bustling hallway, he would snap and shout at me. He didn’t seem to care that he was humiliating me and was embarrassing himself in the process. Somehow, he had concluded that I was being unfaithful to him. He made sure to announce it to every single passerby. Jack proved that point at a couple of fundraisers we had attended together. The reason was the same in both cases. A fellow guest had cracked a joke, and I had had the nerve to laugh. In other words, I wasn’t allowed to find anyone other than him funny.

This level of insanity was more than I could bear. I couldn’t stand this petty, little man. He became a guy whowantedto make my life miserable. He wasn’t the Jack I had married. Anxious anticipation while waiting for his arrival turned into dread. Sadness for his departure shifted into relief. He killed that thrill B.B. King had mentioned in his song, leaving me no choice but to file for a divorce. Along with that decision, came a painful realization. Our apartment, the place that once used to house our happiness, was now its burial ground. Any pleasant memories we had created together had been wiped out of my brain. Verbal abuse, too much noise, and broken vases and glasses had destroyed them. So, I turned to my supervisor and asked for a transfer. Losing touch with friends and family would hurt, but staying in that apartment would do much worse than just that. It would be a constant reminder and keep on devastating me every time I came home.

Shandaken Medical Center sounded ideal. Far away from the city, up in the Catskills, the scenic town would offer me what New York could not: peace of mind. I would be able to pick up my pieces as I would be carrying out a more stress-free job. Bonus, I could forget ten-hour shifts and I wouldn’t have to worry about dozens of colleagues and their gossip anymore. Of course, there would be gossip at the new hospital, too, but tracking down its source would be much easier. I would be working with only three doctors and six nurses, not a total of fifty-three medical professionals.

On the main road, a mile outside Shandaken, Erica, Stacy and I watched the moving company truck pull away, black fumes rising from its exhaust pipe. A sense of fulfillment had enveloped me. Despite my sore muscles, all my belongings were in my new house. Nothing had been left behind, not even my toothbrush.

“Okay, babes. I think it’s time for a drink,” Stacy suggested, pulling a vodka bottle out of my liquor cabinet. “I think we’ve earned it.”

“I’ll get the ice,” Erica said, shuffling off to the kitchen as I neared the porch door.

“You don’t mind enjoying that drink outside, do you?” I wondered, sliding the porch door open.

“Why did I have a feeling you’d say that?” Erica complained, approaching our friend with a tray of ice in her grasp.

“Because you know me too well,” I replied, smiling back at her. Cold air rushed in, tossing the white curtain to the side. “Come on out. Trust me, you won’t find this view in the city.”

Unbeknownst to them, I had no idea what I was talking about. I had caught a glimpse of the view in the early afternoon.It wasn’t bad, but there was nothing special about it. Still, stepping outside, I discovered that my little lie was anything but one. Lush moonlight had spread across the mountain range, exposing a white blanket on the slopes of Bear Mountain. The snow was glowing in the dark, the barrenness of its peak a bright shade of brown. Gray clouds had veiled some of the stars. The ones that had escaped their clutches joined the moon in a symphony of light.

“Well, I’ve got to hand it to you,” Erica smiled, gazing around her. “It’s beautiful out here.”

“I second that,” Stacy agreed, offering me a glass of vodka on the rocks. “But it’s what you don’t hear that I like most.”

“Noise?” I asked, focusing my gaze on her.

“Exactly. To more peaceful days, Mon,” Stacy offered up her glass for a toast. The three of us clinking glasses, I let the powerful beverage slip past the seam of my lips. I felt it washing over my tongue, as I stood watching Erica smile.

“Monica, I can understand why you’re searching for peace,” she murmured. “It’s that quest that brought you up here in the first place. But don’t you think you should also try to find someone new?”

“Not really.” I shook my head in refusal. “I need some time on my own to clear my head, Erica. I want to wake up in the morning without a worry in the world for a while. I’m especially looking forward to not having to worry about how my new boyfriend will react if he sees me talking to another man.”

“Jack screwed you up so badly,” Stacy concluded, a touch of discomfort in her tone. “Look at you. Just because he was insanely jealous, you think everyone else will be like him.”

“Stacy…”

“I know,” she interrupted me. “You need some peace of mind; you’ve said that like a hundred times. I do believe you’ll find it here. And if you want to have some fun, well, you know how to reach us. Although Ihaveto say, it’s not going to be easy. How far are we from New York again?”

“One hundred-and-thirty miles,” I answered, the number sending my voice down an octave. “I know it’s a long way, but you can sleep over if you don’t feel like driving back to the city in the dead of night.”

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