Chapter 20 Veda
twenty
Veda
“Idon't know what that is.”
Yet as the words come out, echoes of moments whisper inside my head. The reality of being this depressed is that I pushed a lot to the side because I couldn’t handle it. I didn’t have the strength to deal with anything but exist in this world without my daughter.
I heard the term Omega back in the cabin, and I didn’t press them to know the meaning right away, letting Anne whisk me away to her impromptu tour. Just as Jesse is so smell sensitive, I know this sounds insane.
Knowing the truth takes effort, takes energy, and I didn’t have that to give. I feel embarrassed, and I know deep down that if I could ignore her and go back to blissful ignorance, I would. A part of me always wishes to go back to a dark room and cry over my pillow.
“I know you don't, sweetie.” She sighs. “But I don't think I'm the right person to explain that to you.”
From this point high in the township, I have a view of the rest of the houses. I take a moment looking at everything, ignoring her gaze on me as I try to rein in my feelings.
“You're the only one who knows about my pregnancy. That means you're the person who knows me the most here. Can’t you be honest too?”
It's a low blow, and it feels like I’m manipulating her, but I’m being honest here.
This woman I just met just learned about the hardest thing I’ve had to do.
The thing that makes me hate myself so much that I have to push it aside so that I can get up and face the day.
All I want is the truth, and I’m not above begging her for it.
“Please, just tell me.”
The last of her indecision melts off, and she sucks in a breath. “What do you know about your mother?”
That’s not where I thought this was going. I’m confused, but entertain the question anyway.
“I don't know much. She left when I was just a baby. I don't remember her. My grandfather didn't like her, so we never kept pictures on the wall, and he never told me stories about her. All I know is her name.”
Should I feel bad that having just a name to hold in my chest seems to be the theme of my life? Sure. But I don’t let tears drop for my mother. I cried for her too many times before. I’m done now. My tears are reserved for the baby I couldn’t keep.
“I'm sorry. That must be rough.”
“What does she have to do with this whole thing? With Omegas?”
Anne takes a breath and reaches for my hand again. She seems to need the contact more than I do. I brace myself for bad news, as I always do. This woman in the middle of nowhere is about to tell me something is wrong with me. No way all this secrecy is for something good.
In my heart of hearts, I’ve been waiting for that my whole life. I always thought there was a reason I’m always left behind and never loved enough. Would Omega mean forgettable? Unworthy of love? That would explain a lot.
“Omegas are a little bit different, biologically speaking. We’re different from Betas and Alphas. Betas are the people you grew up with. They are not aware of the different designations, and I think that’s why you don’t know about this.”
“And you think I’m an Omega? Biologically different?”
“Oh, I don’t think it, honey.” She nods. “I know it. I can scent it, you’re perfuming, which is very surprising after all you’ve been through. Your hormones are a mess, but there’s no doubt you’re an Omega.”
“Is it bad? Being this thing?” I whisper, prepared to hear the news but scared at the same time.
Instead, Anne laughs, gripping my hand. “Oh God, no. Being an Omega is wonderful. We are the backbone of society.”
My frown softens, though I’m not as comfortable as her being the backbone of any society. My world is falling apart, and I'm trying to keep it together. I can’t take any more responsibilities.
“Do you know why we live here away from everybody?” she asks.
“I assume the three husbands have something to do with it.”
She laughs. “Oh yeah. Well, yes, the packs are a problem. Alphas are bound with their pack mates before they mate with an Omega. I know this might not make sense to you, but it’s all biological.
Alpha’s instincts are everything. They need to protect the pack and their Omega.
And that’s why the recent years have been so difficult. ”
The more she talks, the less it makes sense, but I don’t dare interrupt.
“A long time ago, Omegas stopped being born. It happened slowly, and each township was so independent that we didn’t realize it was happening everywhere until it was too late.
When there were no more Omegas to mate with, the packs dissolved and moved away, trying to find life among Betas, but it’s hard. It’s tough on them.”
“If there are no Omegas anymore, why do you think I’m one?”
“I know you are, Veda.” She smiles with certainty.
“Something rare?” I laugh bitterly. “I’m nothing special.”
“I think you are.” Her expression is even. “And it’s not because you’re an Omega. I think you’re special because you’re pretty resilient. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re still so sweet and good. I happen to know the boys think you’re pretty special, too.”
My stomach flips, and I feel my cheeks warming fast. The idea of them thinking I’m special is enough to make me tremble all over.
My mind is filled with memories of Jesse’s lips on mine, and the way he dazzles me to stupidity with nothing but his smile.
Of course, I think they are hot, but that doesn’t mean anything.
I’m just being silly and letting myself be swayed by nice words.
I'm just trying to find something to feel besides sadness.
“I’m sorry if I’m not making much sense.”
She said so much, but it feels like she didn’t say enough. Everyone likes to hear they are special, but to me, it might have come too little too late. I don’t feel very special, not after the life I had. Someone special wouldn’t let people take their kid, and that’s the cutting truth.
“It’s hard to believe I’m all that you’re saying.”
Am I even inclined to believe what she says? Anne doesn’t look like a liar, but she’s trying to make me believe she knows I’m different and special just by smelling me. That’s asking a lot.
I’m tired. Of the pain that every single day brings, of the things I don’t understand.
My eyes burn with unshed tears, and I look at the river, away from Anne’s eager face.
I wish I had pushed this conversation aside.
I wish I had let her call me Omega without ever asking what that means, because now I know, and I need to decide whether to believe her.
Apathy has been festering inside me and taking hold of everyone I am.
It might look like a smile, feeding the chickens, and coming to dinner, but that’s just me getting on with my day because all hope is lost. If I had anything inside me, I wouldn’t be frolicking with three cowboys at the ranch.
No. If I were strong enough, I’d march into Grandpa’s office and demand to know where Mirasol is.
Anne doesn’t understand what she just dumped on my lap, but it’s stirring me awake. It’s demanding action when I told myself we wouldn’t act on anything.
Since Mirasol is gone, I’ve been just putting one foot in front of the next, breathing just because. I don’t have a purpose, but suddenly, Anne is poking around, and this revelation takes me back to my body. Makes me feel all the things I don’t want to feel.
Waves and waves of unwanted feelings barrel against me, and I stay there, taking it all in, weeping shamelessly on this bench. Anne makes a sympathetic noise and pats my back, but I don’t tell her that every tear is for my daughter.
It doesn’t make sense, and I don’t have it in me to explain, but I cry like I cried those first days on the ranch. I gasp for air, shaking and feeling the hole inside get bigger and bigger until I stand because I feel like I’m going to cease to exist in pain.
“Hey, Veda, please sit down—”
“I need air.” I cut her off, moving away. “I need to be alone.”
There’s nowhere to go, but I start making my way down the hill, ignoring the eyes on me. They feel even more uncomfortable now that I’m crying. I’m vulnerable, knowing they know something about me I didn’t know until just now.
Do I believe them? Did Grandpa know?
I suppose it doesn’t matter. If he knew it, he wouldn’t tell me. He would hide my celiac diagnosis if I hadn’t been in the room when the doctor explained. He always thought I was more trouble than I was worth, so he wouldn’t like the fact I’m not… normal.
I don’t know what I am, but that seems okay when you’re in this much pain.
I stumble around, gaze cast down, not to attract more eyes than I’m already attracting. My hands use the walls to hold myself together. I’m exhausted, and I need rest, but the kind of rest I need is one I won’t get.
I need rest from being me.