Not the quiet escape I was counting on.
I’m already mapping out my drive home. It’s too late to get back on the highway tonight. The kangaroos come out at dusk and will total my car if they bounce onto the road. No, it’s too dangerous to leave. But is it too dangerous to stay?
Ida’s aged voice drags me from my revelry. “Would you like some lemonade, Miss Weber? It’s a scorcher today.”
I blink rapidly before nodding.
I watch greedily as Ida pours a glass of lemonade – the ice clinking teasingly into the glass. My throat is raw from singing loudly to love ballads, howling out my angst to the endless road. I take the drink with thanks and swiftly gulp it down. The refreshing, cool lemonade barely helps regulate my body temperature. It’s sweltering. Even with the ceiling fan swirling on the high ceiling. Perspiration beads on the backs of my thighs and under my heavy breasts.
I trace the yellowed bruising on my knuckles and try not to think about the incident that dislocated my wrist and led to my suspension from work. My unemployment is inevitable. When I punched that pompous asshole in the face, there were plenty of witnesses. I’m beginning to think it might not be the worst outcome. I’ve been hiding from my aura sickness for a long time, and the relief I’ve experienced from getting away from the hospital has surprised me. Clearing my scratchy throat, I ask my burning question, “Is Bodella always this busy?”
“Not at all! You’ve picked an excellent weekend to visit our little town,” chirps Ida from her perch on an immaculate armchair. The older Omega’s light blue eyes twinkle as she sips from her glass. I track a rivulet of condensation as it runs down and drips onto her neat shirt. “The annual rodeo is in town and the whole community is showing up.”
Rodeo? I don’t know much about it, but I know that anyone who competes in a rodeo has some serious balls. I’m anxious just thinking about the type of aura an Alpha who rides wild bulls will have. The last thing I want is to channel some unhinged cowboy.
Ida is unfazed or doesn’t notice my growing trepidation as she continues to gush, her eyes twinkling. “I love rodeo weekend. It’s so exciting seeing all our blokes and sheilas in their finest gear and showing off their skills. I’ve gone every year with my Alpha since we mated, with him away at the moment I was worried I’d have to go alone this year. Good thing you’re here, dearie.”
Ida’s aura is sparkling with excitement, and I want to groan in frustration. I can feel my empathetic aura reaching for it, hungry to feel what Ida is feeling. I wish I could tell it off like a naughty kid, but it’s incorrigible.
The first tendrils of her aura feel like butter sliding over my frayed nerves, a bright, smooth feeling of comfort and belonging. My shoulders droop and I smile back at my host.
As much as I bitch about my aura sickness, it’s moments like these which remind me it’s not all so bad. Some people are truly a delight to be around.
I might as well go with the flow. Channelling an enthusiastic old Omega for the night won’t be so bad. It might feel good to borrow someone’s mood for a while. My own has been so dark lately.
“I’ve never been to a rodeo,” I hear myself muttering.
Ida claps her hands together. “Oh my dear, you’re in for a treat. There’s nothing more exciting than watching a cowboy ride an angry bull.”
I’m not sure I agree with the sentiment. I’ll probably cringe and gasp through the entire thing, but Ida’s aura is encouraging, bright and alluring, and I can’t resist its pull.
Ida bounds out of her armchair, gesturing me to follow her as she speaks rapidly. “Tomorrow morning I’ll set up some dates for you to meet our local Alphas, but for now, let’s enjoy the rodeo!”
I swallow. Ah, yes. Dates.
I’d focused so intensely on finding my remote utopia, I’d forgotten Ida was expecting me to be an Omega desperate to find an Alpha mate. Realistically, it should be my endgame. If I can find a mate, my symptoms will lessen and I’ll be able to go back to work. Yet, the mere idea of dealing with a bevy of unmated Alpha auras makes me feel queasy. Besides, the chances of finding my Alpha out here is tiny at best, and ridiculous at worst.
“The steer wrestling contest is due to start in a few minutes. Let’s head down to the arena to watch.”
I have no idea what steer wrestling is, but it sounds better than sitting here alone in the stifling heat contemplating my doomed future.
“Alright,” I respond, allowing a warm smile to grace my face. Ida’s excited energy quickly spreads through me, sweeping away my negativity. My curiosity about the rodeo fills my mind. Even if I don’t end up enjoying the show, it’ll still be worth it to watch all the Alpha cowboys strutting around. Something about the way they swagger in their boots gets my blood pumping.
“It’s not just the rodeo I’m excited to show you,” Ida says as she leads me through her garden gate and down the cracked sidewalk towards the centre of town. Sticky and persistent flies buzz past my face and I swat at them uselessly. “It’s Bodella. This is a great time of year to get to know the town and its people. Everyone here is so happy and proud of our little town. You just can’t help but feel it when you walk around.”
Tell me about it!
My aura is dizzy with the palpable joy in the air. The tiny town with a single pub, a couple of rural supply stores, and a handful of houses is positively buzzing.
“G’day Ida,” a grizzled old man with a cowboy hat so worn it looks like it might disintegrate in a stiff wind. “Who’s ya little mate?”
“Miss. Weber is my latest Omega ward, Trev. She’s here to meet our Alphas,” Ida says, puffing her chest out with pride. I’m not sure how many other Omegas have passed through Ida’s stiff front room and drunk her lemonade, but she seems proud of her little mail-order-mate venture.
I greet the old timer, relieved he’s a Beta so I don’t have to deal with his aura. In fact, I’m surprised to note each person we pass is a Beta, or a mated Alpha and Omega pair.
“We don’t get too many unmated Omegas or Alphas out here,” Ida explains. “It’s too hard to find a mate.”
“The ad in Omega Weekly makes a lot more sense now,” I reply, smiling at the older Omega. She’s growing on me. Sure, she’s a busybody, injecting herself into conversations as we slowly pick our way down the main road, but I can feel the genuine pride she has for this town.
