Page 75 of Ominous: Part 1
I wish he was angry. It would make him easier to deal with. We could argue, I’d hang up, it would make sense. But his pity is stifling, and I turn up the air conditioner in the car, trying to breathe through this fucking conversation now I’ve had to roll my windows up so I could take his call.
I watch the sun disappear through my windshield, casting the highway in shades of dark blue.
“I know.” I was outside of my psychiatrist’s door when Eden called. I could’ve told her it would take me an hour. I could’ve not answered. I could’ve done anything, but between seeing a doctor and spending time alone with Eden, the choice was easy.
Dad sighs, and I know he’s waiting for me to tell him why I missed, but I think he also knows I won’t. Finally, he breaks first. “Every time you don’t show, there’s a problem.”
I tighten my grip on the wheel.
“Montford keeps up with Dr. Langley, and he keeps up withme—”
“I’m eighteen. Transfer the file to me. Give them my number.”
“The world does not give parents a break when their kids turn eighteen, Eli. It isn’t an automatic cut off for anything, and especially not this.”
This.Montford. Based states away in Idaho, even so, they’ll be persistent in their follow up because they’ve got permission to communicate with my psychiatrist, and vice versa, and Montford is the only place of its kind in this country. They take this seriously. Not because they care, but because every scientist loves when their hypothesis is backed by results.
I am an experiment.
“They’ve already emailed twiceandcalled three times.” There’s an edge to Dad’s voice.
Just yell at me. Just break. Get it over with. Stop trying to be a good parent, tell me what you really think, Dad. How youreallyfeel.
I don’t say any of that.
I pass a car without slowing once, glancing in my rear view, and swerving into the right lane, then back over. I’m still speeding. Maybe more than before. I don’t know. I don’t look. I don’t care. “Damn, Dad, patients get sick sometimes, you know? I’m sure I’m not the only person in the world to miss a therapy appointment here or there—”
“Be home for dinner. Seven.” He clears his throat, and I glance at the clock on the console. I’ve got fifteen minutes. “I’ll deal with Montford and Dr. Langley. Just get home.”
I press harder on the gas.
I wonder if Dad hears the whine of the engine because he says, “Eli. Please be careful.”
I inch the needle of the speedometer up a little more, smiling as I do, my steering wheel vibrating beneath my hand. “You got it, Dad.”
When he hangs up, I think about calling Eden. Telling her I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have overreacted, all those things you’re supposed to say when you fuck up. I shouldn’t have slipped up so hard and so fucking fast. I should’ve feigned indifference, but I didn’t expect her to ask aboutMom.I thought maybe it’d be about the fucking vigil, but since she blew Dom’s coke up her nose, she doesn’t seem to give a fuck about that little secret anymore.
Still, anger aside, I think about giving in because I want to talk to her. Right now.Right fucking now.
My throat feels tight, and I reach for my choker, plucking it away from my skin but not pulling it off. I try to breathe, releasing the necklace, rolling down my windows, letting the air rip through my hair, slashing across my face.
I pass four more cars, all on the right side, ducking and weaving without slowing down.
My exit is coming up, and it wouldn’t take me long to get to Eden’s. I’d miss dinner, Dad would be pissed, but he already is, isn’t he? And since I didn’t see Dr. Langley, Eric Addison is going to ensure he plays the part of my therapist by poking and prying and demanding to know why I bailed. He doesn’t trust me. He doesn’t believe me either, about Winslet.
One day, I’ll explode and tell him the fucking truth.
Eden, Eden, Eden.
How did she fucking know what to ask? How did she pick the one thing I hadn’t planned for? Most people leave it alone. They’re too scared to pry. Maybe they don’t want to know, because then they’d have to have an appropriate response, and they can’t plan for the answer. Or maybe they have a fantasy in their head. I’m the boy without a mom, and I need nurturing, andI’m so brokenandhow can I help him? “I’ll be here for you, Eli. I won’t leave you.”
I’ve heard those words from girls before.
I don’t think Eden would ever say them.
My stomach churns and I feel sick, too hot, even with the wind biting into my eyes, my cheeks.
I almost don’t do it. I almostdon’tlook in my rear view to switch lanes at the last minute to make my exit. But when I lift my eyes to the mirror, I see headlights barreling by in the right lane, and if I had gotten over, shooting across the highway to get off at the right place in the nick of time, they wouldn’t have been able to stop.
