Page 4 of Broken Omega

Despite the city’s bustling streets, the roads are kind of quiet. I guess it’s after the main rush for a weekday. I’m all out of luck.

Might as well give it up.

“He doesn’t even get me a birthday cake,” I mutter, mostly to myself.

It’s clear that Peter isn’t going to be swayed by any of my arguments.

I can’t stand feeling sorry for myself, but it’s all I have left.

Gazing out the window, I focus on people-watching, making lazy guesses to what each person who captures my attention might have a career in and what they might be like.

I didn’t realize professional clothes could be so alluring, but the pretty, petite brunette in the skirt suit really makes pinstripes work. I bet she’s an accountant, or a lawyer. Probably owns a fluffy cat and a top floor apartment. Looks a little bit too young to be married. She’s probably still looking for the right girl or guy, or she could be a pack kind of woman. The best ones always are.

Ooh. There’s a hot construction worker smoking by the side of the road. There’s dirt on his bright orange jacket and a little smear on his cheek, too. Smoldering good looks and I bet he’s good with his hands. He’s probably waiting on a ride home. Can’t wait to get back to the suburbs, most likely to a home-cooked meal made by a stunningly gorgeous and super sweet stay-at-home wife and mother.

I sigh as they vanish from sight.

What I wouldn’t give to be one of those people.

I live out those little fantasies inside my head while the city disappears around us.

The drive to Crystal Grove is much blander. Forests take up either side of the road when we leave the main part of the city. It’s too dark to see much other than the dark masses of trees.

Then, the estate comes into view, on the road into Crystal Grove.

The land is split equally over the town and the city, making it practically impossible for the estate to receive any mail. There are two zip codes involved and two very separate addresses on differently named and numbered streets. It’s a mind-fuck for mail men and women, which I think was my father’s intention when he had the house built. He doesn’t like to make anything easy on anyone.

My stomach churns when we pull into the road that leads to the estate.

The car slows down. The gates open after we pass the first security camera.

Daddy’s watching, then. Of course he is. He doesn’t miss a trick.

I look out into the woods that surround the estate.

The car’s going slow enough to jump out of now, but there’s no point in attempting to run, even if the door was unlocked.

I check and find out it’s locked.Oh, well.I wouldn’t have gotten very far anyway.There are cameras all over the place. My father would lock the gates and have me caught and dragged back to the house like he did when I was a kid having a tantrum.

I put my hand back in my lap and give Peter a fake smile when he glances at me.

He drives to the steps that lead into the house and stops, just as my father appears at the entrance.

His slim face is pinched, his white beard well-groomed but longer than I’ve seen it in the past.

He’s been stuck in his study writing these last few months, which would be his excuse if I dared to mention it. Who the hell knows exactly what he’s been working on. The research he does is tedious, meticulous, and peppered through with words that have to be looked up to be understood.

The human mind is fascinating, but the way he writes about it is not.

Whatever the research is, he’s deeply immersed as usual.

My whole life it’s been like this.

He’s never not working.

There’s always something taking up most of his valuable time.

Tonight that something is me, and he doesn’t look particularly pleased about it.

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