Page 2 of Empty Heat
I breathed deeply as we entered the vine-covered building, telling myself this was all good. Everything would be wonderful. Nothing would happen that I didn’t want to have happen.
Check-in was well-organized. The four of us gathered around a long table, each of us greeted by our assigned therapists. I’d asked for an omega therapist and my request had been granted.
A man in a white kimono with a friendly face and soft blue eyes greeted me. “My name is Rhodes. It’s so nice to meet you, Callum.”
I shook his hand, grateful to meet him. He looked around thirty-five, ten years older than I, and projected a demeanor I liked. I had a feeling I could trust him.
We sat together at the table and got the last bit of paperwork out of the way, release forms and the like. When we were done, he said, “Would you like to see where you are staying?”
“Yes. I can’t believe how beautiful it is here.”
“We are fortunate to have a wonderful setting for healing and rehab, although, you can set your clock by the afternoon squalls that come around four p.m. It’ll rain hard for about fifteen minutes, then pass.”
“I like rain.” I clasped my hands in my lap to ease my apprehension.
“Well, then, let’s get you settled.” His soft omega voice and unintimidating elegance calmed me.
I followed him outside and we made our way down a long brick path past many cabins and all colors of tropical flowers. The trees swayed in a soft breeze, willows and cottonwoods, olive and oak. I noticed a long lagoon that stretched out to the sea, though I could not see the beach from my vantage due to heavy foliage.
A few other patients and therapists milled around on the paths. All were clad in robes, sarongs or kimonos. My curiosity piqued as to why other omegas might be here, but it wasn’t my business. I needed to focus on my own problem.
Rhodes led me down a short path to a purple cabin with white trim and a cute porch. It looked like something out of a fairy tale. As we entered, I saw an open-spaced living area leading to a kitchenette. Bleached wood walls and ceilings surrounded us and smelled clean and fresh.
The couches and chairs were dark blue and white, and decorated with lots of plush throws, everything from plaid to striped to solid. Everything looked comfortable and new.
Rhodes showed me the bedroom and adjoining bath. The bed matched the living room furniture in color, with white and blue covers. On a white bureau sat a vase of pink and red flowers with yellow centers. I could smell their sugar from the doorway.
“Your things are being brought from the plane. While we wait, would you like to sit and talk?” Rhodes asked. “I’d love to learn more about you, if you are willing.”
“Of course.” I set my carry-on on the bed. It was a satchel with my computer and other essentials I’d been allowed to have on the plane.
“There is fresh lemonade in the fridge. Would you like some?” Rhodes asked.
“Very much.” The wine I’d had on the flight, which had not gone to my head like I’d hoped, had only made me parched.
Rhodes showed me where all the dishes in the cupboard were stored and brought out two tall glasses.
Once we were seated in the living room—him on the couch and me in a cushioned chair—he sipped at his drink and smiled.
I liked the way he didn’t scrutinize me. His gaze remained casual, blue eyes serene.
“Where do you want me to begin?” I asked.
“Well, I’ve read your file. I don’t get to know people from files, though. It’s just a lot of notes and medical jargon.”
I gulped some of the lemonade, which was as sweet and fresh as my surroundings. It cooled my throat and right away eased some of my tension.
I started as I usually did with a new doctor or therapist. “A lot of doctors I’ve seen for the past five years have told me everything about my problem is in my head. But I’ve seen shrinks, too, and learned if it was all anxiety related, pills would have helped.”
He nodded. “I understand. Of course, we treat body and mind as one here. Neither is neglected.” He weaved his fingers together in his lap and tilted his head. “But what do you think?”
I took a shuddering breath. This was hard. Even though he was a therapist, I didn’t enjoy any of this.
“It was only during this last year that I found out I’m a little different, internally speaking.”
Rhodes nodded. “Yes. Your files contain the various diagnoses of your problem, everything from sex-induced hysteria to mating anxiety disorder, but labels can be constricting and inaccurate. Your more recent physical exam records do indicate you are smaller than normal in the anal and rectal regions. Your birth canal is also underdeveloped.”
“Yes. Finally, someone could tell me it wasn’t all in my head. But I was also told that my physical differences shouldn’t be a problem once I, um, once I feel arousal and get slick. It’s a condition in about five percent of omegas and I was told most lead normal lives.”
