Page 6 of The Omega Switch: Part 2

I'd never rented an apartment before, never applied for a business loan, never filed taxes, or even gone grocery shopping without someone from my family telling me exactly what to buy. Walking into Omega Social Services for the first time had felt almost as frightening as leaving my whole life behind. I had been convinced they'd tell me I wasn't capable of living independently.

Instead, I was assigned a lovely social worker who helped me fill out paperwork and connected me with the resources to start living independently. She introduced me to a support group, and a doctor who put me on a recovery regimen after my body had been unnecessarily suppressed for so long.

And as for making money, my social worker was shocked when I told her about my background. “So you already have some valuable skills, and a long track record in making and selling products successfully.” She’d said, and when she worded it like that, I felt like she might be overstating what I’d done. But she had so much confidence in me that when she asked what I wanted to do, I felt safe telling her my dreams.

“I want to make more products for omegas. That’s all I want to do.” I admitted. It was what I was good at. I couldn't keep the business my mom started, but I could start fresh and carry on the mission. I just didn’t know the first thing about marketing, opening accounts, or anything else.

But my social worker wasn’t worried. She explained that there were business grants specifically for displaced omegas starting over. Apparently, entire organizations were dedicated to helping people exactly like me. I'd spent twenty-two years believing I was alone, but I wasn’t.

Mara had stuck by me, and her grandmother took me on as if I was part of the family. Together, they patiently taught me everything my family never bothered to teach me. The resources from the social agency helped with the rest, from balancing a budget to picking an insurance policy, and negotiating with suppliers without apologizing all the time.

Whenever I panicked that I'd made some terrible mistake, Mara's grandmother would pour another cup of tea and remind me that no one was born knowing how to build a life.

"You've spent years learning how to survive," she'd told me one evening while helping me organize paperwork. "Now it's time to learn how to simply enjoy living." It took time, but she was right. Soon, with help from the organizations and my newfound family, I had a very small but quaint space where I was busy all day creating new ideas for the store. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

The bell above the door jingled, breaking me from my thoughts. I looked up and smiled. I did that so much now.

"Good morning!" A voice called out.

I looked up to find Evangeline walking in, carrying a paper bag, the scent of cinnamon rolls filling the small space.

The little bakery two storefronts down had become one of my favorite places in town. Evangeline, the beta who worked there in the mornings, had been the first person I met in the area. She immediately became a good friend, and didn’t care about my past. She was just kind to me. She was stunning - with dark hair and surprisingly blue eyes.

"I made too many," she announced before setting the bag on my counter. "I wouldn't want them to go to waste."

I laughed. "You always make too many," I said, taking the bag and peeking in. Evangeline gave me a shy smile, pulling her turtleneck up. She always dressed in too-big clothes that covered her tiny frame. I wasn’t sure how she managed it in the bakery. "You've brought me extra pastries four times this week."

She just smiled bigger and shrugged. "I support local businesses," she said, giving me a wink.

I shook my head, smiling at her.

"Thank you, Evangeline," I said, my mouth already watering as I smelled the warm cinnamon wafting from the bag.

Evangeline beamed. "See? You're getting better." I looked up quickly, startled by her comment. I hadn’t told her much about my story, just bits and pieces here and there. I didn’t want to scare her off.

"What do you mean?" I asked carefully. Evangeline looked at me knowingly.

"When I first met you, you didn’t even stand up straight. You were almost scared to smile. Now it’s like you’re a whole new person - you’re finally accepting my pastries, and you haven’t apologized unnecessarily for something."

My eyes widened at her words.

"I..."

The apology had already formed before I caught myself. Evangeline smirked

"See?" she asked, then hopped onto a chair near me, grabbed a cinnamon roll and a napkin from the bag, and handed the treat to me. She reached over and squeezed my hand. "I'm proud of you."

A happy feeling bloomed inside me. Five months ago, hearing words like that would have made me suspicious. But now, I actually believed her. She looked at me and thought I was worth having as a friend. She treated me like a human being. I squeezed her hand, feeling more gratitude than ever for my new life.

*****

A little later that afternoon, Nora wandered in carrying a basket of fresh herbs from the community garden. She was an older omega who had gone through a painful bond dissolution a few years earlier. I looked at her as proof that you can love, lose it, and not only survive, but thrive.

She’d somewhat adopted me as her “niece,” helping me choose curtains for the apartment upstairs and telling me that I needed at least five soft blankets on my bed.

“Honestly, Ivy.” She’d said as she assessed my room. “For someone who knows exactly how much comfort other omegas need, you sure don’t allow yourself to have much.” She clicked her tongue and made sure my bed was so full of soft pillows that I slept twelve hours that night. Now, she stopped by almost every day to check on me.

"I brought lemon balm," she said, handing me the herbs with a proud smile. I took them from her as Evangeline gave her a small wave.