Glancing out the window, she noticed the sky was considerably darker than the last time she had looked. She pulled herself up off the couch and tossed aside the book that had been keeping her mind off her troubles. Helen was in a lousy mood. She couldn't blame it on anything in particular, not even PMS this time, but she was just so damn depressed. At twenty-one she wasn't happy with where her life was going. She worked full-time as a waitress, had barely finished high school, didn't go to college, and had nothing that she could really call her own. Whenever she found herself in this type of mood, she usually made it worse by reflecting on all the bad experiences in her life; tonight was no exception. Feeling sorry for herself was something she was good at. She stared out at the flashing neon sign across the street, but even Scotty's Bar didn't seem inviting tonight. Just picturing the same few occupants in the small, dark bar made her feel even lonelier.

She dragged herself from room to room in her tiny apartment tidying up whatever she hadn't already cleaned. Where the hell is Dave? she wondered. Every time she looked at the clock another half hour of the night was gone, and no sign of Dave. When he called earlier that evening he didn't say that he would definitely stop by, only that he would try. She knew what that meant. If he wanted to, if he wanted her, he would be there, unless he was getting it somewhere else that night. "Such a selfish bastard," she said aloud, "and he thinks I'm so stupid! 'Going out with the boys tonight, I'll try to stop by later babe,'" she said mimicking him. "Yeah right," she sighed knowing that Dave was better than the last jerk who had left her with one too many bruises. She picked up the phone and dialed her friend Nancy's number and got her machine. She sighed and got up to make herself a drink to try and unwind a bit. She finished the first gin and tonic rather quickly and poured herself another. Helen laid back on the couch and let her thoughts regress back to a happier time in her life, a time she liked to remember. She smiled as childhood memories began to wash over her and she could hear parent's voices echoing in her mind.

"Helen! Helen! Where's my little pumpkin?" Helen's father called out. "Where's my big eight-year old girl?"

Helen ran to her father from the kitchen where the sweet aroma of fresh tomato sauce was strongest. Her mother was making her favorite dish, lasagna, for her birthday. "Daddy, you're finally home! We've been waiting!" she yelled jumping into his big, strong arms.

"I know honey, I'm sorry. But look, I've got something for you!" He went outside and came back in wheeling in a beautiful, pink two-wheeler with a huge purple bow tied across the handlebars.

"Oh Daddy! I love it! Can I ride it now? Pleeeease!" He looked at her mother for approval and she waved her on. Her mother and father watched her from the front door as she rode tirelessly up and down the sidewalk on their block. That was one of few pleasant memories that Helen could remember vividly. She could still recall the smell of her father's cologne, the safe feeling she had when he hugged her, and the closeness they had shared. But not long after that birthday, things had changed and would never be the same.

It all started the day her father came home from work and didn't call for her. She remembered wandering downstairs where she found her father and mother talking quietly and they looked upset.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

They looked at one another and then at her. Their worried expressions were new to her and it frightened her. "Sweetheart, your daddy has been laid off from his job," her mother finally said.

"Does that mean he was fired?"

"No honey, it means that they can't afford to pay him right now."

"Oh. So Daddy'll just get a new job, right Daddy?"

"I wish it were that easy pumpkin. You see, there aren't a lot of jobs available for what Daddy does." Helen's father was chief financial officer at a major corporation.

At the time Helen didn't realize how serious the situation was, but it started to sink in when her parents began to act differently. When her father came home now he no longer smelled like nice cologne, no, he smelled of something much worse. Helen was constantly being sent to her room and then she would hear the arguing begin. She would turn on the television and pretend that it wasn't her mommy and daddy yelling, it was the people on T.V. This went on for months and months.

Helen tried to repress the next memory, but she could never put the worst day of her life out of her mind. She remembered crying in the schoolyard alongside her teacher waiting for her mother to pick her up. She was scared because her mother was late, and she had never been late before. When Helen saw her neighbor pull up and motion for her to get in, she panicked. "Where's my mother Mrs. Holden, is she sick or something?" Helen wanted to know.

"She's at home honey, she couldn't come to get you today," Mrs. Holden told Helen and her teacher, "she'll talk to you when you get home." At that moment Helen knew something terrible must have happened and her heart sank.

As soon as she got home she ran into the house. "Mommy! Mommy! Where were you today? Are you sick?" She found her mother and Aunt Louise crying in the kitchen. "Mommy? Aunt Louise? What's the matter?" she quivered.

"Come here, honey." Her mother hugged her tightly. "Now I want you to be strong for me, do you promise?"

"Yes, but . . ."

"Helen, listen to me," her mother sobbed. "Daddy . . . daddy is gone sweetheart. He's up in Heaven now with Grandma."

"YOU'RE LYING! HE'S NOT GONE! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!" she screamed at her mother and ran out of the room. Her mother went after her and it took the whole night to calm her down.

Then the voices finally stopped.

"Accident my ass," Helen said aloud staring at the small hole left in the wall where a picture of her mother and father had once hung. She had taken it down the year before because she couldn't bear to look at it anymore. The memories were painful enough. "You were a coward!" she screamed at the empty wall, "nothing but a fuckin' coward!" Her father had taken his own life. Had thrown himself in front of a moving train. There wasn't even enough left of him to give him a decent funeral. "Try explaining that to an eight-year old you son-of-a-bitch!" She yelled throwing her empty glass at the wall.

She needed to get out the apartment so she wandered outside and sat on the front steps. The night air was turning cooler and she shivered slightly. Oh Dave, where are you? she wondered. I really need you tonight. You're never here when I need you, she thought. She tried to hold back the tears, but her emptiness this night was too much so the tears brimmed over and rolled down her cheeks. She cried silently at first, for fear a neighbor might hear. But soon they poured down her face; there was no stopping her sorrow. When she saw a car that looked like Dave's heading down her street she tried to pull herself together. But as the car got closer she realized it wasn't him. She began to count the cars that passed, telling herself after the tenth one she was going inside. After the fifteenth one she got up and went back inside and made herself a drink. She flipped on the television, but didn't pay much attention to it, she was listening for the sound of Dave's noisy muffler. Please come tonight, she thought desperately.

She got up and made herself another drink, a little stronger than the last. Soon the memories would fade and Dave wouldn't matter. She went over and sat by the window, the cool air was refreshing. She listened to faint sounds of a party being drowned out by the steady barking of a dog. The sign over Scotty's was still blinking and it looked more appealing than it had before. A young couple walked by hand in hand giggling at some intimacy known only to them. Helen got up and closed the window and walked over to the mirror. She stared in at her glassy eyes wondering who it was she staring back at her, sometimes she just didn't know. She picked up the brush and stroked her long, dark hair and fixed her lipstick. She still hoped that Dave might show up. She finished her drink and glanced at the clock, it was a little after midnight. "Ah, who the hell needs 'em!" she said aloud. By the time she finished her drink she decided that she hated the entire male species. If only you had stuck around Daddy, if only . . . her thoughts turned to her mother as she tried to fall asleep. She tried to fight off the guilt as she pictured her mother alone in her rocking chair at Brookville. Her mother couldn't recover from the trauma of her father's death and had a nervous breakdown a year after his death. She had been institutionalized and had been there ever since. Helen used to visit her often, but had found it increasingly painful over the years and finally stopped going. "Your mother needs to see you," her Aunt Louise told her again and again. "She doesn't even know I'm there, what the hell is the difference?" Helen always answered. "Oh but she does, Helen, she does." Somehow that idea seemed even worse to Helen, so she avoided the situation all together. Soon after, the drinks drowned out her pain and eased her into sleep. It was just another ordinary night.