by Jenna Colley

The alarm buzzes and she glances over to the night stand. She knows what it says -- 5:30am just like it has every morning for as long as she can remember. She's been awake for hours even though it doesn't make a damn bit of sense. When she isn't dreaming about burnt coffee and runny eggs, the goddam cling of the cash register and the smell of dirty pennies...she's livin' it.

She swings her thick legs off the side of her single bed and lets her head hang down just far enough to see the effects of time and hard work and loss. She notices the slight sag of her breasts and the chipped paint on her toenails -- "Vixen". The lady at the grocery store told her it was guaranteed to knock a man to his knees. "Sweetie just try it!" She did and it didn't. The last man that got down on his knees for her is long gone and it's better that way. She slips off her night gown and stands naked in front of the bathroom mirror, but not for too long. She reaches over to turn the shower on and watches her reflection fade as the steam rises and seeps deep into her throat through her nose...into her. She wonders if Liz Taylor ever feels like this but like most questions she just lets the answer go and moves on.

Christopher called last night form Santa Fe. He's doin' well and livin' fine and misses her sometimes, she can tell. God knows she raised him to be a good man in a crooked man's world and that makes her days a little easier.

She fiddles with the notion of lyin' down on the bathroom floor all day while the cool tiles caresses her skin but it's already 5:45 and she better get her tired ass in gear.

The water does what it can to beat out the tough spots and she's thankful. Sometimes the smell of her cheap Revlon shampoo and Dial soap just makes her want to throw-up. The same shit, she thinks, every morning. Her mind wanders back to the old apartment on Pilot Street when she and Michael first got married. He would take her to the grocery store and she would fill her baskets with all kinds of wonderful things...face masks and foot lotions and hot oil treatments. Goddam if she didn't fell like a queen! He would come home from work, tired and hungry and she'd be waitin' -- dressed fit to kill. They never went out much, but there's just somethin' about young love that makes you want to stay at home.

She was never restless then. She knew he would love her and take care of her and respect her 'till death they did part...and that was all it took. Her mind wanders back to that muggy August afternoon, and the bright yellow kitchen. She had just finished feeding Chris his lunch when the phone rang and her life changed.

She was staring at her baby boy rub something all over his face in his usual fashion when she heard the news and the first thing she thought, the very first thing she thought was no. No, sweet Jesus, no. She never could stand the color yellow after that.

She shuts off the shower and dries herself slowly. She gets angry now. It wasn't easy raising a baby and God knows she did it alone! At least she hopes he knows. She took the job at the diner not long after and it was 5:30am from then on.

She grabs a fresh pair of underwear out of the drawer and snaps on her bra. She dreads opening the closet and pulling out her faded pink uniform. Why do they always have to be pink? she wonders as yanks it off the hanger and wrenches it over her hips. She glides her hands over those same hips and winces with something like regret. Faces creep into her mind and she shivers slightly. Cowboys, construction workers, even a cop once. She always did appreciate a hard workin' man.Once she tried a lawyer but he was way too rough. Seems like the weaker they are, the meaner they act. Once she met a sweet ranch hand from Amarillo and he touched her so tenderly she cried until the sun came up.

But after Michael everything she gained never quite made up for what she lost and there was always Chris to think of. She never brought a man home while he was growin' up and she knew he loved her for it. There comes a point in a woman's life when she is a mother first or at least that's how it was with her. But Chris is gone and she gets lonely more now that she ever did.

Sure she's wondered over the years what her life would have been like if Michael hadn't fallen off that rig...if he had had a little more sleep the night before and if he had watched his step. Wondered if it was her fault for loving him too much; for being happy. But that was a long time ago and it isn't worth thinkin' about. A woman can drive herself damn near insane if she thinks about a crazy thing like that for too long. He's gone, she's not, and that's that. It's 6:00am and she's late. She grabs her keys and hustles to the door. She never even got a chance to turn the living room lights on...never got a chance to have her coffee or read the paper...never had a chance to grow old with her husband or kiss him good-bye, and never will. But life just plays out that way.

It's Sunday morning and the diner is probably already packed with people, chewing and slurping and slingin' their bullshit like they'll live forever.

She grips the doorknob and falters on the turn. Maybe she just won't go in today. Maybe she'll just go back to bed. Maybe she'll go to the store and blow her whole goddam paycheck on wonderful things, and maybe she'll go to church this afternoon and sit in the front where the music of the choir will lift her soul so high she can't even look down. Maybe...maybe.