I like my town with a little drop of poison

Nobody knows they're lining up to go insane

I'm all alone, I smoke my friends down to the filter

But I feel much cleaner after it rains

She left in the fall, that's her picture on the wall

She always had that little drop of poison.

-Tom Waits

'This is different', is the first thing she feels, then notices, then finally thinks as she hauls her massive suitcase up the last dirty stair of the subway. She takes a quick thinly veiled look of surprise around her. 'Gentle Dentistry used to be on that corner' she muses taking in the "luxury condos" and remodeled brown stones. 'Hmm' she grunts, 'and birdman's building is gone too.' But that was to be expected, she thinks. "It was a massive dump when I was a kid." grumbling she redistributing the weight on her person and heads down the block.

Helga Geraldine Pataki strapped with a massive backpack as well as a stuffed overnight bag pulls the rest of her belongings down the streets that once made up the place she called home.

She chastises herself as she walks, "Come on ol' gal with all the talk of gentrification on the news lately you shouldah known this place wouldn't have been spared"

Before she can consciously stop her next thought a small voice inside her replies ' but it once was, and you helped'. But that train ended there. "I'm already nerved outah my brain just being here, no need to pile on a bunch of worthless memories to top it off", she mutters glaring at her general surroundings.

"Bleck" she states, or rather articulates with her tongue stuck out and heavy brows turned down.

"It's a wonder I still know my way around" she gripes as she passes another particularly hideous gray window-to-window monstrosity. She rounds another corner taking her off the main street sighing slightly in relief as the buildings and cracked sidewalks begin to look more familiar.

" Jeez Louise why am I so fazed? I mean Big Bob preaches it enough, 'everything changes', right? Progress progress progress! As the king of beepers always says" She snorts with the slightest hint of deject anger.

"Criminy this shit is heavy" she huffs stopping in front of a vacant storefront swiping sweat from her brow. Space for rent she reads realizing soon after she was in fact standing in front of Mrs. Vitrellies flower shop.

"Awww shit" she says quietly realizing the old broad was probably dead by now. For a moment she lets her eyes relax and the sensory memory of sickeningly sweet flowers fill her nostrils. Even now if she squints she can see a stack of hair behind the counter and a football shaped head sizing up an arrangement of tulips, pussy willows and chrysanthemums. She shakes her head vigorously her eyes refocusing on her reflection. For a moment she is caught staring at the girl looking back at her.

"I suppose I've changed a lot too," she says without her usual hint of sarcasm. Long gone was the scrawny tomboy who spent a month peering through an assortment of lilacs and daisies just to get a glimpse of some shrimpy kid. She sneers, half at the face staring back at her, half at the memory.

Yes she had changed, she had changed and she was glad.

'I mean how could I not, all kids grow up, that's all.'

The days of wearing the same thing day in and out, or never brushing her hair, or ignoring her self in a mirror were gone; she wasn't a scrappy little girl anymore. It had never mattered back then because she wasn't pretty, hadn't been regarded as pretty, not like... 'What was her name? That girl with the disgustingly innocent act (even for a nine year old), Lila, right.' She had never been pretty like Lila or Rhonda or any of those girls.

She lightly brushes back a strand of her blond locks. 'But I suppose that changed too' she reflects momentarily. She then turns, rather violently, away from her reflection annoyed at her present vanity. Hefting her things back on her shoulders and arms she grabs the handle of her suitcase and continues on.

While she walks she reminisces.

If she thought about it she guessed she wasn't all that bad looking of a kid, she just wasn't girly like some of her classmates. She had worn pink every day but that had more to do with parental neglect and a lack of other options than any gender attitude. It was the way her mother had dressed her when she was sober enough to do so and her sobriety had been years in the past even then.

Hell she hadn't even really like the noxious hue per-se but instead wore it as a talisman, a statement, a declaration... She stops herself before her next thought out of habit.

Helga never wore pink anymore. In fact she hates any and all shades of it. 'And why not', she justifies. 'I just got sick of it. I changed, I grew up.' Sometimes it was difficult to accept just how much.

Helga 18, 5.7, and newly graduated would now be considered "quite a catch" to most men aged 1 to 100. Like most girls faced with the aggravations of puberty she was forced to take notice of her changing body. Coupled with a society, not to mention a father, who obsessed over her appearance Helga began to make an effort. Not as much as Bob would have like, and certainly not as much as a certain overly feminine sister of hers, but she had plucked her brow and would brush her hair on occasion. She was actually surprised at how little it took for boys (and men) to start harassing her.

Yet it was still difficult for Helga to accept her newfound place among the supposed beautiful people.

For a moment Helga can hear Stinky's southern drawl in here ear but just as quickly it is gone.

Just thinking the phrase makes her sick to her stomach. It took two doting boyfriends and a few stalkers to convince her she wasn't the ugly duckling she had perceived herself to be. Perceived and gotten used to.

She catches another glimpse of herself in the review mirror of a parked car. Even now her opinion on her appearance was modest at best. In all honesty she thought she was funny looking, attractive maybe, but funny looking none the less. Her eyes were too big and frighteningly blue, her mouth too wide. Her long hair, which at the moment was piled messily atop her head to combat the heat, was too thick and unmanageable. And her eyebrows had to constantly be maintained.

Yet it was her eyebrows, the one thing everyone had once agreed was her worst feature that now caused men and women alike to stop her just to complement them. For some reason her looks, which she thought still bordered on the strong side, prompted people to describe her as Amazonian or exotic.

She chortles at the thought, 'Viking is more like it' she thinks.

She recalls momentarily how at 14 she had been "chased" by a couple of Agents on the grounds that her brow would launch her into a fantastic modeling career. "Thanks but no thanks" had been her immediate reply thinking back to her short lived modeling stint in grade school. Unfortunately they had been as persistent as what-his-face. It took hurling a Snapple bottle at their Armani and Balenciaga clad feet to leave her alone. She chuckles at the memory and then frowns remembering her fathers less than cheery attitude when realizing the amount of cash she'd thrown away.

It wasn't like Helga exactly hated the act of dressing, or rather, the act of promoting her appearance. She just had her own tastes. In truth she had cultivated her own sense of tomboy artsy bohemian style. She supposed this drastic change in interest had something to do with her friend Ace, who having met her in high school proceeded to drag her to every thrift store in Boston before learning to maker her own designs. In fact the only time Helga did model for anyone was for Ace. She looks down at her self smiling at the thin stylish jean overalls she had made her wear for her first day back in the city.

Ace Hiroyama the real exotic beauty, born from an English and Bajan mother and Japanese American father had become her closest friend after her first day of high school. Phoebe and her were still friends but time and distance had taken is toll. Their correspondence had dwindled to a few letters and misplaced phone calls over the years. They kept each other moderately updated and phoebe on occasion came to visit, though it was never the other way around.

But if she was honest with herself she still resented phoebe for never truly encouraging her when it came down to a certain topic. Ace was better suited to her anyway. The girl's spitfire optimism kept Helga's less then sunny attitude in check and Ace never let what Phoebe would ignore slip. If anything Ace was pushier than she was.

She had been more than ecstatic when she heard Ace had been accepted to FIT. Helga herself had been accepted to Columbia for creative writing so the two girls had gushed over plans to find the perfect apartment. And so she had volunteered to check out possible places while visiting her old home.

'Home' she thinks nervously.

She lifts her head from its pavement view only to notice her block coming up. The realization makes her steps slow and the uncomfortable sensation of a rather large ball of fear catches in her throat causing her to give a dry swallow.

Helga has not seen her mother since her parents divorce almost ten years ago.

After years of disinterest and lack of love Bob had finally decided to leave Miriam, but only after acquiring a younger woman and expansion prospects in Boston. Miriam, because of her spiraling alcohol problem had been deemed an unfit mother and Helga's father hadn't allowed any visits. The whole situation had been a mess. Not that her life before had been much better but there had been an equilibrium that had allowed at least a semblance of comfort for the young girl. If it hadn't been for Tina, the big boobed home wrecker, things would have probably gone on as before, her mother passing out behind the couch and her father directing his course judgments on all who fell in his path and then apologizing when it was too little to late. But that's not how it had turned out. Instead Bob had divorced Miriam and moved to Boston to expand his business and shack up with the bustier woman.

Miriam had got the house and her faithful blender and Bob got "the kid" and his collection of Olga's trophies.

For a while it had been bearable, or as bearable as it could be despite the fact that she was all alone without her friends, or rather, her one friend and one obsession. But then Tina had left and things got worse. She then began to miss the days when she went unnoticed.

It wasn't like your every day occurrence, the abuse. She supposed most of the incidents could be counted on her hands alone. Maybe some toes she muses apathetically as she stops in front of her stoop. Mostly it was just verbal abuse, you know the usual. She wasn't good enough she didn't live up to Olga or the Pataki name. Though she was a good student, even above average. The fact was she just wasn't the best, and anything less wasn't worthy. After a while she stopped caring, not that that made it any better. After Tina had left and the beeper business started to sag Bob picked up his own little drinking habit and then things had taken a turn for the worst.

It had only happened once, just the once. He'd been so drunk she's sure he doesn't remember.

If only she could say the same.

For a moment everything falls away. The hot summer sun, her childhood home in front of her, and then there is nothing, nothing but the oppressive weight of him. The smell of sweat and booze and something horribly sweet. The weight and the smell and the dark, the deep horrible dark filled with the sound, his breathe and curses and grunts.

She grips the handle of her suitcase tightly her eyes closed willing herself to breath, forget, let go. She shakes her head violently staring at the cool blue paint of her old building.

'Why am I even thinking of this right now' she thinks desperately. Bringing a perspiring clammy hand to her face she looks around in panic. She then sighs defeated.

'But at the end of the day wasn't it always your fault Helga old girl. You always had to push him. Always had to fuck with the man'

"Such a will full child was I" she says as she begins to shakily drag her suitcase up the steps.

'He was always sorry in the end wasn't he' she thinks blankly. Her mind then, as it always did when the memory cropped up, took her back to the stupidest day of her life.

It had been maybe a week or so after the "incident". She was still recovering from the bruises as well as the event itself. She can't remember what she had been doing at the time only that she was thinking about Olga and the last time she'd seen her.

The last time had also been the first time she came to Boston. It had been her first Christmas there and Olga came to 'settle' her in. It had been awkward to say the least.

Her father had doted all over her as per usual but for the first time in her life Olga would have none of it. She just could never, never forgive him for his "infidelities" she had said and instead spent her entire visit trying to form some sort of bond with her "baby sister".

Her presence however wasn't really welcome and she soon got the message. After she had left Bob's mood took a turn for the worst. She supposed he just couldn't take the snubbing of his favorite daughter. It was one of the first incidents to be counted on her finger.

Two years later remembering the event she wondered which life had been better, the life of non-existence with Olga or the one where she was punished for not being her. That night she had concluded non-existence.

The whole episode seemed like a bad TV movie now. Her whole suicide attempt hadn't even been that original. There was the locking of the bathroom door, the drawing of the hot bath, her father's razor.

Her thoughts trail as she stares blankly at the last concrete step before the platform. 'It's funny what you remember' she thinks. She couldn't remember the pain of opening up the main arteries in her wrists. Instead the feeling that came after is what haunts her still.

She almost laughs, ' I haven't thought of that night in years.' She frowns rushing through the details in her mind.

It had been stupid, so stupid. She'd gone through all the trouble of doing it properly, drawing the bath, the candles, cutting down and not across and yet she hadn't taken into account Bob's fucking stomach. She had gotten all the way through tearing up the last of her veins when she heard Bob hollering for his supper. "Stupid" was all she had said too tired to panic. She hadn't even made it into the tub before collapsing. Hadn't even thought to turn off the faucet before doing the deed. 'Stupid' she had thought as her head slid down the side of the tub where she had been leaning.

'That feeling, the feeling.'

A strange waive of nausea rolls over her as she stands there. She recalls the water overflowing and wetting her back as her breathing became heavier and the sounds of the running water became louder then farther away. She recalls the swirling patterns of water and blood before it drifted out the door, before the electric purple black and white began to eat up her vision. The last thing she had heard before passing out was the distant sound of Bob's frantic and irritated screams of "you stupid, you stupid girl". And maybe just maybe before blacking out completely she had thought loving a certain boy hadn't been enough.

She turns around from her suitcase and begins to disentangle herself from the rest of her baggage. "Stupid, stupid. Guh why am I thinking about this right now!" she says through gritted teeth.

"It was stupid I was a fucking stupid emo 8th grader who didn't have the foresight to see that things change." she sighs glad to have the weight finally off her.

Free of her baggage she looks at the peeling paint of the front door. She stands there unable to bring herself to knock. Instead her memory takes her through the rest the sordid details of her botched suicide.

Her father hadn't let the hospital folk condemn her to an institution, and for that she had been grateful. Knowing him though, she was sure that it was more for the sake of appearances than her well being, but beggars can't be choosers, she had thought. Other than her father nobody knew of the incident. She had just graduated from middle school and her father had managed to keep the information from both her mother and Olga. She started off high school without a glitch and things finally started to take a turn for the better. Her father backed off a bit obviously feeling an uncharacteristic guilt. She had met Ace and boys seemed to start to take notice of her, boosting a little of her long forgotten self esteem. Her father was even made to consent to weekly therapy sessions so she finally had a place to vent. Not that she ever let slip the physical abuse. She was a smart girl and she knew what that would get her, either an orphanage or a home worse than her own. All that was left of the event were the scars. She cringes clenching her fists.

'The stupid scars that made it oh so obvious that I'm a nut job.' God, she hates them.

For a while she had hid the marks with long ugly shirts and sweaters but at some point Ace, her one and only confidant, came up with a more "fashionable" solution. "Accessorize," she had said. Helga looks down at her bedangled and braceleted wrists. She smiles. It had taken some convincing but Ace had made it her mission to collect as many cuffs, bracelets, lace trims and African beads to hide Helga's hideous and telling scars. She'd even gone the extra mile after noticing the problem of slippage and created a Velcro cream band that wrapped around the length of each scar.

Today Helga's left wrist was adorned with a copper cuff that held a mettle worked gecko on its top while her right was clasped in blue Indian bangles.

She shakes her head and the bangles to get herself out of her head and ready to knock on the door.

It was a month into her senior year when Helga began to receive letters from her mother. It had been a complete and utter surprise, and yet, not unwelcome. If she was honest her mother's lack of interest in her life had deeply hurt her. Regardless they had struck up a lively correspondence and soon the two were planning Helga's escape from Boston. The plan was to stay and rekindle their mother daughter relationship while at the same time scoping possible apartments for the upcoming semester.

Now as she stands in front of her mother's home, her old home, another bout of worry sets in. She wonders over little things, like if they'll be able to hold a conversation or how her mom will even look. She'd received a picture 6th months ago but was still a little nervous to see her in the flesh regardless.

In truth the photograph had shocked her almost to tears. The affects of hard drinking and probably more had ravished her mother's once handsome face. Her hair had gone grey and stringy and her face was puffy. But she had been smiling, and at least there was that.

"Well here I am," she says eyeing the door nervously, "Criminy Helga just knock on the damn door already!"

Finally she brings up her clenched fist and knocks, quite forcefully actually, 'ugh, stupid frustration' she thinks.

Helga begins to hear the shuffling sound of footfall and a few happy "coming's" before the front door swings open. And there is Miriam, her mom, standing with her arms open and the same smile from the photo (if not a bit brighter) splattered across her face. Before Helga can get a 'hello how are ya' out Miriam is crushing her against her bosom and sniffling her name. "Uh, hi" is all she can get out before her mother pulls her into the house wiping away the rest of her tears.

"Ugh sorry honey I just got terribly emotional!" Helga watches as her mother grabs her bags smiling at her through the water works "it's just that I haven't seen you in so long!" she says drawing out the vowels. "And you look, you just look so different, so grown up, gosh your just beautiful!" Miriam beams at her shocking Helga into silence. She can't remember the last time her mother had been so... 'So what!' she thinks. Happy sure, but that wasn't it. Excited maybe, or involved was more like it, and over her nonetheless.

'I mean she's practically glowing and all because I'm here'.

Helga smiles and is surprised at how soft it feels. A great relief washes over her. This was the woman she was missing all these years, all her years really, the one who is genuine and purposeful, the mom who quite the beeper empire just to be closer. But then she second-guesses herself. And yet hadn't she forgotten that after her interest waned and her blender called to her again?

"Oh yeah it's ok I mean Jesus it has been forever. You're looking pretty well yourself Miriam" She replies a little reserved.

"Oh Pish Posh" her mother waves. " I suppose I look as good as a recovering addict does"

Helga once again is bowled over by her mother's lucid candidness. In her shock all she can do is follow her mother into the living room. Noticing her mothers calm smile she replies in similar humor "well I'm sure it's better than looking like an addict."

Her mother snorts and drops her bags by the wall. Helga takes a moment to look at what once was the trophy room. The walls have been painted a pretty cornflower blue. The decorations are simple and sparse. Her childhood home has been transformed, and she likes it.

"Dig the new layout Miriam it really works," she says waving an arm at the spread, her fingers trembled momentarily in nervousness as her bangles clinked.

"Well I've been a year sober, and when your sober you've gotta do something to occupy the fidgeting body and mind" she says plopping down on the couch motioning for her to join her. Helga instead takes to the armchair across from her and smiles.

"Uh so what else is knew with you?" she asks propping her feet up on the coffee table.

" Well let's see" Miriam says pausing to press a finger to her chin.

"I told you in my last email that I've started taking night classes so I can finally finish my degree in business. So my plan is to finish that up and do a start up company. Something fun and youthful because of course that's where all the money is!" she laughs "oh and I forgot to tell you I've taken on a boarder to raise some funds! Oh don't worry sweetie," She drawls, at the onset of Helga's frown "your room is completely untouched. I kept it for you. But oh Helga, I just feel like there are all these possibilities now that I know I can change, which is what their always going on about, you know, in my AA meetings. But goodness enough about me, I've got a celebrity in my house! You know I got all the girls at my group meetings to read your book. Oh honey they loved it. The descriptions of your father and me, Ha! Oh I bet he didn't like that one bit."

"err no he didn't" she replies, "but it's not really-" once again she is cut off. "Oh but the part at the end is so sad. How she leaves and he never gets to really figure it out!"

"You mean reject her," she states.

Yes, she had written a novel, a novel that was currently climbing its way to the top of book sales this month. This was the book that had granted her a college career wherever she chose and this was the book that finally freed her from the financial dependence of her father.

"I think he just didn't know what he wanted."

She gives her mother a curious look and replies with a note of finality, "it's a work of fiction Miriam"

"Oh of course honey but every work of fiction has a grain of truth right, or in this case a whole bag of it" she chuckles softly.

They sit in silence for a moment, Helga squirming ready to bolt; Miriam looking into her opened hands.

"Helga" her mom says quietly finally looking up at her, "I have to tell you how sorry I am baby, I'm so sorry" her voice light catches ever so slightly.

"Ah come on mom you don-" "no I do, I do" She cuts her off, "you know I remember that day you came back from pre-school." She says after a pause.

"You were all covered in mud and I, god I was already half drunk trying to bury the guilt I felt for letting you go off like that. I was frantic after you left but when I called the school they said you were there. And then when you came home you seemed okay. Happy even. I was apologizing saying if there was anything you wanted when you turned to me and said in your little determined voice 'can I only wear pink?' It made me laugh because, well I'm sure you don't remember, but it had taken me an eon to get you to wear that jumper with the matching bow. So I took you out right then and we went and got only pink things. You even made me get you 5 of those pink dresses even though they were huge on you then." She chuckles then quiets giving Helga a loving look.

Helga, for her part, sits stock still in her chair almost floored. The idea that her mother was willingly talking about this made her face unbearably warm "I um, no I guess I don't, uh remember that."

Her mother smiles at her replying softly "no why would you sweetie? You were just a kid. You were just a little girl and I was supposed to be your mom. And I'm just so, so unlucky for having missed out on that. Because," she pauses smiling wearily searching for the words "you're everything."

Helga's eyes went wide.

"You're a smart, strong and talented woman and I know that I had no part in that." She paused again, "you know, I love your sister and all but I always felt closer to you. You and I were the runts, the unwanted ones." she sighs, "In truth I was only praising Olga because it was the only time your father every noticed me. The one good thing he acknowledged me for. And it shouldn't have been that way, he should have loved me for you both, hell, he should have just loved me." She trails off with a shrug of her shoulders defeated.

All of a sudden Helga feels like maybe this isn't such a good idea. There was no way she was going to stay in this sad cafe. She could make up an excuse she'd stay here a few days and then say Phoebe wanted her all to herself or something. She could take a room at the boarding house, anything to not be stuck here miring in their shared depressing past.

"I, I, I, um" she shakes her head at the ground, "I don't know what to say?" her voice lifting desperately.

And then fast enough to give her whiplash her mother smiles brightly and claps her hands. "Well! I'm a downer aren't I? Enough of this sad stuff, I'm sure you just feel all icky! I put some fresh towels and whatnot on your bed. Olga's coming over for dinner to gush over you." she teases. "We'll be eating dinner late k? Around 9:30-10:00?"

And with that her mother is ushering her up the stairs. Before reaching the landing Helga's struck by a thought, turning she smiles bashfully

"Uh Miriam has Olga read the book?" she asks with a crooked grin.

" Oh yes." her mother laughs and with that she turns into the living room on her way to the kitchen.