The refrigerator hums. A beeping noise coming from the coffeemaker. Ashtray filled with Virginia Slims smoked down to the filter. Empty vodka bottles lined up on a shelf. She sits at the kitchen table and drinks a screwdriver from a juice glass.

Low sounds of a television set in the living room. Quincy M.E. is on with Jack Klugman solving another case. Her head is down. She is talking to herself, words slurred, and spit runs from the corner of her mouth.

Where’d you go? Ellen asks no one. New York? That’s right. Trying out for the Rockettes. I told everyone in town that my little girl is gonna be a Radio City Rockette. She laughs. That’s what I told everybody. Said you’d been working on your kicks. Never could go over your head. Ellen puts out another cigarette and pours another drink. This time, just vodka. 

Well. You left me. Left me here all by myself. I know. You had to go off and start your life. I get that. But….I feel so lonely. So lonely since you left me.

Momma. You left me a long time ago.

Stop it. She bangs her hand on the metal table. Just stop. Here you go again. Telling me my mistakes. You got no business in New York City. Probably a big shot now. Huh Meg. Probably married some well-off man about town. That could’ve been me. That should’ve been me, Meg. I gave up everything for you. Everything.  All by myself. Yes, ma’am. 

Pictures of Ellen when she was younger hang on the walls. Before the wrinkles and the red nose, the over-used eyeliner, she was a beautiful woman.

Framed photos of her mom sit on the TV. Black and white pictures of  Ellen and her mom standing behind Meg with their hands on her shoulders. There are no men in any of these pictures. Just women and a little girl.

Ellen stumbles into the living room with her glass of vodka. Quincy is over. Now, a woman and a man appear selling pots and pans. Both are smiling. They seem happy. Laughing and frying eggs in a non-stick pan. Mom never had it that good.