Remember college? Waking up and seeing that ceiling and not knowing where the hell you were or who you had slept with the night before? We were like rabbits on Quaaludes.

That was my thought as I stared at this semi-familiar ceiling, but I knew where I was. Christine brought me back to her place last night after a second round of brandy. I asked her to take me home, but she refused. I pretended to mind.

Christine was depressed about her friend so we talked about big things. Life affirming things, and once at her place, there was no stopping her. It was a primal need that Christine needed to meet. There was no talking, only knowing.

I think we fell asleep around two. I looked at the clock which read 6:30. I shot out of bed and jumped in the shower and because I was racing, stubbed my toe stepping over the forth wall of the bathtub. Christine stayed passed out. I didn't have time to leave a note. I figured I would call her later.

*****

I wasn't too late. I should make it before Helen. And I did. I drove in and saw no black Saab. I ran to the wardrobe trailer, grabbed a pair of sweats and Helen's first costume change, then ran back to Helen's trailer and hung them in the closet. I opened the door to leave and Helen stood at the bottom of the trailer steps.

"You look a little tired." She said looking up at me with her right hand on her hip.

"Yeah." I stepped back to let her through. She turned before entering all the way and yelled, "John, where the fuck is John?"

A few people mumbled, "I don't know" and other lame answers so she yelled again, "Somebody find fucking John!" And she let the door slam shut behind her. Without looking at me she said, "So what did you do last night?"

"I went out with a friend, to dinner." I said, crossing my arms.

"Oh yeah? Where did you go?" She said raising her voice at the end of her sentence as if baiting me for something.

"Chinois." I said proudly.

Then she slumped into a chair. "Where the fuck is John?"

"I'll go get him."

"No! He should be here when I get here."

I opened the door and I saw John frantically running from his car. I rushed him even more, waving for him to hurry. He jumped the two steps, landing in the trailer and breathing heavily. "And where the fuck were you? I had to scream your name across the fucking parking lot."

"Sorry, I was late. My father's in the hospital."

"Oh." Helen's guilt was clearly visible. "Sorry. Do you need to go?"

"No, no. He's all right now."

"Is he still in the hospital?"

"Yeah, but he'll be going home tomorrow."

Trying to overcompensate for her brashness, she said, "Look, if there's anything you need, just let me know."

"Sure, no problem. You want some coffee?" John said calmly.

"No, it's all right. Fran will get me some."

John left and when I turned to Helen, she looked sad. I couldn't think of a thing to say and I just stared at her. She glanced up and said, "Fran, I don't mean to be a prick. I really don't." And she started to cry. Still not knowing what to say I went to sit close to her and she waved me away. "Just go get me some coffee, all right?"

"No problem." And I softly, as if the slightest sound would hurt her, left. John stood outside the door and walked me to the coffee pot.

"So your dad's sick?"

"No." He bounced when he walked as if he just won a prize. "But she'll stay off my back for awhile though." He grinned at me and I couldn't help but smile back.