"You are definitely an idiot, Christina. Who drives off and leaves their purse and ID badge in their locker this many times? Now, not only do you have to go back to work during business hours, again, and tell security you are a dumbass, but if you get pulled over you are going get another ticket! That is something you really can't afford right now," the young woman muttered. With a sigh, Christina reached down and spun the car stereo's knob, sweeping the radio's orange needle through the succession of fading white numbers printed on its dial. She stopped turning when the indicator reached the center of the dimly lit display. Followed by a second or two of static, a distant radio station crackled through the speakers.

"...and that was Prince with Let's Go Crazy. Now, hold on to your hats folks, it's time for an hour of commercial free hit music right here on Classics K100!" the Dj puked. "So, let's kick it off with Mr. Mister's, Take These Broken Wings!"

Christina drummed her fingers on the weathered steering wheel cover. "Oh, well, there's nothing you can do about it right now, dummy," the young woman mumbled, and then with a shrug, began humming to the music thumping rhythmically throughout the vehicle.

Christina winced as she opened the top of her coveralls to rub her sore neck; this week had been a long one. Nevertheless, she really couldn't complain about her life at the moment...at least for the most part. This new assembly line job, one set up by her father's friend, was hard but it paid rather well. And now, since her shift was in the evening, she had been able to be at home with her five year old son, Samuel, more during the week. Rather than letting her mother and father feed Sam and take him to kindergarten, she could take a few hour nap and make him breakfast herself. She would drive her little boy to that overpriced school, pick him up afterward, and then take him to the park. Christina laughed. Just the mention of the latter would set Sam off like a lit bottle rocket. He couldn't get in the car fast enough to go play with his jungle gym buddies.

It was there at the playground where Christina began making a few friends, too. However, Christina's friends were more like mom acquaintances, since being a mother was where the similarities between their lives and Christina's ended. Those women were oftentimes stay-at-home mothers, nurturing their children while their husbands went to work. Christina was both mother and father in that regard and sometimes found it hard to relate to the stories of their nuclear family-style scenarios. She sometimes wondered if it wouldn't be better if Sam just permanently lived with her father and mother, at least until she got her life together. Damn her ex-husband for leaving them in this situation.

Regardless of what transpired, Christina knew full well she was a good mother and didn't necessarily need a man, especially if it was just to have one around for Sam. Her son's worthless father did enough damage to that relationship, too, and it put a sour taste in her mouth that would linger for at least the foreseeable future. Nevertheless, she still found that anytime the subject of Sam's father was broached it made her uncomfortable. 

Christina typically deflected the discomfort with a joke, especially when she was at the playground and a newly arrived married mother would ask her where the worthless bastard worked.

"If you look up 'stereotypical single working mother' in the encyclopedia, my picture would be right below the definition followed by that asshole's picture under the term 'dead beat dad',"  Christina would say. At this point, the questioner would fall silent, smile politely, and after spinning her wedding ring around a finger a couple of turns, return to quietly watching her children play, only occasionally producing a slight smile in the event of eye contact.

Waking Christina from her thoughts, the crimson glow of a changing stoplight pierced the foggy night air. The brakes on the old station wagon emitted a squeal as the vehicle slowed, its engine sputtering for a few seconds before racing back to a nice level rumble. "Don't you do it, you piece of crap!"