Cynthia sat nursing a gin and tonic as the other customers in the bar began to slowly dwindle. It was late and she had hoped to go home with a man tonight. She didn't want to be alone for the weekend. The bartender, Hank, casually walked over, a towel in one hand, and wet glass in the other.

"Hey, hon, why don't you give it up and go home to your son?"

"It's not closing time yet," she replied, "and Seth is spending the weekend with my parents."

"He's been doing that a lot lately hasn't he?"

Cynthia shot a withering look at Hank, and took another sip of the cool drink that burned her lips and throat, and sighed. If only she could find a man to replace her David. Seth needed a father, and she needed companionship--if only for a night or two.

"It's getting late," Hank pointed out.

"It's not like I'm the last one here. Who's that chick across the bar? She looks worse off than me."

"I don't really know," he said. "It's her first night. A couple of the regulars tried to speak to her, but she brushed them off."

"I'm going to go talk to her. What's she drinking?"

"Sprite with grenadine. Nothing else."

"Don't you find that odd?"

"Nothing that happens in this bar ever surprises me," Hank said.

He returned to drying glasses as he watched Cynthia saunter over to the other side of the bar and sit down. She offered a fresh drink to the stranger.

"Hi," Cynthia said.

At first the stranger didn't respond. She continued to sip her watered down drink and stare ahead, and then slowly and cautiously, she turned to face the woman who sat beside her.

Cynthia held out the fresh drink and the stranger took it carefully. She couldn't help but notice there was something familiar about the other woman's eyes. Maybe it was just the same look of desperation she had in her own.

"Thanks," the woman said. "My name is Sammie."

"And mine is Cynthia. Do you mind if I join you?"

"Not at all."

"You look pretty sad," Cynthia said. "What's going on?"

"Well, I've had a pretty hard life. I was homeless for awhile, abused drugs, and alcohol, and made plenty of bad decisions, but I'm trying to turn things around this time."

"That's good, isn't it? I mean, you are drinking a Shirley Temple. Looks like you've gotten past the alcohol problem."

"That's true. I've started going to church, and even met a really nice guy."

"So why are you so sad? All of these changes are good."

"I have a secret that's eating me alive."

"We all have secrets," Cynthia sympathized. "Whatever you did, just tell your new male friend about it, and if he's the kind of guy you hope he is, then he will understand, and if not, then you are better off without him."

"I sold my son when he was a baby," Sammie blurted out. "Not only does that make me look like a bad mother, but it makes me feel like one, too. I think about him, you know, and worry about whether or not he's happy."

"I'm sure you will always be concerned, but don't you mean you gave him up for adoption?"

"Technically, yes, but they paid me quite a lot of money for 'pre-adoption care'."

Cynthia got really quiet. Now she knew why the woman looked so familiar. Seth looked just like her. Seth, whom she had gotten from a ragged homeless woman who approached her and David on the street one day. That woman, Cynthia realized, sat beside her now. Sure, she was older and cleaner, but it was the same person, she was sure of it.

They had been unable to have a child of their own and the traditional adoption process took years to complete. After paying this woman a rather large sum of money, they did adopt Seth, but, like Sammie said, they basically bought him.

Seth had meant so much to her and David, but when David was killed by a drunk driver, she lost sight of what was most important. She had been indulging in self pity. How many times had she neglected the one male who needed her most?

"Good luck," Cynthia said. "Enjoy your drink."

"Thank you," Sammie said. "Take care of our boy."