"Where are you?"

I frowned at the crackling voice at the other end. The reception of this telephone booth was absolute shit.

"Crystal." The voice said, calm but firm. "Where are you?"

"I'm on the corner of Atwood and Burns." I answered.

The line went dead. Just the background crackling echoed in my ear. I hung the receiver up, my hands shaking from the cold. My fingertips were even turning blue. I hope I wouldn't get frostbite.

My overcoat wasn't keeping me very warm. It was old and ratty, with most of the front buttons missing. It revealed my 'get noticed' outfit. My short pleather miniskirt, the black fake velvet corset, and the fishnet stockings, all completed with knee high boots with three inch heels.

I didn't wear any jewelry except for earrings. Real gold hoops given to me from a customer, he hadn't had any money and offered me his wife's precious earrings. And I took them.

Hours started to pass. I tried to busy myself by preening my nails. I was a bit of an obsessive compulsive that way… trying to make myself look perfect in every little detail. It wasn't to impress the guys I met and did business with.

No, it was all for the guy on the phone.

My father.

He had been in and out of my life. Coming in when he felt like, left when it all got too much. My mom would take him and then usually kick back out again…yet they were still married to this day.

I never really understood their relationship. There was no equality, but there was no boss either. Either he barged himself in and barge himself out, or mom pulling him back in and then kicked him out. It was like a tug of war with both sides pulling the equal amount of weight.

Neither one had ever tried to even file for a divorce.

When I was younger I'd pester my mom about it. She'd tell me that she was busy or that I was little brat who only got in the way. When I got older I tried asking my dad, he just said that 'Some people never understand their lives.'

I knew I had been a mistake. One that hadn't been aborted because they had thought maybe I would fix their marriage, bring them closer together. But it hadn't happened that way, I had simply become the audience to their sick sitcom.

I looked at my watch. It had been almost two hours since he had hung up on the phone with me. He was always late, I knew this, but he always showed up. Plus he had promised me, promised to get me out of this city and take me somewhere better. I was sure he'd come.

The street wasn't busy. At this time of night, people were rarely around and no cars went down the street. It was just another lonely Saturday night in January.

Confused, I picked up the receiver again and called my house. No answer. Mom was working nights at the hospital again. That meant I'd have to go home all alone.

I tried to phone the hospital, begging the secretary to let me talk to my mom. She finally relented and got my mother.

"Crystal?" my mom's dry and scratchy voice from years of chain smoking cut through the bad reception of the phone that had turned into a buzzing sound.

"Hey Mom," I whispered. "Is Dad coming to pick me up?"

"He left honey." She said.

"But Mom…" I said a bit louder. "He had promised to stay this time or he was going to take me with him to Toronto."

My mom sighed. "Crystal, you should know by now that your father is full of shit and that he'll never do the things he says."

I was starting to cry now, my make up getting all smeared.

"Don't cry." My mother commanded. "If your done fucking all those rich business men, walk home."

The line went dead, the phone finally gave out.

I dropped the receiver, my hands shaking uncontrollably and no longer from the cold. I could feel my heart freeze up like ice and then shatter into a million pieces in my chest. The pain of it almost made me double over.

I had to walk home alone… all alone.

With tears running down my face, I finally realized what I should have realized long ago. Even if a man is your father…it doesn't mean he won't break your heart.