Where is she, where is she?

On Christmas Eve I went to visit Jason. As I sat in the office waiting, I could hear him asking the clinician, "Where is she, where is she?" I stood up to hug him and I could see where a fist graced his face. He said that he was thinking about calling me. "I was!" he said, enthusiastically, assuring me that he was thinking about me. "Tell me about Africa," he asked. I started to tell him how beautiful it is and how I would love to take him there. I can see him traveling, imagining as I talk. I can tell it is helping him escape the four walls of the Department of Youth Services. I pause. I look at him with my eyes full of sorrow and disappointment--my Jason, with a reddish black eye, entrapped. I shouldn’t have gone to South Africa. I wonder if I had been here, would he be incarcerated now? Would Rich be on the run, running from the Boston Police Department? I wonder. "I could be doing something else T," he said. "I could be doing something else." I mustered up all the hope I could find in me and said, "It is going to be all right."
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