As we ate lunch Sharon and I chatted and drank, I felt very comfortable with her that afternoon. I told her about my freshman year away at college and...the classes I was taking and stuff. We didn’t talk much on the phone, not that I called home very often anyhow. And Dad didn’t ask much about school, as long as I kept my scholarship he didn’t seem to care much about how I spent my time at school. Sharon had married my father when I was a sophomore in High School. My mom had died in a car. Shit!Is this what Jeff meant by her being an escape artist? She’d done the same thing yesterday, slipping away from class without me noticing and making me feel incompetent. I’d found her blithely sipping coffee at the courtyard café with a couple of other students, a twenty-something year old guy showing far too much interest in her. She seemed surprised at my snarl of anger. Didn’t she understand what my job was? Even if she wasn’t in danger, there were protocols that needed to be followed. More

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