I invite you to read the first chapter of Quiet Room Charlee. Enjoy!

Ryan

Quiet Room

Charlee

Ryan Lee Klingensmith

© 2008 by Ryan Lee Klingensmith.

Preface

In 1994 I was a college student at Penn-State studying psychology. I

was learning the academics of psychology in my classes but I had a desire

to find out how all of the textbook information was used in the real world.

A friend of mine, Tina, was working part time at a psychiatric center that

was close to campus. She told me a little bit about her job, gave me

directions to the hospital and I was soon a direct care staff in a psychiatric

center.

It was a great job and I learned much about the field of mental health.

Little did I realize that I was beginning my career working with

residentially placed clients. Over the years I have worked various settings

such as the inpatient psychiatric hospital, a state hospital, shelter

programs for teens and long term residential treatment centers for

children and adolescents with mental health diagnosis.

When people ask what I do and I tell them that I work with children

and adolescents with mental health problems, I often get a response that

they or someone they know has a child or teen with behavioral problems.

These people have a story that is usually rather normal and fits the teenage

rite of passage. When I do not respond with an overwhelming response

of horror or “wow, that child is really a problem”, the person inquires

more into what exactly I do. I highlight examples of the children and teens

that I deal with daily and some of their histories. Without failure, the

expression on the person’s face is that of astonishment and unbelieving.

While working in these settings I realized that the area of residential

treatment for children and adolescents is generally unknown to the

community. Most people are not aware of the subculture of kids that have

been abused, neglected and abandoned and the residential treatment

programs that exist for these troubled youths.

The reason for writing this book is to help raise the awareness and

understanding of what happens in residential treatment with our children

and adolescents. These are the children that you do not know, you don’t

see playing basketball at the park, the children that are not at the local mall

shopping with their friends. These are the children that experienced more

unbelievable trauma in their short lifetime than most adults ever will. The

children that reside in these facilities account for a tiny percentage of

children in the United States, however when viewed as a statistic in the

treatment arena, there appears to be a huge population of children that

need these services. One organization I worked for had three campuses

that serviced over two hundred residents. The waiting list to get in to

these programs is often months long.

To help you understand this book better there are a few basic concepts

about residential treatment that you need to know. First, from this point

on I will refer to residential treatment as RTF (Residential Treatment

Facility) as that is what they are referred to in my community and sadly,

by the residents themselves. Second, I want to give you the basics of RTF

treatment and what that includes. Residential Treatment refers to

children and adolescents that are placed outside of the home, if there is

one. They live in a facility that provides twenty four hour treatment and

supervision.

The residents are provided with room and board, individualized

treatment and psychiatric follow up with a psychiatrist. Each RTF has a

contract with the county, state and other governing bodies that may vary

from state to state and county to county. For the purposes of this book,

I will use the practices and requirements set by my particular county and

state and the basic services that are provided in organizations located

within. The best way to experience RTF treatment is through the eyes of

the resident.

The book was written from the perspective of a resident whom has

been in RTF’s before and is well experienced in the system. In viewing

treatment through his experiences, it will allow you to understand what

these kids encounter on a daily basis throughout the course of their

treatment. For many of these residents the understanding of reality and

how communities work has been severely skewed due to trauma they

have experienced. Therefore Charlee, the resident that you will follow

through this book, has been generated with a better grasp on how systems

work than many of his peers that he meets through his stay at the

treatment facility. This is to enable you, as the reader, to be better able to

grasp reality of how RTF’s work and the experiences that the residents

have in them.

The main character and his peers were created by combining different

traits of the hundreds of kids I have worked with over the years. No

specific child is represented, however, most of the experiences that are

presented have been a part of a child’s life. Each resident you will read

about presents histories and behaviors that are commonly seen in RTF’s.

I had a hard time putting names to the characters as after years of working

with children and teens, there seems to be few names that I haven’t dealt

with.

I have done my absolute best to bring to you reality, but also provide

confidentiality. The reason I am using pieces of actual life histories is

because trying to create residents and scenarios would not do justice to

the reality of what children today are faced with, even in a society where

the general public would not believe such abuses occur.

In this story, I dip into various treatments that occur in RTF’s. I didn’t

take Charlee and the reader far into therapy sessions as that could have

made this book very lengthy. I focused the flow of the book on taking

Charlee and the reader from admission to discharge and all of the

experiences that occur in between.

“Experience is not what happens to you, it is what you do with what

happens to you.”

—Author Unknown

Chapter 1

September

Another admission date arrived for Charlee. He left the Lifebidges

shelter in the morning to drive half way across the state to go to a place

he hadn’t been before. Just a new place where I can fuck up, he thought.

It represented his sixth RTF placement since his life had been turned

upside down. Foster care, shelters, group homes and RTF’s had been his

homes for the last five years. Sometimes he thought he just wanted to sit

in detention till he turned eighteen in July. He felt like he couldn’t wait.

Hopefully I can stay at this place till July and then it is outta here, he told

himself. He’d lived at other RTF’s and sometimes the same one twice.

This place was new. He’d heard of it before from some boy’s that he

roomed with at Lifebidges. They said that The Amos Home was a tough

RTF and be prepared for asshole staff.

Charlee could handle asshole staff. They have fucked with him before

and he showed them. But that wasn’t what he was worried about. He

didn’t want another therapist who was going to press him for things that

he hadn’t talked about before and that he didn’t need to talk about.

Talking is for pussies, he thought as the car pulled into the driveway of

The Amos Home. Just waste my time till July and them I am out O U T!!!

What a long fucking car ride.

The car halted and his neck was stiff from leaning on the window for

the last two hours. He wrenched his head straight. Charlee took a deep

breath and unleashed the sloppy seatbelt of the Civic.

“We’re here Charlee. You ready?” Meredith his Children Youth and

Family (CYF) caseworker asked.

“Guess I have to be. Is this the place?” he responded with a yawn.

“Yes it is. Nice isn’t it?” she encouraged.

Charlee stepped out of the car and looked at the outside of the

building. It was a three story brick building. It reminded Charlee of a

southern tobacco mansion. It had tall pillars in the front that held up a

roof that covered the entrance porch. It wasn’t much of a porch; just

enough to keep your stuff dry if it was raining while you unloaded your

car. Charlee looked to both sides of the building and noticed huge white

pealing sycamore trees and an expansive lawn to either side. Young

children, maybe ten or eleven, played and there were adults sitting on

picnic tables with clipboards that were watching over them. Charlee

recognized the clipboard holders as staff.

“Let’s get your stuff and head on in,” Meredith stated optimistically.

She had been his caseworker for many years and she was one of the few

people that Charlee almost trusted. She has been by his side for every

discharge and admission between all of his various placements through

the years. She has been there since the beginning when he left his home.

He hated her initially, but began to like her as the years went on. He

understood her lot in life and why she was in his. He didn’t always agree

with her, but she was consistent. For this she got some points from

Charlee. Not many acquired points in Charlee Lewis’s life.

He walked around to the back of the Honda as Meredith opened the

trunk. She reached for several small black trash bags that were part of

Charlee’s Sac’s Fifth Ave collection of disposable luggage. It was pretty

standard for kids in placement. The bags were easily acquired, easily

disposed of, were cheap and did not take up storage space at the facility.

“I’ll get that stuff Meredith,” Charlee explained with an empathy he

had for nice women in his life. “I’ll carry my stuff, you don’t need to.”

“Let me carry something Charlee, I’m not incapable,” she said with a

smile and elbowed Charlee gently. He let her to take two small bags that

had his shampoo and soap and things of that nature. He allowed himself

to smile back at her.

They walked up the two steps under the overhang. Charlee set down

one of his bags to open the door to the lobby. He let Meredith carry her

bags in first along with an envelope containing his paperwork. Charlee

knew that in the envelope was his history, medical card and his birth

certificate. He likened it to the deed to a property or the title to a car.

These documents were to be passed on to the next buyer who would

analyze them and figure out how to work with Charlee. What a load of shit

he thought.

“Hi, I’m Meredith Thomas,” she said to the receptionist. I am here to

meet Caroline Carter. I am Charlee Lewis’s caseworker. He is scheduled

for admission today. She leaned on a hip easing her weight from the bags.

“You can sit down in the lobby and I will call Caroline. She was in a

meeting, but it should be over now. Please read this confidentially waiver

and sign it, then put some name tags on.” The receptionist handed

Meredith a binder that had ‘Visitor Log’ written on it and two name tags

along with a Sharpie pen. Meredith sat down in a chair close to the

reception window and started filing out the visitor log. Charlee moved his

bags out of the way and sat down on a green floral couch in the lobby.

Charlee looked around as he waited. He saw pictures of the facility that

were taken from the air and pictures of other Amos Home sites that

apparently were in the area. He noticed the plaques from various

accreditation associations that The Amos Home was accredited by. To

the left of the couch was a bulletin board with a locking glass cover.

Behind the glass appeared a sheet of paper and then a picture of a person

with ‘Employee of the Month’ written above. He couldn’t read the blurb

underneath or see the person’s name, but he could tell that she was a

younger looking blonde girl.

When he was thrown into the system, Charlee became aware that there

were a lot of women working in these places. He realized the women to

men ratio greatly favored the women in all the places he had been. Most

of his teenage male friends also noticed it. He met many that took

advantage of it. They would try getting away with things that they

wouldn’t try with male staff. Some boys would use the women for their

own budding sexual urges. He’d met boys that would get restrained on

purpose so they would have women laying on them. Sicko’s he thought.

Cute college undergrad girls were a common thread in the social work

field.

Meredith finished signing in and sat down beside Charlee. She

attempted small chat, but Charlee sat quietly and waited for the case

manager from The Amos Home. He watched the mailman deliver a

package and the receptionist hand him the outgoing mail. She answered

calls and divert them to extensions memorized long ago. He listened to

her page supervisors and therapists using the overhead speaker system.

The lobby felt like a family business. It was warm, inviting, peaceful and

quiet. Charlee thought it was a good sign.

A woman with straight short brown hair came smiling up to them with

her right hand extended. “Hi, I’m Caroline. I will be Charlee’s case

manager. You must be Charlee.” Charlee stood and extended his hand

and shook hers without speaking.

“I’m Meredith, we spoke on the phone,” Meredith stated as she rose

and shook Caroline’s hand more pleasantly than Charlee.

Caroline directed her gaze back to Charlee. He noted that she was a

pretty woman about twenty-two years old. She had a perfect smile and

freckles highlighted from the summer sun. He grinned with pride that his

assumption that The Amos Home would be dominated by pretty young

women had started off was correct.

“Well it’s nice to meet you Charlee. I hope your trip was good,” she

said.

“It was OK”, he said. A simplistic teenager sentence.

Charlee and Meredith bent to pick up his black latex luggage.

“You don’t need to bring that with you now,” Caroline said, “we can

come back and get it after the admission stuff.

Charlee and Meredith righted themselves and followed Caroline down

the hall. They walked past the glass cabinet that Charlee had seen. The

posted paper had a sign above it that said ‘Schedule’ and as he walked

further he saw the first name of the Employee of the Month. Her name

was Bethany. They walked though a set of doors that led to the cafeteria.

There were around twenty kids in the room at different tables. The

older boys were sitting together and the younger boys were sitting

together beside them. The younger boys looked to be elementary school

aged and were finishing their lunch. The older boys appeared to just be

starting a lunch that smelled of fried chicken. They noticed Charlee as he

walked in but continued to talk with each other and followed his trail past

them. As he rounded the vending machines he heard a few boys began to

talk to each other about the ‘new guy’.

Charlee was a good looking kid, at least that’s what he had been told

by adults and girls he dated. He was five foot ten inches and weighed one

hundred and ninety pounds. He felt that he was a little overweight for his

height, but he was only seventeen and hoped he wasn’t done growing and

stretching in the awkward way teenage boys do. He had dark brown rail

straight hair that hung to his ears with eyes to match. He had grown a

shadow of a mustache that was honorable but paled to a man’s facial art.

He wore typical teenage clothes and sported a sag in his pants. He wasn’t

the type of guy that let them hang on his thighs, but he did present a

generous picture of his Joe Boxers.

He tried to be trendy with his clothes, but it was difficult when he had

no personal income and relied on placements to provide his clothes.

Many places provided clothes from stores like K-Mart or Wal-Mart. At

one placement, there was a catalogue that the adults ordered clothes from

for the residents based upon their size. There was no picking out clothes

at that place. He had gotten some pretty awful stuff there. When he left,

he donated some of the worst stuff to his peers, partially because he was

growing out of them, but mainly because they were hideous.

Charlee glanced across the cafeteria to assess his soon-to-be peers. He

had been the new guy many times before and was worn to the feeling. He

learned how to fit in as quickly as possible. These places allowed for it to

be pretty easy to jump right in. There was always a common bond…to get

out.

He noticed that every table had about five residents and at least one

staff member. He saw that some kids were still watching him, while others

turned back to their lunches. Some kids spoke softly and others were loud

and bouncing in their chairs.

“Did you guys eat?” Caroline asked.

 “No, were drove straight here. We didn’t want to be late for our

appointment with you,” Meredith said.

“I will have the cafeteria make you some trays,” Caroline said. She

walked to the head of the serving line and spoke to one of the cafeteria

workers. The worker nodded and Caroline walked back to Charlee and

Meredith. “They are going to make you trays. We have to go to the

nursing department now for the nursing assessment.”

Caroline led them to the end of the cafeteria and through a series of

corridors and entrances and finally to an open door. She knocked but

didn’t wait for a response as she entered waiving Charlee and Meredith in

behind her.

“This is our nursing department and this is Faith. She is one of our

RN’s.”

“Hi, I’ll be doing your nursing assessment. You must be Charlee.”

Faith shook his hand.

“Charlee, Meredith and I can fill out some paperwork in my office

while you meet with the nurse to save some time. Is that OK?” Caroline

asked.

“I don’t care,” Charlee responded. He did care and needed Meredith

to be there with him, but he was never good at clarifying his feelings. He

often took the hard guy approach. Caroline and Meredith left the nurses

office.

He had been through many nursing assessments before and knew the

drill. It was an inspection of the physical body before admission, a prepurchase

check for dents, scratches or flat tires. There would be one

before his discharge also. He had asked nurses at other places why there

were so many assessments during admissions and discharges. Most nurses

gave the politically correct answer such as ‘that’s why we are here’ or

‘because it’s our job’.

One nurse he asked was more honest with him. She told him that it was

to make sure that he had all of his vaccinations and that he didn’t have any

diseases, lice or communicable issues that could be transmitted to the

other kids and staff. She told him that she had to check for any injuries

that were present when they came so the kids couldn’t blame staff for any

injuries that occurred before admission. This nurse told him of a girl that

she admitted who had a broken bone in her hand from punching a wall

before she was admitted. The girl never told the nurses when they did the

assessment and they hadn’t been able to detect the broken bone from

observations. The girl told her CYF worker that she broke it during a

restraint and staff did it on purpose. The nurse told Charlee that the

physical assessment was to avoid ‘concerns’ such as that.

Charlee sat through the assessment and answered the questions that

Faith asked. He had been through so many assessments in his short life

that he felt he could conduct the assessment himself. He sometimes

thought about being a nurse when he got out of these places. He also

thought of being a counselor because he felt like he knew what to tell

people. He had so many counselors combined from all the places he had

been and he knew what questions were coming and the right answers. He

wanted to help people on the days that they didn’t piss him off. On the

days that people pissed him off, he cared less about helping anyone else.

On those day’s he didn’t even care about himself and he hated people

who pissed him off.

“So Charlee, is this the first place you’ve been?” nurse Faith asked him

softly. She tilted her head slightly awaiting an answer.

“No”, he spat. He felt himself getting irritated with her niceness. She

was an attractive person, maybe thirty with reddish tinted hair that

couldn’t hide fresh dye. He wanted to be nice and start fresh, but he was

tired of sitting in the nurse’s office that stunk of antiseptic and was

decorated with nursey type things such as posters of nurses and quotes

about how wonderful nurses were. He felt his skin warm with all of the

niceness in the room. He clenched his teeth hoping Faith didn’t notice.

“I have been in other places.”

Faith looked at him with gentle eyes, a nurse’s eyes. Eyes that could

treat a dirty, uncared for infection and smile while doing it. Eyes that

wanted to help the body of others when the person could not do it

themselves. He felt himself pulling away from his anger. He looked at her

chin, then lips and finally into her eyes.

“Sorry, I hate going through all of this stuff over and over,” he

admitted to her.

“I understand. I have admitted many boys, and I don’t often see one

that is happy to be here and who remembers all the stuff we ask about

immunizations and other things they really don’t care about. Can I do

anything for you since we are done and your caseworker isn’t back yet?”

Charlee shook his head.

“I’ll call Caroline and let her know that you are done.”

She walked across the sterile white tile to the phone and dialed a three

digit extension.

“Caroline, it’s Faith. Charlee is ready in nursing. Are you close to being

done?” Charlee heard Faith’s side of the conversation and assumed that

Caroline and Meredith were finishing up. Faith hung up and confirmed

his assumption.

She sat on an office chair and did paperwork while they waited for

Caroline and Meredith to come back. Charlee breathed deep and looked

around the room. He saw the inspirational posters and how the room was

decorated to try to make it more ‘homey’ than a typical doctor’s office. He

thought about wanting to make a fresh start and how he wanted to make

this his most successful and last placement all in the same. By the time that

Meredith and Caroline returned for him, he put on a smile and washed

over his angry thoughts with ones of hope.

Caroline took Charlee and Meredith on a tour of the campus. She

showed them the outside play area with basketball courts, a tennis court

and a large field for activities. Caroline took them to the gym and told

Charlee that every unit had assigned times to use the gym. With the lights

out it was dank and made Charlee feel hollow. She led them to the

residential area of the building where the kids lived. She explained that

there were five units in the main building. Caroline said that since the

other children were in school she would take them on a tour of the other

units. The first unit housed fifteen younger boys and girls aged six to

twelve. It was decorated with handmade little children pictures of the sun

and construction paper hands. The next unit was the middle aged boys

which had seventeen boys that were from ages twelve to fifteen. It

expressed budding teens with posters of bands in their bedrooms and

sports cars in the hallway.

They walked down steps and through another corridor. There were

doors to another unit and Charlee could see in. The unit was painted

yellow and had more decorations than the past two. Caroline explained

that it was the girls unit and there were ten girls aged twelve to eighteen.

They didn’t go onto the unit. Caroline said that boys were not permitted

on the girls unit and vice versa. They walked down another set of steps

and were back in the lobby.

“We can get your things and take them to your unit now,” Caroline

said, “I can help you carry your stuff to your room.”

Charlee had never been to a place where the case worker helped him

carry his life possessions. He was a little surprised, but thought that she

may have been offering just to make a good impression with Meredith.

The each took a couple bags of his clothes packed ever so carefully in

black latex. They walked to the a door attached to the lobby. It had

welcoming decorations made out of construction paper and glue on it.

‘Welcome to the Boys Advancement Unit,’ it read. There were morphed

smiley faces drawn on it and stickers of different rock bands stuck to it.

Caroline opened the door and held it for them.

Charlee and Meredith walked in and navigated to the living area. It was

a small room with two couches and a television set facing them. There

was a desk covered in papers with two office chairs around it pressed

against the back of one couche. The walls were painted white and there

were five doorways on the left side of the hallway and two more on the

opposite side. Each door was painted a different color and had

homemade decorations on them. Above each doorway was a name cut

out of construction paper and taped to the wall. It was obvious to Charlee

that they were the names of the kids on the unit and these tags defined

their room. Charlee made these signs for his room at other placements

and knew the drill.

He felt that staff made them make their names and put them above

their doors for two reasons. One was to keep the kids busy cutting out

their names and the other was because the staff could not remember

whose room was who’s. He looked at the name above a doorway. ‘

Troy.’  Caroline walked into the middle of the unit and put Charlee’s bags

down on the floor between the couches and the TV. Meredith and

Charlee followed suit and stood in the living room looking around. There

was a huge dry erase board with bright colors on it and several boys’

names. He read them to himself. Clay, Marty, Jeff B, Rich, Jeff S, Tim and Troy.

He counted the names, including him, there were eight boys on the

unit. He had been in places before that housed six, eight, ten and even

twelve boys. Beside each boys name was a colored dot. They were red,

yellow or green. Richs name had a blue colored dot beside it. He had seen

the red, yellow and green colors before but never the blue.

“Would you like to see your room Charlee?” Caroline asked.

“Do I have a roommate?” Charlee asked in reply.

“Yes, his name is Rich and I think you’ll really like him. He’s a pretty

good kid and stays out of trouble.”

“Ya, I guess you can show me.”

Caroline led Charlee the fifteen feet from the living room to a doorway

that was painted yellow. Above it in red construction paper was the name

Rich. Caroline stepped aside and let Charlee lead into the room. He

entered and his first thought was that the room was too small for two

people. The room had an alcove to the left where there was a bunk bed.

It was nicely arranged but very small.

“I know it’s kind of small, but it’s all we have,” Caroline said. She

smiled an ‘I’m sorry’ smile. “But it does have a nice view.”

Charlee walked to the window born at the beginning part of the

twentieth century. It was propped open by a garbage can and had a

permanent screen attached to the outside, keeping the customers from

leaving. He leaned into it and looked out.

He saw a green field with little boys playing kickball with adults. The

bases were not purchased in a store, but the kind created from years of

crushing Nike’s, Reeboks and Hush Puppies. Harmless dust released to

the air with every excited step. His mind wandered as he starred at the

children. He thought of when he was that age, of when he played kickball

on a crowded field during recess in a public school. His life a little more

normal. He thought of when he was happy and laughing like the children

outside. He thought it was a long time ago.

“So what do you think Charlee?” Meredith pulled him back to the

present.

“It’s fine.”

“You can hang up some pictures and posters and whatever you would

like, provided it’s appropriate,” Caroline assured him. Charlee knew how

things were hung up in RTF’s. Not with a nice neat picture frame and a

nail. Favorite pictures were hung with scotch tape, masking tape or duct

tape. Those were the only options in RTF. Nothing sharp or dangerous.

“OK.”

They went back to the living room where Charlee, Caroline and

Meredith began sorting through his belongings. She marked everything

with his initials. Every piece of clothing, every personal belonging, even

every baseball card was ruined with initials.

The first placement he was in initialed his belongings the same way. He

was OK with his clothes being marked. When they put his initials on his

baseball cards, he flipped out. He punched the person doing the initialing

and ended up in a restraint for an hour. At that time he didn’t know that

if it wasn’t marked, it would be stolen. He found out that it was a necessary

evil of being in placement. If it doesn’t get marked it will be stolen. Even

when things were marked, they still get stolen. Sometimes staff caught

who did it, sometimes he never saw the item again. It all depended on

what the thief did with it.

Charlee folded his clothes after they were marked and took them to his

room. He tried to put them in order, but it was hard to tell where his part

of the room ended and Rich’s began. He did his best to be respectful and

to make his part of the room neat. He wasn’t sure which bed was his, so

he put his personal pillow on the dresser until Rich came back from

school. Several placements ago, Meredith bought him his own pillow for

Christmas. Placement pillows were very uncomfortable and made of

plastic for cleaning purposes. They are flat, stiff and the plastic makes a

rustling noise when you move your head. One of Charlee’s personal

pleasures was his own, cotton stuffed pillow with his initials on the tag.

After they were finished marking and putting his life savings away,

they went to the cafeteria. Several girls were lined up waiting to leave.

Staff stood beside them with clipboards and pens in hand. The adults

asked the girls to be quiet. Once they were, the staff motioned for them

to walk down the hallway. A parade of mental health kids, Charlee

thought, another placement constant.

They walked to the serving line and waited. An older lady whom

optimized the typical lunch lady image appeared from behind a

refrigerator door. She was dressed in white and had a hair net in her

graying permed short hair. She smiled at them.

“Hi Caroline, what can I do for you?”

“Hi Thelma, this is Charlee, he’s new here today. He’ll be on the older

boys unit.”

“Nice to meet you Charlee, I’m Thelma, one of the cafeteria workers

here. I saved you guys some lunch trays.”

“Thanks Thelma,” Caroline said.

They took the trays and went to an empty round table. They sat down

and opened the Styrofoam trays that held their meals. Chicken, I knew it,

Charlee thought. They ate their meals with Caroline asking polite

questions and Charlee and Meredith answering. Just part of the bullshit

that goes with a new placement Charlee felt. It seemed to Charlee that he

was starting all over again….again.

After lunch they returned to the lobby. Charlee knew this was the time

that came after each admission. “I have to get going now Charlee,”

Meredith said softly.

“I know,” Charlee said.

“You can call me anytime you want,” she soothed.

“I know.”

“I’ll call you in a couple days to see how you are doing.”

“OK.”

“And I’ll be seeing you at your meeting in December,” she reminded

him.

“OK.”

“I’ll talk to you later then Charlee. Good luck and listen to the people

here. They are here to help you. Talk to your therapist and try to stay out

of trouble…OK?”

“Ya, I suppose.”

“Can I get a hug goodbye?” Meredith asked. It was more for her than

for Charlee. She hugged his stiff body without saying a word. She released

her grip on him and walked out the door. He watched her get in her car

and leave. He was alone again. He wondered if he would be alone his

whole life. He was scared and tired. It was a sickly feeling that he knew a

lot about. He didn’t want to be scared anymore.