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Over the next two weeks, I ended up in San Francisco.  It was nice to get lost in a new city.  After the fifth day on my little getaway, I finally turned my cell phone off.  The calls started coming on the third day, asking where I was, why I had missed coffees, breakfasts, no one had seen me out those past few nights.  Apparently Bette stopped by both my apartment and work.  At least Sandra had told her I had asked for some time off.  But the calls kept coming from everyone, getting more worried, was I OK?  Where was I?  Bette’s last message before I turned the phone off sounded like she was trying hard to stay calm and even toned, but the frantic urgency was there.  Was I at least all right?  Did this have anything to do with that talk we had a month or so ago about running?  Why didn’t I come to her again?  Would I just be safe, let someone know I was OK…  While I appreciated everyone worrying, shit this whole thing was new to me…  I just couldn’t deal with it.  I wanted the freedom I always had, go where I want, when I want, no one to answer to, no one to tie me to… only deep down I knew that no longer was the case for me.

I was walking down Market Street towards the Ferry terminal when I was stopped by a lady collecting donations for a Children’s Welfare fund.  I scoffed and in my slightly buzzed state, told her it’d take a shitload more than donations to help children’s welfare.  She then seized the moment of my response and launched into what the money would go towards, like fixing up children’s homes across the state.  When I asked how money collected in San Francisco would benefit a children’s home in San Diego, she told me how her organisation was collecting across the state, all the money going to a state fund that worked in conjunction with CPS.  I once again scoffed at this, and told her if CPS was getting the money, then I could promise her the kids were not.  When she asked if I was aware of all the work CPS does with their over-stretched resources, I outright laughed at her.