Helpless.
The word stays with me through the rest of the long night, through dreams of kings and goblins. I wake restless, as if something has been uncovered—but I don’t know what. I spend the day giving my mother a manicure, a mud mask. A whole spa day in the comfort of her own bathroom. Only after dinner, when I put her to bed, when she drifts to sleep, do I get in my leased BMW and drive to the library.
My tools are neatly stashed in the trunk. The place that I park is right next to the side door, which has a lock. I normally step inside and get to work, my mind already spinning with ideas of new things to try with the wall. Except tonight I’m more interested in what’s outside the library.
It’s not only being in this building, Harper. It’s the whole damn west side. We want to revital
