Page 74 of Enzo

I see possibilities. I see what that space could become.

“Do you see now why I thought it was important for you to see this?” Penelope's voice pulls me out of my vision.

“I do see.” Because in that instant I see so much.

“We could do so much more with that plot of land. There could be somewhere safe for the younger children to play, with benches around it so parents can sit and still see them. And we could have gardens. Not just pretty ones. Little raised beds where the children could grow things. Herbs and flowers they can touch and smell.”

I start to walk as the ideas come faster now.

“There could be an outdoor classroom. Somewhere we could take the children for story time when the weather's nice.”

I can already picture my class there, sitting in a circle on the ground. I scan around the vast space. This is so much bigger than the site near the school, but we still have space to do amazing things with it.

“There should be somewhere quiet too,” I suggest. “Some children don't like lots of noise. They need somewhere they can go when everything gets a bit too much.”

My mind starts to race as ideas spring up.

“Also, it shouldn't just be for little children. There could be somewhere for older kids too, so they're not taking over the little ones' play area.”

I turn to Penelope and smile because now I can see it so clearly.

“It could be somewhere everyone belongs.”

“And that's why you're here.” Penelope is watching me carefully, and I realize that I've boxed myself into a corner, again. I came here to prove I was the wrong person, but I've inadvertently proved Penelope right.

Yet the hard, bitter truth persists. I can't work on this project—because of Enzo—and I can’t tell anyone, least of all Penelope.

I smile at her. “I see.” That's all I manage to say.

But I have to walk away. I'll figure a way out later.

Penelope checks her phone.

“I have to go.”

“Another meeting?”

“Always.”

And just like that, she's gone. I continue to walk around the space, soaking in the atmosphere. This place is alive, and has a vibrancy that is hard to ignore. I buy a salad from one of the cafés and sit on one of the benches to eat it.

Excitement bubbles up inside me because I finally know what we can do with the neglected plot of land.

But then my hopes sink like a deflating balloon. I won’t be working on this. Once I get back home, I’ll email Penelope my final decision. The guilt dulls my mood, so I force myself to think of something else. Of the plans I have for the rest of my short time here.

I’ve already made a list: I'm planning on visiting Times Square, then Grand Central Terminal, then go on the free ferry to Staten Island, but not get off. I'm not paying to stand on an island.

I'll have dinner near Battery Park later this evening. Tomorrow I'll walk across the Brooklyn Bridge and then go to Central Park where I'll have a slice of pizza sitting on a bench.

I rummage around in my bag for some lip salve and see Enzo's mask wrapped in bubble wrap and tucked beneath my folded sweater. I'm fearful of breaking it, and it's taking up precious space. I packed light, but I want to buy a few souvenirs, so I need to get rid of the mask.

I need to give it back.

Not give it to him. I can't see Enzo. I can't face him, and I certainly don't want him to know that I'm here.

I'll just leave it at reception.

I look up the address of the Knight offices, and decide to make my way there.