The next morning early to the library, gritty eyed, the night before spent huddled against the body, unable to think, to sleep, bandaged hands curled against his chest. Karen’s car in the parking lot, engine running. He waits on the steps. She doesn’t come out. Two minutes. Five. He goes to the car, leans to look through the window. Her head on the wheel, hair obscuring her face. Hesitant knock on the glass. No answer. Says her name. Karen. Are you okay. The car unlocked, so. Go around. Opens the passenger door. Blast of heat and the smell of her so strong inside. Sweet over something sour. Her arm hanging limp at her side. What if. Dead or. But no, some sound coming from her, mumbling. What? Karen, it’s me, are you. And touching her arm, she lifts her head, what is that other smell. Realizing. Drunk. One kind of panic replaced by another. Here, can you sit up? Her head falling back, mouth open, she swallows. Squints. But can’t. Talk. Did you drive like this? No bottle in the car, but. A thermos in the cupholder. Sniffs it. Pure alcohol. Shit, he breathes. Her heavy exhale, unintelligible murmur. The parking lot not. Safe because. She could get in trouble or. Fired, if Greg finds out, reports her. Hand still on her arm to keep her from flopping over. Her cheek creased from the wheel. All that trash on the floor, clothes and plastic bags strewn over the backseat. Am I supposed to know what to do tell me what to do. Keys in the ignition. Drive her somewhere. Home. Glance at the library door and then. Kneeling on the seat, lean to grab her beneath the arms and slide her to the passenger side, legs catching on the center console, Xie pushing at her thigh, Karen can you. Move. Her eyes finally seeing him. Xie? Sharp movement of her head forward, almost clipping his nose. Xie panting. Yeah, it’s me. Fuck, she mumbles. Closes her eyes. He grits his teeth, hefting both her legs across the console, her shoe popping off her heel. Backs of her knees damp through her jeans, who knows how long she sat here with the heat on. Flesh slack in his arms, helpless. Settles her into the seat, pulls the belt across her hip. Her head sliding toward the window as he is about to close the door, he has to push her back, hard, shut the door and into the driver’s seat. Looks over the dashboard, slaps the heat off, hand trembling, wiping his face, quick, Okay, he says to himself, okay, putting his foot on the brake as he turns the key in the ignition. The car throbbing to life. Can’t manage reverse so eases forward. Slow through the intersection then. Up past the woods. Karen trying to fish a hair from her mouth. Please don’t move until we stop. On the incline has to. Press the gas. The car darts forward, almost missing a curve.