Supper tastes like raccoon shit. No message on the machine from Docker.

Dodging around the kitchen table and chairs, I flick out punches, ward them off, knees bent, my socked feet skidding on the pine boards. Then I lose my balance on the side kick, knock over a chair, and nearly follow it to the floor.

I can’t do anything right.

9.5 [painstaking]

ONCE FLOYD’S left for work on Friday, I hurry downstairs. Opal’s at the kitchen table with her coffee and the morning paper. I say, “I’m out for the day—I’ll be back at five. I’m leaving Cassie home.”

“I have an appointment this afternoon.”

“Cancel it.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, Brick, but I don’t care for it.”

“Do you want to know what Floyd did two days ago? He hit Cassie. It’s not the first time, either.”

“He wouldn’t do that.” But she looks uneasy.

“I saw him!”

Her mouth tightens. “Pete’s giving him a hard time at work.”

“And that’s supposed to make it okay? Opal, I’m never leaving her alone with him again. If I see him make one move toward her, I’ll call the cops.”

I say this with such conviction that I’m almost convinced. Opal shifts in her chair. “You mustn’t do that. I’ll watch over her today.”

Well, that was easy. “I took some new DVDs out of the library for Cassie. They’re on the coffee table.” Then I shove two pieces of bread in the toaster and throw together a sandwich for lunch.

At Della’s, I park the ATV behind the shed; I brought it so Opal would think I’ve gone to town. As Della steps down from the deck, she gives it a pointed look. “Walking is becoming obsolete,” she says. “Did the pamphlet make sense?”

I studied it while I was eating the toast. “I think so.”

“The gloves and boots are in the shed. A shovel and a crowbar are in there as well. The bathroom’s to the left of the kitchen, and there’s water in the refrigerator.”

I cut the grass first, to get that out of the way. Then I take the tools out of the shed, lay them on the grass, and stare at the tumble of rocks. All different shapes and sizes of rocks. Can I do this?

Panic is not an option.

I flip through the pamphlet again.

Half an hour later, four stakes mark the corners of the wall-to-be, cord pulled tight from stake to stake so the wall will be straight. Some of the footing has heaved, so I work on making it level, using the bumpiest stones. You bury the bumps, keeping the flat side up.