Nobody

Must Work Harder

The dumpsters were dropped off by lunch. I'd woken up screaming again, trying to find Pru, sure it was blood on my face instead of sweat. My screams had echoed in the trees, and I'd sat on the tailgate and cried for almost ten minutes. Afterward I had started working on the back porch, holding the design in my head and working hard to make it a reality.

Chuck and his boys showed up at a quarter after eight. The boys climbing down in the septic tank, Chuck going over to the well. I was building the railing when Chuck came up, waiting for me to finish with the nailgun.

"The well's intact," he told me. "Water's good and clear, it was dug to seventy feet."

I lit a cigarette, waiting for the bad news.

"Your pump is shot. Mostly rusted out. I can install a new one in about two hours," he told me. "It's gonna run you about five bills."

"Go ahead," I told him.

"You don't mess around, Sam," he said, looking at the porch.

I shrugged. "I'm older now, a little slower than I used to be."

"I'll install the pump, start on the underside plumbing," he told me.

"Ayup," I said.

He waited a moment, maybe for me to say more, then headed for his van.

I was putting the weather sealing on the front porch when the two truck showed up carrying the two dumpsters. They set them both down off to the side of the pallets of supplies. I asked the crew if they wanted to make a quick hundred bucks each, and when they agreed, they threw the trash into one of the half-full dumpsters on the truck while I finished the weather sealing. When they were done, I paid them, and went back and checked on the stain on the back porch.

It was still damp in spots, so I started pulling the shingles off the wood shed and the tool shed. Once I was done, I stripped off the tar paper and went to work.

Chuck came by to tell me the pump was good and that he was going to start laying the pipe. I waved at him, and went back to work.

When Chuck came by the tool shed to tell me that he and his boys were knocking off, I was putting the sheet metal cap on the tool shed.

Once it was dark I climbed under the trailer and unrolled the sheeting to cover the ground under the trailer. Once I was done with that I started attaching the plastic sheeting to the underside of the trailer, making sure to slice water draining slits in the plastic and then use duct tape to border the slits to keep them from stretching out.

That done, I went back out and went to bed.

God laughed at me as I dreamed of Pru calling my name in the ranch house, every time I went into a room she was calling for me from another. The ranch house full of smoke or mist, my limbs heavy, unable to catch my breath.

When I found her, she was dead, in our bed, a slightly smile on her face.

I woke up screaming.

It had become a morning ritual. Wake up screaming. Drink a bottle of water. Run through katas to ease my sore muscles. Eat an orange. Take a whore's bath. Get dressed.

Go back to work.

Chuck and his boys showed up again promptly at eight, the boys starting to haul up the cut blocks of solidified sewage in plastic bags, Chuck himself working on replacing the pipes.

It was a hot day as I spread the second coat of sealant on the front porch. I didn't bother putting sealant on the back porch so that Chuck and I could use that door to go in and out of the house. All of the walls that didn't have plumbing I put the insulation in place, taped it securely, then began putting up the drywall.