In my years at the county facility, I’d watched plenty of men grasp the cost only after the gate had locked behind them.

“The caseworker comes back Thursday morning,” I told him.

“You’ll be here on time, you’ll answer every question without raising your voice, and you’ll sign the safety agreement.”

Clay nodded slowly into his hands and didn’t look up.

At six o’clock the house was still except for the small yellow lamp glowing next to Benji’s bed.

Benji sat cross-legged on his quilt, holding the worn green tail of his stuffed dinosaur, while Clay sat on the edge of the mattress.

“Daddy has to stay over at Mark’s place by the rig yard for a little while,” Clay said, working to keep his voice steady as he smoothed the bedsheet.