I paused on the sidewalk directly in front of their front door. If they’d looked out the window, they would have seen me out there. The voices grew louder, and I felt like an intruder. A few words reached me, snatches of the fight. Her . . . Did you do that to her? . . . I didn’t . . . Not that . . . I resolved to go on, to let them have their privacy, even as the fight I watched seriously dented the notions I’d been carrying about them. I tore myself away. I took a step to the left, moving up the street.

That’s when he did it.

She continued to poke her finger at him, and he made a quick movement with his left arm, swiping it up and knocking her hand out of his face. He followed that up by taking a step forward. Threatening.

I decided. Almost before I knew what was happening, I was going up the steps, Grendel by my side. I reached the porch and went through the wide-open door and made a right turn toward the dining room. When I did, I saw the blond head disappearing into the kitchen, leaving her husband behind. He must have heard me because he spun around, his face still contorted by anger.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Is she okay? I heard the yelling. I saw you swing at her.”

“I didn’t swing at her.”

“Is she okay?” I asked again. “I’m calling the police. This isn’t right.”

Some of the anger drained from his face. He came back to himself. Tension went out of the muscles in his neck and shoulders. He straightened up, no longer in a defensive crouch that looked like a prelude to a fight.

He looked and sounded like a man trying to defuse.

“It’s okay,” he said. “We just had an argument, that’s all. A misunderstanding. It happens, and that’s all it was. Something between married people. Okay? Thank you for checking, but we’re okay.”

“I want to see her,” I said. “I really want to know she’s okay, or I’m calling the police.”

“You can’t just—” But he bit off his words, the muscles in his jaw clenching. “This is a matter between the two of us. My wife and me. And we’re handling it.”

“Hello?” I called out. “Hello? Are you okay back there? I need to know you’re not hurt and that you feel safe. Otherwise, I’m going to call the police.”

A long pause.

The guy stood before me, his breath coming in little huffs. His eyes looked like two dark pebbles. They were focused on me so hard, I thought they might give off heat.

“Honey?” he called. “Did you hear him?”

Another pause.

“I’m calling,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I can’t just walk away—”