“Ree, are you—”

The plate wobbled on the edge of the counter. Somers saw it out of the corner of his eye and reached for it, but he was too slow. The plate tilted, slid, and crashed onto the tile.

Hazard went rigid. His body tightened, while his face seemed to slacken, as though the fine muscles there had stopped responding. Then he surged into motion, charging into the kitchen.

“Jesus fucking Christ, John. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry, I—”

One of Hazard’s big hands came out, caught a stack of envelopes on the counter, and smacked them into the air. “Is that what we’re doing now? Just throwing shit whenever we want? For the fucking love of God, John, you’re a fucking adult. Pick up those fucking pieces, will you? Do you want Evie to cut herself?”

Somers took a step across the ceramic shards. He wasn’t even sure if Hazard realized it, but the big man veered away, yanking at the collar of his t-shirt.

“Evie’s at Cora’s tonight,” Somers said. “Will you take a breath please?”

“I am taking a breath, I’m taking a really deep breath, ok? I just want to know why you don’t seem to care that those fucking plates cost fucking money, John. We’re fucking strapped as it is, and I have to come home to you breaking the little shit that we do have.”

“All right. That’s enough.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Hazard shouted, and then he kicked one of the kitchen chairs. It toppled, sliding across the tile until it came up against the wall, and then Hazard had to kick it out of his way so he could leave the kitchen.

Somers took two steps after him before he stopped. Then he ran shaking hands down his thighs, turned, and leaned into the refrigerator. In his mind’s eye, he saw the extra-cold drawer, where—months before—they had kept bottle after bottle of Bud Lite. And now, Pepsi and sparkling water and fruit juice. But he could walk to St. Taffy’s and get a beer. He could even get a shot, maybe two. Maybe a line of them, like dominoes—knock the first one down, and it took the rest with it. And Somers at the end, the final domino, when the last shot kicked so hard it knocked him right out of his fucking head. He ran his hands across his shirt. He didn’t even need to go to St. Taffy’s. Spud’s Liquor was within walking distance too; he could pour his own line of shots.

Upstairs, a door slammed. Their bedroom. And then, muffled, another door slammed. Their bathroom.

Somers got the broom and swept up the broken plate. Then he got a Pepsi. He got through half the can before it was too sweet, his teeth starting to ache, and he left it on the counter. Climbing the stairs, he talked himself through all the reasons he loved Emery Hazard: he was kind, smart, strong, passionate. He was good. The list seemed short tonight. The bedroom door was locked, and Somers backtracked to the key they’d hidden on the frame for Evie’s door. It was just a flat piece of metal, designed for the generic privacy locks that weren’t really meant for any serious kind of security. He went into their bedroom and found it dark.