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.
Something warned Somers to leave the lights off, so he picked his way through the darkness. They’d lived here almost a year, and even after a year, Somers couldn’t find his way through the room without a light. He bumped into the dresser. He hit the bed. He stubbed his toe on something—he had no idea what; maybe Hazard had been ordering enormous bronze urns for their bedroom, because it sure fucking felt like it—and when he swore and hopped up and down, the ragged breathing inside the bathroom cut off. When Somers finally reached the door, he knocked.
“Go away,” Hazard said, his voice thick. “Please, John.”
Somers settled down, bracing himself in the doorway, his back against one jamb while he planted his feet against the other. He rested his head against the door. Through the thin paneling, he could feel the vibrations of Hazard’s body where the big man slumped against the other side of the door.
“I’m sorry,” Hazard said. “I’m really sorry for how I acted. I’ll be down in a few minutes, and I’ll clean everything up.”
It wasn’t exactly a comfortable spot, but Somers settled in to wait as best he could. He leaned his head back. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out the shape of the walls, the ceiling, their bed. The dust ruffle was snagged from the last time they’d changed the sheets, and Somers tugged it free. He wondered when the last time was that they’d washed that dust ruffle.
“John, I’m trying to be really clear about what I need right now. I need you to go back downstairs and let me have a few minutes to myself.”
“When was the last time we washed the dust ruffle?”
“Five minutes, John. That’s what I’m asking for.”
“We change the sheets every week, sometimes more if you’re feeling frisky, but I don’t know if we’ve ever washed the dust ruffle.”
“This isn’t helpful. Madeleine says I’m supposed to communicate what I’m feeling, communicate with words, I mean, and I’m really trying to communicate that right now, and you’re not listening to me.”
“Is that a thing? Are you even supposed to wash a dust ruffle?” Somers raised his head and let it thunk back against the jamb. “I’ll ask Cora.”
The door shifted in its frame as Hazard moved away from it, and Somers heard heavy steps and then running water. For what felt like a long time, but was probably just a minute, splashes interrupted the water’s flow. And