“I just want to know when you’re coming home,” she said.

“We’ve talked about this and talked about this.”

“You’re still married to me. You’re still my husband.”

“And there’s just no point in talking about it any more.” Again he took her elbow. He already had her out of the Chevy when she hauled off and slugged him in the jaw. He staggered back a few steps, his whole head ringing.

“Hey!” said Floyd, grabbing Doreen’s arms. “Hey now, you don’t wanna go doing that!”

“Lemme go!” screeched Doreen. She broke out of Floyd’s grasp and took another swing at her husband.

This time Lincoln ducked, which only made his wife madder. She got in one more swing before Lincoln and Floyd managed to get her arms secured.

“I hate to do this," said Lincoln. “But you’re just not being reasonable today.”

He snapped the handcuffs on her wrists. She spat at him. He wiped his sleeve across his face, then patiently guided his wife into the backseat of the cruiser.

“Oh man,” said Floyd. “You know we’re gonna have to book her.”

“I know.” Lincoln sighed and slid in behind the wheel.

“You can’t divorce me, Lincoln Kelly!” said Doreen. “You promised to love and cherish!”

“I didn’t know about the bottle,” said Lincoln, and he turned the car around.

They drove at a leisurely speed toward town, Doreen cussing a purple streak the whole time. It was the drinking that did it; it seemed to pop the cork off her bottle of demons.

Two years ago, Lincoln had moved out of their house. He figured he’d given the marriage his best effort and ten years of his life. He wasn’t by nature a quitter, but the despair had finally gotten to him. That and the sense that, at forty-five, his life was racing by, joyless and unfruitful. He wished he could do right by Doreen, wished that he could recapture some of that old affection he’d felt for her early on in their marriage, when she’d been bright and sober, not bubbling over with anger as she was now. Sometimes he’d search his own heart for whatever trace of love might still linger, some small spark among the ashes, but there was nothing left. The ashes were cold. And he was tired.