Her hand hits the side of his face and her words are like acid when she yells at him.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” she screams, the print of her hand hot on the side of his face. Nolen isn’t sure what he’s feeling, but it doesn’t feel like pain. Something else, maybe. Something he isn’t use to.

Shame, perhaps.

Nolen doesn’t say anything but stays in his seat. He’s not sure he could stand.

“I don’t know what you want me to do about this. Arrested, Nolen, really?” Wren’s voice has softened now, and she almost sounds sad, like she’s passing her pity along to her husband. Nolen finds no comfort in his but instead feels the swell of anger at the back of his neck. Wren has been yelling at him for what feels like an eternity, but at glance at his watch tells him it’s only been fifteen minutes. He’s not sure where they go from here. Nolen has never been much of a talker, never been one to use words to solve his problems. Wren knows this. She knew this when she married him. It’s always been something they’ve worked around.

She sighs heavily and still, Nolen is silent. A free hand as moved to his face. He gently rubs the side of his face where Wren had slapped him, traces the growing welt with the tips of his fingers. Nolen doesn’t feel bad for what he’s done. He doesn’t feel sorry, or sad, or even remotely bothered. All he wants to do is to sleep, to have some time to himself; to figure out what his next step is.

“Nolen,” Wren starts again, and he looks up, eyebrows knotted together in thought. This time, she sounds like she has something to say. Something with a little more depth than “you’re a fucking idiot” or “who the fuck do you think you are”; Nolen has heard variants of them throughout the course of his wife’s rant.

“Nolen, I think you should get a hotel tonight. I’ll pack the kids and we’ll be gone in the morning, but I just need the evening.”

Truthfully, he isn’t surprised. For once, Nolen doesn’t fight with her. He doesn’t give her the pleasure of an argument. Instead, Nolen lets Wren win. It takes him less than ten minutes to pack the essentials and leave.

He uses that night, for the last time. It doesn’t make him feel as good as it used to. It’s not filling the hole that it had before.