“IT’S OVER, BEN. I’m done, I want a divorce. Until then, you are sleeping in the guest room.” Slamming down her hands on the kitchen countertop, Helen glared at Ben, her anger searing him like fire. Laura was at baseball practice, so at least they weren’t fighting in front of their kid.

They had been shouting at each other for half an hour. When Ben came home from work, Helen waited for him in the hallway. One look at her face told him that a fight was imminent. The issue was negligible—some alleged mix-up with one of Laura’s school appointments—and Ben was prepared to just let her vent for a bit and not answer back, even though he knew he was in the right.

Helen wouldn’t let it go, however. Ben went into the living room once he thought she had gotten out most of her anger. But she pursued him, still berating him for his alleged mistake. He sat down on the sofa, trying his best to tune her out. So she accused him of always ignoring her, and no wonder their marriage had failed.

That stirred the first tendrils of fear in Ben, and unfortunately, the fear made him finally yell back, “Have you ever asked yourself why I’m ignoring you?” he shouted, his heart beating fast.

It was a petty and stupid thing to say and totally out of character. Months of anger and frustration had at last broken free. Even as the words came out of his mouth, Ben was horrified. It was the excuse Helen needed. She shouted louder and louder, and he jumped up from the sofa and shouted back at her, no longer in control of his temper.

Finally, Helen fled into the kitchen, and as Ben followed, she delivered the death blow to their marriage.

A few months ago, this would have been the point at which Ben would cave. He would have pleaded with her, begging her to give them one last chance. But there was just nothing left anymore. So when she glared at him, curious to see what he would do next, he merely nodded. All the fight had drained from him. Everything was so pointless.

“If you feel that way, Helen, then okay.” Ben turned and left the house.

There was no question about where he was headed once he got into the car, but he was on I-85 before he acknowledged his destination. He would go into downtown Atlanta, where he could be sure that nobody would recognize him, and he would get drunk.

When had it all gone wrong? Ben had racked his brain after every fight over the last few months, but he couldn’t pinpoint the moment, that one defining instant, when he’d known that Helen no longer loved him.

It must have been gradual. Feelings had shifted, perspectives realigned so slowly that only once he’d stopped what he was doing and looked up had it become apparent that things no longer were as they used to be. That the two of them weren’t where he’d thought at all, and that they didn’t even face the same future.

For many years, Ben had been busy, working away at his dream of a career, and their shared hopes and dreams had taken a back seat more often than not. But for a while now, at first almost imperceptibly, he’d slowed down. His career with Corinth PD had been one glorious long arc of success, culminating in becoming the youngest sergeant in over thirty years. The last man to make that rank at the same age had, in fact, been Ben’s own father. Only when he’d gotten this far had Ben seen it at last: The department was a dead end for him. After making sergeant, there was nowhere else to go.

Ben had missed plenty of Laura’s school recitals, many of Helen and his anniversaries, their daughter’s childhood illnesses, and much more. For a long time, he’d assumed that Helen was okay with it all, that she was happy in her role too, and proud of him. She had her part-time library work, her volunteering at Laura’s junior high, and the prestige that came with being married to the most promising young police officer in the district. Ben had missed the signs of her unhappiness.

There was no danger of that any longer. Helen made her feelings very clear, and Ben finally had time to listen. For fifteen years, since he’d come back to Corinth after college and the academy, Ben had worked nonstop climbing that greasy pole. Extra weekend shifts, overtime, courses in forensics and psychological profiling— he’d signed up for all of it, and gladly.

Corinth was a small sleepy town, and while not a backwater, the police department held no promise once an officer hit the very low ceiling. There were only two lieutenants, both born-and-bred local guys who were many years away from retirement. And that meant there was no chance of promotion now for Ben. It bothered him, more than he’d admitted to himself for a long time. He knew he was capable of more, much more.

So had it all been for nothing? Had his ambition destroyed his marriage for no good reason? From where Ben stood right now, it really started to look that way.

As he sped along the empty interstate into the city, which emptied out for the night, Ben let himself believe that what he was about to do was only natural under the circumstances. He hadn’t had a drink since Helen was pregnant with Laura almost thirteen years ago. He had never missed drinking, because he remembered what his life was like before he had forced himself to stop.

In his freshman year in college Ben had started to seek relief from the everyday slog in the bottle. During high school, he had been the shy, awkward teenager with the good grades, but when he and Jason had enrolled in the Criminal Justice Program at UGA’s Athens campus, Ben had been ready for a change. He wanted to be easygoing and cool like Jason, and for a while, the alcohol had allowed him to live that dream. He’d met Helen at a college party where he’d won her over with his sense of humor, which if not just dependent on his state of inebriation, then certainly brought to its full potential by the Jell-O shots he’d consumed all night.

When he left college with just about satisfactory grades and enrolled at the police academy in Atlanta, Ben was what Helen insisted was a functioning alcoholic. Ben hadn’t felt like he functioned at all. He existed day to day. He hid his problems well, and Helen, for reasons of her own, aided and abetted his deceit. They had seldom talked about the drinking as a problem.

But when the baby was on the way and he started his job at Corinth PD, Ben wanted things to change. He knew he’d mess up his new responsibilities otherwise. He wanted his family to be whole. He wanted to support Helen, not be carried by her patience and compassion. He wanted to be a good father. He wanted a career, not just a desk job with the police department.

So he had pulled himself together and gotten the help he needed. He’d left behind the booze and won a new life in the bargain.

Now that life was over. He and Helen were done. So why not turn to what was known to make him forget, maybe even make him happy for a while?

Ben stopped at the first bar he came across in downtown Atlanta, a sleek-looking affair with gleaming mirrors all around the room. He’d never noticed it before; it hadn’t been around back when he’d come into town regularly to drink, first with friends, then more and more often on his own. Already the last thirteen years of his life seemed like a dream. A strange feeling began to creep up on Ben, but then he realized he knew this sensation well. His mind was blank. All he cared about was the next drink.

Alcohol. Like bookends to a life.

It was a Tuesday, and the bar stayed half-empty most of the night. Ben kept his back to the room and didn’t engage in conversation. He didn’t even drink to his limit, which he could still gauge with surprising ease. He ordered whiskey straight, drank slowly, steadily, until the misery in his heart softened and leaked away without hurting.

He had loved Helen once. He still remembered what that had been like, but just as he didn’t know when her love for him had stopped, he couldn’t pinpoint the moment when his own affection had faded away to nothing. Ben had a feeling that Helen had never found him very interesting once he stopped drinking. The prestige that came with his stellar reputation had been a consolation for a while, but it hadn’t been enough. He was sad about his marriage ending, but through the buffer of alcohol, his feelings no longer seemed like his own. What did love even feel like, really? He couldn’t remember, and right now, it didn’t matter.

Ben stayed until last call. When he had drained his final glass, he rose from the barstool, moving deliberately, hiding just how drunk he was with the skill of the veteran alcoholic. But the bartender wasn’t fooled.

“Your car keys, sir,” he said, and held out his hand.

Ben fixed the man with what he hoped was his most level stare. “I walked,” he lied without thinking. “Just moved into the neighborhood.”

The bartender didn’t look convinced, but what could he do, shake Ben down? He shrugged and turned away. Ben left the bar.

He had no intention of driving home, or anywhere else. This next bit, too, was familiar in its humiliation. He might be a drunk who happily destroyed his own life, but he was also Sergeant Ben Griers, Corinth PD’s most conscientious officer, who would never put anyone else’s life in danger.

Ben walked to his car, unlocked the doors, crawled into the back seat, and passed out.