Just After Midnight

by Catherine Ryan Hyde

here.” “Right,” Greg said. “I get it. I just moved back into possible stalker territory by asking. And I didn’t mean to. I just saw you having what looked like a heart-to-heart with someone, and it was someone much younger, and it just made me curious as to what brought the two of you together.” “She’s going through a rough time,” Faith said, relaxing some. “Having some problems I can relate to. I’m just trying to be a decent person and help her in any way I can.” “Well,” he said, sliding his sunglasses back on, for reasons Faith could not imagine. Force of habit, maybe. “That’s definitely a point toward your being a good person, which I already pretty much figured you were. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable by asking.” She smiled slightly to show she no longer minded. Then she turned for home. Halfway there it struck her. Why was he wearing shorts and bare feet if he couldn’t tolerate any sun exposure? For a minute or so, well into her own kitchen, it felt like an inconsistency. Her brain worried at it like a dog obsessed with a bone or toy. At first it felt almost as though she had caught him in some sort of lie. Then she decided it was only his eyes that were so sensitive, and the hat brim and umbrella were all part of his eye protection. She put the question away again, but it left her wondering when she had become a person who found it so hard to trust. About an hour after going to bed, in a complete and utter absence of the ability to sleep, Faith reached for her pho...