Page 20 of Middle of the Night

“Thirty years,” I add, prompting a grimace from Ashley.

“That long? My God.”

She smiles shyly, as if embarrassed by the passage of time. There’s no need to be. Dressed in dark jeans and a tangerine blouse, she’s as beautiful as I remember. The same Ashley, yet also different. Her hair’s slightly darker now—a light brown instead of the cool blond of her teenage years—and her face and figure are thinner, more angular, like she’s been slightly hardened by life. I have, too, but it’s taken the opposite toll on my appearance. I’m softer, as if my body is trying to cushion life’s blows.

“I haven’t seen you since…”

The way Ashley’s voice trails off tells me she remembers exactly when we last saw each other. Billy’s memorial service. Because the church was packed, we didn’t get a chance to sit together or even speak. But when the service had ended, I caught Ashley’s eyes as she was leaving. She gave me one of the saddest smiles I’ve ever seen, waved, and was gone.

“What are you doing here?” she says now.

“Do you mean right now? Or in general?”

Ashley laughs. “Both, I guess. Your parents just moved, didn’t they?”

I briefly bring her up to speed on my past few months. My parents’ move to Florida and me staying in the house until I settle into my new job teaching English lit at a nearby private school.

“Similar story,” Ashley says when I’m done. “Dad’s not doing so well, and Henry and I needed a fresh start, so we came back here. I’d invite you in to catch up, but I’m showing a house in fifteen minutes, and we need more time than that. Rain check?”

“Absolutely,” I say. “I actually just came by to see if this belonged to Henry.”

Like her son, Ashley doesn’t glance at the baseball in my hand. “I don’t think he’s thrown a ball in his entire life.”

“I’m uncoordinated,” Henry says.

Ashley shoots him a surprised look. “Who told you that?”

“Everyone.”

“Even your grandpa?”

“EspeciallyGrandpa.”

As if summoned, Vance Wallace lumbers into view behind Ashley and Henry, barking out a half-confused, half-ornery “Who’s calling me?”

“No one, Dad,” Ashley says with a sigh. “We’re talking to Ethan Marsh.”

“Ethan?”

Mr. Wallace comes to the door, a little slower than I expected, but looking as pugnacious as I remember, even though he’s now pushing eighty. A former boxer, he opened several regional gyms in the eighties that had done well for many years before he sold them all to a national chain. Now he looks like a cross between a retiree and a drill sergeant. Big arms, big chest, big belly, a tan that can’t be natural. As he gets closer, though, I notice a slight vagueness in his gaze. Even though his eyes are locked on mine, it seems like he’s looking past me instead of at me.

“Your parents make it to Florida in one piece?” he says.

“They did.”

“Good. We’re going to miss them around here.” He spots the baseball I’m holding. “What’s that?”

“It’s a ball, Dad,” Ashley says nervously, giving the impression this isn’t the first time she’s had to help him identify everyday objects. It makes me wonder what exactly she meant when she said Vance wasn’t doing well.

“I know that,” he snaps. “I wanted to know why he had it.”

“Found it my backyard,” I say. “I’m just trying to return it to its rightful owner. Any ideas where it could have come from?”

“You ask your neighbor?” Mr. Wallace says.

“Russ? Yeah, I just came from there.”

“Not him.” He gives an agitated point toward Billy’s house. “Your other neighbor. The Barringer boy. I saw him outside last night.”

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