Of course, I've tried to figure out the reason for their tears. Maybe their parents hate people like us and they feel guilt. Maybe they're thinking of the person they like who isn't me. I wonder and wonder.

But by the second month of our arrangement, I don't bother. I just allow the euphoria to fade away with each sob behind my back. Or behind the door. Because sometimes I let them cry alone. I sit at the kitchen table in my underwear and wait. When the sobs stop, I return to the room and lie down―my back to theirs―to join them for a nap.