Marika didn’t look up from her needles as Lorna told her that they were heading to the motel and would be back in the morning.
“Okay,” she said. “Goodbye.”
“Do you need anything before we go?” Lorna was gathering up their glasses. “By the way, I think the bulb in that lamp might need replacing.”
Marika said the bulb was fine.
“Sure I can’t get you anything? Need any help getting ready for bed?”
“No.” Marika shrank back in her chair. “I take care of myself.”
“Well, I guess that’s it then. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Marika continued knitting, listening to the screen door bang shut and then, a few minutes later, to their car backing slowly down the driveway, the engine accelerating as the car turned onto the road. Listening until its light roar was replaced by a groan from the roof, a whisper of pine needles, and a faint scratching from somewhere in the kitchen.
When she was sure they were gone, she slipped the ball of yarn into the bag by her chair and switched off the lamp. Propping her stick against the armrest, she stood up in the darkness and shuffled to the bedroom to turn on the lamp by the bed. Then stood blinking at the room before slowly removing her cardigan and shirt. She sat down on the bed to tug off her slacks and shoes and unpeel her socks. All of this activity proved exhausting, and for a few minutes she rested on the edge of the bed in her bra and underpants, staring at the closet door, listening to that distant scratching.
At last she pulled her flannel nightgown from under the pillow, trying to move quickly now, and dragged it over her head, enduring the nightly panic when she couldn’t find the neck opening. Into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. Then into the kitchen to switch off the light.
Where, in the moonlight, she leaned against the sink, breathing in a lemony trace of Lorna’s perfume, and put a hand once more to her chest.