We watch a talk show, the news,
eat Hobnobs and drink tea.
At ten o’clock Marla’s phone beeps.
That’s me, then.
She switches off the TV.
When I was doing my exams
I used a reminder to tell me
to go to sleep too, I say,
speaking more than I have all evening.
Oh, I have reminders for everything.
I mightn’t remember otherwise, she says.
She peers at the phone.
Peggy put them in.
Goodnight then.
Are you going now?
I’m shattered.
Yes, it’s late.
She nods and leaves,
switching off the lights on her way to bed.
Without knowing why,
I tiptoe up the stairs
after Marla,
my ear against her door,
listening,
pushing on another door, where
a bedroom is revealed –
the bed stripped bare,
walls painted avocado.
No one else lives here.
That’s obvious.
So I could have one night.
What harm would one night do?
I dash downstairs
and in the kitchen stare out at the shed.
But instead of leaving,
I lock the doors
and return
to the avocado
bedroom.