gathered, quickly, above the sky­ light. The caretaker turned the switch and I

was blinded by the sudden Bash of light. He suggested I go to the dining hall

for dinner. But I wasn't hungry. Then he offered to bring me a cup of coffee

with milk. I like milk in my coffee, so I said yes, and he carne back a few

minutes later with a tray. I drank the coffee. Then I felt like having a smoke.

But I hesitated, because I didn't know if I could do it with Marnan right there.

I thought about it; it didn't matter. I offered the caretaker a ciga­ rette and

we smoked.

 

At one point he said, "You know, your mother's friends will be coming to keep

vigil too. It's customary. I have to go get some chairs and some black coffee."

I asked him if he could tum off one of the lights. The glare on the white walls

was making me drowsy. He said he couldn't. That was how they'd been wired : it

was all or nothing. I didn't pay too much attention to him after that. He left,

came back, set up some chairs. On one of them he stacked some cups around a

coffee pot. Then he sat down across from me, on the other side of Maman. The

nurse was on that side of the room too, but with' her back to me. I couldn't see

what she was doing. But the way her arms were moving made me think she was

knitting. It was pleasant; the coffee had warmed me up, and the smell of Rowers

on the night air was coming through the open door. I think I dozed off for a

while. It was a rustling sound that woke me up. Because I'd had my eyes closed,

the whiteness of the room seemed even brighter than before. There wasn't a

shadow any­ where in front of me, and every object, every angle and curve stood

out so sharply it made my eyes hurt. That's when Maman's friends came in. There

were about ten in all, and they Boated into the blinding light without a sound.