Beyond the SEA

In this special place, there was always someone by Margie's side

- Susannah Hockham

Time was a funny thing, Margie thought to herself as she massaged face cream into her skin. It was the same brand she had used for 50 years, and she wasn't sure it had exactly delivered on its youth-preserving promises. But old habits die hard.

She observed her reflection in the tarnished art deco looking glass. Pressing the pads of her fingers to her temples and then cheekbones, she pulled the soft, paper-thin skin on her face taut, then let it slacken again. She lifted her chin this way and that, regarding herself critically from every angle.

'I'm still under here, somewhere, Ron,' she remarked, imagining meeting her late husband's eyes in the misty reflection.

Ron responded with a beatific smile.

'Yes, it's still me,' Margie confirmed with a sigh, dropping her hands and turning on the tap to rinse them. 'Just encased in slightly looser packaging.'

Ron continued to smile wordlessly. Margie harrumphed, arching a thin, over-plucked eyebrow at him as she reached for the floral-patterned towel to dry off. 'You never smiled like that when you were alive, you grumpy old goat. It must be good where you are. Do they have golf?'

There was a soft tap on the hotel room door, interrupting her decidedly one-sided conversation, and her husband vanished.

'Nan, are you awake?'

'Yes, dear, of course.' Margie had been up for hours. She didn’t sleep much these days.

With one last look in the mirror, she left the bathroom and went to open the door.

Her granddaughter Eve stood there, looking like she had got dressed in a hurry. A powder-blue cardigan was pulled haphazardly around her thin shoulders and her hair was piled on top of her head in that ‘messy bun’ look that all Gen Z types seemed to favour, even the men. She noted how Eve's eyes looked tired, but they were at least smiling as they met Margie’s.