Fugue

Marilla's eyes opened and she looked around an unfamiliar place. There were things flapping in the light making a strange noise, she shielded her eyes with her hands to look at it, the bright light dazzling. She looked down her body covered with some stuff, but it made her uncomfortably hot, she struggled to get free of the constraint. Was that body hers? When did it get so wrinkled? She traced her hands down her breasts and stomach, they felt strange, slack and saggy. She scratched her arm and saw that the skin was loose and covered with spots. Had she grown old in the night? Getting off the... The thing she was lying on, she had no word for it, she walked over to see her reflection in the glass and gasped. She was old. Who was she? I'm, I'm ... who am I?

She looked around the place for a clue. There were various objects, a thing with points, a softer thing with a pretty back, some material stuff lying under them. She had no words for these items, and they gave her no clues. On the floor there was a round thing about ten inches high. It meant nothing to her but suddenly she felt the need to pass water and did so standing there, the urine trickling warmly down her leg.

Walking over to a shape in the blank she turned a round thing back and forth. The shape swung open and she walked through finding herself in a longer space, the surface felt smooth and cool against her feet. A void led down and she looked along it for a while wondering how to navigate her way down there. Tentatively she stuck one toe out and then another, but she felt off balance, so she sat down and eased her bottom to the lower step and made her way down like that. One step at a time. The bumpy feeling was pleasant, and she was almost sad when it came to an end.

At the bottom she pulled herself up against a tall thing nearby and looked at the light streaming in, walking towards it she found a shape a bit like the one before. She pushed it open and gasped at the beauty. Up was colour, down was colour. There were big shapes moving further off. There were more down things, so she got on her bottom and moved down them again; not as many this time. Slowly and ungainly getting to her feet she felt cool stuff on her feet. It was deliciously soft, a comforting colour and a bit wet. She walked out into the yard marvelling at the world. It was all new to her. The little drops of liquid hanging off a fine lacework of string. The green on a tall brown thing. She had no words for it all, but it didn't bother her. She tired and sat down after a while and then lay down curled up on the grass.

John returned home, he had been out early looking for a surprise for Marilla, she had been a bit flat of late. The front door was open which surprised him. He ran upstairs two at a time and dashed into their room. It was empty though her nightgown was on the floor next to a damp patch. He ran down stairs again and out the front door calling out "Marilla!"

When there was no answer he panicked, rushing around looking for her. She couldn't have gotten far surely? He found her laying naked by an old tree trunk. "Marilla?" There was no response. "Marilla?" He crouched down to touch her, reaching out with one hand.

Marilla saw a pair of things attached to some longer things and an unfamiliar face above. She screamed at that and backed away. She had been so happy on her own. Why did this thing have to disturb her?

"Mar, what are you doing out here and where are your clothes? Come now, let's get you inside and sorted out." John held out his hand, but she cowered away and did not take his proffered arm. John stood up scratching his head, "Marilla? Mar? What's the matter, sweetheart?"

She understood nothing of the sounds that were coming out of its face. She crawled away, eager to be far from it. It was nicer before it came.

John couldn't have her wandering around naked as the day she was born, but he didn't want to upset her either. He stood there scratching his head, pondering his best course of action.

Millie arrived at that point, calling out cheerily, "good afternoon, is anyone home? It's just me, Millie."

Relieved that some help had arrived opportunely John called over to her saying, "thank goodness you've come. I've got a bit of a situation here, can you help?"

Confused, Millie walked over, following the sound of his voice. "Oh!" she exclaimed when she spied Marilla's bare back and bottom curled up defensively some distance from John. "What's going on?"

John walked over to her, shaking his head, "I don't rightly know, Millie. Marilla is in some distress as you can see. I was out and I just found her like this. I have to get her back inside, but she won't talk to me. Perhaps you…" he waved vaguely in Marilla's direction trailing off, he had no idea how Millie could help, but it was evident he was helpless.

Millie stood looking at Marilla for a moment before turning to John and whispered for him to leave them alone, "go and put the kettle on or something, I'll see what I can do." She watched him leave with a couple of backward glances. Once he was out of sight she turned to her mother-in-law crouched on the ground.

"Psst," she turned again to see John with a sheet in his arms. "Thought you might need this?" he whispered. Nodding gratefully, she took the proffered linen and waved him away again.

She walked around to Marilla's front and bent down, "Marilla, will you come with me?"

Marilla looked up at this new gentle voice, so much nicer than the harsh scrapings of the other. She rocked back on her ankles so that she was now sitting, feeling the coolness of the grass against her bottom, though she was only aware of the sensation not the cause. Looking up she saw a kindly face, bare and pinkish with warm friendly eyes. Millie kneeled down to get on her level and offered the sheet. Marilla did not react so very slowly Millie placed it over her shoulders and let it drape down, hiding the distressing nakedness. It was unseemly to see her mother-in-law in such a state. Marilla shivered slightly as it covered her, enjoying the warmth it provided, unaware of how chilled she had become in the cooler air.

Not wanting to startle Marilla in the slightest, Millie sat down next to her and took one hand in hers. The two women sat there in the yard for some time just taking in the world around them. It was all new to Marilla, though not of course to Millie; however, it was some time since she had sat and watched the world go by for more than a few minutes. Motherhood did not afford her many opportunities to just sit.

Inside the house, John was fretting, Marilla had been forgetting little things lately. She would put her book down and forget where it was, or her glasses, often blaming him for moving them in an effort to cover up her own confusion. He understood that was what was happening after a while, but it was frustrating. No one likes to be unfairly blamed for things they didn't do, and she would get quite angry about it too, which he understood was her distress at the situation. Still he didn't know where those things were either and she would be annoyed when he couldn't produce them. This was a whole new level of confusion though. She didn't seem to be aware of her state or who he was, or distressingly who she was.

After about half an hour Marilla turned to Millie, confusion in her eyes. She looked around herself, then turned her sharp eyes at Millie, seeming to come to; having a newfound awareness of her situation. Instinctively she pulled the sheet around herself protectively. "Millie?"

"Yes, Marilla."

"What are we doing out here?" she asked in a concerned tone, worried that Millie had taken a turn.

"Sitting. Actually it's quite nice, isn't it," Millie replied gently.

"Is everything ... all right?" Marilla patted her hand.

"It's fine, shall we go back inside? Perhaps you'd like a cup of tea?" Millie suggested.

Marilla nodded at that and watched while Millie stood up then took her proffered hand to get back to her own feet. Millie adjusted Marilla's sheet, wrapping it around her for warmth and modesty. Then taking Marilla's arm in hers they walked slowly back to the house.

John was nursing a cup of tea at the kitchen table. He was desperately worried but strove to put his concerns to one side when he heard the door open. Turning then he spied Millie walking with Marilla dressed in the sheet. Sighing a breath of relief, he slowly got to his feet and walked out to greet them.

"I, I," Marilla stammered.

"Sh, sh, sweetheart. It's all right. Let's get you some clothes," John soothed. He glanced at Millie. "Shall we find you something to wear?" Marilla nodded and shifted her arm from Millie to him.

Millie watched them leave and turned to pour herself a drink. The grass had been damp, and cool and now she was somewhat chilled herself, the hot tea provided a much-needed panacea.

Ten minutes later, Marilla and John returned. Marilla sat down in a chair waiting until John fetched her a drink too. Turning to Millie she enquired after the children, seemingly oblivious of the events of the afternoon. They had a nice chat for a while until Millie announced she had better go home. John accompanied her to the door where they whispered for a moment. "What was all that about, John?"

"I have no idea, but thank you," he pressed his hands into her own, "I can't thank you enough. You were wonderful."

"I don't know that I did much?" Millie replied, hesitatingly.

"Well you got her back inside without drama. That was very helpful. I think I'll call for the doctor, I'm worried about her," John suggested.

"I agree that's for the best, she seems unaware of her turn," Millie mused. John watched her go for a moment before returning to his beloved wife. Marilla seemed unconcerned even unaware, of her actions. John wished he could feel the same way.

You're going to question how much torture I can put my favourite character through, but this story has been bouncing around in my brain for some time now. I have played around with the concept of not publishing it at all, but it will not go away. I have considered giving the diagnosis to another character, but there is a pivotal scene later that will not work for Rachel or John.

This story will not be for everyone, and it is possibly upsetting for anyone who is going through this right now, but I did wonder what it would be like for Marilla to develop dementia. This is a time when such things were not discussed, patients were referred to as senile or dotty, in their dotage or just confused. I am going to explore how Marilla and her family cope with her increasing confusion, loss of control and eventual decline.

I am doing some other writing, so I plan to only publish on the weekend.