In an attempt to stay cool on a very hot Australian summer day I imagined a snowy scene for you.
Out of Control
"Shit, shit, shit, shit, Shit!"
After a terse conversation with Matthew who had refused to say much more Marilla had walked up to the bathroom but turned on her heel as she approached and walked out of the house; deciding instead that she needed to talk to Josephine Barry in the hopes that a fresh perspective might provide insight.
Large wet snowflakes landed on the dark road. She flicked the radio off as she reversed the car and turned it down the driveway. The only sound was the scraping sound the windscreen wipers made as they went at full bore, but visibility was limited. Banked up snow edged the road lit up by her headlights on full beam, but beyond them was solid black broken by the odd bare tree looming out of the darkness. Marilla knew the way she had driven it almost every day of her life after all. Round the bed, straighten up for a few hundred feet then the next bend.
Absentmindedly she drove the car her mind awhirl with the information that her brother had slept with her best friend. She almost didn't know who she was most cross with; either way she felt terribly betrayed. Matthew? Rachel? Matthew and Rachel? The whole thing seemed so completely implausible. She had never really questioned why her brother never took a girlfriend she assumed he was homosexual if anything; but he seemed almost asexual, with no apparent interest in either gender. He always seemed content with his own company.
Her mind was reeling which meant that she barely noticed the road at all which was a pity because if there was one night of the year when the road warranted her attention this was it. In such a hurry was she to reach her destination she stepped on the gas to get there all the sooner. She received no joy when she reached the Barry house, Mrs Barry explained that Josephine had already left Avonlea and sent Marilla back into the filthy night.
The ice was black and treacherous, even a car travelling at a decent speed would have had difficulty negotiating it. Driven at speed the pickup truck had no chance and without warning it started fishtailing. Marilla forgot the lessons that had been drummed into her when she first started driving. Canadians were taught ice driving technique when they were practically infants. Now with her mind preoccupied on other matters she forgot everything she thought she knew and braked hard. The car shot out of control and into a wild spin veering off the road eventually coming to a halt half-way down a ditch. It only stopped when it hit the frozen interior of a snowdrift, spraying ice falling over the hood and across the windscreen. Marilla momentarily blacked out as her forehead hit the hard rim of the steering wheel but when she came to, she looked around and swore.
When she was young, Marilla loved to read stories set in the past such as Little House on the Prairie, Little Women and Anne of Green Gables. Sitting in the stalled car after she came-to she woozily speculated how much easier life would have been back then, no need to study the properties of rubber tyres on slippery ice. Spinning out of control was not a concern.
She shook her head as she was jerked into the reality of the situation. The car was stuck, the weather was freezing, the snow was coming down faster than ever. Putting the car into reverse she stepped on the gas and listened to the engine whine and the wheels spin but made no headway; useless. The car door was also jammed, iced shut she supposed. It's bitterly cold she thought suddenly; in her haste she had forgotten to bring a coat or gloves so was woefully under-dressed. She stuck her hands under her armpits to keep them warm. Her breath condensed in the air and she thought, what now?
Sometime later a car carefully drove down the same road. Like Marilla the driver was well versed in the road conditions, they too had driven down it many hundreds of times. Just that night their parents had told them to be careful out there and although the parents did not think the driver really heard them, they knew to be careful in the wild conditions. There was a spot they knew that was prone to ice and they braked slowly to allow for it.
"Drive carefully," the usual words rang in her ears as she slammed the front door behind her. Drive carefully, that's what Marilla always said to her as if she'd forgotten the reason Anne came to live at Green Gables in the first place. Anne could still remember huddling in the back of her parent's car when it eventually slid to a stop, after the terrifying spiralling had finally slowed and then halted altogether. There was a chilling silence in that car. Drive carefully; as if she'd do anything but.
Anne remembered talking to Matthew about it one afternoon when she was learning to drive at fifteen. She had gone off a little half-cocked and he directed her to the side of the road and reminded her that a car was no more than three tonnes of lethal metal. She looked at him wide eyed in that moment and stammered out what did he mean?
"I don't want to scare you Anne," he'd said bluntly. "But you lost your own parents to a drunk driver and I want to keep you safe. It's almost more than I can bare to let you drive at all, but I know I have to; but you havta be oh so careful. I don't think we could cope if anything happened to ya. Ya can't manage other drivers that's outta ya control, but you must drive to the conditions."
On this night Anne had been out with Diana and usual gang with everyone home for the holidays. It was great to catch up, to sit around the Blythe fireplace swapping stories of the ridiculous goings on of their college roommates. Anne felt such a camaraderie with these old friends. She'd been desperate to get out of small-town Avonlea but now surrounded by old friends she realised what she had left behind. Sure she had made new friends at college, but there was no one like the old chums with a shared background, people she didn't have to explain her story to over and over again. 'My parents died when I was young, I was brought up by two older siblings, no it was fine. They're lovely. I'm really very lucky.' Instead she could just relax for once.
Around midnight the party had broken up, everyone leaving with promises to stay in touch more next year. Anne never mixed drinking and driving so she had driven Diana home. Diana was a giggly mess, the result of a combination of weed and beer. In the car she reminisced about that long-ago time when they had eaten the hash brownie. How much trouble had they been in? Diana found it hilarious, but Anne was concentrating on the treacherous road and was rather relieved to reach the Barry house. The weed was still affecting Diana, so Anne had no choice but to help her through the house with muttered exhortations to be quiet and then into bed. It had been a long journey Anne felt and she was looking forward to the comfort of her own bed, all she had to do now was drive to it.
She almost passed it, but out of the corner of her eye she just saw the trunk of a car wedged into the snowdrift on the side of the road. Bringing her car to a gentle stop she pulled on her gloves, straightened her scarf and hat and opened the car door. Sinking nearly to her knees in the soft snow she clambered her way over to the stranded vehicle just in case there was someone still inside. When she came closer, she realised with a shock that the car was all too familiar, frantically she made her way over to the driver's side and pulled at the door. It was stuck fast. Pummelling on the window she peered into the dark interior trying to see if anyone was within. To her horror there was a soft knock back which she felt almost as much as heard.
Making her way around the other side of the vehicle she was relieved to find the back-passenger door openable and she climbed in, slamming the door behind her. As she got her bearings, she was dismayed to hear Marilla's voice say, "is that you Anne? I'm in a bit of a pickle."
"Marilla! What happened, what are you doing here?"
"I dunno, I dunno. I just woke up here and it's da-ark," Marilla's voice broke a little, "and I don't know what to do.
"Well come now," Anne climbed over into the front passenger seat. "Are there any blankets in here?"
"No, I meant to put some in last week and I forgot. The engine's not working either, I can't get the heater to w-w-work," Marilla's teeth were beginning to chatter with the cold.
"Where were you off to at this time of night?" Anne asked curiously.
Marilla glanced sharply at her, "none of your business."
"That's hardly fair Marilla. We're stuck here, I could be tucked up in my bed by now instead of freezing my butt off with you, as nice as that is," Anne laughed sardonically looking out into the darkness.
"Yes well, I wanted to visit Josephine. I expected she'd still be at the Barry's."
"Why did you need to see her all of a sudden?"
Silence. Then, "I needed some advice."
"Tonight?"
"Yes tonight," she said sharply. "I had some news and oh," Marilla sighed, "I dunno I needed a fresh perspective."
"Was she there?"
"No, Mrs Barry said she'd gone back to Charlottetown sooner than expected actually. Mrs Barry was quite short with me I don't know why. You'd think she might invite me in, but she as good as barred me from the house. So, I turned back for home and then…" Marilla looked around the car.
"But what was so urgent you had to talk to her? I don't understand."
Marilla stuffed her left hand between her thighs for warmth, studying the palm of the right one intently while she thought quickly. Blowing on it softly she started describing a heavily edited version of the conversation she, Rachel and Matthew had had the day before. Anne did not interrupt but sat still listening intently, it was apparent that Marilla was not telling her the whole story.
There was a pause as Marilla finished her tale, then she started taking off her sweater. Anne was confused because the car was icy, "Marilla? What are you doing? It's freezing in here you'll need that. Stop!"
"No, no I'm so hot, so hot all of a sudden. Isn't it hot in here? Aren't you boiling? I'm sweating. I just need to take this off." Anne fought to stop her because all she had on underneath was a simple cotton blouse.
The shower had been restful, afterwards Rachel dried her hair with a towel and wrapped her long hair up in it. Eschewing her robe, she made her way out to the bedroom but stopped in the doorway when she realised it was still empty, the blankets still crumpled from their slumbers the night before. Were Marilla and Matthew still talking? She found her nightie in the drawer and returned to the steamy bathroom to add her dressing gown and slippers. Walking downstairs she was surprised not to hear any murmurs of conversation so she was not as stunned as she might have been when she found Matthew alone in the sitting room staring at the embers of the dying fire. He looked up at her approach, his eyebrows rising at the sight. "Where's Marilla?" Rachel asked.
"Thought she was upstairs with you," he replied.
"I thought she was still down here discussing the situation," Rachel said.
"Nope." They looked at each other dumbfounded and then both looked out the window at the blizzard outside. Matthew sprang to his feet. Rachel followed him out to the front door and gasped in shock at the temperature and when she saw two things; Marilla's familiar red plaid lumberjacket and outer gear still hanging by the door coupled with the fact that her truck was not parked in the driveway. "She's gone out in this?" Rachel said, gesticulating at the steadily falling snow.
"Wait," she called Matthew back before he too disappeared into the night. "You might need blankets." He paused while she fetched some from the cupboard, stuffed them into the back seat of the pickup and drove off in a roar, snow kicking up behind his tyres. Rachel stood watching his red lights disappear into the darkness. Pulling her dressing gown tightly around her she retreated into the warmth and sent up a prayer to the God she no longer believed in.
Marilla might be anywhere Matthew paused when he reached the highway, decided it was a fifty/fifty choice and turned right. It was easier for him to see the situation, Anne's car was parked by the side of the road. His blood ran cold when he saw it there, but when he went to it it was apparent that she was not hurt inside. He did notice however that there was a familiar truck parked nearby.
As she and Marilla struggled with the sweater Anne was relieved to hear banging on the outside of the truck. She wound down the window a crack to yell out that they were stuck inside and was doubly relieved when it became apparent that it was Matthew come to rescue them. He was able to crank the door open and they bundled into his truck with blankets for the ride home.
They got Marilla into a warm but not too hot bath and Rachel sat with her while she thawed. Anne fetched her a mug of warm milk before jumping into a shower herself, anything to ease the ache that had reached down into her bones. If she was cold it was apparent Marilla was in a desperate state. Later Rachel put her into the pre-warmed bed and snuggled up to her. They asked no questions about her actions that night.
Rachel found Marilla by the fire in the sitting room, its warmth sustaining her as she gazed into the flames. Rachel sat down next to her and asked, "may I?"
Marilla did not avert her gaze but imperceptibly nodded and leaned into Rachel's side momentarily before leaning so far down to the other side that she was now laying on the floor. Taking it as a peace offering, Rachel lay down behind her and cradled Marilla's spare form in her own, spooning her. They were silent for a time then Marilla said, "I'm sorry."
"Shh, shh you're safe that's all that matters."
"No, I flew off the handle, I was being ridiculous."
"I'm sor…"
Marilla swivelled in Rachel's arms and put her finger to Rachel's lips, "no, you have nothing to apologise for. It was all a long time ago, you needed help and he was there. That's all. It was none of my business. You were two adults caught in the heat of the moment. You needed some love and he provided it while I was off gadding about in Charlottetown. I'm hardly in a position to be judgemental considering what I was up to over there."
"You were jealous because you love me." It was a statement not a question, Marilla nodded. Rachel added, "I admit we were shocked when we couldn't find you here, it seemed so out of character. Matthew shot out of the house as soon as it became apparent."
Marilla shivered with the memory, "just as well. It was pretty damn cold in that car."
"Anne has been smirking ever since you know," Rachel said between soft kisses on Marilla's earlobe.
"Oh?"
"I think the last thing you called to her when she left was to drive carefully so when she found you of all people stranded in the snowbank, she thought it was somewhat ironic."
Marilla swivelled back to face the fire enjoying its heat and the sensation of Rachel's comforting arms enveloping her. After a while she commented, "I suppose I'll never live it down."
"At least you will live, thanks to Anne. She said you were close to freezing to death in that car. Had you taken your sweater off?"
"Maybe? Can't recall."
"Matthew says that's a sign that hypothermia is setting in, people get confused apparently. Then of course they die of the cold."
Despite her situation Marilla shivered at the thought then moved her legs apart slightly. Rachel placed her uppermost hand between Marilla's thighs, shocked when she felt nothing under her skirt. "Hmm going commando I see, you're rather presumptuous."
Marilla ground back into Rachel's groin, "a woman can but hope," she said. Rachel rolled Marilla onto her back hitched her skirt up and manoeuvred herself around.
Matthew found them sound asleep laying on the carpet by the fire a while later. He placed a blanket over them both and sat down. Sitting on the sofa watching his women sleep Matthew reflected that in another life it might have been him curled up by the fire with Rachel in his arms. He sighed, well at least she was happy even if it was difficult.
His reverie was interrupted by the muffled sound of something striking the outside wall. Pft, pft. Pft pft, pft, pft .. pft. What the? He rose and padded outside in his socks. A car could be seen careening down the driveway, the occupants yelling incoherently headlights roving over the front lawn. Matthew looked back at the house dismayed to see eggshells scattered on the veranda and the bright yellow of raw yolk dripping down the wall.
It wasn't until the next morning when he went to check on the stock that he found the graffiti; DIKES LIVE HERE screamed bright red paint, the letters four-foot high across the exterior of the barn wall. It gave him a small modicum of satisfaction that the cretins couldn't even spell dyke, but not much.