The Go Between

It was one thing to say she was going to get on with life, but it turned out to be quite a different thing to put into practice. Marilla felt wildly out of her depth and rather than turning to Rachel she found despite herself that she was isolating her. It wasn't that she blamed Rachel for being sighted but she felt that no one truly understood how very frustrating and lost she was and in true Marilla fashion she turned inward despite herself.

She had always prided herself on her independence. After her disappointments in love she had no choice but to square her shoulders and meet the world head on. Now she found the world passed her by and she had no idea what she was missing out on. Folks would talk about her over her head and she knew she was missing out of all matter of unspoken communication. Matthew and Rachel would move about the house picking up things, putting things away without spoken communication. She felt sure they were raising eyebrows or gesticulating as she would have done herself before; but which now went unseen and therefore unnoticed by her. She found it supremely frustrating not to be privy to this. She would have rather things went undone than to have them done behind her back and as a result she felt paranoid and annoyed at them for doing so. She hated this attitude, but it could not be disputed.

Giuseppe enrolled her in a support group. Folk who had lost their sight in all matter of ways sat around a large space at the Carmody Centre for the Blind. Marilla heard their voices echoing around the room. They had suffered macular degeneration, accidents like her, diabetes, cataracts and numerous other diseases of the eye. Few were as blind as she was, it was more common that they were now legally blind, rather than absolutely blind but it was comforting to know she was not alone. The leader introduced her to the group and feeling out of her comfort zone at first, she shyly told them about her accident and then it all came flooding out. The brutal way the news had been delivered at which they murmured their disgust. She told them how difficult she found it to adjust, how aggravating so called good Samaritans were, for she had encountered a few more by now and never knew how to avoid them; how she felt belittled and clumsy. Much to her embarrassment she broke down and wept when she described how she missed her old life.

Someone tapped their way over to her and pulled a chair close, "we understand Marilla. We've all been there, haven't we?" said a man's voice over murmurs of affirmation. "It's a shitty hand you've been dealt no doubt about it." Marilla fumbled in her handbag for a handkerchief to dab at her eyes and wipe her nose. "We're here for you to cry to, don't feel remotely silly for doing it. I don't think there's anyone here who isn't grieving for their lost life." A hand this time a woman's Marilla thought, reached out for hers and grabbed it gently, squeezing encouragingly.

Attention shifted as someone else started talking about something that annoyed them lately. Marilla was only half listening though she knew they deserved her attention, the good thing she reflected about their all being blind was that no one could tell. She stated paying them some mind when everyone started clapping then sharing their experiences. Evidently it was about the same thing that had happened to her the other day. Giuseppe had said it was common and apparently, he was right. One guy with a deep booming voice was saying he had practically wrestled some interloper off him, bringing his cane into play. Marilla didn't think she'd be brave enough to do that and pretty much resigned herself to be dragged across town when someone piped up that their dog was helpful in that situation.

Now someone was saying that helpful friends kept mentioning cures for their affliction. A series of groans could be heard around the room and everyone started speaking at once. Chakras, stones, crystals, Chinese medicine, cucumbers (on the eyes apparently), cow urine, magic mushrooms, even standing upside down had been suggested which drew a loud burst of laughter. "God they're pathetic, aren't they?" said the original deep voiced man who had introduced himself as Bert.

"They come from a place of concern though, I guess," said Marilla meditatively. "I suppose that's something."

"Hm, said Bert. "They're not much better than your annoying Samaritans if you ask me."

The session was ended shortly after and Marilla got to her feet, she was pleased when the group leader offered to guide her out to the front door. "How did you find it?" she asked. "You were a bit upset but I think you found yourself in the end. I thought you were very good with Bert; he can be a bit domineering at times."

"I hope I wasn't too rude," said Marilla.

"Not at all, he rather likes it when someone contradicts him. His voice sounds commanding doesn't it, he's really a big softy though. I thought you did well for your first time. I hope you'll be back."

Marilla nodded her thanks and sat on bench by the door. The weather was agreeable, and she was enjoying the late afternoon sunshine on her arms and the slight breeze that kept the temperature at a pleasant level.

Somehow her good mood was deflated when Rachel approached her panting slightly, "sorry, sorry, the traffic," she said by way of apology. Marilla got into the car and found herself thinking about the earlier discussion rather than listening to Rachel's tales of woe. The gulf between them had never seemed wider.

The drive home was silent. Out of the corner of her eye Rachel caught sight of Marilla's profile flashing in and out of sight as they drive under the streetlamps, but she said nothing.

"You look so sad," Juliet said compassionately one afternoon when they had cast their books aside.

"What? No I'm I'm..." Rachel tried to say she was fine, but the lie got stuck in her throat.

Tell me. Juliet said simply.

Rachel glanced across at her. "You don't want to know. I don't want to burden you with it."

"Just tell me," Juliet repeated.

Rachel couldn't bear it, she was miserable. Juliet's simple command brought all her emotions to the fore. Once she started talking, she found she couldn't stop. Occasionally Juliet shifted in her chair but otherwise she was still as she listened with rapt attention.

There was a pause after Rachel had finished her tale of woe, Juliet gathered her into her arms. Rachel melted, it had been so long. Marilla was so caught up in her situation that they hadn't made love or even really touched beyond the bare minimum for weeks. Sensing no resistance Juliet cradled Rachel's face in her hands and kissed her full on the lips. Rachel was shocked initially but honestly her whole being was craving something like it and without thinking she kissed Juliet back. When Juliet pulled away Rachel followed her capturing her lips herself and relishing the taste of her sweet soft lips.

Even as she was relaxing into the kiss her brain was screaming. "No no," she pulled apart rubbing her lips. "No this is wrong. I can't, I just can't."

"I'm sorry, obviously I over stepped," Juliet said disappointed. She liked Rachel and thought they might be good together; she'd never ignore this gorgeous, voluptuous woman the way her awful girlfriend seemed to.

"It's not your fault, it's mine. I'll go," Rachel turned and stumbled away throwing her arm behind her back to say stay back when Juliet sounded like she was following.

Juliet watched her go remorsefully. Perhaps if she had waited, but she had been dying to kiss her since the first moment they met.

Rachel climbed into her car and drove towards town parking by the side of the road when tears obscured her vision.

"You're late again," said Marilla curtly when Rachel picked her up. Naturally, she did not see Rachel's tear stained cheeks or reddened eyes. All she knew was that the breeze was chilly, and Rachel had kept her waiting yet again.

"Sorry," said Rachel remorsefully. "Shan't happen again, I promise."

"It's cold out there," continued Marilla. "I think you do it on purpose. To mock me. You were probably with that Juliet again. How's the study going?" she asked sarcastically.

"Fine," said Rachel curtly.

"Fine," replied Marilla. "Humph." There being nothing else to say Rachel turned the radio on and they drove home in silence.

"Sometimes," said Rachel quietly before they got out of the car, "you remind me of Thomas."

"What? I'm nothing like him."

"Not physically of course, but he did more than assault me, there was the psychological abuse also. You saying I keep you waiting when I'm barely five minutes late for instance."

"For goodness sake Rachel, it's hardly that bad."

"Who are you to decide?" Rachel spat at her. "You made me feel the same way, you took me back there."

"If you want to lose her just go ahead, Mar you're doing a fine job of it," said Matthew a few nights later.

"Don't be ridiculous Matthew of course I don't, but don't you see, don't you understand? my life has been turned upside down."

"I get it, but so has hers and you're being a complete bitch about it."

"A bitch," the coffee sloshed onto the table when Marilla slammed her cup down scalding her hands. "A bitch is it! No one understands, no one cares about what it's like for me."

"For goodness sake Mar, everyone gets it. Everyone's bending over backwards to make your life easier and a little recognition would not go astray."

"Recognition, just what am I supposed to do, how am I supposed to acknowledge everything she does all the time, I ..." Marilla trailed off thinking if Rachel helped her so often she couldn't number all the moments then perhaps there were a few but she was worked up now and refused to acknowledge it.

"No one's saying you have to do it endlessly," Matthew continued, "but now and again wouldn't hurt. The way you carry on you make her feel guilty for being sighted. It's not her fault you're blind you know."

"Don't be ridiculous, Matthew, I never implied any such thing."

"Sometimes it seems so, and your ire is not even directed towards me. God only knows how Rachel feels."

Marilla sat and thought defensively about his words.

"Oh," exclaimed Matthew one morning as he read the newspaper over breakfast. "Old Bert Sloane has died."

"Poor man, he suffered for years," remarked Rachel. "Do they say when the funeral will be?"

"Tuesday next," read Matthew.

As Matthew helped Marilla into the car for the drive to the church Rachel remarked, "I do like a funeral. You get a good party and you don't have to take a present." Marilla rolled her eyes while Matthew laughed, "shh Rachel, that's a terrible thing to say."

Rachel settled in the back seat and smiled at him. "I know, it's true though. Don't say you've never thought it."

"Well now, maybe so. Still I wouldn't go repeating it outside this car."

"Hush now Matthew, of course I won't."

Matthew glanced across at Marilla, "all set Mar?"

"Yes, what are we waiting for?" she said irritably.

The church was packed, Bert had been a well-liked member of the community and everyone came to pay their respects.

Marilla had never liked crowds all that much and felt more uncomfortable than even now that she could only hear and feel her neighbours rather than see them. She had been unable to really pay attention to the service because their coughs, throat clearing, farts; Bert's weeping grandchildren and all the other movements a large crowd made echoed in the wide space. She rather felt she was being assaulted on all sides. Ordinarily Marilla would have sought comfort from Rachel, but these days Rachel annoyed her, and Matthew seemed to be taking her side.

Matthew led her into the crowded church hall and found a chair for her to sit on though she did not particularly need it. She hated the way they treated her as though she were a perpetual invalid. Once Matthew had her settled, he told her he'd go off to find her some refreshments. She got to her feet as soon as he left and stood there feeling the press of strangers around her. Rachel was some distance away, her booming laugh bouncing around the hall. Marilla felt surrounded yet lonelier than ever.

Someone, Matilda Boulter perhaps? though Marilla couldn't be sure yelled, "hello" in her ear. Marilla turned toward the voice and greeted her. Matilda did not announce herself but yelled again, "lovely service. I saw you standing here alone. Do you need a seat?"

"No, I'm fine thanks. Matthew is just bringing me a drink."

"Ah okay. I see Rachel is in fine form," the woman yelled again, did she think Marilla was deaf too?

"Yes, she loves a big crowd like this," Marilla replied in a normal voice hoping it would rub off.

"I always liked old Bert Sloan, didn't you? Such a lively fellow," boomed Matilda right Marilla's left ear. Honestly, it was getting painful now.

"Yes, he was a lovely chap," agreed Marilla.

"I'll never forget the time…" honestly was Matilda cupping her hand around Marilla's ear for added volume now? Marilla backed away and bumped into the person behind her. Hot tea splashed down her skirt and evidently the legs of the poor person holding the cup as well judging by their exclamation of surprise. Matilda sprang to help them both. When Matthew arrived balancing plates and a drink for Marilla, he was stunned to find her sitting on the verge of tears in her wet skirt surrounded by debris and a concerned crowd. "what happened here now?" he said crouching down. He turned to someone behind him and asked them to fetch Rachel.

"What have you gone and done now?" asked Rachel in exasperation. She had been in the middle of a stimulating conversation with Mark Andrews and was annoyed at the interruption.

They made their apologies and took Marilla home but Marilla did not follow them inside, instead she sat on the porch swing when they went through the front door.

"Take her a drink," suggested Matthew. "I'll bring out some snacks." He held the door open for Rachel. She sat down next to Marilla and offered her a glass of wine. Rachel placed it in her hands and lit a cigarette? "Want one?" she asked around it.

"Yes please," said Marilla who waited for Rachel to light it for her, not quite trusting herself with open flame.

They sat in companionable silence for a while then Rachel started describing the scene; lightning bugs were flitting around and little white moth wings caught the light all of which Marilla missed until out of the blue she started giggling.

"What is it?"

"Don't have to take presents," sniggered Marilla. "You are awful."

"You didn't seem to think much of it at the time."

"No, well I was annoyed, but it is funny. Only you Rachel, only you." She leaned against Rachel's comfortable bulk.

"I've missed this," said Rachel quietly.

"It has been strained of late hasn't it. Am I being that pathetic. I am, aren't I?"

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."

"Not as sorry as me."

"You two sound very Canadian," laughed Matthew as he delivered a platter of snacks and then left them to it, determining that they needed a good talk.

"Marilla, I never thought I'd stoop to this."

"No, you gave me the kick I needed. I was wallowing. I hate wallowing. I've never been one to do that. I prided myself on never doing that. This has knocked me though, I admit it. Never quite faced anything like it. I hate it. But it's onwards and upwards. Can I trust you?"

"To do what?"

"To tell me if I'm getting pathetic again."

"I'm missing you, love," said Rachel.

"Missing me? I'm right here."

"But you aren't, not really. I mean yes, we're still inhabiting the same house. But I feel I'm losing you, Marilla and it's the last thing I want."

"Mm," Marilla felt the same way.

"I have a confession to make. It's making me sick holding it in," said Rachel all of a sudden.

"Oh?"

"So um, Juliet." Marilla waited intrigued where this was going. "Juliet kissed me the other day and um I, um I um kissed her back. But Marilla although initially it felt wonderful, I felt just terrible a moment later. I mean yes, I can't say I didn't enjoy the intimacy but then when my head registered it wasn't you it felt all wrong. I had to get away, to get out of there." She was crying now, and Marilla sat opposite her impassively. What was one supposed to do when one's lover admitted infidelity? "I promise I'll never do anything like it again. I love you Marilla. I don't know what came over me." She glanced over to the stony-faced Marilla. "Don't be like that my love, it was just the one kiss."

"Well there was that time you know," Marilla replied slowly.

"When? What are you on about?"

"On Lesbos, on the Agape sofa."

"Agape? What are you talking about, you were there too?" Rachel said in confusion.

Marilla thought back to the conversation she'd had with Laura at the time, so it was true Rachel was unaware of her absence. "I wasn't, I was sharing a wine with Laura. You were being um well ... cared for, as I recall," she said slowly.

"No, you were there, I distinctly remember…" Rachel trailed off because of course she had been oblivious. "I mean you were the one who suggested it," she added defensively.

"I know, more fool me," Marilla retorted. "Be careful what you wish for. I remember I kept glancing over to you to see if you noticed, but you never did," Marilla said stonily.

"In my defence," Rachel said eventually. "It is hard to take much notice when one is overcome."

"Hmm," said Marilla as she drank down the last of her wine. "Well I'm off to bed." In the safety of her much beloved own home her cane was not required, and she confidently made her way up the stairs. Looking at her Rachel thought, you'd never know she was blind.

Rachel sighed heavily, it had all being going so well for a moment there. She hoped their rift was not insurmountable.