Work Text:
That old house had lost its name to time, its old inhabitants long dead or moved on to bigger things. Time had forgotten Green Gables, but Diana hadn't. After Marilla's death Anne had left Green Gables arm in arm with Gilbert Blythe to build their own house of dreams. Over half a century had passed since then. Diana hobbled alone through those old fields, through the brook and past the long dead snow queen, the path to Green Gables was swallowed by weeds and its overgrown bushes, the years had faded Diana, her raven black hair, once so admired by Anne; had faded to a glowing silver, her face had become aged though she still carried that same feminine air she'd always been admired for.
She stepped out of the dry heat of the Avonlea sun onto the old, dusty porch of Green Gables.The door was stiff but not locked; though it wouldn't have been an issue either way as Diana fidgeted with that key Anne had entrusted her with when they were girls. The door shrieked as it opened, the soft sunlight framed those old wooden stairs as dust floated through the air. Diana walked tentatively as if she was trying not to disturb the peace of this old house, she walked past the stairs and peered into the parlour room, there were holes in the wall from family photos once nailed on them and marks on the floor from furniture being moved around; the house still felt alive, Diana had known it was lived in, but she could feel it too. She tiptoed through to the kitchen where that large, worn dining table sat, that spruce table that planted itself in that old kitchen nearly 80 years ago and never left, they thought about moving it out with the rest of the furniture when Anne left Avonlea, but they couldn’t; not for lack of trying, but between Anne, Gilbert, Diana and Fred, they couldn’t get that anchor of a table out of the house. She walked around through the kitchen before something caught her eye, Diana saw the pantry door cracked open and something small on the highest shelf. Diana pushed the door open, cobwebs shedding from it as she did, she reached up and grabbed the small glass bottled caked in dust now, it contained a red, slightly viscous liquid, she popped the cork and the smell hit her immediately. Dianas face scrunched before she recorked the bottle and placed it back on the shelf, a warm, nostolgic grin smears itself across her face as Diana laughed to herself in that empty kitchen; “current wine Anne, have we not learned our lesson?” She asked the walls, not waiting for a response, but she wished it wasn’t so quiet all of a sudden.
Diana approached the old stairs, she placed her foot on the first step, when suddenly she felt a lump in her throat, a somber dread washed over her as she hesitated from taking her next step. She took a deep, shaky breath through her nose and out of her mouth. She crept up those old stairs, walking slowly as she did, the days where her and Anne would sprint up those stairs to that old east gable room were long past. She reached the top of the stairs and she paused; she took in the atmasphere; the air smelled of dust and aged wood, that dread from before becoming a bitter sadness. She walked towards the old East Gable room, she placed a gentil hand on that old oak door, she reached for the handle but stopped herself. She took another deep breath and walked away from the door towards the former guest room. As she walked into the now empty guest room. She remembered that portrait of George Whitefield and the matching one of the Duke of Welington that had once hung there. Diana remembered a conversation of theirs from long ago, before Anne left for her first year at Redmond, all those years ago.
Diana reminisced on that now, being back in the old spare room. Diana remembered that conversation, perhaps it was what Anne had said, or maybe it was the manner in which she said it, Diana could nearly hear her voice now as she paced clemently on the creaking floorboards. “Marilla and I cleared everything out of the spare room yesterday. Do you know, I hated to do it? Of course, it was sily, but it did seem as if we were committing sacrilege. That old spare room has always seemed like a shrine to me. When I was a child I thought it the most wonderful apartment in the world. You remember what a consuming desire I had to sleep in a spare room bed, but not the Green Gables spare room. Oh, no, never there! It would have been too terrible; I couldn’t have slept a wink from awe. I never walked through that room when Marilla sent me in on an errand, no, indeed, I tiptoed through it and held my breath, as if I were in church, and felt relieved when I got out of it. The pictures of George Whitefield and the Duke of Wellington hung there, one on each side of the mirror, and frowned so sternly at me all the time I was in, especially if I dared peep in the mirror, which was the only one in the house that didn’t twist my face a little. I always wondered how Marilla dared houseclean that room. And now it’s not only cleaned but stripped bare. George Whitefield and the Duke have been relegated to the upstairs hall. ‘So passes the glory of this world,’” concluded Diana; quoting Anne, with a laugh in which there was a little note of regret. It is never pleasant to have our old shrines desecrated. Of course back then, that note of regret was for that old spare room, though Anne’s anecdote took on a new meaning for Diana as she wiped a tear from her eye “Oh its just allergies Anne.” She insisted as she wiped her eye, although Anne wasn’t there, Diana often found herself talking to her.
Diana shut the door as she left the spare bedroom, she wasn’t sure why, but it felt…. Right, as if someone would stay there again. Diana stepped past the bathroom before remembering something, she stepped inside a room of very little significance to anyone who had lived there, but she looked into that old wash basin, she couldn’t think of what compelled her to do so, but when she did, she realised. Inside of the white porseline basin were small remnents of green and black dye, “oh Anne, how vain were you?!” Diana smiled and laughed “To buy black hair dye just to have your hair turned that wretched green hue,” Diana laughed a little harder, and a little more until she couldn’t feel that looming sadness “all because of Gilbert Blythe, oh Anne, anyone in Avonlea could’ve told you he would be your husband one day, you two were the only ones blind to it.” Diana’s laughter died down as she calmed softly and stood staring at the dye stains in thought, “Even after you chopped off your hair to not be seen like a mop of seaweed, Gilbert still looked at you with those eyes, those eyes that couldve made St. Valentine herself fall head over heels,” Diana choked another laugh “oh but you were so stubbourn.” She began to walk out of the room before turning to look at the basin as if it were Anne herself “Anne, your hair was always beautiful, no matter how self-concious you were, it really did grow into that beautiful auburn you had dreamed of.” If anyone were to see Diana now, talking to walls, bottles and wash basins, they’d have her locked up in a padded cell, but to her, everything in this house was Anne, everything she looked at, even when it was barren of its furniture, made Diana think of Anne.
Diana walked back towards the stairs and contemplated going down and just going home, but she couldn’t bring herself to, although she couldn’t shake this growing sense of lonliness and nostalgia mixed in her heart driving her to glide around this old house like a ghost of her own past. She looked at Marilla’s old room, the door was ajar, she cautiously approached as if the room would eat her alive; she pushed the door open and took one step inside before tears welled in her eyes. “Oh Mar…. I never got to see you before you left us…. you were so happy the last I seen you, you were always there for Anne, she never grew out of needing you, after Walter…. After, the war…. I- I think Anne really started to resemble you Mar, I believe that’s the highest compliment one could receive,” Dianas voice shook as she spoke “..to be admired by Anne, oh the lord himself couldn’t receive a compliment so high… so few knew the joy of being as close to Anne, you saved that girl… I don’t even dare think of what could’ve happened if she was sent back to the orphan asylum, the world wouldve lost a poet.. an author, a mother…. The world wouldve lost a kindred spirit.” Diana planted a kiss on her index and forefinger and placed them on the doorframe gently as she left the room.
She didn’t bother to wipe the tear as it fell from her eye, one should shed a tear for someone like Marilla. She paced back and forth at the top of the stairs, there was no more avoiding it, Diana either went to the east gable room, or she went home, she wasn’t sure she could bring herself to come back if she went home. Diana took a deep breath and for the final time walked back towards that east gable door. She placed her right hand on the wooden door and her left on the handle. Dianas hands shook as she cracked the door open.
She stepped into the East Gable room and it all collapsed.
The air still retained that subtle lavender scent Anne had loved; hazy now, but unmistakeable. The sun streamed in through the lace curtains and the floor creaked with familiarity under Diana's light feet. The room was bare, having lost everything except its core. And that core was Anne. Diana stood in the middle, hands trembling, heart pounding as if it had waited all these years to be permitted to explode.
"Oh, Anne…" she whispered. Her voice had just passed her lips before stopping altogether. She placed a hand on her chest to clasp her heart and hold it in. "Oh, Anne, how did the world go on without you?" She cried freely now, tears streaming down her aged cheeks. She didn't even bother to wipe them away. Not this time. She looked at the window, where once the snow queen bloomed in regal beauty. The cherished cherry tree lovingly dubbed as the “Snow Queen” by Anne decades ago was now twisted and dead save for a single white petal holding on to a branch like it was as desperate for Anne as Diana is. Diana breathed in shock, how did it survive? A lone petal, as if Anne had left it for her. A sign. A goodbye.
“Oh, Anne," she wept, her knees buckling beneath her. She fell to the floor like a child. "I miss you. I miss you every day. You were my best friend, my kindred spirit. Every part of me that still clings to beauty, to wonder, to magic, it’s all because of you.". Her breath came in bursts as she cried, a huge, collection of grief that had held back too long. "I still read your poems, you know? Every week. I have them all. The ones you wrote when we were girls… the ones you wrote after Walter…" Her voice cracked. "I read them out loud softly so that it feels like you're reading them." She looked up again at the room, searching it for any trace of the red-haired girl she knew for so long. I wish you'd brought me along with you to Four Winds," she admitted in a constricted whisper. "I never regretted the life I'd created here, not once… but sometimes I wonder how it would've been. To be with you that little bit longer. To laugh like we used to. I never outgrew needing you.". Her fingers curled over the boards, grasping the wood as though the room would dissapear if Diana didn’t anchor herself to it. "I am a ghost in my own story, Anne. Everyone's gone. Fred, Marilla… you." She buried her forehead in the boards and whispered into the void, "You were the last crumb of childhood I had left." The room gave no response: only the sound of memories and the gentle creak of the old house settling around her, as though it, too, were weeping. Diana lay there on the ground for a long time, letting the pain consume her, no longer fighting it. In this room where dreams and secrets and promises had been shared, she let herself break apart. For Anne. For Marilla. For the snow queen. For that raven haired girl with no friends… And for that same woman now kneeling in the East Gable, heart open, bidding a bitter goodbye to her bosom friend, her kindred spirit.