This is from the recent novel We Are Not Ourselves, by Matthew Thomas. It features a middle-aged couple who do not yet know the husband is suffering from early-onset Alzheimers.  The scene occurs at night in bed in the aftermath of a mental "episode" the husband has had.
"She felt the slight shaking of the bed but didn't register the sound as what it was until the shaking grew more forceful.  Ed was doing a good job of keeping it in, but the springs of the bed gave him away.  The sound of gasps followed.  She had trouble identifying it at first because she had formed an image in her mind of Ed as a man who didn't cry.  It wasn't macho posturing; he simply didn't shed tears, not even at his father's funeral.  
She turned slowly in the bed.  She was tentative with her body; there was no telling how he'd react if she touched him.  It wasn't impossible that he'd get violent, like an animal in a cage.  They were in a new territory, with new rules.  
She shifted closer to him.  When he didn't stir, she reached out to touch his shoulder, expecting him to slap her hand away; he let it rest there.  She gave the shoulder a consoling rub; he sobbed a little harder.  She pressed her whole body against his and he folded into its curve.  She brought her other arm up against him so that she was hugging him fully.  She found herself holding him to her as though he were a child.  She'd always resisted cradling him in such a manner, fearing it would diminish her attraction to him, but attraction was the last thing on her mind at the moment.  He sobbed as she held him, and she soothed him by making shushing sounds, long and slow and quiet, until he turned and sobbed into her nightgown.  
Within minutes he was sound asleep, the crying having exhausted him.  She lay awake until the alarm clock went off."  
                   I think it's kind of interesting that this was written by a man.  

Last edited by Squonk (November 3, 2014 3:21 pm)