The Story of Us
By: DiamondChandeliers
Under my father's care we never stayed in one place for very long. He so easily forgot faces and names and we always seemed to be on the run from one of the many people he'd cheated or stolen from over the years. The life we'd lived made it impossible for me to make friends or get good grades in any school in which I was enrolled or have anything even remotely close to a normal life. And it wasn't long before my father, Malcolm, crumbled under the strain of single parenthood and abandoned me in exchange for youth, leaving me in the care of two kind, motherly spinster women. Esther and Mary were their names. They took me under their wings and raised me as their own when they could have easily dropped me off on the doorstep of the nearest orphanage and went on their merry way and for that I will be eternally grateful.
The transition from an unstable life of trickery and constant paranoia to one with two loving parents and plenty of food to go around was anything but smooth. Despite the reassurances of my new mothers, for almost two years of living with Esther and Mary I kept my small wardrobe in a knapsack under my bed rather than in the chest of drawers in my bedroom, never knowing when I would have to pick up and leave and abandon the home of which I'd grown attached.
Aside from gaining two mothers and a permanent and stable home, I'd also gained a friend after my father's betrayal.
We met on a cool, sunny spring day by the side of a massive river that ran the length of our small village. I was there lying under the shade of a great oak tree on top of a red and white checkered picnic blanket that was decorated in moth holes and frayed edges, watching the white cottony clouds glide across the sky all by my lonesome when behind me, the bushes began to rustle.
I nearly jumped out of my skin I was so startled.
The spiny branches, full with deep green leaves parted revealing a girl my age. She was beautiful with her long, thick raven black hair that stopped just slightly above her waist, unblemished, fair skin, sparkling sapphire blue eyes unlike anything I'd ever seen before, her lips parted in a bashful but friendly smile. Her name was Mila.
My heart still hammered in my chest and my breath still came awkward and harsh and ragged as she introduced herself. But this was a girl who needed no introduction where I was concerned.
Mila lived in the house across from mine with her mother Willa, her father Samuel, and younger twin sisters Georgina and Marcy. Samuel, was a well-off baker who ran a shop in the square just outside of our village, making Mila and her sisters the few children whose parents could actually afford to send off their children to the big school house nearby. I recall waking up early each school day to watch her mother send Mila and her sisters off to school. I recall how beautiful I thought she looked in her frilly dresses and handmade lace-trimmed socks.
And I remember how badly I wished that I was brave enough to talk to her or perhaps offer to walk her to school and now here she was standing right in front of me with leaves and dirt caked into her beautiful black hair.
"I-I know who you are." I stammered. "Your house is right across from mine."
She nodded, her cheeks coloring just a tad.
We stood in awkward silence after that. I wracked my brain for something, anything to say to her. I glanced up and saw that she seemed to be doing the same, her nose scrunched up in concentration.
I smiled. "Do you want to skip rocks with me?"
Her face lit up and a grin broke out on her face. She nodded her head eagerly and took a step towards me.
My breath caught in my throat.
Then her smile gradually disappeared until it had vanished completely.
"What's wrong?" I asked her.
She looked down at her shoes, embarrassed. "I don't know how to skip rocks."
"I can teach you," I offered eagerly.
She lifted her head, her smile returned. "Really?"
"Sure! All we need are some rocks, none too big though."
"Okay!"
Mila and I got down on our knees and began our search. Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced over at her. She was unlike any of the girls I had ever seen, so neat and prissy and unapproachable and then there was Mila, in her stockings and frilly dress on her hands and knees in the dirt and mud.
"Aren't you worried about getting your dress dirty?" I asked her.
She stood on her knees and looked down at the dress that was now caked with mud and dirt and grass stains. Mila shook her head. "No. I never really liked it anyway."
I laughed. Not so much at what she said but more so at how quickly everything had changed for me. I'd grown up thus far in the care of an irresponsible crook who hadn't thought twice about abandoning me and had now gained the love and affection of two kind women who'd taken me in without question. And to add to that, now I had someone to play with after years of jumping from place to place and looking over my shoulder and never being in one place long enough to even consider making a friend.
That day I taught Mila how to skip rocks. The next day Mila invited me to a picnic under that same big oak tree with her stuffed animals and some day-old pastries and bread and cheese that she had swiped from her father's shop. And the day after that, she'd begun teaching me how to read.
It was the start of beautiful relationship though sadly one that did not withstand the test of time.
As Mila and I grew up we grew apart as well. Mila developed into a beautiful young woman who, like most girls who took more pleasure in entertaining gentleman callers attending parties and shopping as opposed to digging in the mud and dirt for rocks to skip across the river.
More and more she began making excuses when we had plans and more and more she and her knew set of girlfriends ventured outside of our small village and into the big cities and towns for more shopping and more parties.
And just like that I was alone again. Not knowing what to do or how to handle the loneliness, I threw myself into my work. With Esther and Mary, now older and unable to work as much or as hard as they used to, the task of providing for the family fell on my shoulders. I wouldn't describe it as having been a difficult transition, I'd been spinning yarn and thread for years, I'd been helping Esther and Mary run our stand in the square for years. To be honest, I was more than happy to do it. Since Esther and Mary had taken me in I had long since dreamed of one day being able to repay their kindness and now I'd gotten my chance.
Anyway, that's when the rumors started. It was shocking how quickly the world could turn on a person. Take me for example: as a child, I may have been a social outcast amongst my peers with only their parents going out of their ways to show me kindness, often gifting me with small trinkets from their stands. Now that I was a man, everyone had shunned me, whispering about me as I meandered past when they thought I was out of ear shot, gawking at me with obvious pity in their eyes, wondering if I had grown into a man who would go on to walk in the cowardly footsteps of my father. At first it had frightened me and then my fear morphed into annoyance.
Moving on, the rumors were started by nosy townsfolk. Mainly from old women who felt that it their responsibility to make sure that the young women in our village remained upstanding young women who kept their legs crossed and their cleavage covered until their wedding nights, regardless of whether or their input was wanted or not.
You see, Mila kept a lot of male company. Wherever she went there was usually a small group of usually three or four guys trailing behind her. It wasn't a good look for a woman to have in those days. Though if Mila had been a man and it had been four or five women following her day in and day out, these same women would have branded Mila a womanizer and went back to their knitting. They were suffocating times for women.
One night, the night of the Summer Solstice Festival to be exact, Mila and her male friends drank a little more than they should have and started dancing on tables and smashing pint glasses and plates before disappearing into the forest. I can still picture Willa's face, flushed with embarrassment and stained with hot tears.
Mila didn't come home that night. She stumbled home at the crack of dawn for the whole town to see. Her father was livid and her mother was devastated. The whole village heard the argument through the too-thin walls of their home. I was on my way into the square when Mila's twin sisters rushed out of the house with their hands over their ears. My heart broke for them. The argument that had been a long time coming. I just didn't understand why the children had to suffer in the process. So I waved them over and invited them to come spend the day with me by the river.
I taught them to skip rocks across the water and read to them some of my favorite storybooks from my childhood. And we shared a sandwich and a couple of jelly-stuffed pastries while I told them the story of how I had come to know their sister.
When I brought the girls home, the argument had been defused and Mila's mother thanked me kindly for having gotten the children away from the fighting.
The next day, Mila's male friends publicly destroyed her reputation by hanging a pair of her undergarments on top of a fountain in the middle of the square.
If I was humiliated for her, I could only imagine how she felt.
I spent the rest of the day distracted, thinking only of Mila. To a woman back then her reputation was everything and if a man accused a woman of wrongdoing, odds were that everyone (including the women) would take the man's word over the woman's regardless of proof, evidence or who was more believable.
That night, I was up late, tossing and turning in bed and unable to sleep. My head swimming with thoughts of Mila and her family.
I threw my legs over the side of my bed and rose to my feet. I got dressed and headed out into the night, hoping that a midnight stroll might make me drowsy enough to get some much needed rest. I ventured off into the forest that night with no destination in mind and without realizing where I was going, I'd found myself at the riverside.
Silently, I parted the thick foliage. I emerged and was greeted with the shimmering blue river. Even at night its waters were alive and majestic to look upon.
I smiled. It was such a peaceful setting. The moon high in the sky and surrounded by stars. A gentle summer breeze ruffled my hair, blowing it into my face. I tucked the loose tendrils behind my ear and lowered myself on to a comfortable, dry patch of grass beneath the big oak tree.
And then I heard it.
A low sob followed by low, quiet sniffling.
Someone was here with me.
I looked around the tree and saw Mila with her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she cried.
"Oh, Mila," I said, crawling over to sit next to her.
She lifted her head, startled, looking at me wide-eyed. She shook her head at me. "What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here."
I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, bringing her into my warm embrace. "I couldn't sleep so I went for a walk and ended up here. What are you doing out here? It's late."
She began to cry harder.
I tightened my embrace. "It's going to be alright, Mila. I promise."
She shook her head. "No. It isn't. I'm ruined, Rumple. No one is going to forget or forgive this and no one's going to let me live it down."
"Mila, you don't need the acceptance or forgiveness of anyone but you. You're the one who's going to have to live with you for the rest of your life so the least thing you could do is like yourself."
Mila chuckled, playfully slapping my chest. "I may need the acceptance and forgiveness of my family though."
I nodded. "Yeah. You also need to let this go, Mila. Things happen and people do evil, rotten things to one another but you can't let that get to you. You need to move on. Don't let this one incident define you."
Mila laughed, this time without humor. "Move on?" she asked looking up at him.
I nodded again.
"Well thanks to my father I will be. Mother's already gotten my things packed."
I frowned at her in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
She looked into my eyes with a different kind of sadness I didn't recognize. She raised her hand to stroke my cheek. "I'm leaving, Rumple. Samuel is marrying me off to some cousin in another kingdom."
I stared at her in disbelief. I'd just gotten my only friend back and now she was being taken from me yet again. "An arranged marriage."
She nodded miserably.
"He can't do that. Can he?"
"It's not like I have much of a choice, Rumple. I can't stay here. There's nothing left for me here. I can't live off of my parents for the rest of my life. Not even the seediest of taverns will hire me and my father can't find a single soul in this town who would even consider marrying me. And the only men who would marry me are the monsters that fathers steer their daughters away from." She said in a dark and bitter voice.
A chill slithered down my spine.
I kissed her temple.
The corners of her mouth twitched, fighting a smile. "Can we just enjoy what time we have left together, Rumple?"
"Anything you want but don't you want to say goodbye to your other friends."
Mila snorted. "My 'other friends' were never really my friends at all," she told me. "I imagine they're in the corner of some tavern somewhere laughing about the whole thing right now."
I felt my nostrils flare and my face grow hot with anger.
"You were the only true friend I ever had and I abandoned you for a group of…" she released a shuddering breath, a few more tears escaping her eyes. She dashed them away with the backs of her hands. "Can we talk about something else?"
"Anything you like."
She scrunched up her nose in thought. I grinned, allowing my anger to subside.
"My mother told me about what you did for the twins. You didn't have to but I'm glad that you did."
"It was my pleasure," I told her. "I was happy to do it."
"They're darling, aren't they?" she asked grinning up at me.
"Absolutely." I agreed.
We continued on like that until daybreak, talking about everything but the separation that loomed before us. Each minute bringing us closer and closer to the inevitable. If I put it out of my mind long enough it was like nothing had changed. The stains on her cheeks was water that I'd playfully splashed in her face rather than tears and she was sniffing because she was still getting over a cold.
I looked upon her tear stained face that night and saw in her a kindred spirit. Someone who—like me— knew what it was like to be frowned upon, talked about, put down and overlooked. Something in me stirred and an idea came into formation in my mind.
"You're awfully quiet," Mila noticed. "What's on your mind?"
I gulped. My hands were beginning to tremble and sweat. "Mila?"
"Mm?"
"Will you marry me?"
She stiffened in my arms.
She sat up in my arms, her gaze was wide and horror-stricken. Mila shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes again. "You don't know what you're asking me."
"Actually I do." I clarified.
"No. You have no idea. You'd be an outcast, laughing stock of the whole village."
I snorted. "I'm already all of those things, Mila."
"I can't—"
"Mila—"
"No! I won't do this to you. You deserve better than to marry the village whore, Rumple!"
"You don't see yourself clearly at all, do you?" I observed.
"You don't understand what you'd be doing to yourself. To your children, Rumple."
"One less pompous, arrogant, judgmental child in this village will do no harm," I told her. I took her face in my hands. "I just want you to know that you have options. You don't have to go off to some land you've never been to and marry some man that you've never met. You could stay right here. With me. In the village in which you were born and raised."
"But those people, everyone—"
"We will face them head on, together and any other obstacle that stands in our way."
"But I don't love you. I mean I do but I'm not in love with you."
"I know." I brushed a kiss against her forehead. "I'm not asking you to be."
I rose from my place at her side. I held out my hand to help her up. She took it with a small smile.
I walked her home that night. Just as she was entering her house, she turned around and gave me a kiss on the cheek, awakening some part of me that I never knew existed. "I'll think about it," she told me.
When I went home, I climbed into bed and slept for thirty minutes. I was on my way out the door and into the square when Mila caught me and accepted my proposal.
Her father didn't approve of the union which didn't surprise me, but our mothers were over the moon as were Mila's sisters.
Mila and were married two weeks later. Esther and Mary were delighted to have her and overjoyed that I had found someone.
Our home became our safe haven as the rumors and mistreatment became close to unbearable. So much so that Mila's family up and moved one morning and were never heard from again. Another two weeks passed before her father sent a letter denouncing Mila as his daughter.
She devastated and I was so furious that I saw red.
Mila and I were married three years when Mary passed away leaving me and Esther bedridden and sick with grief. A month later Esther followed and I wasn't sure if I'd ever know happiness again. Unable to stand it in that house a moment longer we packed up and moved.
But we got through it. We got through it all and we did it together.
Sometimes I remember that night by the riverside and wonder if it was fate that brought us together. If it was fate that had kept me awake and led me to her that night. I say fate because no matter how the story played out, in the end it got me my son and no matter what pain or obstacles I had to endure and overcome to get to him it will always have been worth it.
I wish that I could tell a different story, a happier one. I wish that I could say that Mila and I had grown up as friends who blossomed into lovers as we grew older and have it be the truth. I wish that I could say that Mila and I parted ways in a healthy and loving manner, one that wouldn't have caused our son so much pain but sadly it didn't happen like that and there is nothing I can do to change it. I've accepted that now.
I've seen the future and though the future may become rough at times, I now see that the bleakest of times are often littered with brightest of moments. You just have to look for them.