The View From Millwood, Anika Ramlo

The View From Millwood

“Accept being unimportant” –Lao Tzu

“Daddy,” I asked again. “Where is Mama?” My breathin’ seemed to get shorter and a light-headed dizziness overtook my body. As soon as I had crossed the worn out threshold and heard the slammin’ of our flimsy screen door behind me, I wished I had stayed down by the river. I had walked into our sparse little dinin’ room, and knew that somethin’, or someone, was missin’. “I told you. Everythin’s fine. Mama’s gone out tonight,” my father said sternly. “Now take a seat, Marylou.” This time, my father looked me straight in the eye, piercin’ me with a powerful glare that I had never seen before. I immediately sat down in my usual seat, next to my older brother Avery. We finished dinner quickly, in silence. It seemed as though the start of what was supposed to be the perfect summer had disappeared before my eyes. At that moment, I knew for sure that this time, my mama wasn’t comin’ back. My free-spirited brother didn't seem as upset as I was. I didn't consider myself nearly as special as he was. Sure, I was a pretty 13-year old, with fair skin and thick auburn hair, but I wasn't nearly as darin' or bold as Avery. These things bothered me. As the summer of 1957 faded away and September’s autumn leaves snuck back into our lives, nearly the whole town knew that Mama had walked out on us. I had hoped and prayed that no one would find out, but people began to notice that somethin’ was up when Mama was no longer showin’ her face in the neighborhood or school meetings. In such a small town like ours, the news traveled faster than lightnin’. In no time at all, the girls at school were talkin’ all ‘bout me, seein’ as they had never been real fond of me anyhow. It especially hurt when I caught Margaret Baxter whisperin’ ‘bout me in the halls, because she was the one person in my whole class who I expected to understand. But soon the gossip began to get worse and worse. Even my favorite teacher, Mrs. Miller, began to treat me differently. I was always her best student, the one who backed her up, helped her explain complicated concepts to the other kids. But now, it seemed as though she couldn’t even bear look at me. I told myself that this was the worst of it. That it would all get better. That somethin’ else would catch the interest of the nosy girls at school, and this whole ordeal would blow over within a couple months. Boy, was I wrong. It happened during the dreaded Outdoor Exploration Week. Every year, us seventh graders were required to go on a little campin’ trip somewhere in the woods or mountains. This year, they took us to a place called the Dreary Creek. We’d all heard of the Dreary Creek, for it was always the setting of one of them scary stories we hear on Halloween or somethin’. It was supposedly haunted by the Devil himself. When we got there, I felt tired and uneasy, so I climbed into my tent and started to read a book. “Hey Marylou!” yelled Nancy, a small girl with green eyes and pretty blonde curls. “Wanna hang out with Susan and Betsey and me?” She batted her eyelashes like it was the only thing she wanted in the world.

“No thanks,” I smiled and turned back to my book, thinkin’ of how odd it was that Nancy Weatherby would want to spend her free time with me. “Oh come on,” Nancy pleaded. “It’s gonna be loads of fun!” “I really just want to— ” “Oh Marylou!" She looked at me again with those same green eyes, except now they weren’t so sweet and pleadin’. “Don’t be such a debby downer!” I finally gave in. Mama was always wantin’ me to be less of a loner anyways. I followed Nancy and her friends out of the camp until we arrived at a steep mountain path, hidden by lots of trees and bushes. Starting to feel unsettled, I looked back, only to find that the rest of my classmates were no longer in sight. “Are you sure we’re allowed to go this way?” I asked Nancy. I could faintly hear the roaring of water, rushing in the distance. “Positive,” she replied. So we kept on walking. As the trail descended down into a ravine, my worst fear had been realized. Stretched before us was a menacing river. My voice got caught in my chest and immediately my palms began to sweat. I watched as the gushing water streamed down the ravine, seemingly uncontrollable, and I didn’t know what to say. I stopped right in my tracks. “Come on Marylou, it ain’t that much further,” said Nancy. She grabbed a hold of my hand and began to pull me towards the edge of the river. I watched Susan and Betsey hop across a set of stepping-stones. Before I knew it, we were already halfway across. “I-I—” I stuttered, trying to find the right words. And then, I whispered loudly, “I can’t swim,” right as Nancy let go of my hand and pushed me backwards into the rushing current. As I struggled to breathe, bobbing my head up and down in the water, panic took over. The last words I heard came out of Nancy’s pretty little lips: “We don’t want you Marylou Watson! You’re worthless! Your own mama didn’t even want you!” And then, I went under. I woke up in one of the campin’ tents, freezin’ cold with an achin’ headache that wouldn’t leave me alone. The next thing I knew, my father arrived with a fresh pair of warm clothes, and I had never been so happy to see his face. He took me home, and this time when I crossed that worn-out threshold, I wanted to stay there. That night, I slept better than I had in a long time. The next day, I began to remember the night before. The unreal terror of that night came back so clearly, like a bucket of cold water, splashin’ me back to reality. My brother Avery arrived. He sat down on the edge of my bed and just looked at me for a second. “You know,” he began. “It doesn’t matter. None of it does.” “What do you mean?” I asked. “What doesn’t matter?” “I don’t. You don’t. This whole dang town doesn’t matter. Marylou, in the grand scheme of things, our lives are so unimportant. And we just have to accept it.” And with that, Avery Watson sat up, took one last look at me, and walked off just like that, leavin’ me even more baffled than I was from the start. I got up and walked over to my bedroom window. It was the end of the day and the night sky was pure beauty, hoverin’ over me, almost like a warm blanket promising safety, comfort, and most of all

hope. I loved how the billions of stars twinkled, united in the sky, each one brighter than the next. And then, it clicked, what Avery was tryin’ to tell me. He was sayin’ that our small town of Millwood, South Carolina was meaningless. I am meaningless. Avery is meaningless. Nancy and Betsey and Susan are meaningless. And Mama, Mama is meaningless. As Avery had said, in the grand scheme of things, Mama leavin’ us was such a small thing, bein’ shunned by the whole town didn’t matter one bit, and almost drownin’ in that dang river didn’t count for nothin’. In the end, we would move on, move on to bigger and better things, and most of all beat ‘em. In a way, I already had.

Anika Ramlo