Horizontal Hourglass

The doctors told me I was technically dead for a minute, meaning I had no heartbeat. My brain was definitely working though, because how else could my life flash before my eyes? It could be a chemical reaction, the brain's last song before the curtains close. All that I know is that minute felt like hours as I drifted through memories.

My first memories of gliding through corn fields, pretending they were forests and I was a knight embarking on a journey. No, not a damsel in distress or a princess -- a knight. I wasn't tall enough to see over the stalks and I often got lost. I had to play Marco Polo with my irate father. I'd be so scared, knowing if I drew it out, he was going to whoop my ass. This memory faded into another, of less fun times in the corn fields. I was 12, harvesting the stalks with an ancient scythe because Daddy wouldn't let me on the harvester.

"You need to learn the value of hard work." he had opined, spitting out a mouthful of tobacco juice into an old Mountain Dew bottle.

That was all well and good, but he only paid me one quarter per bushel. Was he teaching me an ultimate life lesson, that no matter how much work you did, bigger and richer people exploited you? Soon, I'd outgrown his beatings and avoided his drunken wrath by climbing a big oak tree. He had a bad back, so no way he'd chance climbing up after me. Paulie, my younger brother, didn't though.

"Mama's worried you're gonna break ya neck, Ella Jay..." he said, perching in a branch below me.

His flaming red hair gleamed in the sun, the freckles on his face like a connect-the-dots game. He had a bulging lip and I surmised he stole some of Daddy's chewing tobacco.

"Mama's gonna tan your hide if she finds out you're dipping." I responded.

"All the boys on the baseball team dip." he reasoned.

"Yeah and I bet they mamas are wooping their asses." I shot back.

I flash forward to later memory. Paulie's much older, sneaking into the house through my window.

"The hell are you doin'?" I asked in the darkness.

"Shh!" he hushed me. "Your window's the closest to the big tree branch."

"You know that means I have dirt on you now, right?" I told him with an eyebrow raised.

Paulie made a dismissive noise. "Daddy doesn't have to have to reason to be an asshole, Jellie Jay."

I wrinkled my nose at the awful nickname. "Don't call me that."

"Then don't be a snitch." he whispered, edging closer to the door.

He placed his ear against the white-painted wood.

"Who were you with, anyway?" I asked him curiously.

"None of your damn business." he snapped. "Be quiet!"

He snuck out into the hall, carefully shutting my door. I didn't hear any commotion so I assumed he made it back to bed unscathed.

There was one night he wasn't so lucky.

I'd woken up in the middle of the night to red and blue flashing lights. I heard distant yelling and the dogs barking like mad. Even the barn animals were startled, the rooster crowing at the wrong time, the sheep bleating, the chickens making a godawful racket. I overheard my Dad's angry voice, which is his default.

"...not gonna have some faggot livin' in my house! Pack your shit and get gone!" he screamed.

"George, calm down. We can't just throw him--" Mom started but Dad's booming voice overpowered her.

"THE HELL I CAN'T! I didn't raise my son to be a degenerate! He better be gone by mornin'! It's enough I had to hear this from Officer Fray! Now everyone in Huntley is gonna know!"

He stomped up the stairs and I heard his bedroom door shut with finality. I heard a second pair of feet storming around in Paulie's room. Mom's lighter gait shadowed Paulie as he packed his things.

"...he'll calm down by morning. He doesn't mean it. You don't have to go." Mom tried to placate him.

"I'm not spending one more goddamn moment in this house with him." Paulie seethed. "I'm sorry, Mama. I love you, but he can go right to hell!"

"Paulie!" Mom scolded.

The memory shifted. I was now grown, still living at home and attending community college. Dad was going to AA because he'd gotten a DUI the previous year. I was working at a farmer's market, crating and sorting fruits and vegetables. My first few meager paychecks paid for a cheap laptop, so I didn't have to go to the college library 30 minutes away just to turn in papers.

Mom insisted that we needed Internet access but Dad had been against it until I started going to college. I think something about me being a first-generation college student made him think I would become the family cash cow. Really, I was saving up to get the hell out of this town. I think that was the reason I latched onto the first guy who would have me.

Tommy Hagar was a 6'2 towheaded hunk of hot-headed charm and I was so naïve. He promised me we'd get out of Huntley County and live in the city. If I'd known "live in the city" meant being homeless a year after he dumped me, I would have never gotten in his pickup. Even when I lived with him in our shithole apartment full of roaches and his own trash he never picked up, it was hell. Not one inch of my body escaped his bruises. He kept a loaded gun on his nightstand as though daring me to say anything to a friend or police officer.

Homeless life was its own misery. I sold myself for food money, but after getting pregnant, I decided it was too dangerous. Some Samaritan helped me get some pills to abort the pregnancy. I panhandled and waste-picked. I was scrounging around an office building's Dumpster when I heard someone calling for me.

"Ella Jay...is that you?"

Paulie. He had long hair and wore feather earrings. His nails were manicured and he was stylishly dressed.

"Hi." I greeted him warily.

I must have been a sight. I knew my hair was one giant rat's nest, scalp often itching with lice. I was skin and bone, going days without a proper meal. I could manage to stave off starvation by finding a soup kitchen and often they'd give me new clothes.

"How long have you been living out here?" he asked me. "Lord have mercy, I haven't seen you in forever."

I didn't answer. I was too ashamed to tell him about Tommy.

Paulie insisted that I come home with him, at least to take a shower and get something to eat. I met his partner, Rafi, an Afghan immigrant who sought asylum in the US to avoid being killed for his sexual orientation. It felt strange being inside a place that was clean and didn't smell of piss and death. I immediately looked for a job. Paulie took me shopping, ignoring my polite refusal. It was just as well because I was probably not going to land a position wearing filthy rags.

I got a job waiting tables. It was grueling and often thankless, but I insisted on at least paying rent. I was helping Rafi clear out a storage room to make into my bedroom and I got an alert that my new bed had been delivered to the wrong apartment.

The guy in that apartment offered to drop it off by my door and I had the strangest feeling upon meeting him. He was only a few inches taller than me but he had a 1000-watt smile that crinkled his whiskey-brown eyes. His name was Andrew. For the longest time, I thought all straight men were belligerent abusive sex pests. But Andrew was overwhelmingly patient with me. He didn't so much as touch me without permission.

Our first date was at the county fair. I kissed him at the top of the Ferris wheel. He insisted we go on the Tilt-a-Whirl against my firm objections. It was fun, but I did puke up all of the fried food afterward. This somehow didn't sour our date. He held my hair back and offered me a stick of gum. He held me as fireworks lit up the sky. I think that's the first time I felt safe.

Andrew never pressured me into anything. While Tommy Hagar expected sex for paying for dinner and sometimes didn't even wait for my consent, Andrew truly respected me. The first time we made love, he made me feel precious. His mouth did things to my body I never knew could be so pleasurable. Sex wasn't an obligation with him, it was a near religious experience. There were times where I'd cry, so emotional from his sweetness and gentleness.

Andrew took me to meet his parents and I was blown away at how loving his family was. It was picturesque, seeing all his brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, and uncles enjoying each other's company. His mama was one of the kindest women I'd ever met and his daddy was the type of father I wish I had -- loving, humorous, and accepting.

I knew Andrew probably wanted to meet my parents, but somehow, it didn't feel right. Dad's health had further deteriorated, developing cancer in his bowel. Mom still enabled his abusive behavior.

"You know...you never have to talk to them again, right?" Andrew told me one night in his apartment.

I looked at him in surprise. "What do you mean? They're still my folks."

"Yeah, but you're an adult. If keeping a relationship with them is more hurtful than harmful...maybe it's time to cut ties. Of course, I can't tell you what to do." Andrew commented.

I decided that going No Contact was for the best. They hadn't ever seemed like invested parents, just people who had children for societal obligation. And they had rejected one of them. I still kept in touch with Paulie and Rafi, who later got married and adopted a little girl named Kenra.

Andrew proposed one year after we started dating. He knew I didn't want a public proposal after he saw me cringing at them at the restaurants we dined at. It was after a steak dinner and some sparkling wine that he got to one knee.

"Ella Jay Keegan...will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" he asked.

Of course, I said yes.

Our wedding was held at his parents' massive backyard. Paulie and Rafi were groomsmen along with Andrew's brothers. Little Kenra floated down the aisle in her flower girl's dress, tossing petals onto the makeshift red carpet. I had the shock of my life when my dad showed up.

"I know I've been a miserable SOB all your life and that's something you'll never forgive me for." he said. "But I have only four months to live. You can say no if you want, but I'd like to do you one kindness and walk you down the aisle."

I accepted, allowing him to accompany me down the aisle toward my soon-to-be husband. When the rings were placed and our vows were said, I believed that I was starting a new life. A better life.

We had our honeymoon at Myrtle Beach, which seems a bit tame. Andrew's sisters talked about Hawaii and Costa Rica and The Bahamas, but if we were honest, Andrew and I didn't do much sightseeing. In fact, we hardly left the hotel room except for one romantic night stroll on the beach. And wouldn't you know it, a couple of months after our honeymoon, I got another wedding gift.

"Oh my God..." Andrew gasped in awe as he held the stick in his hand.

I smiled, tears in my eyes.

"We're having a baby! We're having a baby!" he shouted, his voice quavering with emotion.

Baby...

We're having a baby...

Baby...

A swirl of sound...the echo of the sonogram, the thrum of a steady, tiny heart...tissue paper and the din of party cheer...whispering of lips against a swollen belly...

"I've got a pulse!" someone shouts through the fog.

The sound of wailing...a baby's cry...

My baby...

My baby...

I open my eyes. The world is blurry. I have an oxygen mask over my face.

Andrew's face comes into focus. He looks exhausted, his eyes looking like they cried a thousand tears.

He holds a bundle in his arms.

He smiles.

"We have a daughter." he says thickly.

I try to remember the past few hours. Waking up in excruciating pain. Feeling blood between my legs. Barely holding it together in the ambulance.

"What happened?" I ask wearily.

"You had a placental abruption...doctors say you...n-nearly bled out." he tells me, a fresh wave of tears spilling from his eyes.

"I'm here...I'm alive. I feel like absolute shit, but I'm alive." I promise him.

"Want to meet your mommy, Peanut?" he asks the bundle.

"Peanut?" I laugh, cringing as my body protests the slight movement.

"Yeah, I've been calling her that. Was waiting for you to wake up. So we can name her together." he mutters.

"I want to see her." I insist.

My arms feel like lead, but he holds her aloft where I can see the most precious face peaking out from the pink blanket. I feel like my heart might burst at the sight of my baby girl. Our baby girl.

"Emma." I whisper, the name slipping off my tongue as though divinely inspired.

"Emma. I like it. Little Emma Jay." Andrew agreed.

In that minute where I was in limbo, I relived all my life. All those moments, all those heartbreaks, all those cherished memories were leading up to this. The hourglass that nearly ran out of sand...this little girl had knocked it over, bringing me back to life.

Emma Jay.