The Everafter by Amy Huntley

but that baby didn’t have the freedom to set any of the boundaries of its existence. It was locked into a dark place.
    Just like I am now.
    And before the pregnancy? Where was that baby then? Did it exist…at all?
    Maybe that’s the next stage in my trip…. I’m going to arrive at being nothing at all…. Death might just be the opposite of pregnancy…going through this dormant stage before arriving back to where we started…nonexistence.
    Where is God?
    When I was alive, I wasn’t very religious. I mean, I didn’t go to church and stuff like that, but I believed there was a God.
    Now I wonder if there is. I sure want one. I want more than this…nothing. I want to feel like more than just some subatomic…thing…that can’t decide whether it’s a wave or a particle so it’s both. Only in my case I can’t seem to decide whether I’m alive or dead.
    I’m both.

rattled
    18 weeks
    “Eeeeee eeeee eeeeeee eeeee eeeeeee eeeee eeeee eeeee eeeeeeee eeeee eeeeeee eeeeeee!”
    Sh-ch-sh-ch-sh-ch. Sh-ch-sh-ch-sh-ch. Ch-ch-sh-ch-sh-ch-ch.
    SH-CHRACK!
    “Aaaahhhhh! Aaahhhh! Ahhhhh! Ahhhhh!”
    “Shshshsh! Shshshsh…Shshshsh…Hhhhmmmm…mmmmmm…mmmmmm…hhhhhhh…”
     
    Okay. That one was…creepy.
    My journeys back to life have been mysterious before this, but when I’ve returned I’ve always I understood whathappened. I’ve remembered the events I experienced. But this time it is as if I experienced nothing.
    No, that isn’t right. I have a memory of definitely experiencing something, but it is…so difficult to put into words.
    Color, warmth…the sounds of crying and humming. A voice and a smell and a touch I know well. My mom’s.
    She’s the rock and the foundation of this experience.
    But what happened in that scene? I must have lost my rattle. It’s the object that returned me to life. Did I cry? Did my mother pick me up? Comfort me? Soothe me? The rattle is still here, so she must not have been able to find it for me.
    I’m disconcerted by the whole experience and its myriad mysteries, afraid of being sucked into that black hole by gravity, of becoming that baby who has no words to express the impressions of her mind.
    There’s no way I’m going anywhere near that rattle again.

cell communication
    age 16
    The door opens. I step across the threshold and announce the obvious into my cell phone: “I’m here.”
    “So I see,” Gabe replies, tapping END on his cell. I do the same, noticing a strange scent in the house. I can’t quite identify what it is.
    He doesn’t exactly look thrilled to see me. Uh-oh.
    We had plans to go out, but Gabe called me a half hour ago and said, “Sorry, I just can’t go tonight.” I asked what was up. His voice sounded odd, sort of quavery and distant, but he wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. Just said again thathe couldn’t go, was really sorry, would call me tomorrow.
    Too strange.
    I just didn’t feel right letting it go. I was worried about him.
    So that’s when I made the (possibly bad) decision to come visit. And I did at least warn him I was coming. (Oh, okay, so I didn’t give him a whole lot of warning about that. But calling him as I was walking up his driveway was better than nothing, right?)
    Now that I see the frown on his face, I’m thinking maybe that wasn’t so much better than nothing. He’s wearing a what-are-you-doing-here expression. This deflates me. I’m used to the you-light-up-my-life one (even if that’s corny, it’s true) that usually crosses his face every time I approach.
    My stomach takes a dive down to my toes. What if…? How can it have taken me so long to figure out that he might have ditched me for some other girl?
    Maybe even Dana.
    Is she… here?
    My expression must reveal my absolute horror as I ask, “Is there some other girl?” because appalled shock flitters in his eyes as he says, “Is that what you think?”
    “Well…I didn’t. But it suddenly occurred to me just now.”
    He sighs. “Maddy…no. No way