Angel Girl

Tim lifted his three-month old baby girl out of her crib, the room being illuminated by the moon's soft light. "Shhhhh, Dady's here, honey." He whispered to the fussing bundle in his arms. He looked at the digital clock near the crib; 3:00 A.M, read the bold red numbers "I think someone might be hungry." He whispered, kissing the infant's soft forehead. "Well, your mama needs her sleep so you'll just have to deal with me this time. Is that okay?" The child murmured her fussing calming down. Tim smiled, "I'll take that as a yes." He whispered. He quietly lay her back down and left the room.
Minutes later, he was back in the small nursery with a bottle of warm formula. "You ready for your midnight snack?" he whispered lifting his daughter out of the crib again and sitting down in the old maple rocking chair next to the window. The second the nipple of the bottle touched the little girl's lips, she began to suck on it with heavy force. "Just like your daddy, aren't you Emmy," He said with a smile. "can't sleep without a midnight snack. That's okay though, my little angel, you can have all you want."
As he watched her drink her formula, Tim's mind wandered to the past, seventeen years ago. He was eight years old, and in that year, a little girl named Emma had changed his life forever. Tim, or Timmy as he was called then had come to the park on the first day of summer vacation. His school had been let out first, so the park was empty, all except for a tall girl with long braids, sitting on the swing. Timmy avoided her at first. She was a girl, and everyone knew that boys didn't play with girls. But after a while, when the sand box became boring, and his arms hurt from hanging from the monkey bars for too long, Timmy had second thoughts about talking to the her. He looked at her, sitting there all alone. She looked lonely, and his conscious told him that he should at least say hi. No one else was at the park to see, anyway. So Timmy slowly walked over to the swing set. "Hi, I'm Timmy." He introduced himself. "What's your name?".
The girl lifted her head, looking at him with big brown eyes. "My name is Emma." She whispered shyly, and immediately looked down at her feet again, nervously pulling at the hem of her dress, trying to cover her knees.
Timmy didn't know what to say. None of his friends were this shy. "So….are you new around here?" he asked, trying to continue the conversation.
Emma nodded, biting her lower lip nervously. "My daddy and I just moved here from Oklahoma." She told him. "He, um, he got a new job here, and my mama, well she died when I was little."
"Oh, I'm sorry." Tim replied. "Um, so you want to go do something? You looked kind of bored, I thought…"
"Sure," Emma exclaimed with a smile. "But." she hesitated, her happiness fading.
"What?" Timmy asked.
"I don't know if my daddy will let me." She sighed.
"Well, why not?" Timmy asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.
Emma frowned. "Well," she said, looking behind her at the house that Timmy guessed was hers "I guess if we stay in the park it will be okay."
They spent the rest of the day, and every day after that together, laughing, playing, and getting to know each other. Even though Timmy's other friends stayed away from her, and didn't understand why Timmy spent so much of his summer playing with a girl, Emma and Timmy became best friends. Timmy had introduced himself to her father and they were allowed to play in places other then the park. One day, while exploring Timmy's father's garage, they found some old wood and blankets, and built a fort in Timmy's back yard. There they became closer then ever. They imagined the future, played games, and told each other secrets that no one else knew. Everything was wonderful until one day, when Timmy invited Emma to go to the lake with him and his family. "We have a boat, and fishing poles, and my mama said we can go swimming!"
"Uh, I'm sorry Timmy, I can't" Emma said nervously.
Timmy didn't recognize Emma "I thought you liked the lake?" he asked. He saw tears well up in her eyes "Emma? What's wrong" he asked. He had never seen his friend cry.
Emma wiped her tears away with the back of her small hand. "Timmy, let's go." She whispered, taking his hand and leading him to their fort. Timmy was confused and worried, but he followed her, trying to figure out what was wrong. Was she afraid of water? No. Did she not like fish? No. The more he thought about it, the more worried Timmy became. Finally, the two of them made it to the fort.
"Emma, what's wrong? Why don't you want to go to the lake?" he asked.
Even though the fort was only two feet, by four feet, Emma managed to pace the dirt floor. "Alright," she said suddenly. "I'll tell you, but just because you're my best friend, and I trust you won't tell any one."
Timmy swallowed hard. "Okay" he mumbled
Emma slowly sat down on the ground. She rolled up the cuffs of jeans, exposing her knees that were bruised all over. "Gees Emma, what did you do?" Timmy asked, thinking his friend had fallen from a tree or something in that nature.
"I dropped a glass of apple juice on the carpet." Emma answered rolling down her jeans. "My daddy gets angry at me sometimes, and he was really angry at me last night."
"He hits you?" Timmy asked astonished. "Emma, tell my daddy. He's a police officer, he won't let…"
"No!" Emma exclaimed. "I can't tell anyone, or they'll take my daddy away. I don't have any one else Timmy. Promise, you won't tell?" she begged.
Timmy sighed. "Okay, I promise." He said.
"Thanks" she whispered "That's why I can't go with you. If I go swimming I'll have to wear a swim suit and my knees will show." She explained.
Timmy nodded "Okay." He whispered.
**
Suddenly Tim was woken from his memories by his daughter fussing in his arms again. The bottle was empty and she was beginning to cry. "Are you all full, sweetie?" he asked "Are you saying wake up Daddy, I'm done!" Tim smiled at his child. "I'm right here, baby girl." Tim put the empty bottle on the night stand and started walking around the room, rocking the baby gently. He and his wife had discovered this to be the only way to get her to sleep. As her breathing became calmer, Tim's thoughts wandered back to his childhood.
**
Timmy's father didn't recognize his son. He always loved going to the lake, but he just wasn't acting like himself that day. "Are you feeling okay today son?" he had asked him.
"Yes I'm fine daddy," Timmy assured him. "I'm just a little tiered." But actually his mind was on Emma. If her father had hurt her once, he could hurt her again. Timmy knew he had to help her, but how? He was only eight years old, he couldn't do it alone. Then again he had promised her that he wouldn't tell anyone. He decided all that he could do was be her friend.
But the next day, his decision changed when he went to see if Emma could play. He knocked on her front door and her daddy answered. Only on this sunny July morning, he looked much different then how he usually did. His usual combed hair was sticking out in different directions, his eyes were beat red, and his shirt was wrinkled and had deep stains on it. "Yeah?" he said drowsily.
Timmy stood at the door, awe struck by his appearance. "Uh…is Emma home?" He asked nervously.
Emma's father scratched his head, as if he didn't understand what he was saying. "She's still asleep Timmy." He told him drowsily. "I'll tell her you were here."
"Thank you sir" Timmy replied with a nod. Emma's father closed the door without answering. All Timmy had left to do was to go play until Emma woke up. He decided to go to the fort. Two nights earlier it had been very windy, and he decided to go check if it needed to be repaired. When he entered the fort though, he was surprised to find Emma scrunched in the corner of the small room. "Emma! Are you okay?" he asked.
Emma lifted her head revealing a big purple mark under her left eye. Timmy gasped "Christ, Emma, did he do it again?" he asked rushing to her side.
Emma nodded. "Timmy, there's some things I haven't been telling you" she admitted tearfully. Timmy put his arm around her and listened carefully. "My daddy, he likes to drink sometimes. He's been drinking ever since my mama died. Sometimes…he drinks so much that he gets mean, and that's when he hits me." She said wiping her eye from which a tear had fallen. "Last night I thought that if I hid his beer, maybe he would be nice to me….at least for one night." She buried her face in her hands and sobbed, her body trebling. "He found it, Timmy. He found it and he was so mad." Emma shook her head. "I'm not sure how, but he figured out that it was me that hid the beer and he hit me so hard. He said that I ruined his life and that he couldn't stand me anymore." Up to that point Emma had been staring into space, but at that moment she turned to face Timmy. He would always remember the terrified look on her face. "I've never been so scared in my life." She whispered.
"So you came here" Timmy finished, only getting a nod from her. He lamed his head on hers, not knowing what to say to comfort his friend. "Emma, tell my daddy, please…next time he could really hurt you bad." He pleaded.
"Okay," she sighed after a while "if he hurts me one more time, I'll tell your daddy." She promised. But it turned out that she wouldn't have that chance.
A few weeks had passed and both children had thought that Emma's father had changed, but on a warm August night, Emma's father came home from work tired and irritated. All he wanted was a beer and his T.V set. Anything that got in the way of these two things would have to get lost, and that thing was Emma.
It was 7:30 and Emma hadn't eaten since lunch. "Daddy, she said quietly. "I'm hungry. Is there anything for supper?" she asked.
"Do I have to do everything for you?" he hollered angrily.
Emma bit her lip "I'm sorry, but I can't reach the cupboards yet." She whispered.
Emma's father turned off the T.V. "Come here." He ordered in an annoyed voice.
"I'm really sorry, Daddy.." she repeated.
"I said come here!" he said more angrily. Emma obeyed, walking up to her father's easy chair. To her surprise, he grabbed hr by the collar of her t-shirt and pulled her closer to him. He had never done this. "If you aren't satisfied with the food you get, in this house you can just go have dinner with your little boy friend's family. Do you understand?" he asked through clenched teeth.
"Yes sir," she whispered, looking at the floor.
"Good, now get out of my sight!" he yelled, pushing her back. Emma went flying backwards. She tripped on her own feet and hit the back of her head on the wall behind her. She was too dizzy to get up at first, so she just sat there, trying to regain her balance. Her father's voice brought her back. "Oh, come on, I didn't hit ya that hard!" he laughed. Emma didn't answer. This was it. She had enough. She was going to tell Timmy's father. She slowly got up, and went out the back door, neither, her or her father saying a word.
As Emma walked to Timmy's house, she became more and more dizzy. The street and the sidewalk blended into one and it was becoming hard for her to walk straight. She had almost reached Timmy's house when her knees gave in and she fell to the hard cement, knocking herself unconscious. She lay there alone in the dark, until her lifeless body was found hours later.
The next morning, Timmy walked into the kitchen, eager to go outside. It was the last week of summer vacation. He was met by the solemn faces of his parents. "Timmy, sit down please." His father said softly "We have some bad news." Timmy's mother took his hand gently. "Timmy, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but your friend Emma died last night." His father continued.
Timmy shook his head. "No, no, she can't be dead. She's probably in the fort." He said, tears welling up in his eyes. He quickly stood up and ran to the back yard, praying that this was all a bad dream. But when he reached the fort, and there was no sign of Emma, he fell to his knees, breaking into tears. "I'm sorry, Emma," he sobbed "It's all my fault!" He cried until he fell asleep from exhaustion.
That Sunday was the funeral. To Timmy's surprise almost the entire community attended. In a way, he was glad, but he secretly thought he should have been the only one there. Emma didn't have any other friends, and her father wasn't exactly the loving type. But Timmy was there, and he said the prayers, and sang the hems. He put a flower on top of her tiny casket. He did the things everyone else did, but what he really wanted was to say good bye to his best friend in private. So the next day after buying a rose for a dollar, Timmy rode his bike to the cemetery.
He fond her burial plot and lay the single rose carefully by where the head stone should have gone. He sat down, hugging his knees. "I don't know if you can hear me Emma, but if you can, I want you to know that I'm going to miss you so much" he said, tears rolling down his face. "Emma, you're the best friend I've ever had, and I promise I'll never forget you." Timmy looked up at the sky. "My Mama said you're an angel girl now, and that nothing can hurt you anymore." Timmy smiled "I think you'll make a nice angel girl, Emma." he said. Timmy sat there and talked for an hour almost. And every Sunday up to the day he went off to college he would do the same thing; single rose included.
During his junior year of college Tim met the woman of his dreams and they were married soon after and moved back to his home town. He always intended to visit Emma's grave, but life always seemed to get in the way. When their first child was born, Tim insisted on naming the little girl Emma, telling his wife he always had liked the name, but never telling her why. Luckily, she liked the name to, and baby Emma Ann came into their lives.
**
Tim had been walking around the room for over ten minutes, lost in his own thoughts. The baby was sleeping peacefully in his arms. Laying her back in her crib, Tim rested his elbows on the edge and watched her sleep. He loved her so much. He couldn't imagine how a father could not love his child and most of all how could a father hurt his child. The day Emma was buried Tim promised himself that never in his life would he hurt a child. "Sleep well, Emmy." He whispered as he left the room.
The next day after work, Tim went to the general store and bought a single red rose. He was going to visit his angel girl.