A Belly Full of Apples

Well, explain to me what it was doing on the tree if I wasn’t meant to eat it?

I had a long, hard day, Adam. If you remember correctly, you were supposed to name all the animals with tails, while I handled the green ones. The next thing I know, you’re passed out by the water circle taking yet another one of your naps. That left me to come up with all those names, and by the time I was done, I was famished.

The apple tree is the closest to the water hole, and that’s why I picked an apple. It was convenient. I wasn’t deliberately trying to disobey the Lord. After an exhausting day, I simply wanted whichever fruit I could get to first. Can you explain to me why God put the forbidden fruit so close to us and made it so red to draw our attention to it, and made it so tasty? Adam, if you could try an apple, you would never be the same. I cannot describe its delectability.

You may as well try one now. We’ve already been cast out. It’s not as though He’s going to cast us out again. If you ask me, it’s unbelievably rude of Him to have us name every living creature on earth, put all the acceptable fruit out of reach, and then kick us out of the Garden once all the tedious tasks are completed. He didn’t even say “Thank you!” Not even a card expressing his thanks. I realize cards haven’t been invented yet, but if He can create an entire Universe in a few days, I think he can figure out a way to show gratitude, don’t you?

Oh, stop crying, Adam. This place isn’t so bad. Sure, it isn’t Paradise, but there are some plants with needles sticking out of them and some lovely dust and a lot of very interesting rocks. That one looks sharp. Be sure to never pick it up and drop it on anybody’s head. Please cover yourself up. I don’t know why, but for some reason, I can’t stand the sight of you in all your nakedness.

Shame? What’s that? No, you know I don’t listen when He talks. It’s so loud and condescending. Do this, do that. Name this, worship me, “Stop rolling your eyes at me, Eve, or I’ll turn you back into a rib”--It’s all so boring. If any of it were all that vital to know, he’d write it down on a piece of stone. I suggested that to him once, and he pretended it was a bad recommendation, but secretly, I think he filed it away to use at a later date. The first time I see a rock with a rule on it, I’m going to look up at the sky, and say “Wow, who gave you that idea?” See if I don’t.

I’m not afraid of Him, you know. You might be, but I’m not. I’ve barely had time to contemplate my own existence, so the threat of having my existence nullified is of no concern to me. Clearly, He doesn’t want to get rid of us and start from scratch, or He would have done it already. No, he wants to teach us a lesson. He wants us to wander aimlessly for the remainder of our lives cloaked in this thing called shame. I shall not. I refuse. I have nothing to be ashamed of, and I will not pretend that I do. A man makes a silly rule, and if the rule is broken, that does not make it any less silly. I don’t care what sort of man it is. I don’t care if you say God is not simply a man. He sounds like a man, and because he can sound any way he likes, that means he wants to sound like a man. We call Him “He,” don’t we? Then he is a man with made-up rules for living that I was never going to obey.

I don’t care if He hears me. Let him hear me. I am meant to spend the rest of my days surrounded by needle-plants and you, a man with one rib. I am meant to wear rags, because not wearing them makes me feel strange. I am meant to have children, I suppose. Based on how disagreeable I am and how stupid you are, I can’t imagine they’ll be very endearing children. Once those children are here, I have no idea who they’ll have children with, because it’ll just be us. I guess that means once we die, and our children die, that’ll be the end of this nonsensical little experiment.

Oh, but at least we named the giraffes first.

A question for you, Adam, since He isn’t responding to us--

Why are we the only ones who can’t eat the apples?

I specifically saw a Loud-Bird eating an apple the other day. Why weren’t all the Loud-Birds cast out of the Garden? If a giraffe eats an apple, will it be thrown out of the garden? Why were we the only ones prohibited?

Right--the knowledge.

We’re not meant to know anything. We’re just meant to assign names, be fruitful, multiply, and praise Him every chance we get. If we want knowledge, then it’s out we go.

Well, Adam, I choose to know. I choose to know things. Not just some things, but everything. Why create an entire world and then tell me I’m not allowed to know anything about it? I can’t help but feel this was all some kind of test, and I will not be tested. Had I known that he was testing me, I would have eaten every apple on that tree. I would have stared up at Him with the seeds falling out of my mouth, and I would have laughed. For if I am to go into Exile, I am not going with an empty stomach. I will go with a belly full of apples.

My only regret is that I stopped at one.

I will not feel badly about you being punished for something I did either, because I have been punished many times over for you. For your laziness. For your superiority complex. For the way you smell at night when you are pressed up against me. It reeks so that I can barely sleep. Yet I have said nothing, because I have accepted that we are joined forever. You make strange noises in your sleep, but He never punished you for that. I took one bite, and we are damned. Be angry if you like, Adam, but do not expect me to worry myself over your anger. Your anger is your business. I will not make it mine.

Last night, before He woke us with our punishment, I had a dream. I had a dream that all of this was submerged in water. Enough water to cover even the tops of the tallest trees. There were more people. Lots more. They were running and screaming. Some were already drowned. In the distance, I could see a large boat, but it was too far away. I would never reach it in time. I would die alongside all these strangers.

Instead, I lay myself down. I began to float. Right up to the surface. I could still hear the wailing and the pleading all around me, but I was not making a sound. I simply laid like that on the surface of the water and let it take me wherever it wanted to go.