by G. C. Julien
Lucy – Present Day
Nola is tightening the back of my fluffy, overlayered dress and going on about how beautiful I look.
I’m lucky even to be wearing this dress. It has a corset-like design at the front, with a silky material on the waist that’s creamy blue. Then, at the back, there are white ruffles and frills that puff out. It makes me look older than I am. It looks like the sort of dress I used to read about in history books.
In Eden, a girl can step foot inside the Preparation Room only once. It’s a big, office-sized space that was designed specifically for Graduation Day. There’s an old wardrobe at the back corner, and although it’s full of cobwebs on top of it, the dresses inside are probably worth thousands of dollars. Well, in the old world, anyway. They were found in an abandoned boutique on our way to Eden. I can’t remember the name of it, but to this day, women are still wearing clothing they found there.
The mirror I’m standing in front of looks like something out of a movie. Its wooden frame almost looks gold, and it’s huge—way bigger than the mirror I have in my room. Then, beside the mirror is a red velvety-looking couch with big yellow buttons on its cushions. I wish my room were as fancy as this one.
“You look just like your mother,” Nola breathes.
I know she’s right, but I don’t want to say it. I’ve seen pictures of my mom at my age, and it’s like I’m staring at her in the mirror. My eyes are a sage green right now, but they change depending on my mood. My mom’s eyes did that, too. I could always tell when she was upset because they’d turn a bright pear green. My hair’s way longer than hers though, but the color is the same: a dark cherry red that goes light in the sun.
If I look so much like my mom, I wonder if I’ll be as tall as her. I’m already Nola’s height, and she’s already taller than most women in Eden, but I don’t know if I’ll grow much more.
Nola says she knew my mom, though sometimes I wonder how well she knew her. I doubt they were even friends. Nola’s a bit too outspoken for my mom, who never much liked being around overly opinionated people.
“Are you excited?” she asks, her red-lipped grin nearly reaching her ears in the mirror’s reflection. She wraps her fingers around my shoulders, and her round face nearly touches mine. Her sandy-brown hair is as frizzy as it always is in this humidity, and it tickles my ear. I can see her body behind mine because she’s shaped like an hourglass, so her curves are sticking out. Today, she’s wearing a purple dress with black meshing at the front. Nola seems to have an obsession with dresses.
A lot of women wear dresses here in Eden, but they don’t have to. Anyone can wear whatever they want. I think dresses are more comfortable for a lot of people. Personally, I prefer wearing pants and a shirt.
“Excited about what?” I ask, and I pull away a bit because I hate having sweaty skin against mine.
She lets out a forced laugh and slaps me lightly on the shoulder. “Always a jokester like your mother.”
My mother wasn’t much of a jokester, especially before the war, so I don’t know what she’s talking about.
“My little Gracey would be graduating like you next month,” she says, but she quickly turns away.
I try to remember that Nola lost her daughter during the war. I’m convinced that’s the reason she’s overly attached to me. She always wants to do my hair, dress me up, or meet me in Eden after I’m done with class. She’ll never replace my mom, but it’s nice to have an adult looking out for me. Her elbows float up beside her shoulders as she wipes her big, almost oversized eyes, and she swings back around with that goofy grin on her face like nothing happened.
“So,” she says excitedly, “what’s it gonna be?”
“What’s what gonna be?”
“Your choice, silly,” she says. “You know how it works. The day you turn sixteen years old, you make your decision.”
I know what decision she’s talking about and already know what I want to do for a living. I want to work with the Technicians. Realistically, it’s the most useful trade now that the world has fallen apart. If I need to get away, I’ll know how to fix a car and potentially save lives.
“Same thing as yesterday,” I tell her. She knows what my answer is, too, but for some reason, she doesn’t like it. She might have encouraged her daughter to take a different path, and now that’s falling on me.
She makes a disapproving face in the mirror and pulls my long dark hair back behind my shoulders. “Sweetie,” she says, “are you sure you want to get your hands dirty like that? It’s a dirty job.”
I shrug. “I like that.”
She looks up at the ceiling and shakes her head. “I can’t tell you what to do.”
No, you can’t, I think, but I don’t say it.
She tucks her fingers around my hair again and starts combing her fingers through my knots. I’ve never cared for its upkeep the way most girls in Eden do. I know it tangles often, but it doesn’t bother me. I suppose that’s why I don’t mind becoming a Technician; getting dirty has never fazed me.
“You’d look so beautiful if you braided your hair, Lucy,” she says.
Is she trying to say that I’m ugly otherwise? That’s not too nice. She must have noticed my reaction because she giggles uncomfortably and says, “You’re always beautiful. But you’d look so special. You know—for your big day. Can I braid it for you? For this special day?”
I almost roll my eyes, but I remember that she’s looking at me through the mirror’s reflection. If it’ll make her happy, then I don’t see why not.
I shrug and force a smile, my lips feeling like a piece of stale licorice.
She lets out an excited cry and claps her hands over my head.
“You know,” she says, separating my hair into three long pieces, “I’ve braided your mother’s hair a few times, too.”
Is she telling the truth? I stare at her in the mirror and find it hard to think of any reason she’d have to lie about something like that.
She offers me a sweet smile. “Her hair was as red as yours but not as thick.”
My head nods back and forth as she braids my hair behind my neck and down my back.
“What about your dad?” she asks. “Did he have red hair, too?”
My eyes meet hers, and I can’t help but wonder: if she was such good friends with my mom, how come she didn’t know anything about my dad? Why would she even ask me that?
She must know what I’m thinking, because she rests one hand on my shoulder and says, “She never talked about him, you know.”
I believe her.
My mom didn’t like talking about my dad. She said he left us when I was a baby. Now that I’m not a little kid anymore, I don’t think she was telling me the truth. But I don’t know… There’s something she never told me, and now that she’s gone, I’ll never know the truth.
I glance at my reflection, seeing my mother’s face in mine: her almond-shaped eyes and her plush lips, her dimple that’s barely noticeable on my chin. If there’s one thing I can do to honor her memory, it’s continue to hide her secret… Whatever it is.
“He had red hair, too,” I say, even though I’ve never known my dad.
Lucy – Flashback
My mom stands in line, tapping her foot and checking the holographic wall clock over and over again.
I look around the store to see what she’s so stressed about. I don’t see anything.
“Lucy, sweetie, come here,” she says and reaches out her hand.
I hate it when she tries to grab my hand in public. “I’m seven, Mom. I’m not two years old anymore.”
“Then stay close to me.”
“Is that everything?” the cashier asks.
She’s a pretty lady with black hair and a silver nose ring that looks a bit too big for her little nose. She’s not smiling, but I don’t think she even realizes it. I think she hates her job. My mom looks at the black treadmill-looking mat that automatically moves all your items to the cashier. It’s empty, so that
means my mom has nothing left to buy. She gives the cashier a weird look.
The lady rolls her eyes, pops her bubble gum that smells like cherry, and asks, “Do you need a bag?”
My mom looks around quickly, then nods and twirls her finger in the air that I think means, Yeah, yeah, hurry it up.
“That’s a dollar more,” the lady says.
“That’s fine,” my mom says.
She’s so impatient. I don’t get what her problem is.
“Mom…” I try, but she waves a hand, so I shut my mouth. I know better than to annoy her when she’s in a bad mood.
The lady pops her gum again, and I can smell the sweet cherry from here. “Twenty-three thirty-eight. Chip or tag.”
My mom doesn’t believe in getting the payment chip. Apparently, they put it under the skin of your wrist and you can use that to pay. I think it’s freaky, and I’d never get it either. There’s a beep when my mom taps her key tag in front of the payment machine, and she snatches her bag before the machine even makes the beeping noise. It’s a beep that lets you know the receipt’s been sent to your tag. Uploaded… I think that’s the word.
“Do you want—” the lady says, but my mom’s already hurrying through the store’s front doors.
“Mom…” I try.
She grabs my arms and starts walking faster. “Get in the car.”
Am I in trouble? Did I do something wrong? Why’s she acting so mean?
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
She doesn’t answer me. I climb into the car on the other side of our old two-door Jeep, and my mom goes into her side. She starts the car before I even have time to close my door.
Her eyes are moving around all over the place, so I know she’s not mad at me. If she were, I’d know about it right away. She’d be looking at me instead of everywhere else.
“Can you please tell me what’s wrong?” I ask.
“Ophelia! Is that you?”
There’s a woman standing beside my mom’s window. Her hair is bigger than her head, and there’s a goofy smile on her face. My mom looks annoyed. She pushes the window’s automatic button and forces a smile at the lady.
“Hi, Susan. So sorry, I’m late for an appointment. We’ll catch up later!”
The lady is still smiling, and she’s about to say something, but my mom puts up her window and pulls out of the parking lot. The tires make a loud squeal noise.
“Mom, please,” I try again.
“Put your seatbelt on,” she says.
I keep my mouth shut and buckle myself in.
CHAPTER 4 – EVE
Eve – Present Day
I close my eyes, the afternoon sun warming the tip of my nose, and inhale the scent of lavender and lily. The wind is calm, and dozens of finches sitting atop nearby branches are singing a cheerful melody. They move so quickly from one branch to another that I often mistake them for insects.
The sound of laughter surrounds me, and I peel one eye open to spot three little girls playing with a ball constructed of condensed hay. Their mothers are watching them, and when I make eye contact, they smile sweetly at me.
Our very own paradise, I think, gazing around Division Two of Eden.
The funny thing about Eden—or the ironic thing, I should say—is that it used to be a maximum-security penitentiary. But at first glance, you wouldn’t even notice it.
My gaze is averted over Eden’s wall, and directly at Alpa—Eden’s symbolic mountain. When war began destroying our world, the women of the underground revolution were told to look for Alpa—an immense white-tipped mountain distinguished by a steep dip at its very center. Millions of women died of starvation, dehydration, and violence trying to find it, but those who made it have stepped foot inside the golden gates of Earth.
The surviving women gathered in Eden to seed fresh grass and plant hundreds of flowers, fruit bushes, and trees. Iron gates are now entangled with fuzzy green vines and purple flowers, and the ancient concrete walls are covered in rose thorns and dark moss. Apple and lemon trees sprout in nearly every Division, along with garden beds constructed of maple wood filled with an array of vegetables—carrots, beets, tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, zucchini.
If you crane your neck and look up at the metallic roofs of the prison, you can see solar panels attached. I owe this in part to the warden of the penitentiary, who had the obvious intention of converting the prison into a self-sustained space, but mostly, to a woman named Gail—an electrician who used to work for commercial companies before the revolution.
During the revolution, I made it a point of befriending women with various types of expertise. I was sure their knowledge would prove handy. And to date, we have one Doctor, one Dentist, three Engineers, two Electricians, and four Technicians spread out in various Divisions.
There are eight Divisions in total—meaning eight exterior yards—separated by long, tunnellike buildings that assumedly housed prisoners of different threat levels before abandonment and are now used as living quarters. The Divisions are open to every woman in Eden, however, the women are all to remain out of Division Eight—an isolated Division used only by myself—and away from the front gates.
I watch as a young woman plucks oversized raspberries from a row of bushes nearby, and I smile in admiration. Eden truly is paradise on Earth, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.
Suddenly, something cold and wet presses up against my calf and I feel a hot breath blow out against my skin. I laugh before I even have the time to look down. It’s Ruby—Eden’s most (and only) well-loved golden retriever.
“Hey, girl,” I say.
She looks up at me, her droopy lips pulled back into a full smile and her pink tongue plopped out on the side.
“You stirring up trouble?” I tease.
Her entire butt wiggles from side to side, and she lets out a playful bark, her hot doggy breath warming the side of my face. Only a few months ago, we found her in Alpa with her litter snuggled underneath the long hairs of their dead mother’s belly. We tried to rescue them all, but Ruby was the only one to survive. Now, she’s usually seen running around Eden’s cabins or simply lying down beside the children during lesson time.
She even roams the halls of the penitentiary, sometimes seeking affection and other times, food. I always know when she’s nearby because her nails tick when she walks across the cement floors. The girls of Eden have been taught to ask their mothers what they can and cannot feed Ruby. Grapes are forbidden as they can be toxic to canines. Most other fruits are acceptable, but the girls are still asked to receive permission, first.
Some days, I miss Google. I miss the freedom to research anything within seconds. I sigh and pluck a fresh apple from the tree above me, then rest myself against the bark. As I gaze around Division Two’s courtyard, a sweet taste on my tongue, I realize that I wouldn’t trade this place for anything—not even unlimited access to the internet. Not for money, not for gold, not for an endless supply of food.
Eden is truly paradise on Earth. Women around me smile from ear to ear, and I think to myself, We did it.
I did it.
We finally created a world in which we’re not controlled by men. A world filled with love, hope, and kindness. There’s no jealousy in Eden—no fighting over men; no stress caused by lack of money; no desire to compete with one’s neighbor. Everyone is treated equally, and everyone receives an abundance of food, clothes, and shelter.
Ruby barks at me again, so I give her a soft pat on the head, but she takes off in a pounce when she sees two little girls playing with the hay ball. I watch as she hops at their feet, her long-haired tail swinging from side to side.
We’re a society founded on love, respect, and hard work. The most wonderful thing about living among women is that by nature, we’re creatures of nurture.
Where men seek to destroy and wound, we seek to build and heal.
I crunch down on my apple again and inhale a long, calculated breath.
“Eden,” I say aloud.
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Eve – Flashback
“Can you believe this?” my mom asks me.
She’s leaning forward on the living room sofa with a cup of cold coffee in one hand and the television’s touchscreen remote in the other. Her blond hair almost looks brown because it’s so greasy, and it’s hanging on either side of her face like scraggly spaghetti noodles. I can’t remember the last time she showered. She’s been so involved in politics, she’s barely been home.
The television’s holographic screen makes it look like we’re standing in the interview room, right beside President Price. I’m so sick and tired of seeing his round, sweaty face on TV and the ugly gray suits he always wears. And he always combs his shiny black hair to one side, too, which makes me wonder if it’s to hide a huge bald spot.
I scan the scrolling newscast message at the bottom of the screen, which reads, “Riots continue in Washington, DC after President Price signs a new bill to illegalize the abortion of male embryos.”
“Who the fuck does he think he is?” my mom spews. Her turquoise eyes look like Halloween candy—perfectly round and much bigger than the average eyeball. “My body, my decision!”
I agree with her, but I’m too tired to bicker about politics. I’ve spent the last four days studying for today’s midterm exams, relying solely on two-hour naps and a dangerous amount of energy drinks. That’s what I get for choosing to pursue studies in Information Technology Law. I turn around and make my way upstairs.
“…punishable by ten years in prison. Are you… Is this some kind of joke? What the…” my mom goes off downstairs.
She sounds like Mila earlier this morning.
I close my bedroom door, plop myself onto my bed, and gaze up through my glass ceiling. It looks like the sky’s about to dump a waterfall on me any minute now. The sky is black even though it’s only midafternoon. Maybe Mother Nature is upset with Price, too.
I’m so tired my ears feel like they’re on fire. I know things are bad—that the world is falling apart—but I’m too tired. All I can think about is the long list of internet usage offenses I’ve had to memorize over the last few days like searching for instructions on how to create methamphetamine, for example—a crime now punishable by five years in prison.