Eden Box Set

by G. C. Julien

  Would it kill them to take a broomstick to it once in a while?

  I inhale deeply and focus on the present moment before me. I need to be here. If I sit in my room, overthinking that Freyda is gone, and the way I told her to leave, I’ll fall into a depression so deep I fear I may never come out of it.

  I know myself, and I know what my mind is capable of.

  “Eve!” Mavis shouts, resembling a five-year-old girl welcoming her friends to her at-home birthday party. She wiggles her fingers at me. “Come, come!”

  Perula, always the more rational of the two, rolls her eyes and smirks. I’m certain that whatever Mavis is about to show me, Perula has had to hear about it hundreds of times.

  I join Mavis at her giant pot—it looks a bit like a witch’s cauldron now that I think of it.

  “Just came in from its daily dose of sunshine,” she says, gently rubbing her fingers along its leaves. She’s being so cautious as if it were a newborn baby in need of special care.

  Although I could care less about plants, I force a smile, letting it linger on my face longer than necessary. “What is it?”

  Her eyes widen at me and her nostrils double in size. Mavis isn’t a model to begin with, but when she makes ugly faces, she looks exactly like a witch found in children’s books. All she’s missing is a wart on her nose or her chin.

  “It’s for your tea, you silly crackle-pot!”

  “My tea—” But I cut myself short when I realize what she’s talking about. I was so preoccupied with Freyda that I completely forgot about my Devil’s tea, and how Mavis warned me that our supply was running extremely low. The whole point of letting Gretchin and those women out of Eden—the whole reason they were attacked—was in part because I wanted more of this plant.

  I take a step forward, the fake smile on my face stretching into a genuine grin. “We have more?”

  She throws a protective arm around her plant and bares her teeth at me. “Careful!” she hisses. “It isn’t ready.”

  “How long?” I ask.

  “A few more weeks,” Perula says from the comfort of her wooden rocking chair. She taps her fingers over her knees, then leans back and places both arms on the armrests.

  It’s hard to believe these two are twins. They’re not only complete opposites, they barely look alike in their older age, which I’m assuming is the result of life: scars, skincare, weight. Perula’s frail figure looks like it might break if she tries to stand.

  “Maybe a month,” Mavis adds. “One long trickidity month of babyin’ this thing and we’ll have Devil’s tea up to our yang-yangs!” She then smacks the table and lets out a loathsome laugh, her front teeth sticking over her lower jaw. “We’ll be floatin’ in tea!”

  I glance back at Perula, who has that same smirk on her face—the one that says “Mavis will be Mavis.” I never understand Mavis’s jokes, but I do my best to laugh whenever possible, even though it drains me every time.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  This is draining. How much longer is she going to keep rummaging through everything?

  “What did you expect? A five-star hotel?” Freyda asks, slouching forward as she searches through the desk’s drawers in what is apparently going to be my new office.

  “I didn’t expect anything,” I say.

  She glances up at me and blows a breath up into the air when a scraggly hair falls out of her ponytail, tickling her lip. I don’t think she realizes how uncertain I am about this entire thing. And for some reason, I’m not afraid to admit it to Freyda. Out of everyone I’ve led to Eden, she’s the one person who won’t judge me for being human.

  “You’re scared, huh?” she asks.

  I can admit uncertainty, but I’ll never admit fear. I cock an eyebrow at her, almost as if to say, “How dare you insinuate that I’m afraid… I, the one who murdered the president of the United States.”

  She closes the door and raises her hands, palms facing me. “All right, all right, you’re not scared.”

  She straightens her posture and tucks her thumbs into her belt, letting her hands dangle over her hips. She does this often, and I’m not quite sure why. It’s a posture of pure confidence, though.

  “Can I ask how old you are?” she says.

  I nearly glare at her, but I bottle my emotions instead and plop myself down onto the office chair.

  “What does it matter how old I am?” I ask.

  I’m not trying to be defensive, but the last thing I need is for someone to undermine me because of my age.

  “I’m just curious,” she says. “You look young, and to be honest, I’m surprised you’re able to be so levelheaded about everything that’s happened. What’s your past? What’d you do before all of this?”

  She’s searching through another drawer now as if she thinks she’ll find something other than cobwebs or old chips of paint.

  “You ask a lot of questions,” I say.

  She rests her arms over her puffed-out chest and looks at me with her nose high in the air. “And you don’t answer any of them.”

  I hate the way she’s looking at me—as if I’m a lesser being than her. Who does she think she is?

  “What’re you, a cop? Am I being interrogated, or something?”

  She scoffs and closes the drawer, its wheels scraping against the old track. “Actually, yeah, I am—well, I used to be. You know… Before all of this.”

  I part my lips to speak, but nothing comes out. I wasn’t expecting for her to actually be a cop. Is that why she’s following me around? Does she know what I did? Am I under investigation? All I wanted was a bit of space to myself, away from all the women who are waiting for my guidance.

  I don’t know what I’m doing. I thought I did, but I don’t.

  “What’s up with you?” she asks. “You look all sketched out.” She smirks up at me. “Are you hiding drugs?”

  “What? No,” I blurt.

  “Relax,” she says. “Do you honestly think the law matters anymore?”

  She moves toward the window—a translucent glass caked with dust and covered with black iron bars. There’s barely any sunlight coming through, so I don’t know what she’s looking at.

  “We’re screwed, Eve,” she says without looking back at me. Letting out a sigh, she wraps her fingers around the filthy metal and turns her head sideways to see me from her peripheral—from her one blue eye that looks gray due to the natural light shining in. “I heard some rumors… About what happened in the White House.”

  I swallow hard, my gaze never leaving her one bright eye.

  “Rumors are rumors, Eve, but if what I heard is true, you’re the only one who can save these women.”

  She turns around and places her thumbs into her belt again and stares at me. “I asked your age because you look pretty young. You look like someone who isn’t equipped to lead hundreds of women. I don’t know what your background is, but I doubt it’s extensive. Maybe you were studying in university… Maybe you had some part-time job. I don’t know. But honestly, it doesn’t matter. Whether or not you see it yet, there’s a leader inside of you who hasn’t come out yet. At least not entirely.” She lets out a chuckle and scratches her eyebrow. “You didn’t even know where you were going, and you convinced hundreds of women to follow you. That says something. So whatever doubt you’re feeling… whatever is draining you emotionally… let it go. Be the leader you think these women want, and with time, that’s exactly who you’ll become.”

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  “Ain’t she a beaut?” Mavis says.

  I shoot her a glance—is she still talking?

  “Where’d ya go, your scrumptious majesty?” she asks.

  I let out a soft laugh and wince. “Majesty, huh?”

  “What else ya want me to call you? Queen?”

  “How about Eve?” I ask.

  Any other day, I’d have become enthralled by her casual use of the term majesty. But today, as I think of Freyda and how terrified I was when
we first arrived in Eden, I’m reminded that I’m nothing more than a human being.

  I’m reminded that I’m Eve Malum—Mila’s big sister.

  “It is beautiful, Mavis,” I say, returning my attention to her sprouting plant. I gently touch her rounded shoulder. “Thank you.”

  She parts her rotten-toothed mouth and stares at me with big bug eyes. “Uh, y-you’re welcome.”

  Am I so cruel to her that she’s taken aback when I show her kindness?

  “Really,” I add, gazing around the Herb Shack. For the first time, the humid scent of live plants and dirt does not repulse me. I admire every inch of this cabin—all the work and dedication that has been put into creating such a healing space. “You ladies are doing such a wonderful job here.”

  Neither one responds. They’re obviously taken aback by my change in behavior. But everything is so clear to me now. Why haven’t I shown them the love they deserve?

  Then, I hear my mother’s voice creep in. “Eve, have you taken your medication? You’re going manic again.”

  I shake these thoughts away. This isn’t my mood disorder—it can’t be. This feeling is far too real to be something produced by a chemical imbalance in my brain. When Gabriel and Freyda get back, everything will change. Everything…

  A loud knock at the Herb Shack’s big wooden door shakes me from my trance.

  CHAPTER 23 – LUCY

  Perula’s eyeball is the first thing I see in the crack of the door. Within seconds, she pulls the door wide open and lets out a chuckle.

  “Oh, goodness, it’s just you, Lucy. Why did you knock?”

  “Why did I knock?” I ask. “You locked the—” but I can’t even finish my sentence. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. In the middle of the Herb Shack, standing beside Mavis at her cauldron is Eve.

  What the hell is Eve doing here? I want to hate her, to glare at her until she walks away without saying a word, but I can’t. Why can’t I be mad at her? It’s… It’s that smile.

  “Oh, my sweet little Lucy!” she shouts, rushing her way around the table and joining me at the front door.

  I almost step back outside, freaked out by her over-the-top happiness, but I can’t move. I’m stuck, almost as if I’ve made eye contact with Medusa.

  “Where have you been?” she asks, wrapping a cold arm around my shoulder. I wince as she pulls me into her chest and my cheek presses up against her soft breast. I don’t even know what to say.

  What the heck does she expect from me? She’s acting like the last five years never happened. In fact, she’s acting like she used to before Mom died, or even before Mila died. After her sister died, that’s when she changed.

  But right now, with that big goofy grin on her face, she looks like Aunty Eve. A lump forms in my throat. Am I dreaming? This is who I’ve always wanted… the same Aunty Eve who was there for me like she used to be. The Aunty Eve who was happy to see me and tell me jokes when no one was around, even though they weren’t age-appropriate. She never viewed me as “just a kid.”

  I was always equal.

  So, who is she now? Why is this happening? A person doesn’t go from being dark and cold to rainbows and sunshine overnight. What happened? Mom told me about her mood disorder when I was young. She only told me because sometimes I wouldn’t see Aunty Eve for weeks at a time, and Mom had to explain to me that Eve was depressed.

  I didn’t understand it at that age, but when Mom died, I finally understood what it meant to be depressed.

  “Oh God, Lucy, you’ve gotten so big.”

  I want to cry, scream, and hug her all at the same time. She’s genuinely happy to see me; I can see it in her eyes, a look I never thought I’d see again. And although part of me hates her for what she’s put me through, for whatever she said to Nola, deep down, I miss her.

  I’ve always missed my Aunty Eve.

  I glance over at Perula who seems as perplexed as me. She doesn’t know that Eve’s my godmother—all they know is that Eve led me to Eden, hand in hand, which means we have a special bond. And although Perula knows something is up, she doesn’t know what. It’s like she wants to give me the answers I need, but she doesn’t have them. So instead, she offers me a meek smile.

  Eve’s warm lips suddenly kiss me on the forehead; then she pulls away and lets out an excited laugh.

  “I’ve been so caught up in my own head, Lucy.” She leans forward, her bright eyes inches away from mine. They look like crystal marbles soaked in water. Her nose is pink, and she sniffles. “Oh God, Lucy… I’m so sorry.”

  My jaw hangs open. I’ve never been so speechless before. I can’t say anything. I can barely even think.

  She squeezes my shoulders, then wipes a tear away from the corner of her eye.

  “How do you like it here?” she asks, her gaze shifting to the ceiling and around the Herb Shack. “Are you happy? Are you learning new things? If this isn’t the job you want—”

  “I like it,” I blurt out.

  I honestly don’t know what to think. Is this some sort of mind game? I know Eve didn’t want me to become a Healer. Is that why she’s so eager to push me out? Or is she genuinely checking up on me? Why else would she be crying? There’s real emotion in there. I can see it. I can see her: Aunty Eve.

  I want to wrap my arms around her so badly, but I’m scared that if I do, she’ll evaporate into nothingness because none of this is even real. Then, I’ll wake up alone in my room, with specks of dust floating around me.

  “What’s the matter, Lucy?” she asks.

  I can’t talk.

  “I know this is a bit of a shock,” she says, “but it’s me.” She narrows her eyes and her lips form a thin, flat line. She’s staring into me so intently, wanting me to believe every word she says. “I see things differently now, Lucy. I’ve been… I’ve been so depressed.”

  My defense begins to crumble. Is Eve honestly admitting to being depressed? Eve Malum, leader of Eden, wouldn’t admit to that. Aunty Eve, though, would. At least to me, or to people she feels safe with.

  “I know it doesn’t excuse how I’ve treated you,” she says, “but I want to make things right. I want to be the caregiver Ophelia would’ve wanted me to be.”

  The tears are trying to squeeze their way out of my eyes, and I swallow hard. I don’t want to cry… I won’t cry. I’m not letting her manipulate me again.

  “Take all the time you need, Lucy Doll,” she says, and my heart shatters. She hasn’t called me Lucy Doll since I was seven or eight years old. She always used to call me that. “I’ll be around,” she continues. “If you ever need anything at all, come to me. You can come see me anytime, okay?”

  That smile is back on her face, revealing a set of surprisingly white teeth. I’m sure she’s been busy keeping up with personal hygiene. If she can manage to keep her suits looking so white, she can keep her teeth clean. I breathe in, and a fresh powdery smell fills my nose.

  “You two,” she adds, standing up as though she’s about to scold them for something. That’s what she always does. “Thank you again for all your hard work. You’re both amazing.”

  I’m left standing stiff as Aunty Eve walks around me, the tips of her fingers brushing along my neck and through the back of my hair. Right before walking out, she leans over me, and her hot breath warms the top of my head. I pull my shoulders back and stare straight ahead, my eyes probably looking like they’re on the verge of falling out.

  But she doesn’t hurt or threaten me. Instead, she presses her lips against my head and lets out a long breath that sends goose bumps down my back. “I love you, Lucy.”

  I’m too shocked to say it back. So instead, I stare at the back wall of the Herb Shack feeling like my wide eyes are going to crisp into little raisins. The sound of her heels stepping off the wood and onto the grass outside the cabin lets me know she’s gone.

  The atmosphere is so oppressive and surreal that I have to inhale deeply to make sure I’m still breathing. Perula doesn’t say anything, eit
her. It’s like she’s waiting for me to explain what happened.

  “Well, hotcakes in a toaster!” Mavis blurts out, and my shoulders flinch forward.

  I glare at her. Why does she always open her big mouth like that when everything is so quiet?

  “Now where’s ma mixelator?” she continues, huffing and puffing around the table. She ducks, pops back up, then disappears again, her pointed nose nearly hitting the tabletop every time.

  I glance at Perula who’s now sewing what looks like a wrist or ankle support made out of hemp and wooden slabs. She doesn’t have to do that. Make medical equipment, I mean. But Perula likes to help with anything she can, and the other day, she overheard Dr. Lewis saying we had run out of support bands for the kids. Technically, the responsibility falls on Sahana, since she’s the one who makes all the clothes, blankets, and whatever else requires material. But she’s been way too busy.

  Kids are either outgrowing their clothes or ripping them when playing outside. I’ve asked her for a favor once or twice myself, but it wasn’t for new clothing, it was to fix a hole I’d found in my jeans. Some people do that, too. Ask her to fix outsider clothes.

  I can’t even remember why I came here, to the Herb Shack. I’m too caught up in my own head about what happened a moment ago.

  “I-I’m gonna get some air,” I say.

  Perula nods but doesn’t look up, and Mavis is still storming around the Herb Shack looking for something she lost. That woman is always losing something. I’d say she often loses her mind, too, but I think she lost that a long time ago.

  I creak the big wooden door open and step out onto the fluffy grass like I’m floating with clouds beneath my sneakers. I cast my eyes toward the ground. Although the grass is thick and soft-looking, it’s turning a dark shade of green. It isn’t bright like it usually is in the summer—a neon green, almost.

  Then, something tickles the side of my cheek and lands on my shoulder, covering it entirely. I pluck it off and twirl it in between my thumb and index finger. It’s a bright red big-leaf maple leaf, and its edges have already started to crisp.