Eve

by Wm. Paul Young

  “What’s going on?” she asked, still gasping from the fear.

  “Lilith, you can’t trust them.”

  “Who? Can’t trust who?”

  “The others: John, Anita, Gerald.” Simon held up his hands. “Do not misunderstand me. They truly think they are your friends, and in some misguided sense they are, but they do not understand your significance or what you are here to do.”

  “Which is . . .”

  “To change history. Prevent the disaster that we are all now stuck inside.”

  “So, who is on my side in this? Only you?”

  “Yes, me. And in a strange way, so is the serpent.”

  “The serpent?” The claim was so unexpected that Lilly would have stood up if she could have. “That thing bit me. How could that snake possibly be anything but my enemy?”

  “It is your ally. Think about it.” Now Simon was focused. “Remember what the others said. The turning did not originate in the serpent. It is not the serpent’s fault. Because of Adam, death resulted and that must be atoned for. Only a sacrifice of life will vanquish the shadow-sickness of death.”

  It seemed as if he was about to be carried away on a tirade, but Simon caught himself and took a breath. “I am so sorry,” he apologized. “This means a great deal to me.”

  “The snake bit me!” Lilly said. “It hurts, and the venom is spreading.”

  “Exactly! The bite was to empower you. Haven’t you figured that out?”

  Lilly flushed. “So explain it to me.”

  “I do not think you, as a Witness, can change anything, but as Lilith—you are more than a Witness. What if that mythology is meant to open a possibility to change history? You have already been inside the story in ways that have not been recorded, right?”

  “Yes. Like when I saw Adam’s conversation with the snake.”

  “Yes!” His face now shone with excitement. “Tell me, did the knife the serpent gave Adam, did it have a name—Machiara?”

  “Yes!” she exclaimed. “How did you know?”

  “Praise be to God!” exclaimed Simon in as quiet and controlled a manner as he could. “I knew it. It is all starting to make sense.”

  Lilly was baffled. “I’m glad to see this is making sense to somebody.”

  “Machiara is not any knife, it is the short sword of sacrifice used throughout the ages to sacrifice animals to God and atone for Adam’s turning. A worthy sacrifice is pleasing to God. What did Adam do with it?”

  “I don’t know.” Lilly tried to recall. “I think he took it with him back into Eden.”

  “Good!” Simon looked away, deep in thought for a moment. “You didn’t stop Adam’s turning, but it doesn’t mean that you can’t still change history.”

  His remark entered Lilly like an accusation, a confirmation of her incompetence. “How am I supposed to do that?”

  “I think the serpent’s sting empowers you to be substantial inside your visions, to be even more ‘real’ than when you witness. I think you have to be ‘real’ in order to change things. It’s still not clear to me exactly how.”

  “Not helpful.” Lilly sighed.

  “There is something that we can do. The mirror is the key. What it revealed to you is essential, a declaration of the truth of your being, and you have to embrace that.”

  “No! Simon, I can’t.” Now it was Lilly who was begging. “If you saw what I did, you wouldn’t even want to be in the same room with me. I am a horrid, disgusting, evil person, everything worthless and wicked.”

  “But don’t you see? That is why you were chosen to be here. Lilith, I hesitate to say it, but God needs the worst in order to accomplish the best.”

  Simon could not have said anything more hurtful, but even as her first inclination was to hit him as hard as she could, she felt the breath rush from her lungs. Abhorrent as it was, what he said resonated within; she knew he was telling her something true. It made sense and in a twisted way stirred a sense of purpose in her.

  Simon reached and touched her shoulder. She didn’t pull away. Without looking up, she uttered, “What do I do?”

  “You embrace the truth of your being and your destiny! We need to get you to your belongings in storage. I believe seeing what is in there will help you put together some of the pieces that have kept you from accepting your critical part in all of this.”

  “But how? It’s a long way . . . Oh wait, are you thinking of using the Map Room?”

  “Exactly. We can get to storage and back in ten minutes. Isn’t that what John said? Aren’t you curious about what is in there?”

  “I am, but I’m not sure I want to know.”

  “You have to. Trust requires risk. You have to know who you really are in order to be at peace and participate in God’s purposes.”

  “I don’t think I could ever be at peace with what I’ve seen in flashbacks or in mirrors.” She fought the idea of remembering what her mind had tried to forget. This unknown terrified her.

  “What have you got to lose, Lilith? You have nothing to lose.”

  He was right. She had nothing to lose, not really. These relationships with John, Anita, Gerald, Letty, and even Simon were just imaginary. At best, they liked a person who did not even exist.

  She nodded and Simon silently wheeled her down the hall and into the Vault. The place seemed desolate; the others were probably still resting. Soon she was parked in front of the Refuge map. It was easy to find where they were and pinpoint the target location. Simon handed her a triangle and pointed to another on the map.

  “Just touch a corner of this to that spot right here. I will be right behind. Whenever you are ready.”

  Lilly didn’t hesitate. A wave of light and mist swept through her, for an instant clouding her vision in swirling gray, and when it cleared she was sitting in her chair in a stone hallway.

  A moment later Simon appeared next to her. “That was unusual! Let me get my bearings.”

  He instructed her to place her triangle in the receptacle that was in the wall next to her. This would send her back in ten minutes. Simon excused himself to find another slot and returned a minute later.

  “Thanks be to God, there was another one close. Now let’s find your belongings. The number?”

  “One-eleven-fifteen. The day John found me and my age.”

  It took almost five minutes to find the right unit. It reminded Lilly of the back of a moving truck with its large flip lock. This one slid sideways instead of up. The plaque on the wall to one side was inscribed with the numbers 11115 and the faint outline of a palm.

  She looked at Simon, who tilted his head in the direction of the imprint. “I can’t open it,” he said.

  Lilly tentatively raised her left hand and pressed it into the wall. Faintly, they heard some sort of locking mechanism unwind, then stop. Simon pointed to the handle as if unwilling to touch it.

  “I can’t do this,” she stammered. “I’m afraid.”

  “If you do not, no one can.” Simon was resolute. “If you choose not to find out who you are, we are all stuck in the mess Adam caused . . . and probably lost forever.”

  Lilly leaned her head against the metal door and moaned. It felt as if an unbearable weight was on her shoulders. “Why does everything depend on me?”

  Simon did not reply.

  The longer she waited, the more conflicted she became, so as much as it pained her, with both hands she pulled the locking lever sideways. It opened easily, and as it did, the room lit up.

  It was not what she saw that triggered the rush of memories but what she smelled. Years of layered nicotine permanently woven into threadbare carpet, entwined with the pungent mix of stale and moldy food and cheap perfume and rotting garbage. These were the putrid and haunting stenches of her childhood, where she crawled and searched for scraps to eat hidden in the litter of her life. In the background she heard music playing, her earliest dancing to the sound tracks of Kurt Cobain and Merle Haggard, with John Denver always on repeat singing “
Sunshine on My Shoulders.”

  Memory smothered her like a blanket and then hit her like a fist. Everything came rushing back and there was nothing she could do but scream and retch and scream and scream again. Then for a moment it all went black.

  Lilly was still terrified when she came to her senses, again kicking and swinging, but wrapped inside strong arms. Anita and John had come to her aid, while Gerald watched from a corner of Lilly’s sleeping room, a look of anxious helplessness written clearly across his face.

  Slowly she calmed, the slamming of her heartbeat and gasps drowned out by the gentling repetition of “It’s okay” and “We are here.” An overwhelming taste of sour vinegar and blistering scent of bleach caused her to gag, and twice she vomited.

  “Get her some warm tea,” Anita commanded, sending Gerald scuttling off. “With milk and honey,” she called after him, before returning her attention to Lilly.

  “Take your time, dear one, and get your bearings.” Anita’s voice. “We are right here and won’t leave you. You’re safe.”

  Lilly began to cry. “Anita, I remember.” Her voice was broken, rasping and hoarse. “Oh, Anita, I remember everything. I didn’t want to . . .”

  “Hush, child.” Anita rocked the girl in her arms. Lilly could hear John quietly praying in the background, but all she wanted in this moment was to disappear, forever, inside this woman’s arms. “No one will ask you to talk about anything that you don’t want to or can’t. It will be all right. Breathe in, breathe out.”

  Gerald soon returned with tea and then stood watch next to John. Occasionally Lilly shuddered and moaned as waves of realization washed through her. Exhaustion overtook her body.

  Only when the turmoil had spent most of its energy did Anita hand her a warm washcloth to clean her face of snot and tears. Lilly took a small sip of tea. It spread throughout her body, sweet and warm and comforting. Only her poisoned arm remained cold and achy.

  “Your naptime nightmare caused quite a ruckus. Poor Gerald hit the floor before he was standing and ran right into a closet. He got himself quite turned around, and if we had not been so distraught by your screaming, it might have been comical. Thankfully, he wasn’t hurt.”

  Lilly barely had enough energy to smile, but she did.

  “At first I was certain you were in the Vault,” Gerald said, “but it turned out you were here in your room. Sound travels in odd ways through this place. Simon must be in the Study, the only place that is quite soundproof.”

  How Lilly wished in that moment that she could hide like Simon. What she had agreed to do was stupid. What had she been thinking? She hadn’t thought at all—that was the problem. And if John ever found out, she would die of shame.

  “Can I quit?” Lilly whispered. “I want this all to stop.”

  Anita patted her on the hand. “I know. I think that you are too old too soon, and I am quite outraged.” Lilly could see fury behind her focused features. It felt good, that someone would be angry on her behalf, even if she wasn’t worthy.

  “Thank you! For watching out for me.”

  “Of course, my dear,” Anita said. “Always! Now, you sleep until you wake. One of us will stay here.”

  Lilly wasn’t about to argue and in any case didn’t have the strength. The tea had made her feel drowsy. As she laid her head on her pillow and closed her eyes, she silently offered a plea that could have been a prayer: “Dear God, I don’t want to deal with anything right now. Can I please just sleep?”

  • • •

  THE LIGHTING IN LILLY’S small room had changed from the wakeful yellow of artificial daylight to the calming blue of night-lights.

  “How long have I been out?” She reached out and touched Anita’s arm.

  “Almost four hours.” Anita smiled tenderly. “How are you feeling?”

  “I don’t know. Right now I don’t feel anything at all. How do you wake up from a dream that is real? But see? I am pretty sure I’m awake.” Lilly pinched the skin on her left arm until it hurt nearly as much as her poisoned arm did.

  “Just making sure?” Anita asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yeah. Everything’s a question right now, everything.” Lilly paused and then asked, “Anita, what did you mean when you said I was too old too soon?”

  The Scholar thought before answering. “We are all children, regardless of our age, and although God designed us to grow in stature and in wisdom, They also intended we should remain children at heart. Sadly, evil forces many of us to abandon our childlike ways and we become too old too soon.”

  “How much do you know about my life?”

  “Enough to see it deeply wounded you, and to know you are sorting through the rubble.” Again anger edged her voice, heartbreak for Lilly. “That is not the judgment of a Scholar but the observation of a friend who loves you.”

  They held hands in the quiet for a time. “My mother sold me, Anita. My mother! She sold me to her boyfriend, and then he sold me to other men.” As Lilly spoke, tears flowed down her face. Anita wept too. “How could a mother do that? She sold me for drugs. When she was high she called me Kris, ’cause that was her drug of choice, crystal meth. The men just called me Princess.”

  Anita squeezed her hand and let her talk. It wasn’t a time for words from anyone else.

  “You know the worst thing about rape? It’s not the pain, it’s what you’re left with after. My mom would walk me down to the neighborhood church and leave me there. Maybe I was her attempt at confession, or maybe she wanted God to fix me just enough so she could break me again. I remember sitting in a class with other kids my age, I think I was five or six, and I would think, What is wrong with these kids? How can they laugh with me sitting right here? Don’t they know they could get my diseases? They made fun of my ‘holy’ stockings, the same ‘holy’ stockings that men took off me before . . . before . . . you know . . .”

  Lilly and Anita sighed heavily as one.

  “Somebody called it soul rape. I think they’re right. You’re left with nobody and nothing ’cause that’s all that you deserve. It’s your fault if you’re cute or pretty enough to be chosen. If someone else is picked, it’s your fault because you aren’t enough.

  “I ran away again and again, but more men found me. They sold me and they sold me and they operated on me so that customers would think I was a virgin, and then they operated on me and took away the only thing that I had left. Anita, I know why I haven’t had a period. It’s because I can’t. I can’t ever have a baby. You see, I didn’t come through a tragedy. I am the tragedy!”

  Anita leaned over Lilly and encircled her in strong arms, lifting her shoulders off the bed and protecting her with the shield of love and shared grief.

  “Anita, I can’t have a baby, ever,” she sobbed. “I always thought that no matter how bad I messed things up, one day I would do something right and have a baby, someone that I could love and who would love me and call me her momma, and now I can’t, I can’t . . .”

  The woman held and rocked the girl. Lilly was so lost to her own sorrow that she didn’t notice tears continuously rolling down the Scholar’s face until they soaked through her hair.

  When the emotions subsided and both women wiped their faces clean once more, they hugged tight and long. Lilly now felt embarrassed that she had spewed her life onto someone else. But there was no way to retract it.

  “May I share something personal and precious with you, Lilly?” Anita asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Gerald and I had a daughter, full-term but stillborn. It was the single worst day of my life. Her name is Nadja, which is Hope. We named her before we met her. She had the most delicate hands and feet, perfect and complete. She did have Gerald’s ears, which would have posed a challenge that I’m sure she would have overcome. But since Nadja slipped into God’s keeping, I have not been able to conceive a son or daughter, and not for lack of trying. It seems that all the mechanics were there and functioning, but the timing was illusive. And now it is
gone forever.”

  Anita paused and this time Lilly took her hand.

  “Dear one, my story isn’t the same as yours,” the woman said. “Nothing was stolen from me, as it was from you. For me, though, it was slowly withdrawn. You and I share a certain loss in common. There is a grief that only a woman who cannot bear a child can apprehend. To make such a choice is one thing, but to have the wonder of it taken from you—that is a wound too deep to even bleed.”

  “I am so sorry, Anita. Your secret is safe with me,” Lilly whispered back.

  Anita whispered back, “I don’t keep secrets, Lilly. True friends don’t keep secrets, only surprises for another time.”

  Lilly smiled weakly. “Look at you, hardly objective.”

  “Clinical detachment is a myth, often a cover for cowardice. It is so much more arduous and risky to be authentic and present, and immeasurably more rewarding. Healers heal themselves while healing others.”

  Anita stood up and held out her hand, and Lilly took it.

  “Lilly, Adam’s turning crushed women, to be sure, but it was a disaster for men as well. Even so, some of them found the way out of Adam’s shadow. Believe it or not, there are many men in the world who are not like the ones you’ve known. Shall we go find some good men and see if they have prepared something to eat? All this emotion makes me hungry.”

  Lilly laughed, and it was a relief of sorts. “Anita, you go ahead,” she suggested. “I need to catch my breath, but I’ll be there in a minute or two. Okay?”

  “Of course, dear one.” Anita smiled and hugged her one more time. “Thank you for letting me walk with you inside your holy ground.”

  “Thanks for not leaving me alone.” Lilly held on to the woman’s arm a moment. “Anita, you said something that reminded me of someone, a man. I remembered his face a few days ago, but nothing else until today. When they shipped me and the others in that container that washed up here, he was the man who tried to save us. We were used up, see? Sick, rejected—‘No longer good for the domestic market,’ someone said. This man’s own daughter was missing and he thought she was taken in our group, so he joined the traffickers to try and find her. She wasn’t there, but I think I reminded him of her. He’s the one who put me in that compartment, but it happened so fast that I didn’t get positioned right. When the other men broke in, I think they shot him first. I heard gunfire as I was passing out; it’s the last thing I remember. His name was Abdul Baith. Somebody should know.”