Eve: In the Beginning (13 page)

Ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it, lest ye die.

I am not dead, I think. I am touching the fruit, and I am not dead. Perhaps Lucifer is right.

Lucifer doesn’t move even though he’s standing very close to me. My gaze meets his, and it’s as if I can see forever into the unending depth of his dark eyes.

For a long moment, our gazes stay locked, and then he takes a step back, then another. He walks back to the tree and leans against the trunk.

I look at the fruit in my hand. I haven’t realized it until now, but it seems to be the most beautiful fruit I’ve ever seen in the entire garden. The aroma reaches my senses, and I know it will be sweet to the taste — most sweet above all.

I am touching it, and I still have my breath. I have not become as the dust.

The scent caresses my senses, and I realize that just one bite will make me as the gods, giving me knowledge — and with that I’ll be able to keep Elohim’s commandment to multiply and replenish the earth.

I raise the fruit to my lips, inhaling. If I do not partake, I will be the mother of nothing at all. If I do partake, I will be the mother of all living.

Lucifer is watching, and out there, somewhere, Adam is probably looking for me. But this is neither for Lucifer nor for Adam. This is for my posterity.

My lips touch the fruit, and my mouth opens. Then I bite into the fruit, my teeth breaking the skin and sinking easily into the flesh. The incredible sweetness permeates my mouth in an instant.

I chew the soft fruit and swallow. Its sweetness floods my entire body. This is completely different from just holding the fruit.

It has happened. It’s over. Yet, I know it must all be a beginning.

I stare at the fruit in my hand. Its taste is still fresh in my mouth, echoing throughout my limbs. It has settled in my stomach, and I wait for a change to my body — for something to happen.

I exhale, then inhale, hardly believing I have done it. I have eaten from the tree of knowledge of good and evil. A tremor runs through my body, settling in my feet, taking my strength with it. I deliberately exhale again. My mind is spinning, and I wonder if I will sink to the ground, if my legs will simply give out. Am I supposed to feel this way? Lucifer said I won’t die, but will the fruit have any other effect?

Lucifer shifts his position, claiming my attention. Although he still leans against the trunk and his eyelids are half-closed, I know he is watching me.

“Is ...” I begin, and then I remember. I remember in a way different from how I remember something I might have said or done the day before; I remember as if there was something I once knew and have recalled only now.

I remember Lucifer. Remembering comes in the smallest of pieces — not in words or thoughts but in scraps of memory.

Lucifer standing before Elohim. Lucifer speaking, his expression agitated. And another man is with him — a man who must be a brother. Lucifer and the man look very similar, although Lucifer’s eyes are darker, his complexion like a thundercloud in his anger. For I realize Lucifer is angry, very angry, as he speaks to Elohim.

I blink several times, clearing the memory, and look at Lucifer in person.

His careful gaze is on me, his mouth lifted into a half smile. “How is the fruit?” His voice jolts through me, and I feel as if he’s pushed his hand against my chest, stopping the air from going in and out. I gasp for breath and gasp again.

I know who Lucifer is now. He is the fallen angel who has set out to destroy all humankind.

His gaze reflects back all that I am thinking — as if he knows my thoughts.

I sink to the ground, still holding the fruit, as if it’s a part of me that I can’t let go. I bend over with a groan. My stomach twists and turns as if it wants to rid itself of the fruit. Without looking at Lucifer, I say, “I know who you are.”

He says nothing, but he moves forward, and I imagine his feet brushing through the grass. When he stops in front of me, I don’t want to look up. I know how he sees me now — as a woman, a woman who is naked and vulnerable. In my line of vision, I see his hand reach for me, then hesitate before touching me.

I shrink back. I don’t want him to touch me, even if his fingers have no solid form. I don't want him near me. I don’t want to hear his voice or glimpse his eyes and their unending blackness.

I feel as if a mountain of rock is pressing down on me. This new knowledge feels so heavy that I struggle for air.

Lucifer chuckles. His laugh, once intriguing, now slices through me. My arms ache from clenching them around my body, but I refuse to stand in my nakedness. I want to hide.

My eyes burn, and liquid comes from them, dripping onto my cheeks. I marvel at the moisture and touch my hand to my cheeks. My fingers are wet. I feel as if something is expanding yet constricting inside of me at the same time.

Images surface in my mind again and again. I now realize they’re memories. I remember I was there when Lucifer presented his plan for humanity to Elohim — a plan that was Lucifer’s alone.

And then his brother stepped forward.

I remember the other man now and know that he is my brother as well, but he is far different from Lucifer. This other man is the Chosen One. He speaks quietly, in a measured tone, as he presents another plan — the plan that Elohim wants. This plan gives each man and woman agency.

“You said we would not die,” I whisper, knowing that Lucifer still hovers over me. “But Elohim didn’t accept your plan. That means that we will all
die.” I know this now. I will not die today, or tomorrow, but eventually I will return to dust. I drop the fruit in the grass and look up, dreading to see the blackness of Lucifer’s eyes, but he needs to understand that I know who he is.

Lucifer is gone. I look around in disbelief. He has abandoned me.

“Lucifer!” I call out. He can’t leave me now. He must explain why he lied to me. He must explain what will happen next.

My body trembles, and my voice shakes as I call out again.

No voice answers, and all I hear is the breeze rattling the leaves above me. I stare at the fruit in the grass and its bite mark. I will die. I know that now. Lucifer has lied to me.

I want to throw the fruit at the tree and then tear down all of the other fruit and trample it. I wonder how long Elohim will wait before he banishes me from the garden.

“Eve,” a voice calls.

I can’t move. As the voice comes again, both relief and dread flood through me. It’s Adam. I want to hide the fruit from him, bury it somewhere, but there is no time, and he will discover my deed soon enough.

“Eve,” Adam says, his voice closer. I know that he is behind me. My breath stops, and I feel as though I am choking.

I pick up the fruit and close my eyes just as Adam’s hand touches my shoulder.

“Why are you here?” Sharpness lines his voice. “You agreed not to visit the tree anymore.”

His words tear through me into the deepest parts of my soul.

Adam kneels beside me, his arm going around my shoulders. We haven’t spoken for days, yet he is here, speaking to me. He is doing what I should have done for him. He is taking care of me.

What have I done?

I open my hand, and his breathing changes. I can’t look at him.

“Oh, Eve.”

The pain in his voice makes me want to scream, to cry, to purge my stomach of the fruit. I will die now. I will be cast out, and I will never see Adam again.

My body is trembling, and when Adam puts his hand beneath mine, the hand that holds the fruit, I think that death could not be worse than this final touch.

“What have you done?” His voice reaches me, but it sounds as if he is very far away, as if he is speaking to me from the other side of the garden.

“Lucifer beguiled me,” I say, the words barely audible.

I wait for his harsh words, his cries of agony, but none of that comes. He is still for a long time, the whole of the evening perhaps, but it’s only a moment.

Then he moves away from me. I feel the loss of his touch, the absence of his body next to mine, as if I have already been cast out of the garden and submerged into a lonely existence.

But something else changes.

Adam is holding the fruit. I raise my eyes to his. Holding the fruit is not the same thing as eating it. This may be the last time I’ll look upon my husband.

I almost can’t breathe as I think about living without him — living until I die alone.

Adam is gazing at me, and I am surprised there is no reprimand in his gaze but there is the determination that I have been a witness to many times. My heart clenches. Maybe Adam will cast me out himself.

When Adam raises the fruit to his mouth, I stare at him in disbelief as he bites into it.

He holds my gaze as he chews, then swallows.

The moisture drips down my face as he takes another bite, chewing and swallowing a second time. He drops the fruit on the ground, then holds out his hand toward me.

“Adam ... I ...” I can’t finish. I want to tell him I’m sorry. I want to tell him he shouldn’t have eaten of the fruit.

He grasps my hands and pulls me to my feet, and then I’m in his embrace. I feel his lips pressed against the side of my head. His arms are warm and strong and safe, but still I tremble.

I have brought this upon Adam. Now he will die too.

And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good.

Genesis 1:31

Adam stared into Eve’s wide blue-green eyes as she looked unblinkingly back at him. The sweet tastes of the fruit still pinged on his tongue. The fruit of the tree of knowledge was sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted, and strangely, he desired another bite.

But he had dropped the fruit and now held Eve. The breeze stirred around them, lifting Eve’s hair from her shoulders.

“I remember Lucifer now,” Eve said. She spoke of the council in Heaven involving Elohim and Lucifer and the Chosen One.

The memories were coming back to Adam as well. Eve’s cheeks were wet, and Adam wiped away the moisture with his fingers.

Her mouth quavered as she said, “I didn’t know Lucifer came to deceive us, Adam. I thought ...”

“Shh,” Adam said, pulling her into his arms.

“He said that we wouldn’t die,” she whispered against his chest. “He was lying. How could I not know he is the Deceiver?” Her arms tightened about him. “Our deaths will come, but it will be worth it. We’ll now be able to multiply and replenish the earth.”

Adam closed his eyes and rested his chin on top of her head. “We’ll start the human race.” He ran his fingers through her hair. Knowledge was flooding through him faster than he could comprehend it all. “This is what Elohim’s plan included.” He felt Eve sag against him.

“I wish I’d had fuller knowledge about the plan earlier,” she said in a quiet voice. “Then I would have made the choice without giving Lucifer the satisfaction of deceiving me.”

Adam drew away and looked directly at her. “He was part of that plan too.”

“How?” she asked.

Even though he knew that both of their memories were returning, Eve seemed too distraught to analyze them all. “Lucifer was sent to tempt us,” Adam said. “If we hadn’t been tempted, we may not have made this choice — not in the eternal state we were living in.”

“Do you mean Elohim intended us to partake of the fruit from the beginning?”

“Not from the beginning, but eventually.” Adam kissed her forehead, and their bodies brushed against each other again. The touch of his wife’s body against him made Adam realize why Lucifer had clothed himself.

“We should cover ourselves,” he said in a soft voice.

Eve’s face flushed in the fading light. “We should.”

Suddenly, Adam felt strange looking at her, and he tried to look at only her face. He was grateful for the gathering twilight.

“We can use the grass mats. Or ...” She hesitated. “The skin mat Lucifer left at the alcove.”

“We’ll find something,” Adam said. He wanted to pull her close again, but he hesitated now. They had embraced many times, and he’d never thought too much of it. But now it was different. He saw her nakedness just as she certainly saw his.

He looked around, making sure Lucifer wasn’t standing somewhere, watching them, watching his wife. Adam felt exposed, and the sooner they covered themselves from the eyes of Lucifer, the better.
Adam grasped her hand, and they walked up the hillside in the gathering darkness, away from the tree, away from the half-eaten fruit on the ground. As they walked, Eve clung to his hand, and he was sure that memories of their existence before Eden flowed through her mind as well.

His stomach clenched as he thought about Lucifer, and who he really was. Even before Adam’s eyes were opened, he knew he didn’t like the fallen angel. Before Adam even knew who Lucifer truly was, Adam had wanted him to leave the garden.

The sun was well below the horizon now, and the sky was a deep violet. The moon rose, giving them plenty of light to find their way back.

Adam slowed as they neared the field that contained the altar of prayer. He wondered if Elohim already knew what had just happened in the garden. What would he say to them? How soon would they be banished from the garden?