E by Kate Wrath Read Free Book Online Page B

is banned, with the exception of those within
the confines of a private dwelling.  This open window is set in someone's
house.  Inside, they may practice whatever religious rites they
want.  If their window happens to be open, and beggars happen to gather
outside, well, it's not like the one has anything to do with the other. 
There is no preaching going on here.  Not that a machine could see.
    I’m content to have a place to sit, within the safety of
numbers.  I relax against the wall and think of my failed plans.  A
temporary setback.  I'll try again tomorrow.  I close my eyes and
rest, the words of the sermon drifting in and out of my consciousness. 
Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden, eating the forbidden fruit, discovering
their own nakedness.  The voice, thick and heavy, drones on....
    The Lord God
made garments of skin for Adam and his wife and clothed them. And the Lord God
said, “The man has now become like one of us, knowing good and evil. He must
not be allowed to reach out his hand and take also from the tree of life and
eat, and live forever.” So the Lord God banished him from the Garden of Eden to
work the ground from which he had been taken.
    I feel myself slipping into the dark drift of sleep, but for a
moment there is an in-between space, not here nor there.  The words of the
sermon spin in my brain, and though I've never given it thought before, in the
space of one breath I know my name.  My new name.  Not Eve, who was
cast out for her sin.  I may be an outcast, but I refuse to accept that
fate.  I will rebuild my world, reclaim what I have lost.  I am
Eden.  Everything I need is within myself.  I will become my own
garden.
     
    ***
     
    The next night, I drop enough coins into the haggard old woman's
claw-- enough to keep from arousing suspicions.  I head again to the
Rustler.  Tonight I'm not disappointed.  Just as evening is settling
into darkness, the two young men I’ve been waiting for appear and go inside.
They will not stay long.  They never do.  I'm working on a time limit
now.  I hurry into a nearby alleyway-- one with a puddle. 
    In a frenzy of movement, I peel off the rags that have become my
second skin.  I scrub myself violently with a rag dipped in the puddle,
erasing my painted-on blotches.  My face, my hands, my neck, my
arms.  With my fingers, I comb some hair over my face, then take a piece
of glass from my bag and cut off the locks at the level of my eyebrows. 
It's not exactly straight, but it will cover my mark.  Quickly donning the
clothing and boots I looted from the dead woman, I stuff my rags into my bag
and stash it in the alley.  I straighten and adjust myself.  The
shoes feel strange on my feet.  They are a touch too big, and they press
on the gash in my foot uncomfortably.  The other clothes don't fit well
either.  The woman who wore them previously was proportioned like a child,
and I am not.  The pants are snug on my hips, and not long enough, but the
boots make up for the missing length.  The jacket fits in the shoulders
and waist, but the buttons across the chest have to be forced.  I would
prefer to have a shirt underneath it, but I can't wear the rags, and I dare not
wear the shift I woke up in.  I double-check that all my coins are safe in
my pocket, then I step into the world feeling completely, nakedly exposed.
    I stay in the dark parts of the shadows and set my feet down
quietly.  There's a place under the stoop of the building next to the
Rustler, where I think I can stand outside of the light and no one will see
me.  It is here that I take up my watch.
    Every minute drags out endlessly, every small noise making me
jump.  My nerves are twitching, my foot silently tapping out my anxiety in
code.  How different I feel in these clothes.  How foreign it is to
stand up straight.  But it also feels right.  Liberating.  I
grind my teeth, and wait.  How long could they possibly take?  I
begin to second guess myself.