| She did not receive another message for two weeks. While still anxious to receive some form of contact, Eve occupied her time in their fields naming her animal friends. She especially loved the tiny insects, small enough to detect only when her face was to the ground. She catalogued them: the dark Rolly-Pollies (curling, uncurling), the long-legged spiders (Stilts, she laughingly called them), the ones with little pinchers (those were her favourite, the Nibblers). They all gained acceptance into Eve�s world through her close attention and naming. Eve inherently knew that she was in charge of the small beings � the bugs, the ducks, the mice � while William, locked in his study, named the people and the dangerous, poisonous monsters of the Congo. With her ear on her grass pillow, balancing a Greenie (an aphid) on her index finger, she heard the rumble of a car on the other side of the stone wall. Her eyes followed its sound as her body took in its vibrations. When the car was gone, when its trail of exhaust had vanished high in the air, Eve ran to find the letter, greedily opening it up on the spot. ~ 3832 Main Street. Tomorrow afternoon. ~ Eve�s eyes widened at the few markings. She had to meet her birth mother, but had rarely been outside of the stone walls (except to go to the doctor�s to look at her swollen tonsils, and infrequent shopping trips for clothes). She also had no way to get to town. It was too far to walk or bike, and it was out of the question to ask William for a ride. In frustration, Eve tore a beautifully ripe apple from the nearest tree, and bit down into its crisp flesh. Its sweet juice ran down her chin and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. Because William was in his study, at the back of the house facing the animal pens, Eve was able to creep upstairs without detection. She read over the unsigned letters, the syllables gliding over her tongue as she whispered them quietly. Finally, Eve wrote her own note for her mother, leaving it in the mailbox with the flag up: ~ Tomorrow morning. Meet at the gnarled apple tree in the last row in the orchard - it�ll be marked by a familiar symbol ~. The next morning, Eve awoke with the first rays of sun. She stared out of her bedroom window, overlooking the rows and rows of apple trees, like soldiers standing at attention and saluting the dawn. The browned apple core rested on its side on her desk, its remaining flesh looked as if it was burned by the air. Eve saw it and smiled, remembering that William always called the cores �nature�s tiny barbels.� He had written a whole story about them when she was six, how mice used them to prepare for nightly battles with farm cats. Silently, Eve went into the yard. The fresh dew soaked into her socks, it crept up her ankles and onto the frill on the hem of her nightgown. She walked toward the end of the long rows, and slowed down. She had forgotten that the last tree on the property was that large, that frightening. Its bark was darker than the others, deformed, visibly knotted and rotted hollow. Yet beautiful, luscious red apples grew on its lower branches � a miracle that life could be sustained by such ugliness. From one of her nightgown pockets (usually used for storing tissues or stolen cookies), Eve took out a small but strong knife. Bending closely to the tree, she carved a long curve down its trunk, in the shape of a vertical ~ . She stood back and looked at it with pride. The tree stood out by its original extraordinary features and this man-made, serpent-looking design. There was no way her mother could mistake any other tree for their meeting spot. Eve dipped back into the house before William even stirred in his bed. Early that morning, William drove to town. It was Sunday � chore day. Every week, he would go to town early in the day to get their groceries, and the week�s worth of gin. Maybe a haircut or a quick stroll through a new exhibit at the art gallery. Eve knew that it took him at least an hour to do what he needed, including the driving times there and back to the farm. There was more than enough time for Eve to meet the woman that created and yet abandoned her. William had hardly left the driveway before Eve heard a car stop in front of the house. It did not enter the gate, but parked out of sight behind the wall. A lone door opened and closed. From her window, Eve couldn�t see the woman hesitate at the gate, almost turn to leave. When she appeared around the corner, Eve leaned closer to the window and strained to see. The woman, dressed in a long red dress, stood awkwardly within the first rows of apple trees. Eve stood to join her, and paused. It was something in the woman�s movements that made her stop. She seemed to slide effortlessly through the rows, increasing in speed until she reached the chosen tree near the stone wall. Using her binoculars, Eve watched as the woman ran her hand along the carving in the bark, watched as she chose a plump apple and took a bite. Her eyes darted between the trees, and she jumped at every animal noise. Eve was shocked � this was nothing like the woman she had imagined to be her mother. Her mother was poetic and optimistic. This woman was bizarre and skittish. Eve didn�t want to know the person who stood before her amongst the trees, devouring the sweet fruit and eyeing the carved serpent. Rather than going to her, Eve remained stationed in the window. Eventually, her mother walked away, taking the hint that her abandoned child had chosen this perfect pastoral life over the truth of her birth. The last note, perfectly placed at the bottom of the tree, as if dropped by the carving itself, read ~ In sorrow I brought forth a child, and in sorrow I leave her. ~ Small and perfect, Eve entered the world, and pure she exited it. |