Forgiving Eve: A Novel

by Kathryn Hewitt

  The couple were in the mid fifties, and were the personification of the camp. They were a strange combination of laid back and uptight, dressing like hippies and smiling a lot, but didn’t put up with any shit. They always seemed open and available to us, when we saw them, but I personally rarely saw them. Maybe they were just really busy? I wasn’t sure and since they were kind of background material for my existence, I didn’t give it much thought. All I knew was that, of the few things I’d heard about them, the one I heard the most was don’t fuck up because if you do, you answer to them. And apparently they weren’t known for their leniency.

  As if they’d picked up on my brain waves, right then Irma and Richard entered the Caf. People quieted down, which always surprised me. Richard was literally wearing a tie dyed long sleeve shirt with his Chinos, and Irma was wearing a woven Navajo inspired poncho and a long flowing gypsy skirt. Hippie case in point. She always wore her waist length graying hair in a braid that trailed down her back, and tons of beaded jewelry. At least Richard refrained from the jewelry, but he wore these little spectacles that I actually saw on his face about 10% of the time. The other 90% he spent using them as a prop, a way to emphasize his point, waving them around or pointing at things with them.

  I was over this whole world. I didn’t give a crap about much, but if I tried to care, I found out that I, shockingly, didn’t especially enjoy being read to by a fake campfire made of electrically fed logs that flashed reds and oranges. It offended the dead artist in me. No, seriously. And the reading choices? I’m not exactly low brow but to read ‘uplifting’ poetry, or as I viewed it, the Thomas Kinkade of poets, I felt like I was listening to Chicken Soup for the Soul. And I wanted to vomit.

  Want to give us something we’d enjoy? Read a little Poe or even some Hemingway. We wanted dark, we wanted soul wrenching, we did Not want joyful life-embracing prose. Rainbows and puppies? No thanks.

  ***

  Finally I threw in the towel. No literally, I threw it into the trash. The stupid paper towel that they’d handed me the stupid microwaved unmelted marshmellow, melded against the gluten-free sugar-free taste-free graham cracker, on. Then I marched my way on back to my safe haven, the cabin.

  I’d curled up in bed, wide awake but refusing to return to that which was my own version of hell, when the door opened and light spilled into the dark cabin. I ignored it like I ignored the comings and goings of our cabin every night. If you preoccupied yourself with everyone who entered or left, and when, you’d lose more of your mind and you’d never get any sleep.

  As it was, I wasn’t sleeping so well as of late.

  So I lay there prone, pretending I was asleep and ignoring which ever loser, who lived in this bunk, who was coming in to do whatever they’d planned to do. I knew it wasn’t my little ghosty Nancy, because she’d have been in and asleep without me knowing.

  I pressed my eyes shut and concentrated on pretending I was sleeping.

  “I know you’re not asleep.” Holy crap, I about shit my pants. The deep voice speaking into my ear was way too close and way too familiar. I groaned.

  “What do you want Jack?” I still hadn’t opened my eyes. Just because he’d been gone for a week didn’t mean I was all excited to see him…or hear him.

  The bastard just chuckled.

  Why did that make my heart start racing?

  “Eve, why are you in here when we’re all out there?”

  “Ummm…do you know me? Oh, right. Nevermind.” I literally rolled my eyes while my eyelids were closed. Who knew you could do such a thing? And why would you? Leave it to me.

  “That’s why I like you.” Huh? First of all, Jack didn’t appear to like anyone. He maybe liked Leila, but other than that he seemed to have little tolerance for others. Second of all, what was why he liked me?

  I stayed true. I didn’t respond.

  “Exactly,” he said. Oh my god, this guy was the worst. He had a way to get under my skin and all it did was kind of make me like him more.

  “Ugh!” Oh shit, did I say that out loud? Based on Jack’s laughter, which was still directly next to my ear, I did. Good thing I was immune to caring, and especially good thing I was immune to embarrassment.

  “How did you know I wasn’t asleep?”

  “Because I wasn’t here.” With that, he stepped out of the cabin and my evil feet betrayed me by following him out.

  TEN

  “EVE!!!!” I heard the shriek milliseconds before I was compressed on the front and then compressed on the back. Hard.

  Leila hit me running, jumping on me, and the ground hit me not running. As in, it ass rammed me. Hard.

  “You bitch,” I said, while unable to hide my laugh as Leila lay draped over me in a giggling fit. I rolled her off and hoped she’d hit a rock on the way down. That little flying squirrel had struck again, but this time it was at me, and let’s just say, this tree was a sapling.

  I flicked a glance at Jack and noted the mirth in his eyes. He so often was expressionless, but when he did react, I almost always wanted to catch it. Crap. That’s not true. If I happened to notice, I’d find it interesting. Yeah.

  Right then a large hand was outstretched to me and against my will, I grabbed it, allowing Jack to pull me up.

  “I can get up myself. I did go to preschool, Jack.” I scorned him.

  “Yes, I know you did. It’s a shame they stopped letting you attend when it came time to join Camp Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.” Leila strikes again. Clearly.

  “Ha. Ha. At least joke about me having the maturity of a third grader. A preschooler? Where’s the humor in that?”

  “Oh Eve. I’ve missed you.” He had already averted his eyes and was walking away before I could even comprehend his retort. Was it facetious? Was he being honest? Why was I even wondering these things?!

  “Ugh!” Not again.

  “What’s wrong Sugar Booger? Happiness strikes again?” Ahh. Faithful Leila, my best friend/worst enemy…with love and happy face emoticons.

  “No, Mistress of Darkness, your master strikes again…dragging poor helpless little Eve out of her warm and comfortable slumber.” I rolled my eyes. Again.

  “Ha! Told you Jack would be pumped about this event.” I still was not pleased. At. All.

  “Ok, let me know how it all pans out. See you on the flip side.” I turned to start walking away and walked right into Jack.

  How the hell did he do that?

  “Eve,” he said softly. I’d never heard him say my name so many times in such a short period of time. What was it, 2 times?

  “Jack, cut the crap. Why are you bothering with me?” I may not be overly emotive, but I can get pissed, and quick. Oh, and also? I can be a megawatt b-i-t-c-h, if I care to be.

  “Bothering you? Or bothering with you? Evie, which are you really asking?” I was asking which fist he’d like me to punch him with first.

  “Jack.” I paused, trying to figure out his angle while trying to figure out my own angle. I inhaled through my nose and decided I wasn’t about to go all street fighter on his ass. “What’s up?”

  “Come on, I need you.” With that, he grabbed my hand and dragged me over towards the fake campfire. All the while my heart was pounding and I was trying to figure out what he meant. He needed me? How? Why? I couldn’t handle someone needing me…I couldn’t handle needing myself, to survive.

  Before I could stifle my panic and formulate a plan, I was by the ‘campfire’ and I noticed that there was a guy with some bongos, a girl with a some sort of make-shift brass drum, and Jack. He was standing there smiling that stupid smile that made me want to kick his ass, holding two guitars. One he shoved at me.

  “I know you can play. Hurry up.” With that, he took a seat on one of the tree stumps by the ‘fire pit’ and gestured to the other vacant one.

  Oh. He needed me because he knew I could play guitar. Awesome. And, I felt like a real Asshole.

  Without any instruction or indication of what I was needed for, th
e three started playing. The percussion section, or the other two, started out with a smooth beat. It was a little mellow, sort of reggae inspired, and then Jack started in. Wow, he could play. The three were jamming and it sounded pretty damn amazing. I was into it. And I wasn’t into Anything.

  A few minutes in, Jack looked at me. Still playing, he met my eyes despite my attempt to avoid his. He was pissing me off and I didn’t want to help him, but at the same time, I was feeling the music as it washed over me. I was feeling the rhythm and the beat and it was like the flow of my blood, the beat of my heart.

  I hadn’t felt like this since before.

  Jack nodded at me again, softening his expression as if he sensed how unwilling I was to be involved in this.

  I cracked.

  Not because Jack wanted me to. Not because there were about 40 people who were watching me expectantly. I did it because I wanted to play; I wanted to remember what it felt like to feel. What it felt like to be free.

  I started in, harmonizing with Jack, playing off of him and the steady beats the two others were putting out. This wasn’t a song, this existed nowhere, and I liked that. We were making this exist and it felt empowering. We owned it by virtue of being the first to create it.

  As annoyed as I’d been, I was now being washed away. This was the first time I’d played an instrument, the first time I’d played music, since before it had all gone down and I’d vowed to never play again.

  How had Jack gotten me to play again?

  I pushed the thought out of my mind and returned to feeling the beat, playing off of Jack’s melody, complimenting the song of his instrument.

  Jack played Really well.

  We were in the groove, focused on nothing and everything when it came to this creation of tones, when Jack looked up. I noticed his movement and glanced at him to find him staring at me. He quirked a half smile and then lifted his chin to me, a nod of encouragement.

  I ignored it.

  He wouldn’t break my stare, though. Or, maybe I wouldn’t break it. Everything was suddenly very confusing. Jack gave me a head tilt, and nodded again. What was his deal? I ignored him again, continuing whatever rhythm that was pouring out of me, in concert with what was pouring out of the three of them.

  Then Jack stopped playing. There was a several second lull, the drums continuing, and I wasn’t sure what was happening.

  Then I knew.

  Against all of my wishes, my body took control and started it’s own melody on the guitar, playing a different song than Jack had, but one that had a similar rhythm and the percussion duo kept up with me. I was suddenly singing…through my fingers.

  And then I was singing a duet. Jack had joined back in, but this time he was accompanying me, he was the harmony to my melody. And I knew without looking at my audience’s faces, my melody was not an uplifting one. But still, no one talked, no one interrupted. Briefly, I wished Leila would pop up and be her usual disruptive self. Instead, I kept playing, refusing to look at anyone.

  Finally I had had enough. I couldn’t understand what had happened, why I’d allowed this. I felt like I had been split open and I did not like it. My fingers slowed down and I tapered off my song, ending it in as least abrupt manner as I could. The others kept playing as I sat the guitar down, got up and walked silently back to the cabin.

  I refused to look at Jack as I left and I never looked back.

  That night, as I traversed the barrier between our pallets, I briefly wondered what I was doing. Then I lay down next to Jack and right before I succumbed to sleep, I felt his hand grasp mine.

  ELEVEN

  We never touched when I slept next to him, it was never about that. What it was about, I had no idea, but it was never my intention to cultivate a sexual relationship; it was never my intention to cultivate any kind of a relationship at all. So when I woke up holding Jack’s hand, I couldn’t really understand what was going on.

  Extricating myself from his gentle grip, I climbed back into my own pallet, leaving a sleeping Jack alone with my residual warmth. I shivered in my own pallet but that was nothing new. The thin blankets provided to us were not exactly the warmest and their scratchy texture left much to be desired. Thankfully since it was summer in California, it hadn’t proven to be much of a problem. I only hoped our accommodations altered with the seasons.

  I knew it was pointless to try to sleep. I never could, once I left Jack. I hated to admit it, but his presence was what allowed me to actually rest, to actually be able to relax and allow myself to be unguarded enough for sleep to overtake me. I had refused to analyze this situation that was quickly becoming routine. I knew it was extremely strange and somewhat inappropriate, at least it would appear to be so to an outsider, but I was unwilling to stop. Or maybe I just couldn’t.

  The fact that Jack had never done anything untoward while I slept next to him only proved to me that I had made the right choice to trust him, on some subconscious level. I didn’t understand my mind any better than the crap ton of shrinks I’d seen up until now, so to try to even begin to figure out why I had decided it was a good idea, and at all acceptable, to join Jack that first night was pointless. All I knew was that Jack himself had told me he didn’t mind, so at least that eased my conscience, and that I was not going to be stopping anytime soon.

  It was my turn to say I needed Jack.

  This was painful to admit, even to myself. Worse still was the fact that I really didn’t know him, we’d had very few conversations and none were personal, not to mention the issue of his frequent disappearances. I knew that while I trusted him enough to lie next to him at night, I didn’t trust him to necessarily be there for me when I needed him in the grander scheme of things. Which was ok, because that was a level of intimacy that we were no where near and which I was more than uncertain as to if I could ever achieve with anyone, ever again.

  This was why I didn’t want to do anything different. Jack and I lived our lives, orbiting around each other day by day but not often crossing paths (unless Leila was involved), but at the same time we had a system in place. Half the time I longed to understand his feelings on the fact that I slept next to him at night. The other half would be mortified to ever discuss such a thing with him, and moreover, wished we could just pretend the whole arrangement didn’t exist.

  I’d learned the hard way that confronting your problems usually led to more.

  I missed Gideon. Sure he’d been more, but mostly because he was my best friend. I wanted to say he’d be understanding and encouraging about this weird thing with Jack, but the farther away from the last time I saw Gideon and since everything that went down, I’ve started doubting more and more just how well I’d known him. It didn’t matter though, because it was kind of existential; the Gideon who existed in my memories and how I’d viewed him was just as real as the real Gideon because the real Gideon wasn’t here.

  My brain was hurting and I was even farther away from sleeping than I’d been.

  “Eve.” I heard the low whisper and I almost thought it was Gideon. That hurt more than I’d thought it would. “Silent Girl, come with me. I wanna go for a walk and I know you’re not asleep.” Groan.

  Was it a wonder why I liked Jack so much when he was sleeping?

  I waited a few breaths as I tried to get my treacherous heart to stop pounding so fast. Stupid heart, stupid brain. Gideon was not here and I was dwelling too much on him. Maybe going with Jack might at least distract me since I knew he’d totally piss me off. Nothing took my mind off hurting like anger.

  Throwing off the offensive blanket, I silently grabbed a hoodie and shoved my feet into my UGG boots. I pretended to not remember that they’d been a gift from my stepfather. I loved them so it was the only way that our relationship could stay pure. Finally I dared to look at Jack who was now out of bed and lounging by the door, his hands shoved into his own hoodie front pocket and his dark hair standing up all over his head.

  I stifled the urge to walk over and smooth it down.<
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  Jack was still in his Pajama pants but he’d somehow laced up his converse while I was stuck in my own head. They seemed to be his only pair of shoes…if he had more, he never wore them. “Come on Eve…the Garden awaits you,” he whispered, smirking.

  I hoped the disgust on my face told him something. If there was one thing I hated (and we all knew there was definitely more than one thing), it was puns on my name. I’ve always secretly cursed my mom for naming me after the biblical character…we aren’t even religious so knowing her, she named me for some character in a romance novel, but no one else knows that and the world seems to revel in making Eden related jokes.

  Instead of responding, I just walked past him, exiting the bunk and assuming he’d follow since this was his idea. Wait, why the hell was I coming? I could be warm and comfortable, sleeping in my…oh, right. I wouldn’t be any of those things so might as well do a little reconnaissance to figure out why Jack was up and why he was interested in my joining him.

  Once outside, I came to a halt. Since I wasn’t the leader of this mission, I was sort of the wrong person to be walking out in front. Waiting in place but not looking back, I knew Jack had come up behind me because I could feel his warmth against my back.

  “Shall we?” He said and I jumped. Creeper.

  “Go ahead. I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do.” Jack just laughed as he appeared at my side.

  “You and I both know that’s not true.” With that, he started off without looking back at me. I, of course, followed.

  What was I going to do, stand outside our cabin for an hour until people started getting up? I don’t think so.

  So I caught up with Jack, but I wouldn’t walk next to him, instead a foot or so behind and to his right. Not to mention his freakishly long legs were making it hard for me to keep up. Um hello? Super slow person over here. I wondered how much he’d observed me or what he thought he knew about me. Then I chastised myself for even wondering such a thing. He probably never noticed me or considered anything about me. That was the effect I was going for. Also, why was I even thinking about him thinking about me? Man, my mind was so messed up.