Free Infinity in the Palm of Her Hand: A Novel of Adam and Eve by Gioconda Belli Page B

Eve.”
    â€œThat isn’t an answer.”
    â€œEve, Eve, you never tire of asking questions.”
    â€œIf it occurs to me to ask it’s because there are answers. And we should know them. We ate the fruit, we lost the Garden, and we know almost nothing more than we did before.”
    They were talking as they returned to the cave. It was doubtless a punishment to think that the body would choose that way to wreak vengeance when they ate, Adam said, but the truth was that he, at least, felt better, with more strength in his muscles, and more spirit.
    â€œIt’s reasonable. Expelling something that smells so bad makes you lighter. And what a curious sensation—very different from pain, don’t you think?”
    Smiling, Eve concealed how embarrassed the subject made her feel. To see herself reduced to ingesting and eliminating like the dog and the cat nauseated her, made her feel diminished. She could not understand how Adam seemed to draw something good from what to her was humiliation. She could not understand how he failed to perceive the implicit animality of the experience.
    â€œThe Other wasn’t playing when he said that dust we are and to dust we will return. These bodies of ours—how long do you think they will last? Adam asked.
    â€œI don’t know. I know only that mine hurts more than yours.”
    Water began to fall from the leaden sky. Large drops beat down on their shoulders. They went running into the cave. The rain was falling in torrents. In the sky, a tree with illuminated, gleaming branches lashed the firmament. The earth answered the assault of the lighted branches with harsh rumblings. In the darkness they saw the sparkling eyes of the cat. The dog sniffed the ground. The four grouped together on the projecting rock that served them as a bed. Embraced, Adam and Eve watched the explosions, the thunder and lightning, astonished and fearful.
    â€œIs the sky going to fall? Are the stars dropping from the sky?” Eve asked.
    â€œI don’t think so,” said Adam. “They’re very far away.”
    â€œHow do you know?”
    â€œI’m not sure.”
    Eve awoke bleeding from between her legs. She was terrified when she got to her feet and saw the red liquid flowing from her sex. In the splendor of the dawn, the cave was filled with mist. Even the clouds had taken refuge from the sky’s fury, she thought. In her lower abdomen a fist was opening and closing, mortifying her. The red liquid was warm and sticky. The dog came over to her and smelled her. She pushed it away, uneasy. She went to the spring in the cave and washed off, but the blood kept flowing. She woke Adam. He said he would bring her leaves so she could clean off. He told her sheshould lie down again. They were frightened but they hid their fear from each other. Adam quickly returned. His hands were full of figs and fig leaves, and his face was glowing. With the rain, two figs trees had burst up from the fruit he had buried at the entrance to the cave. The trees, fully grown, were covered with figs.
    â€œLook, Eve, look. You were right. They are for us. We can eat them.”
    With the leaves and water from the spring, Adam made a poultice for Eve’s wound.
    â€œDo you think I’m going to die, Adam? I don’t feel as if I’m going to die. I only hurt occasionally.”
    â€œIt’s best if you keep quiet. Eat a fig.”
    Adam went out with the dog. Lying in the shadows of the cave, Eve opened a fig and scrutinized the sweet, pink interior, the flesh, and the tiny red seeds in the center. My body is different from the man’s, she thought. The liquid that comes from him when he is above me, shouting and groaning, is white. Mine is red, and comes out when I am sad. She drew her legs up to her chest. She could not forget his words, blaming her for their misfortunes. The words had hurt as much as the rocks that had torn their feet when they climbed the