Garden of Eden II

"Who the hell left their gun by the door, I nearly shot myself!" Howls the fat woman as she slams through the front door tavern holding my shotgun.

Part of me shrinks in my seat a little, but my hunger takes over and I begin to slurp back my oatmeal like a savage.  Another woman points her towards me, and so I feign an 'I'm sorry' smile as she waddles over.

She stands there looming over me while I pretend to be distracted with my food.  A moment later I look up, ready to receive my scolding.

"When did you get here?" she says and places the gun beside the empty seat across from me. 

"This morning," I tell her as I scrape the last of my oatmeal from my bowl. 

"You staying long?" she asks leeringly as she helps herself to a seat at my table.

"Only long enough to regain my energy," I say as I stand to take my dirty dishes over to the station for washing.

She follows me.  "Where you gonna go?" She asks.  I tell her that I want to head out West and that I think the folks out there are fine.  A few people who happen to overhear laugh a bit; but I don't care.  I'm anxious to leave this Garden of Eden, someone just needs to hand me an apple.

"Leave her alone, Jenny" says a deep voice from behind me.  I look around to see the guy who was manning the inner gate a few hours ago.

"Hi," I say to him as he ushers me back to my table while simultaneously shooing fat Jenny away to bother someone else.

"She's just bored," he says to me as we sit down.  I give him a few moments to eat, and then begin conversation.  "So, of all the pennies you've collected, what percentage of people stay?" I say to him when he nears the end of his porridge.

"All of 'em," he says and then wipes away some food on his cheek with the back of his sleeve.  I take a moment to notice that his cheeks have a pink tinge to them, and I wonder how long before the blood flows healthy in me again so that I might have that same colour.

"They all stay?" I say looking around the tavern that has less than a dozen people.

"Well, they don't all leave here -- let's just put it that way," he says cryptically and my thoughts are reminded of the helpless left for dead on the second floor.

"Oh, yeah -- right." I stammer and try to recover so that we can have a decent chat.

"You -- you're a dreamer," he says as he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.  "I know your type, always having one head in the clouds.  My mother was very much like you," he tells me.  Before I have a chance to interject he continues, "We can use your kind.  Dreamers.  A lot of us have forgotten how to dream -- all things considered."

I take a moment before politely responding, "I used to be that girl.  I don't know that I am anymore."

"Oh no, you are -- it's part of your make-up.  You can't help it.  You know you're the only one who ever apologized for handing me over a penny?  You can't change the way you think.  It's how God made you," he says with strong affirmation.

"Do you still believe in God?" I ask.  After all that has happened, I think it would be difficult to have blind faith.

"Absolutely.  God never has a hand in anything bad -- don't forget that." He says as he stands to take his dishes to the cleaning station.  I watch as he quickly swishes water over them and then places them in the basket to dry.  He nods his head at me as he walks towards the tavern door -- probably to return to his post; "Later dreamer girl," he says before the door shuts behind him.

I sit for a moment looking around the room.  Jenny eyes me suspiciously from the other side, but then decides to pay more attention to her food.  Funny how the petri dish never looks quite the way you would imagine.  There are no pretty flowers -- no ominous snake.  Just a few lucky souls trying to start all over again -- hoping that the next round will be different.  Maybe we'll be kinder?  Happier? 

Maybe that was God's plan all along.  To have an Armageddon of sorts so that we could live up to our true potential. 

Except for that one man shooting at us; I have to admit -- everyone has been a lot nicer.  It's humbling to see society operate without its cancerous sores.

So, maybe I won't bite into that apple after all.  Gardens were meant to be a safe haven.  And people were probably always meant to enjoy it, just so long as they don't forget that it's their job to tend.