KELLIE WELLS EverAfter THE BOOK OF PREDETERMINED NOSTALGIA It seemslikeforever and a day, Adam,sincewe lastlookedupon one another s transient skins,our finaland onlyparting, yourface creasedwiththe exhaustionof a mortality decreedthenforestalled, minebluewitha coming demolition. I wasthenonlysecondsawayfrom theblessedinanimation ofa new eternity, whichI welcomedlikethe mutineer I was,murderess ,yousaid (piquedbya suddenbursitis), of all future humanity ; sentenced tohardlaborinthepenalcolonyofpassing time. Werewe notto die,togiveup thoseinaugural ghosts, surely we would haveweariedofoneanother intime.Wasitreally sucha terrible thing to haveeaten,Knowledge? A girlgetspeckish ina garden. Suchado,itwasonlya nibble, hardly enoughtosustain a sparrowI cametoknowa very fewthings andone I've neverregretted knowing isthebody. Norshame, whichlendsa bodya decisive circumference. 929 years is,after all,a lifelongenoughtodevelopregret thatitsnotshorter, longenoughtobury renegade flesh inthehobbling sepulcher ofmemory. Memory, whatwe happily lackuntilits toolate.Imagine, Adam,ifwed hadonlyseventy springs tomakegoodon God'spromise. Imagineifthe Garden'sblooming hadhadsucha clock.Our experience oftimemight havebeendelicious. Life islong we said.Spend asmuch of itasyou can insleep ,we said.(It is,after all,onlysleepthatprepares a personnottoexist.)The hay will betherefor the making tomorrow, wesaid.Buttheboysdidn'tlisten, insomniaccreatures , tapers always burning. Stubborn, liketheir Grandfather. The first thousand years arethe hardest, said God dryly whenhiswrath haddwindled toa nuclear sizzle,theoldsobersides. WhatdoesHe know ofa thousand winters ofinvoluntary grief?5 929 years, nearly a millennium ofatonement, and stillHe bears a grudge, and so we die and die and die. Forgiveness He leavesto His 172 firstborn (thatother firstborn, morethirdborn ifyouaskme),a Johnnycome -lately whosereanimating martyrdom we canonlyhopeisretroactive . A boywhosebloodlessbirth willbe unsullied byfleshly conception. He'll slipquietlyfromhismother'simmaculate loinslikea limabean from a spoon.Or so I've heard.We thought fora timeitmight be best neverto multiply rememberř Sucha vexedmathematics reproduction, thought itbestnottobearchildren onlytohavethemfallfrom thetree and rot,butone thinga God can illafford to suffer is fruitlessness (an irony ofcoursein mycase). Beforethecoiningofhumans,God could barelyrousehiswearyomnipotent amplitudefrombed ofa morning, butthepossibility ofbeingdisobeyed fills a mopingmuleteer withpurpose . This makeshift heaven(something of a celestialinglenookuntil God can conjureHis marsupialsin swallower, sagging pouch hulking enoughto houseall iniquity, thebelovedSon withhisindecisive genes, partstratosphere, partplatypus-andwho shallbearthesinsoftheFather ?I'vealways wondered.I confess myliverachesandthebilerisesin mythroat whenI think ofit),heaven'ssteerage really, is,I musttellyou, Adam,notas blueand unboundas youmight imagine. Thereis somethingresembling theskythatdroopsaboveone'sheadlikea tabernacle ofblue hair,a mishkanmade ofthehidesofbluegoats,and thereare wallsin thedistancebutno finitude ofcourse;theyare notwallsyou couldeverreachon twohumanlegsor evenbythelocomotionofdivinity (thoughthegauziestrecollection ofdivining willwhiskyouaway towarda bodyofwaterand God's drenching murlimews, so ifyouwish to remaindryyoumustforever thinkdesertthoughts. Ack,thereI go, soddenagain.BeingblessedbyGod is a flounder's game.Also thesunshineiscoldas river waterinwinter, winter itself thefruit ofmyhunger, andit'seasytocatcha chill, though youcannevercatchyourdeathhere. ItispartofGod's Planthatwe feel, likeHim,nostalgic forthepossibilityofperishing . Despitethebody'sambivalence atthisaltitude, thereis infirmity here,grippeand ague,chilblains and boils:thereis no earthly ailment thatcompares withthesublimesickness ofParadise.) (Its worthrecognizing, thoughyou cannotwhileyetdrapedin flesh, thatthosethingsthathappenparenthetically, thosethings, dear 173 mortalman,dearhusband, are Life.The waiting forlifethatoccursin themain,thatisofcourseannihilation dissembling). SometimesI miss beingdisappointed. THE BOOK OF PARTHENOGENESIS Remember, Adam,thedayI leaptfrom thatbeautiful woundthat blossomedsuddenly inyourflank, lovelier thananyconciliatory animal GodhadtossedintoEden(dromedary, pygarg, cankerworm, cockatrice) > God,theoldalchemist, always trying outsomenewalkahest, dripping it on thosefailedfour-bellied inventions of Eden. But me,I was finally gold,transformed, whileyouwereundertheanesthesiaof God's narcoticbreath , from thebasemetalofmanly rib.Adamexcerpted. (What Theydo nottellyouisthatitwasthatsamerib, theur-bone, ribofpreprimordial Eve,thatstirred themudofyouintobeing,darling, making meboneofyourboneofmy bone,butwho'scounting? Yourprovenance is safewithme.Sheshall becalled Woman ,because she wastaken out of Man,etc., butevenyou,inyourwillful complacence, cansee thisisa shellgameof theslipperiest sortsincetheamputation ofmanfromwoman leaveswo, seedofwoe ,seedofwomb ,seedofwombat ,world ,worn ,wound ,wonder, which selffertilizes , returning us to thehandsomeparthenogenesis ofwoman, O! Whereasthesubtraction ofman from man leaves,asyoucansee:O, a dusty voidinthelapofbupkis, andthatdelivers usnotfrom temptation butbackwherewestarted, alldressedintzimtzum withnowhere togo). And you,so excruciatingly fetching, thechinofa manwho knewhow to makethesunsetso thathe couldsleepat theend ofan industrious day, handsstrong and forever grazing likethehusbandry ofa bountiful continent, thighs, oh!so ravishing, likethefruitful landsfrom whichour descendents wouldbebanished, tender feet, thoseoftheoriginal nomad blistered withmyth andaching withlongfallen arches.Selah! Youhadthemostpoignant lips. You areAdam,themorning ofman,manwhocomesfrom alldirections , acrostic ofGod,ArktosDusis AnatoleMesembria(or North 174 East West South,thefirst News everto touchdown on Earth),creatureconjuredofa froth ofblood,dust,andgall,elixir oflife, a wordthat meantnext tonothing, youunderstand, withoutthepossibility ofextinction .(One couldreason,therefore, itis actually restive Evewhogiveth andtaketh life.)God,all-knowing, knewI'dnever be satisfied notknowing ,andso itwasthathe plantedmeintheGarden,alongsidethemost innocent stalk ofodoriferous rue,knowing knowledge wasa tempter He had Himselfsuccumbedto Backin theDay.He was lonelyfora fellow criminal, God theloneliestscofflaw thisside of Paradise,and me,the originalfatalfemme, midwife of sin,I hailedfromthewrongside of Eden,perfect...