The Fruit of the Garden of Eden

Eden nervously drummed her fingers on the kitchen table, nursing an already cold, black cup of coffee in her favorite orange mug. She had a bad feeling about today, but she couldn't place her finger on it. She just knew something wasn't right. "Would you quit that?" Wendell asked, peering from behind his newspaper at his wife.

            "Oh, sorry," she said, flashing him a weak smile, "It's just, I have a bad feeling, Wen."

            Never taking his eyes from the paper, he asked, "What is it Eden?"

            "I don't know. It's just...we've never done anything like this before."

            She pushed the center of the newspaper down with her index finger, commanding his attention. Reluctantly, he folded the paper and placed it on the table beside his untouched breakfast. "Eden, look, I know you're nervous, but honestly, we need the money. There isn't much more to it."

            Eden rolled her eyes. It was just like Wendell to say that they needed the money, but she had to do all the work. That was just how their marriage worked. Wendell was the brains and she was the brawn, so to speak. "But isn't this sort of illegal?"

            "Sort of," Wendell laughed in a questioning tone, "Of course it is and that's why no one can know Eden. Not one soul." He stared into Eden's hazel eyes hoping she understood the seriousness of his statement. Eden nodded, taking another sip of coffee to hide her doubt. Wendell couldn't know that her faith in him was wavering.

            Wendell picked the newspaper back up and continued reading where he left off, while Eden got up from the table abandoning her cold coffee in hopes of finding some other mindless task to focus her energy on. She had to get a hold of her nerves. Women did this every day, but something about her doing it just didn't sit right with her. Something about today made their plans - Wendell's plans - seem more threatening to her sanity than any other day.

            Looking outside the bay window of the living room, she stared out at the perfectly lined homes with their perfectly manicured lawns housing seemingly perfectly happy families. Each decorated with patriotic paraphernalia to celebrate the Fourth of July. Her home appeared as if it was haphazardly placed there by mistake with her overgrown lawn and sad excuses of spider web decorations made from stretched out cheesecloth from Halloween nine months ago. What she wouldn't give to swap lives with one of the other wives on her street. They had normal lives and marriages, and to her normalcy was a valuable asset to be desired.

            "Would you quit worrying," Wendell asked walking into the living room with his car keys in hand, "you're going to do great. Just remember, stroke his ego a little and see if you can get him to pay a little more."

            "Wait, Wen. You won't be staying here with me?" Eden instinctively put a hand on her round, pregnant belly. "You've got to stay here with me."

            "Eden I can't. I've already agreed to barbecue for the Coopers today for a little money. You'll do fine honey. I promise."

           "But it's a holiday. Why can't he come another day?"

            "That's just the way it is. Got to go." Wendell kissed her forehead and turned quickly on his heels before she could get another word in edgewise. From her position near the window, she could see Wendell pulling out the driveway and disappearing down the street. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she forced herself not to cry.

            Life with Wendell wasn't always this way. At one point in their marriage, maybe even if it was just the beginning part, they were very happy. A change occurred about twenty years ago and she never understood why, but she accepted it because she loved Wendell. She married him when she was only sixteen years old and was certain their life would be the fairytale she had hoped it would be. This part of their marriage must have been the story that happens once the fairytale ends.

            Holding onto her belly, Eden felt the urge to cry again. From the beginning of their marriage, Wendell made it very clear that he did not want to have children and he was still firm on that stance. She always assumed that as they lived their lives together a change of heart would be inevitable, but she was wrong. Wendell never felt that intrinsic desire to father his own children; not even when she announced five months ago that she was pregnant and not even when they found out she was pregnant with a baby boy. He just came up with another scheme to make money off of an undesirable circumstance and somehow convinced her to go along with it.

            Wendell found a single man, who had no plans of marrying, but wanted children and offered to sell their baby to him. Her baby. He couldn't do a simple adoption, and she refused from the beginning to have an abortion. Somehow Wendell was always able to dodge a bullet, even in friendly fire.

            "Don't worry baby," Eden spoke out loud to her unborn child, rubbing her stomach, "no matter what happens, just know your mama loves you. Although it may not seem like it, it's true." She felt horrible, selling off her child like people do to the young of an animal. It was unnatural, but she loved Wendell and she wasn't strong enough to raise a child on her own. Not now anyway.

            She looked at her watch, waiting impatiently for this man to arrive. Wendell didn't tell her much. He just let her know that he was young, single, and successful. He'd be able to afford to give the baby everything Wendell wasn't willing to and everything Eden wasn't able to. It was as if fireworks exploded inside of Eden as the reality of her situation began to sink in. Eden was an unfit mother. At least, that's the way she saw herself after living with Wendell.

            Jarring her out of her thoughts, an expensive looking vehicle she never seen before, looking more like a spaceship than a car, pulled into her driveway. She ran from the window to the mirror in the foyer, wiping any remaining tears from her face. She waited at the door until she heard the doorbell ring and opened it, pasting a fake smile on her face. "I'm so happy you're finally here. I've been dying to meet you. I'm Eden." She extended her hand and shook his. "Please come in." She stared at the man's brown eyes, curly hair, and bronzed skin as if kissed by the sun. He was definitely handsome and eerily familiar.

            "Thanks. I'm John. He told you about me?" the young man asked with a quizzical expression on his face.

            "Of course Wendell did," Eden replied, leading John to the living room and motioning for him to take a seat on the love seat as she sat across from him on the matching beige, leather sofa. "Why wouldn't he? He wouldn’t be able to place our baby in a home without my consent." She laughed playfully.

            "Baby? Why would he give me your baby?"

            "Well, he isn't giving you our baby. He's selling him to you. Why do I feel this is your first time hearing all of this?"

            "I don't know what he told you about me or what you guys have going on here, but he doesn't even know I'm here today. Is he even home?" John asked, looking around the modestly decorated living room.

            "No, he had to step out and what do you mean he doesn't know you're here?"

            "Well, he doesn't. I haven't spoken to him in about a month. I came to make amends."

            "Well if you aren't here to buy our baby, then who are you?" Eden asked confused and slightly embarrassed at how much she revealed to a stranger.

            Looking equally uncomfortable, John shifted his weight and then delivered a blow Eden wasn't prepared for. "I'm his son."