I think often of our matriarchs--Eve, Sarah, Rebecca,  Rachel, Leah.  None of them even have a voice.  They are just the begetters of patriarchs.  

I've often thought the reason Eve was created was that G-d was disappointed in Adam.  So he said to Adam what countless parents have said to their firstborn when the next in line is born--it'll  be a playmate for you.  In Adam's case, Eve was created to be a "helpmate."   But before you can be a helpmate, you have to have a model of what a helpmate is.  And Adam was a dud.

I've been writing short fiction about the matriarchs.  I keep polishing them and polishing them.  One day, they will be published.  But first, I will publish them here.

Here is Eve's tale:   Or my take on Eve's tale.  Remember, to Sophie Golden, being silenced is not golden. 

I remember, perhaps it was at the same time, a voice booming everywhere: 

            The voice was everywhere.  It seemed to fill everything.  I seemed to remember the birds of the sky falling to the ground, so filled were they with the voice that they could not longer fly.  But I did not understand much in the Early Time.  I mainly understood that I was cold and uncomfortable.  I did not know that was life.   Much of what I know I learned after Nahas befriended me. 

            And then Adam spoke. His voice was nothing like the Big Voice that came before.  But it did not comfort me.  When he spoke, I felt myself shriveling.  I feared the darkness again.

            “I shall call you Eve.  You are the bone of my bones and the flesh of my flesh.  You were taken from me, Adam.

            I repeated what I heard.  But what else could I do.  Although I had no voice, I knew something.  I knew light and dark, heat and cold, bones and flesh.   I knew Adam.  I knew the voice.  

            I could not escape either  Adam or the voice.  Nor would I.  They were all I knew since the darkness passed from me.  And the voice was everywhere.  At least in the beginning.

            Adam told me that Elohim created the both of us.  But he came first. Elohim commanded him thus: “Be fruitful and multiply, fill the earth and subdue it; and rule over the fish of the sea, the bird of the sky, and every living thing that moves on the earth.  Behold, I have given to you all herbage yielding seed that is on the surface of the entire earth, and every tree that has seed-yielding fruit; it shall be to you for food.  And to every beast of the earth, to every bird of the sky, and to everything that moves on the earth, within which there is a living soul, all herbal greenery is for food…”

His voice trembled and faltered.  “But then he talked of death, of not touching the tree in the center, not eating its fruit.”

And then his voice was back to his usual: “Finally, you, Eve, were created from my flesh, my bones, to be my helpmeet.”

            I had no voice.  I could only repeat.  “Helpmeet?”

            “Elohim commanded me to name things.  You are to help me in such tasks.”

            I had no voice.  My flesh  moved and I was sensible of chill and discomfort.  How could I be a helpmeet?  I was helpless myself.  I was voiceless.  I just followed this Adam.  All I could do was what he did.  He named things, I imitated him.  When he showed me the garden’s parrots, it struck me that I was as them. A flightless parrot who couldn’t even seek out sources of food for myself.  Did they feel as I?   For all I knew, I might be a type of parrot.  I had not seen the sea at that time.  Did I look as they did?  It did not seem I could ever feel different. I could not know even what I was.  I only knew there was darkness, and now there was light.  So what could death mean to one such as I?

Well, at least they had beauty, and that was something to be happy about. 

            And the voice, always the voice.  When the voice boomed, Adam walked with it—and left me.  Adam left me every day to walk and to listen.  One could not talk to the voice.  The voice commanded.  The voice did not command me.

            I never felt good in those early days. My smooth lumpy body did not move as the bodies of other beasts.  I could not fly.  I could not run.  I could not swim.  I could not swing by my arms. It seemed I just towed this mass of clay and it followed me.  

            And then I started to walk too.  It was an awkward herky-jerky process.  I fell.  I rose.  I walked.  I fell.  And so it went for a length of time.  And then I heard a voice too.  It didn’t boom and increase my discomfort.  It enveloped me and clothed me.  I felt warm and certain.  When I heard his voice, it seemed every syllable of every word came forth and nourished me.  I felt a comfort throughout that I never felt before.  My whole body felt warm, and the lower part not only was warm but it tingled.  I felt a glow.  I felt a susurrus that I could only say was as unfamiliar as it was delicious.  Something Adam never created for me.  When I felt this warmth, I felt powerful.  I wanted to feel it again and again.  I never wanted it to stop.  I didn’t need food.  I didn’t need drink.  I wanted this.  I wanted.  I wanted…to never move from this tree.  This tree supported me and helped me to connect with this voice.

            It was beautiful—the warmth and the voice, which seemed part of the warmth.  I heard words from this voice, but the words didn’t tie me down, but freed me. Every time I saw his long tongue dart out to  pronounce every word, I felt another tie loosen.  I felt beautiful in my body, not awkward like I did  with Adam. 

            He told me his name was Nahas.  And he seemed beautiful to me.  His body was so smooth and hairless.  I did not see his dangly bits.  His body did not offend me.  I started to know things from the moment I heard him.  His body moved—not like the fish, not like the parrot.  He seemed to move up and down and side to side smoothly and silently.  I cannot describe it.  It seemed beautiful to me, who seemed to lurch and trip so.  I could not seem to master movement.  Nahas looked at me and his eyes, his unlidded hairless eyes didn’t blink.  They seemed to pity me and wish me better.  But perhaps I just wanted to believe what made me feel so powerful, so part of him.  My tongue was liberated.  I knew things.  I could speak.  I could name things, not just imitate. I could say anything and Nahas would smile.  Everything I said seemed to make more connected.  And I would feel the beautiful warm tingle.  His voice did not command, it explained.  Was that connection?

            Nahas’ voice covered me with honey.  He would prefix the start of conversations with, “My own, my love, my sweetness.”  And that was the start of my glow.  I wanted.  I wanted.  Was he my “helpmeet?”

All I know is that Adam never seemed to pity me.  I was to be his “helpmeet” after all. Did that mean I could not expect pity from him?  Nahas was patient.  He fixed his unblinking eyes on me and waited.  Adam was never patient.  When Adam was topping me, when his body  jumped up and down, I had to be patient.  Soon would come the clear liquid and Adam would fall on top of me and put his cold lips on my cold lips.  And he would pronounce the word, “Good.”  And I would repeat it:  “Good.”  Because I was his parrot.  Perhaps that was how I was supposed to be a helpmeet. I was supposed to be patient and obedient.

            But with Nahas I felt….alive. When Adam abandoned me for the voice, I went to seek Nahas.  Strange it was—Adam never asked me what I did when he went walking.  I tried at first, like Nahas:

            What did you do, my love?  For I wanted to hear such words from Adam.  But he was not my parrot.  Adam never addressed me so.  And he never really replied.  “I went for a walk.”

            And he never asked me what I did in his absence.

            I don’t know for how long this went on.  The sun set and the moon rose many times.  I never counted the days then. 

            And so it continued.  I went with my Nahas.  My Nahas.  I never thought of Adam as My Adam.  But it was My Nahas.  And I was His Own.  His Delight.  His Sweetness. 

            My Nahas told me that Elohim created another such as I before I.  Her name was Lilith.  But Elohim exiled her, as she was disobedient. Disobedience displeased him.

            What is this—disobedience?

            Disobedience is to go against what Elohim commands

            Like when he told us not to touch the fruit of the center tree?

            Yes.  Exactly.

            So Lilith disobeyed.  Was exile death then?

            Exile is leaving Gan Eden, where we are, my love. 

            Is exile death—for that is what Elohim said would happen if we touched the fruit.

            No my love. 

            Where is she now?  Does she live

            She is in exile my love.  I do not know if she lives. 

            And I stopped asking questions, because the beautiful sensation that I wanted so much enveloped me.   When the sensation comes over me, I only want it to continue.  I care less about disobedience, of exile, of death.

            Did Adam’s voice touch him like Nahas touched me?  Did Adam say to him, “My Elohim, my beloved?  Why didn’t Elohim talk to me? Adam told me, “So speaks Elohim to us.”  But Elohim didn’t say it to me—just him, who told me.  Why was I left out. 

            But my smooth Nahas, my beautiful Nahas was filling me.  It was from him that I learned. 

            He told me, “ Barayshe barcho,Elohim et ha shamyim vet haretz.” 

            I was enveloped by those beautiful words:  In the beginning, Elohim created the heavens and the earth.  That must have been the darkness before I was created.  When my Nahas spoke, it was like sweetness all over.   I wanted to hear more.  And he told me the story, of how “the earth was bewilderment and void, with darkness over the surface of the deep, and the breath of Elohim was hovering upon the surface of the waters.”  That was how I felt when I first knew the light, bewilderment and void, with darkness over the surface.

            He continued, “Elohim said, ‘Let there be light, and there was light…and he separated between the light and the darkness.”

            It was my life.  There was light when I was with Nahas, and without him was only darkness.  I could listen to him forever.  When he spoke to me, it was light.  I didn’t want him to ever be silent. 

            But in the creation story that Nahas told me, Lilith was absent.  Why was she written out. 

            I started to wonder—Elohim did not want to be alone with Adam.  Was he a disappointment to Elohim, as he became to me?  Adam followed Elohim about, but did not please him.  And where is Nahas in this story.  I follow Nahas about, but I pleased him.  

            So then, my love, Elohim caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam and created you from him—flesh of his flesh, bone of his bone.  To be a helpmeet.

            A shiver ran through my back.  Adam wanted Elohim. Elohim created me to be a helpmeet.  How was that different than a servant? I was to please Adam, that hairy awkward clump.   Adam was to please Elohim.  So Nahas was to please me.  And he pleased me mightily and often with his smoothness, his long tongue.  My beautiful smoothness.  I always felt warm with him.  My companion. 

            But who created Nahas? 

            And so we went on.  My Smoothness made me happy and warm. I could barely tolerate Adam now.  I smiled at his words, at his jumping on my body, at his emissions.  I did not complain.  I was his helpmeet.  How could he know, I just wanted to rise and find my smooth operator.  Only I knew I was not his helpmeet.   He could jump on my body, but I was not in my body then.  I was with Nahas in my head.  Adam could have my body.  Without Nahas, I felt incomplete.  I felt no life.  It was only real with Nahas. With him, there was the excitement of the mayim and the shamayin throughout my body.  Was I disobedient to Elohim in my head?  Did Elohim know?  Would he exile me for such?  But the sun rose and then the moon rose after the sunset.   And Elohim was silent. Did Elohim talk to me ever?  Did he talk to Lilith before her exile?  Did she please him ever?  Did Adam ever please him? If Elohim knows all, did his silence indicate assent?  All that was forbidden was to eat from that tree.

            Was the tree evil?  It seemed to me that the greatest evil I had ever known was the days before Nahas, when I was cold, clumsy and alone, with no explanation of what I was born for.

And I would seek out Nahas.

            But I found he too didn’t answer my questions—who created you?   Where did you come from? Are you in Elohim’s image too? And if you are and we are, is Elohim a shape shifter.

            Was he exiled?  Had he been disobedient.  And if he was exiled—from where? 

            But now he was silent.  But he never ceased to warm me.

            I don’t know how long we went on so.  One day he said, “My sweetness.”

            “Yes,” I said eagerly, lapping up such titles. 

            “We have found each other.  I love you.  I nourish you. We do not need anyone. We are us.  That is all you need to know.  You are my sweetness.  Let us slake our hunger now.  Let us eat of the fruit of the tree in the center of Eden.”   

            I felt a chill.  There was a threat in these words.  If I disobeyed him, would he exile me?  Would I no longer be a part of him?  Without him, I would be cold and a lump again.  I would be alone.  Was this to be my life—obeying someone meant disobeying another?  If I disobeyed, would I be exiled.  Could I live as an exile.  Could I live without my love.  No, I can’t go back to that way again.  I know what it is to be cold and clumped.  I don’t want that again.  I always want the warmth of my sweetness. 

            But still I shrank back.  “We were commanded not to.”

            “Why?”  And the sounds were more honeyed then ever.

            “I don’t know.  He never says why.”

            “Because you will be as great as he.  He created all this.  If you eat of this tree, you too shall create beauty such as this.  And your eyes shall be open.  Like mine are, my love.  We will be like Elohim.”

            I wavered. The honey-sweetness of that prospect coated me.  He picked from the tree.  The fruit  was brown and yellow and smooth.  It was long and curved.  It looked the way my Smoothness moved.  It looked like Adam’s dangly bit, only longer.  .  I laughed and told him so.  And then he took hold of the fruit and jerked it up and down.  Out emerged a soft white fruit.  He took a bite and smiled and held it out to me. “Did anything happen my love?”

Well, of course not.  Only Adam and I were forbidden to eat it.   The fragrance overwhelmed me.  He broke off a piece and I ate of it.  It was beautiful.  It slid down my throat and sated my hunger.  It was smooth.  It was sweet.  It was delicious.  It could not harm me. I took it from him and consumed the rest.

And Elohim was silent. 

Nahas tossed the fruit’s covering behind him.  “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” he laughed.

We picked some more off the tree.  They were delicious. 

And I who was Adam’s helpmeet took some for when I met Adam. 

I urged him to eat.  And he did.  And so we stood. And Adam quivered. 

“No, we should not have done so.”

“It’s okay my love.  I ate already earlier.  Look at me.  I am not afraid.  My eyes are open. And I know all.”

But Adam was frightened and ran and hid.

I ran after him:  “If Elohim knows all, how will you hide from him?”

And we saw Elohim in front of the bushes where I learned parrot speech.  And his voice was booming.  Birds fell from the heaven.  White light radiated off the trees.  It hurt my eyes and I had to close them and shield them.  I could not look at the face of Elohim.  I cannot tell you whether he was in the image of my Nahas or Adam.   I was afraid again.    And then I thought, “He is angry and will punish me like he punished Lilith.  I will know only darkness and cold again.  He will forbid my friendship with Nahas.”  And that was the worst. 

And I heard Adam saying, “The woman whom you gave to be with me, she gave me of the tree, and I ate.”

The woman whom you gave to be with me?  I was not given?  I was taken from his flesh, his bones.  I was commanded to be his helpmeet.  And I was and did.  No one ever explained to me how that was to be.   

And Elohim spoke to me for the first time ever.  But I was afraid.

“What is this you have done.”

So, like a parrot, I imitated Adam.

“Nahas deceived me and I ate.”

And Elohim commanded Nahas to emerge, and he did.

“Because you have done this, more cursed are you than all the animals and all the beasts of the field; upon your belly shall you go and dust shall you eat all the days of your life.  I will put enmity between you and the woman and between your offspring and her offspring.  He will pound you on the head and you will hiss at his heel.”

And I never saw Nahas again.  The worst which I feared had come to pass. 

I was warm, but it was a bad warmth.  And red emanations came forth from my nether openings.  I felt weak. 

Elohim said to me, “I will greatly increase your suffering.”

First Nahas left me, now Elohim. 

“In pain shall you bear children.  And your craving shall be for your husband and he shall rule over you.”

I could not listen any further.  The red flow, the horrible burning, the weakness.  I fell to the ground and once again, I knew no more.  And it was darkness. 

When I came to, I realized that Elohim punished us too late  Adam and I were like him, only more so.  We could create life.  I was warm, for Adam had draped some fig leaves over my nether parts to stanch the flowing red.  He had also wrapped the fig leaves around his dangly bits.  It was an improvement.  He held forth more fig leaves for me to wrap myself in, so that I need never fear the cold again.   

Adam said to me, “I will never hear from Elohim again.”

I said, “No.”  And thought, “I will never hear from Nahas again. And neither of us will ever know what happened to Lilith.”  But I did not utter this.

I said, “You are my companion now.  We must cleave to each other or we will just be two alone.

Adam said, “We have to leave.”

I took his cold hand.  I squeezed it.  I whispered, “Let us go home now, my love.” 

I was his helpmeet now.

And so we left Gan Eden.