name=""Eve's Turn" by Ray Gregory

Eve's Turn

My boyfriend, Adam, had quite an imagination. He said his god — his Father God, he called him — talked to him. And his dad in the sky told him that he created him, Adam, in his image, but he made me out of one of Adam’s ribs. In other words, I was just an afterthought. What a jerk, huh? How smart — or anything else of value — could I be if I came from a rib?

I wasn’t sure if Adam really believed I came from his rib or it was just some stupid metaphor. I mean, he said it in the same breath that he said his Father God knew everything. But here’s the thing, Adam never liked my parents. He was always mocking them behind their backs, calling them primitive and subhuman, even monkeys. As if his own parents were so sophisticated. Adam could be such a snob.
And his Father God? What a dour old bachelor. Most other top gods had wives — Zeus, Amun, Krishna, Odin — but not him. And his distaste for sex only seemed to make Adam more fascinated by it. But it wasn’t like I had much else to choose from back then in the way of boyfriends.

I was a fan of Mother Nature myself. And I considered myself a well-rounded woman, at least in the ways that count. I could be romantic or practical, depending on the situation. But Adam would get an idea in his head, and that was the only way it could be. And when his head wasn’t in the clouds, it was wallowing in the mud. Half the time he was thinking about his Father God, and the other half about all his sexual fantasies. He wanted me to be a devil or an angel in bed, or anything in-between, whatever he was in the mood for, and the naughtier the better. Imagine me the oversexed temptress and Adam my irresistible challenge. And he was always so weird about the details. I had to wear the right things, say the right things, do the right things. And you wouldn’t believe all the contorted positions he would come up with. He seemed more interested in my parts than in me.

Remember his magic talking snake story? Here’s the thing, of course Adam would make his Devil a snake. He was scared to death of snakes. Always afraid one would bite him. But his biggest fear was that one would creep into one of his orifices while he was sleeping. Every time he lay down to sleep, he did a thorough snake check first. So naturally, I had to be the one who hung out with the magical talking snake. After all, I was used to things snaking into me.

And that stuff about “the tree of knowledge of good and evil,” claiming he didn’t know right from wrong till he ate its fruit? It was just a bleeping apple tree. And his big enlightenment from it, that nakedness was a huge no-no? Adam had issues.
Maybe I did ride him too hard sometimes. But he wasn’t such a great provider. I worked harder than he did, especially after the kids came. And he wasn’t much of a talker either, at least not to me. And sexually? Let’s just say his real snake wasn’t as good as his imaginary one was supposed to have been at getting me in the mood.

So you wanna hear what really happened before Adam started telling his story about how the talking snake and I ruined everything? It wasn’t like Adam wasn’t into fruit already, especially the fermented variety. He wasn’t a drunk, but when he did drink… No wonder he claimed he didn’t know right from wrong. He’d get so uninhibited, he’d go naked without a thought, even in public. Then after he sobered up, he’d be like, “What are you talking about? I would never do that.” He had issues, all right.

So one night Adam was drinking in the garden when a snake came along. Even drunk he was scared out of his wits. What a scream he let out!

I came running. “What in the world, Adam?”

“Iz sawn a — uh, un sn — snake.”

I stared at him. “Have you been drinking?” His language skills were always the first thing to go when he drank....