The Tree of Knowledge

It’s a ten speed with good shock absorbers, a nice, padded seat, and a white wicker basket on the front. It is the most beautiful shade of bright blue. My bike is TARDIS blue. It enables me to travel through time and space.

I really wish Jace was here to get that joke.

Okay, maybe not time and space, but it does enable me to leave the house.

I am buzzing with excitement the next morning, waiting for Ryan to leave for work. I’ve chosen a long, volumeus skirt, a white camisole with blue tassels sewn on to the corners, and candy apple colored Mizuno Wave Runner sneakers. I’ve used a liberal quantity of clips in my hair to pin my scarf into place so it won’t want to fly away when I ride. I’ve filled a big water bottle and safely fastened it to the frame. I packed a sandwich and an apple for lunch and nestled it into the basket.

I skipped my usual sugar coma inducing breakfast and ate something with whole gains in it. Rebecca kept offering me more food, confused by my sudden lack of appetite.

Ryan leaves at 8:30 am. At 8:33 am, I’m on my bike.

And I can fly.

Out the cul-de-sac, down the street, and then I’m gloriously lost, traveling at dizzying speed past houses I’ve never seen before. I push myself faster and faster and the world zooms by in a blur of front yards, swing sets, and spring flowers.

Around another corner, down an ally, and I pop out in a park full of moms with little, frolicking children. And zoom- I leave the park behind, headed past shops now and taco trucks.

I wasn’t totally lying when I complained to Ryan that I was out of shape. I can’t catch my breath and my legs burn from the effort needed to maintain the speed I’ve been traveling. I skid to a stop, climb off the bike, and collapse into a bed of flowers. The soft pink petals tickle my face. I gasp for air and laugh out loud.

Still laughing like a crazy person, lying in the flowers, I drift off to sleep.

I wake up suddenly to a hand clamped over my mouth. There is a strange man straddling me.

“Just don’t scream and I promise I won’t hurt you.” he says. He’s unzipping his pants.

My left hand is buried in the primroses where he can’t see it. I lift it and brandish my ring finger in front of his face. His eyes bug out when he sees it and he leaps off of me.

“Oh no. Oh shit. Ma’am, ma’am I’m so sorry. You must forgive me. You look so young to be married, I didn’t realize. I should have checked your ring finger first. I’m so stupid. I’m so very sorry ma’am. Will you forgive me? Here, let me help you up. Will you pray with me?”

My would-be-rapist, his name is Tim. Tim chats with me awhile about how he’s ready to settle down, but can’t afford to buy a wife. He’s been looking for a nice girl to rape for some time now, but hasn’t had any luck so far.

I resolve not to tell Ryan about this little episode. That would be a really quick way to lose my shiny new bike.

Now for the hard part. I have to turn around and go back.

I am this close to not making it home on time. I take the world’s fastest shower and I’m clean and dressed before Ryan gets home.

Attempted sexual assault aside, it’s the best day I’ve had in months.

I wake up the next day to every muscle in my legs screaming in agony. I stumble into the kitchen in search of bananas. Or grapes. Something with potassium.

I take things more slowly today. A nice cruise. I take time to smell the wild flowers and actually pay attention to where I’m going. I follow the train tracks, knowing where they’ll lead me eventually.

From the top of the silos you could hear the trains passing by.

Stone Works had been closed since before I got married. The owner was banished to The City of Refuge for eating a steak rare. He’s probably dead now.

According to Biblical law, if you murder someone, your victim’s family has the right to come after you and kill you right back. But if you kill someone by accident, well, they can still kill you. Only you have the option to flee instead. The Cities of Refuge were established as places these manslaughters could flee to, and the family of the victim are not allowed to follow. You aren’t allowed to leave until the Judge who sentenced you dies. If you do, they can kill you. Hence the name, “Refuge”. It’s supposed to be safe.

That’s in theory. In practice, The Cities of Refuge are not so aptly named.

First of all, there’s the “city” part. According to the law, these cities had to be established, but no one was prepared to give up their homes to a bunch of refugees. Locations were therefore selected based on their lack of population density.

As a rule, if no one is living some place, it’s probably for a good reason.

Desserts were a popular choice. And glacial cliffs. Jungles. Places that are too hot to live or too cold.

And it’s not as if anyone went and built a city. What they built were big, big walls around the area and posted some guards at the entrance. Most of these “cities” have no buildings. No infrastructure. Citizens of these cities are left to live off the land, and most people these days do not know how to do that.

Then there’s the “refuge” part of that name. Another fundamental difference between what happens in theory and in practice.

Sure, there are a handful of people there because they committed manslaughter. But they don’t represent the majority of the citizens.

Most of the people are there because they’ve been banished.

There are a lot of laws in the Bible you could break to get yourself banished. Like reading your horoscope or having sex while on your period. But we’re not exactly wandering in the dessert any more. Where were all these banished people supposed to go?

The Cities of Refuge were proposed as a solution to the problem, and no one could come up with a compelling reason why to not go with it.

That’s why the big walls are there. And the guards at the gate. They have to keep the banished people in.

Most of those people, whatever they’ve done to get themselves banished, they’re going to Hell for it. What do you suppose happens when you stick a bunch of people together who have nothing left to loose, and put them in competition for severely limited resources?

I hope that steak was delicious.

I climb the steps to the front door. A big red sign declares that the property has been foreclosed. I try to peak through the windows, but it’s too dark inside to see.

Wrapped around the handle of the door is a thick chain with a dingy metal padlock.