Pale Fragments

certain atheism

"Your certain atheism in the presence of your Creator is astounding. I admire your commitment," said the Goddess.

"You're smoking a cigarette," I said, dragging my own.

"Okay? And? I'm not white, and I don't have a beard either. Although I have been both of those things before."

"I thought you were hyperbolizing when you told Anders you created the earth."

"I was not. That's why I'm bringing it up; why haven't you asked me about that detail? You ask me about every other goddamned thing in this place, why not that?"

"Well, I already know. I don't need to know any more than I already do. And you're just fucking with me anyways, so."

"I'm not. I did create the Earth."

"Right."

"I did! It wasn't all that hard. I had to try with a few different planets, but really it was like watching a Youtube video teaching you how to bake something new."

"What do you mean?"

"I took my mind back through Time and watched the formation of my planet a billion times (at least), then I went through the galaxy to find the starting ingredients of a planet; if I had trouble finding one, I'd go to sleep for a few million years then try again. If I still couldn't find anything, I'd do a little planetary maneuvering myself, bringing ingredients from other places, go to sleep however many years the original recipe called and wait for the oven to do its thing."

She passed me a joint. She always had joints on her. Part of the shock of her eventual sudden departure was realizing I didn't know how to buy weed (and didn't have the money for it either).

"Wow. Okay, you're serious. You created the Earth?"

She blinked. "I did. Well. A long time ago, obviously. And it was a...different part of me."

"Six thousand years ago?"

"Nope. Way longer."

We laughed and then there was silence. I certainly felt some kind of anger, but mostly I just didn't know what to say. All of my preconceptions of God felt betrayed, though I'd known it was so. Here was the person responsible for my existence; and while I'd already forgiven my parents for not knowing how to be parents, accepting that it wasn't their fault they were fucked up, remnants of that base need to destroy one single source of pain splashed onto me as if oil. I looked away from her, biting my lip.

Grace didn't move, but would've left if I asked her to. Then if, the next time she came to me, I told her to fuck off, she would accept the rejection with full understanding.

But I didn't. I only said, "Why?"

She told me, as she told Anders as a child and later as an adult.