many hands this man had and I couldn’t figure it out no matter
how much I tried because if he was rubbing in some places
how could he be rubbing in so many places and I couldn’t
count how many places and if he was from outer space he
could come into my room now through the air or anytime
from nowhere. I wanted God to tell me the truth because I was
afraid. I was trying to tell God I was hurt because I thought
God should know and let me stay in m y room and keep the
man away and I wanted to stay in my room a long time, until I
got old, and I wanted God to keep my mother away because
she didn’t like me anymore and I didn’t want to take o ff my
bermuda shorts or show her any more and I didn’t want her to
look at me anymore, and I thought God should know I needed
Him and where was He? I thought maybe the man wasn’t a
bad man because they said nothing happened after all and I
looked grown up so how could he know I was just a child and I
wasn’t sure if he thought I was a child or not because I did look
very grown up and act very grown up but I told him I was a
child and he should go away but I said it in a very grown-up
way. I cried because they said nothing happened and because I
didn’t know if the man knew I was a child and I cried because I
wanted God to know something had happened and I was a
child and I wanted God to say w hy it was less bad if I wasn’t a
child because I was still the same me if I was or if I wasn’t. And
for the first time I didn’t want to be grown up because all the
adults said it was less bad. I cried because I didn’t see how it
could be less bad; and if I grew up were men going to be
putting themselves on me in movies only it wouldn’t be bad
because I wouldn’t be a child anymore. I cried because God
was busy somewhere else and didn’t come and if I cried He
w ould know I was hurting so much somewhere that didn't
exist and He could find it because He lived somewhere that
didn’t exist and He would know what I meant even if I
couldn’t say it and I w ouldn’t have to point here and here and
here and so I kept crying in case He didn’t know yet that He
should be coming to me now even though people were sick
and hungry all over and He had to see them too. I used to talk
to God, especially when m y mother was sick and in the
hospital and m y daddy had to be w orking so hard all day and
all night and God would be pretty near me, in the same room,
near me, and I wanted to know things like w hy anyone had to
die or be poor or starve in China, and if China was real or ju st a
story adults made up, and w hy colored people were treated so
bad, and w hy so many Jew s were dead; and I can’t remember
what He said but I always thought someday I would
understand if I kept trying to pin Him down and maybe I
could convince Him not to have things be so bad; and I had
complicated discussions with Him about w hy He made things
the w ay He did, because I didn’t think He did it right, and I
wanted to be a scholar when I grew up and write things about
what God meant and intended and He would listen to m y
questions and arguments but the adults wouldn’t; and I heard
Him inside m y head, and it was like He was in the room, but it
was never scary and it always made me peaceful even though I
thought He hadn’t done things completely right and I would get
calmed down and quiet even when I had been begging Him to let
m y mother get better or at least not die. I talked to Him a lot
when m y mother was in the hospital for an operation that might
kill her and they told me she might die right then and I had a high
fever and appendicitis and a rash and the adults told me I had to
tell her over the phone that I was all right because she must not
w orry and die and I knew it was wrong to lie, especially because
she might die right then or that night or the next day,
and my last words to her would be lies, and I wanted to cry to
her, but the adults said I wasn’t allowed, and it didn’t matter if
God said it was wrong to lie if adults said you had to lie because
you had to do what adults said not what God said. Y ou had to
be careful not to tell anyone you talked with God because they
might think you were crazy and you had to make sure n ob od y.
heard you talking to Him and you had to remember not to tell
the doctor. They told you to believe in Him and you were
supposed to pray and they sent you to Hebrew School and you
had to go to the children’s services where girls weren’t allowed
to do anything anyway but He wasn’t supposed to talk to you.
He talked to Moses and Abraham but you were just Andrea
from Camden even though Abraham had just been a boy
herding sheep when he figured out there was one God. He had
been staring up in the sky trying to think about God and he
thought God was the moon but the moon disappeared when
night was over and then he thought God was the sun but the
sun disappeared when the day was over and then he figured
out God had to be there all the time so He couldn’t be the sun
or the moon or any king because they died or any idol because
you could break it and you weren’t so different from Abraham
before he grew up. Except that you didn’t understand how he
knew God couldn’t be air because air is everywhere all the time
and the teacher didn’t know but they never say they don’t
know, they just make you feel stupid for asking something.
Y ou were supposed to pray but you couldn’t lead the prayers
because you were a girl and you couldn’t read from the Torah
so a whole bunch o f boys who were a lot stupider than you got
to do all the important things and you weren’t supposed to
argue with God although the rabbis did it all the time but you
were a girl and you weren’t allowed to be a rabbi anyw ay and
all the rabbis who argued with Him were dead anyway and
none o f the rabbis you ever saw or heard who were alive ever
argued with God at all. Y ou thought they just didn’t care
enough but they kept telling you rules and what you had to do
and what you couldn’t do and how to grow up and what to
think but you knew that the dead rabbis couldn’t have been
like them and hadn’t just learned rules and so sometimes you
would write arguments in the margins o f books just like the
great rabbis because you wanted to make commentaries like
they did but you weren’t supposed to write in any holy book
even if it was for children so you would have to hide your
writings and you would have to try to argue with God out
loud in person but hiding it but mostly you would talk with
God when you were crying for your mother or had had a big