Wish Upon a Bathsheba

By Sophie Ezzell

I.
When you are writing your book, you ask your friends to pick their pseudonyms. One names
herself after her dog, one after Nicole Kidman. Your crush requests Bathsheba.

Yes, it’s a joke. A bit she doesn’t expect you to commit to. But you do because you think you
could make it work & because you want

it to. You first read Bathsheba’s name in middle school, during an Old Testament class. Your
teacher didn’t tell you much. You know she was naked

on a roof. You know David saw her. You know he killed her husband. As your mother would
say, the heart wants what the heart wants.

You know David is in the wrong, but you sympathize. You understand. You, too, have crushed
on a Bathsheba. You didn’t find yours bathing on a roof, but rather shotgunning

a Coors Lite over your friend’s kitchen sink. Still, like David, you looked for too long. You
wanted for too much.

II.
From Wikipedia, you learn that Bathsheba is the only woman from the bible other than Eve to be
depicted naked in art. You think about how when your ex first fucked you,

she compared your body, wet with sweat & cum & long hair stuck to your torso, to the body of
Eve & you think about how the prettiest girl in your Catholic middle school

compared the bodies of girls who touched the bodies of boys to the body of Bathsheba. When
you google the painted portraits of Eve & Bathsheba, you can’t help but notice

the women look the same. Both are naked, pale. Both with round breasts that remind you of
perfectly proofed dough & round stomachs that remind you of your stomach

when you were at your most loved. You think if they had been painted in the same portrait, no
one would know the saint from the sinner. They would just appear as women, naked & looking.

III.
A crush is a kind of wish, a want. But a want for what exactly? For sex? For attention? For
possession of a life other than your own? You never know what you want

when you’re wanting. Once, Bathsheba drove you to the airport. You were scared & she knew
this. During the hour drive, she distracted from your fears

of flying by asking you to imagine what the best version of yourself was doing. You said you
were somewhere in a pink house, baking

sourdough & working a remote job where your sole responsibility was to name paint colors. I
think I would own a brewery that’s inside an abandoned church,

she said. For the rest of the drive, you brainstormed potential names. Eve’s Ciderhouse. Adam’s
Ales. Bathsheba Brewing. That’s it.

That’s the one, she said. When you think of want, of wish, you think of this. Sharing the best
versions of each other. A naked portrait. Eve & Bathsheba

drinking beer, sitting side by side in the pew of a once-church.

—

About Author

Sophie Ezzell is a queer Urban Appalachian writer. Her nonfiction has been nominated for multiple Pushcarts and has appeared or is forthcoming in The Sun, River Teeth, Black Warrior Review, and others. Sophie received her MFA from Oklahoma State University and is currently pursuing a PhD in Creative Writing at the University of Mississippi. She lives in Oxford with her cat, Bartleby.

Author’s Socials:

Website: sophieezzell.com

Twitter: @SophieEzzell

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