Cleaving Victoria Merkle Submitted in Partial Fulfillment of the Prerequisite for Honors in English and Creative Writing under the advisement of Marilyn Sides May 2020 © 2020 Victoria Merkle Cleaving Page 1 Table of Contents Punnett Squares ............................................................................................................................... 3 To Each Their Own ....................................................................................................................... 29 Crows and Sparrows ..................................................................................................................... 45 Rocks............................................................................................................................................. 63 The Box ......................................................................................................................................... 86 Play Until You Win .................................................................................................................... 102 Space Boy ................................................................................................................................... 126 Spring .......................................................................................................................................... 146 Acknowledgments....................................................................................................................... 161 Cleaving Page 2 cleave verb (1) \ ˈklēv \ cleaved\ ˈklēvd \ or clove\ ˈklōv \ also clave\ ˈklāv \; cleaved; cleaving Definition of cleave (Entry 1 of 2) intransitive verb : to adhere firmly and closely or loyally and unwaveringly cleave verb (2) cleaved\ ˈklēvd \ also cleft\ ˈkleft \ or clove\ ˈklōv \; cleaved also cleft or cloven\ ˈklō- vən \; cleaving Definition of cleave (Entry 2 of 2) transitive verb 1: to divide by or as if by a cutting blow 2: to separate into distinct parts and especially into groups having divergent views Cleaving Page 3 Punnett Squares Emma November 21, 2017 I waited in the parking lot, watching the tracks and the time. Things were normal. The green numbers on the clock bled in the dark of the early evening. The trees were nearly bare and the sky overcast, threatening to break into a blizzard. Ghostly plumes of salt dust already stained the pavement. Exhaust chugged out of my car as I waited for my sister, parked in the front row as I had been doing for three years. I tapped my palms on the steering wheel, but I didn’t have any reason to be nervous except that being home always made my stomach turn. It was suburban Connecticut, where most people blurred together, but anyone who knew me expected more from me than others because I had gotten the best grades in high school and attended Yale. Two commuter trains passed before the Amtrak showed its blue-white lights. A small crowd of passengers got off: blazered professionals with leather bags over their shoulders and college students whipping their suitcases over the gap between the train and the platform. Mel wore the beat-up pilot’s jacket that she loved but I hated because it smelled like an old army veteran who smokes too many cigars. Her hair, cut just to her shoulder, was parted heavily to one side, the ends dyed blonde. She looked confident, and I was happy for her. I went to help with her duffel, even though she didn’t need it. She smiled, and I hugged her like it had been years. We got into the car and I asked how the ride went and how school was. “I’m doing all right,” she said. “Happy to have a break, though, senior year is tough.” “I bet,” I said, and offered her a latte from the coffee shop downtown. She loved the caffeine, but she didn’t like to go in because she worked at a coffee shop four days a week in Cleaving Page 4 Boston. “You’ll be done soon, and you’ll figure things out.” The advice was unsolicited and I am younger, but I couldn’t stop myself. “But also remember that you can take your time, everyone has their own path. You’re going to graduate and get a job and whatever else, but it doesn’t need to happen immediately.” Mel grinned. “That’s the hope,” she said. “Hey, thanks for the coffee.” She asked how everyone was doing and I told her what I knew, though I had only been home for two days. Livvy seemed to have friends and be enjoying school. But she missed us, and I worried. “Dad’s probably counting his lucky stars he got another easy one,” Mel said. I laughed. Collin must have given our parents false hope about the prospects of raising a child. He treated people well and everyone loved him. Mel threw a curveball at them—wild, complicated, and reportedly a cholic baby and a destructive toddler. Nate was difficult, too. Impulsive, forgetful, and unable to do anything that didn’t interest him. I was their first relief. “Oh,” I said. “Jerry’s broken.” “What? No!” Jerry was our gnome. He sat in the mulch next to the porch, half of his body dusted with dirt, color faded and peeling, always smiling. We were saying it was the wind, but nobody really knew. Dad called us in the car, his face popping up on the screen as the dial tone replaced the radio station. Mel and I exchanged glances before I picked up. We would be home in just fifteen minutes—what couldn’t wait? “I thought I should let you know before you got here,” he said. “Nate isn’t coming. I just found out. I told him to call you and explain. He says he’s too busy and the trip is too long.” “When did he decide this?” Mel asked. “Was he just not going to get a ticket? Wait for everything to book and say it was bad luck? What the hell is he doing for Thanksgiving?” Cleaving Page 5 “He’s not spending it alone, is he?” I asked. We had spent every previous Thanksgiving with each other, regardless of circumstances. I didn’t want to see Nate’s chair empty. Holidays were our one reliable opportunity to catch up. I loved to see how my brothers changed each time, their growing maturity apparent in the way they carried themselves and spoke to relatives. They stood next to each other comparing heights and Grandma called them movie star handsome, smiling like her entire world was at peace. As our lives changed, I worried we’d grow apart. “He’s going to a friend’s. Someone from school. He asked for my stuffing recipe.” “Did you give it to him?” Mel asked. “Of course,” Dad said. At least he would have that. Mel hung up before I could say goodbye, and I tried to keep my eyes on the road. My hands were clammy and it felt like the steering wheel was trying to crawl away from them. Mel was fuming. “Hey,” I said, “I’m sure he has his reasons.” “And I’m sure they’re bullshit,” Mel said. She squeezed a lock of her hair between her fingers and released it into a jagged puff on the back of her head. “I’m disappointed too,” I said. But it was different for Mel. She could be scary when the rage she let build inside sputtered out like oil. But it came from a softness; the vulnerability of stray kitten just hoping to lap up the milk on the patio without being discovered. “Fuck this,” she said. “I’m calling him.” I waited for him to pick up. Would he go as far as ignoring her call? “Yo,” Nate said, his voice pixelated through the car speakers. “Nathaniel,” Mel said, because Nate hated it. “Why aren’t you coming to Thanksgiving?” “Yeah, I can’t make it.” “It’s fucking Thanksgiving,” Mel said. “You don’t get to opt out.” Cleaving Page 6 “Look, it doesn’t make sense for me to come. I only get three days off, and it takes 13 hours just to drive my ass over there.” “You should’ve booked a plane,” she said. “I didn’t have time,” he said. “Where are you going instead?” Mel asked. She rolled her eyes and picked at her fingers as if he could see her and feel how much she didn’t care. “We all know you’re not meeting some girl’s parents.” “You’re funny,” Nate said. “It’s a friend’s house. You don’t know him.” “I see,” said Mel. “Well, I hope he warms your cold, icy heart.” “You don’t have to be weird about this,” Nate said. “It’s just one holiday.” “Have you told Livvy that you’re ditching?” Mel asked. “No, but don’t try to guilt trip me. All right, I’ve had enough of this,” he said. The call clicked silent and the caller ID box disappeared. “Jackass,” Mel said, folding her arms. She kicked the glove department so hard my owner’s manual and chewy granola bars rattled inside. Her boot left a dusty print. “I guess he has a point, though,” I said. “He is really far away.” “So? He should have worked it out,” said Mel. “It’s not always convenient for the rest of us to come home. But we do it, because that’s the thing to do. Especially for holidays.” “He’ll be here for Christmas,” I said. “Livvy’s going to be so crushed,” said Mel. I nodded. Nate’s absence would especially hurt Livvy. She was the only one left in the house, and she loved it when we were around. She wasn’t growing up like the four of us, with somebody to bump elbows with as she brushed her teeth. Cleaving Page 7 *** We both knew the way home by heart: pass the string of department stores and office buildings, take Exit 72 off the highway, turn at the corner by the baseball field, follow the streets passed houses with amateur gardens and bicycles splayed out on driveways. Many of the front doors donned autumn wreaths now. Scarecrows perched next to flower pots and Thanksgiving-themed flags drummed in the wind. Once we drove by the elementary school soccer field that was always wet and littered with geese poop, we were close. Up the hilliest street was the middle school, the high school a few blocks over. Home was wedged into the surrounding streets, so embedded that the shortest route to school was through the woods around our backyard.