R2: THE RICE REVIEW 1 R2: The Rice Review is a free student literary journal at Rice University. Copyright © 2020 by R2: The Rice Review No portion of R2: The Rice Review may be reproduced without permission. All rights reserved. Please send all correspondence to R2: The Rice Review Department of English Rice University 6100 Main Street, MS-30 Houston, TX 77005-1892 r2ricereview.com [email protected] Cover art: POP by Mallory Newbern (Colored Pencil and Acrylic Paint on Paper) Printed by Printing-X-Press. Printed in the USA. 2 3 The Rice Review Staff Acknowledgements Editors-in-Chief Joshua Anil & Sanvitti Sahdev Layout Editor Ginny Jeon This journal is made possible by an endowment given by Bradley V. Husick ’86 and Gail Clayton General Staff Clara Kraebber, Colton Alstatt, Ella Hoyt, Husick ’86. The publication of R2 has also been Hannah Young, Julia Fisher, Katimah made possible by a gift from Sandy ’86 and David Harper, Kierstin Wilkins, Kristie Lynn, Mar- Epstein and Family for the five-year period 2009–14. cus Munshi, Neha Tallapragada, Pamela McInturff, Rebecca Noel, Ryan Chow, R2’s annual Rice writing contests are sponsored Rynd Morgan, Sarah Swackhamer, Selena by the George G. Williams Fund. The contests are Shi, Shucheng Yan, Theresa Vanderventer, juried by professional, non-Rice-affiliated judges. Yumeng Zhao This year’s judge was Mark Haber. Each of the student recipients is awarded a monetary prize as Faculty Advisor Ian Schimmel well as recognition. The entire R2 editorial board wishes to express their gratitude for this generosity. Founding Editor Justin Cronin Cover Artist Mallory Newbern 4 5 Stories give rise to the best parts of being human: to empathy, connection, A Note from the Editors and collective healing. As we go forward into a changed world, it’s important that we carry these qualities with us. It’s just as important that we recognize the power of imagination, of naming the unnameable, and articulating that which does not yet exist. Only in this way can we build the consciousness for a better world. Uncertainty. Instability. Loss. These feelings, familiar to college students, took on new proportions this past year. As a pandemic halted lives and We are so grateful to the dedicated community at Rice that helped birth and uprooted ways of life, we had to retreat into our own little corners of the put together the pages of this issue. We would like to thank Ian Schimmel, world. For many of us, this meant being thrust back in time during our com- our faculty advisor, for his thoughtfulness and encouragement, and for his plicated transitions into adulthood. Many of the pieces of writing and art in continuous effort in building a supportive space and community for writing this book are in response to this experience; to processing and reprocessing and art at Rice. We would also like to thank the R2 staff for going above and childhoods, and to figuring out how to reemerge from them. beyond to make this project their own, and dedicating their time to provide a platform for Rice writers and artists. Your enthusiasm and energy made this By selecting the theme “Root,” we wanted to explore how the past offers a so much fun. This issue would not be possible without the support of the Rice chance to unearth those things that have led us to the present. We cannot English Department and the Department of Visual and Dramatic Arts or the move forward without tracing our roots—whether those are the roots of our continued generosity of the Husick family that supports R2 in all of its en- individual histories, or the origins of systemic racism embedded in the fabric deavors. We are also so grateful for our talented contributors and honored to of our country and in the legacy of the institution that gives this magazine be trusted with their work. its name. In a moment of distance and upheaval, we have the privilege of presenting stories that do the brave work of discovering and rediscovering Lastly, we would like to thank you, dear reader. As this year reminds us how what binds us. important connection is to all of us, we hope you will let the voices woven through these pages tell you their stories, and that you will unearth new con- A story, in a way, is a root. It is something that holds us down, ties us to nections in yourself. the earth, and makes us remember that we are not individuals adrift in this world, but connected to the things and people around us. By paying atten- Joshua Anil & Sanvitti Sahdev, tion to our roots, we discover the accumulations that have formed us and Editors-in-Chief the parts of ourselves that need to heal. We also discover the things that make us feel like a part of something more. 6 7 Table of Contents Convocación y Renacimiento 36 14 Blooming Our Own Making Nasha Wanichwecharungruang Excerpt from Ana Paula Pinto-Diaz Photography Poetry 15 One Thousand is Not Nearly Enough Second Son 38 Alice Liu Jenny Li-Wang Poetry Creative Non-Ficiton 16 A Mother in the Hand Chain Reaction, Consciousness, Serendipity 46 Elizabeth Rasich Nasha Wanichiwecharungruang Fiction Photography 17 Rory An Interview with Leslie Contreras-Schwartz 48 Gordan Liu Joshua Anil, Rynd Morgan, Sanvitti Sahdev Acrylic Interview 26 hay sábanas fuera de la casa A Ghazal Since I Don’t Want to go Under the Knife (Into Flesh) 52 Eliza Gavira Lily Wulfemeyer Photography Poetry 27 Madelaine Escape Velocity 54 Ana Paula Pinto-Diaz Hannah Young Poetry Fiction 30 The Swan and the Mare Smoke Break in Savannah 67 Lily Wulfemeyer Eliza Gaviria Fiction Photography 35 Lequeu Boxes 68 Sunee Kate Quirante Ashley Tsang Photography Pen 8 9 Table of Contents Cont. 69 yes, i killed the hindus I can’t keep still 90 Lavina Kalwani Eliza Gaviria Poetry Photography 72 An Interview with Mark Haber Sunny Day 91 Kristie Lynn, Marcus Munshi, Kierstin Wilkins, Hannah Young Neha Tallapragada Interview Fiction 78 Kyle’s Throne An Uneventful Eclipse 95 Mallory Newbern Gordon Liu Colored Pencil, Acrylic Paint, Chalk Pastel on Paper Colored Pencil 79 Recycle Midwest 100 Ashley Tsang Lily Wulfemeyer Acrylic and Pen Poetry 80 To Give Shrimp Wings Rolling My Eyes 102 Kristen Hickey Mallory Newbern Creative Nonfiction Acrylic Paint, Resin 81 There are plenty of fish in the sea Some Things Come Back 103 Eliza Gaviria Kristen Hickey Digital Photograph Collage Fiction 86 Blossom, Upstairs Neighbor Cold Chicken 111 Gordan Liu Mallory Newbern Linderglaze on Stoneware Acrylic Paint and Colored Pencil on Paper 88 PTSD Pain 121 Katimah Harper Nasha Wanichwecharungruang Poetry Photography 10 11 Table of Contents Cont. 122 Analysis of the Rose as Sentimental Despair Not a Lie 146 Excerpt from Our Own Making Caleb Dukes Ana Paula Pinto-Diaz Creative Nonfiction Poetry Apples 150 124 Poor Man’s Soup Lily Wulfemeyer Jennifer Fu Poetry Creative Nonfiction Rodney 154 133 Brother Rachel Wang Ashley Tsang Charcoal Mixed Media with Acrylic and Colored Pencil Nose Job 155 134 An Interview with Maggie Sulc Elizabeth Rasich Julia Fisher, Ella Hoyt, Rebecca Noel, Theresa Vanderventer Fiction Interview 134 Family Photo Gordan Liu Acrylics 144 Market Ana Paula Pinto-Diaz Poetry 145 Chop Chop Eliza Gaviria Digital Photograph Collage 12 13 One Thousand is Not Nearly Enough Alice Liu the sea birds fold into the sky like ever so many love notes, like they know not of death. senbazuru, I think, wondering how they float like that, like mass without weight. how effortless a composition, sheets and sheets of waxy Bristol creasing form into horizon. and I, living dog-eared and heavy-handed, mortal, wine-flushed, violent with desire. and you, who will be gone soon, tell me to lighten up, that even I will grow old someday. Blooming we can do this, for now. we can Photography watch the sea fold into the sky like Nasha Wanichiwecharungruang ever so many tissue paper wishes. 14 Poetry 15 A Mother in the Hand Elizabeth Rasich The night the pit bull tears a hole in Opie’s floppy Beagle ear is also the night Mi- chael Phelps turns 28. This is when Aunt Shannon still lives with us, when we still take Opie on a walk every night, and she practices her parenting on me. Our mission—we always have a mission—is to find the house in Fells Point where Michael Phelps lives and wish him happy birtthday. It’s June, and he has already won 22 Olympic medals: eighteen gold, two silver, two bronze. We dream about the inside of the house. Since Aunt Shannon does home remodeling, all she can think about is storage space. Where do eighteen gold medals go? Does he have a special hat rack to keep them organized? Does he color code them to know what year they were won, or does he throw them all in a shoebox and try to forget? Although usually my dad stays at home and takes a nap on the couch, tonight he comes on our walk. “Spur of the moment, huh?” he says, and immediately forgets his keys. He wants me to teach Opie to walk in a straight line, but it’s useless. Opie already has hypertension at three years old and is chemically dependent on smelling every mound of squirrel droppings in leash radius. Now he is tugging me all over the place, inhaling smells and bugging his eyes out of his head every time he sees a slowly rotting French fry drifting in a puddle. Aunt Shannon laughs at the look on my dad’s face.