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By Nerissa Liu
When she was one-hundred days old, Nerissa’s parents invited her to perform the traditional infant object-grabbing test. She set her eyes on a basic black pen and proudly held it up. From then on, she set out to explore hidden details of the world. As she became acquainted with more and more words, she mastered a portion of the English language. In the brief pauses in her learning, she pours her understanding onto pages into forms of poetry and prose.Amber sunlight seeped from the dusty windows and cascaded onto Claver Walton’s pen and notebook. Two years ago, he pledged his life to the tech startup, Co22 and he only dusted the windows twice. The tech worker never let go of his preference to document his work and learning by writing on paper. Harry’s glasses lenses were cleaned less frequently than Claver’s windows. His parents wanted him to be outwardly successful and tamped his work ethic, and failed to polish his social deposition.
At six on a crisp August morning, Harry called to run through “bug fixes.” Rather than resolving issues on a fledgling app they recently launched, Claver was setting traps for fruit flies which constantly appear because of Harry’s eating habits. Without frustration, he took out the fly traps from the coffin-narrow closet and set them through the hallway of the office floor.
Wanting to call his mother, Claver reached for his slate gray notebook with quirky red lettering to jot down a reminder. Mrs. Walton had become afraid of cars and crows since his aunt, her sister, died in the hospital. Suddenly, electrifying pain pierces the sides of Claver’s head. A buzz persists in both his ears. Before his hand could provide comfort to it, his phone rang. Without looking up, he attempted to swipe his phone off his desk. He saw a flash of red fall and heard a sharp smack announcing the formation of a new screen crack. Finally getting hold of the device, he slid his now cramping finger to pick up the call.
“Hey, come to my office. That chick who came by to model a few weeks ago called. Her cousin is M.I.A.” Since middle school, Harry had the habit of giving the context and conflict of every situation in one breath. Claver let go of another groan. “Stop that! You think by doing that you’re getting us more sales?”
The cousins contacted Claver after he sent out an advertisement requesting models for the cover of their app. After agreeing to a payment plan, Claver met Pauline and Olive at a nearby bubble tea store for lunch. He initially thought they were sisters, but they were cousins. They had grown up together so closely, they served as each other’s vanities to apply manners and countenances. As they downed chubby cups of Hong Kong-style milk tea, they chatted about their work lives and living situations. Pauline offered Claver some styling tips for his overcoats and he in return offered them tips on how to maintain a neat office space. After hearing Harry say Pauline’s name moments before, he remembered how quiet Olive had been during their meeting and after when they were saying goodbye.
Entering the office, Claver asked, “Has she called the police yet?”
“Nah, I asked her already. Polly said Olive’s been in the gray area of the law before and she is not sure whether or not it’s been on her record or something. This hysterical woman’s not making any sense.” Through the years, Claver grew numb toward Harry’s unfeeling comments. When Harry wants to boost his confidence, he uses the most demeaning language he can to throw the social graces of others off balance. His work partner learned to not correct him when they were alone for the sake of having a stable work environment. Claver asked Au for some aspirin and was offered a pack of mints instead.
“Let me call her back,” Claver said between his teeth. While Pauline hadn’t arrested him with her charm, Claver had not seen his parents in two weeks making it two weeks since he had done something that counts as charitable.
The young woman frantically spoke after picking up the phone while Claver crossed and uncrossed his legs in Harry’s office. “O–O–Olive said she wanted to leave! …so stressed…she’s always just wanted to be left at home.” Co22’s director announced he would leave to grab a burger and “hook up” with a girl. The other young man’s mind worked like a mining operation. In seconds he figured that Olive was in severe emotional distress and had to exit the normal functions of life. Her silence became vocal when Pauline and Claver stopped talking and turned to her. A slight smile crept into her cheeks and she peered inside her cup of latte.
“Has Olive sent you any messages since the last time–”
“Yes!” She sent Claver a screenshot with the message:
You would be surprised by how much metal we live in, eat, and breathe. It seems that my fascination with it comes at no cost to my health, but a lot to yours. You should take care of yourself and not worry too much about me. You know that I’ve always hated doing things at the expense of others. The cross on my breast keeps me safe.
The last line arrested all of Claver’s thoughts. A distant memory from the past arises at the front of his thoughts like buried treasure glittering in the sun again. Minutes after Claver alternated between begging for Pauline to be calm and for photos, some reason came into view. The last photograph Pauline had of her cousin featured Olive in a white summer dress and a distinct iron cross. While the dress and accessory could not have contradicted each other more, Olive’s wan smile suggested something more depressing.
For the next questions, Claver had to select the simplest words to avoid Pauline asking him to repeat himself. Within two hours of leaving the photoshoot, Olive boarded a plane to Kansas City. Although Pauline is not sure where her cousin is, it must be in a city where there is internet connection. Confirming that Olive had never been there before, Claver then moved into possible motives. All the while, his head’s pressure grew and he thought his cheeks were flushed.
“She wore that iron cross ever since her significant other died in a car accident,” Pauline breathed. “Before, she had no interest in Christianity.”
“Can you tell me anything more about the significant other?”
“I can’t. She never wanted to talk about them with me. She told me they were born in a small neighborhood behind the big mall.”
“That’s where I grew up.” The slanted sunlight from that time entered Claver’s mind. Yes, there were girls he wasn’t comfortable talking to. Yes, his mother pushed him to play with them.
“Why is this about you?” Pauline hollered from the phone.
“It isn’t!” Claver said through his teeth.
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Don’t hang up,” Claver shouted back. All the sound from the other line froze, “Do you want me to tell you about the iron cross or do you want to hang up?”
“Go ahead then.”
“When I was seven, my grandma–grandmother–gave me that iron cross with–”
Harry Au came back into the office. “Hey, that chick at the sando shop said they couldn’t custom make my order. I go use their bathroom and the one from the kitchen–
“Harry, get out.” The two of them looked at each other for a long time. They had a staring contest that was broken up when their parents finally settled the argument of who should pay the bill that time. After a few seconds, Harry pulled his coat from off the chair he had left it on and pivoted out of the room.
Claver breathed in, “Pauline, are you still with me?” She answered in the affirmative. “The back of Olive’s cross has the initials CW on it right?” Silence. “I’m going to assume that the significant other is about eight years younger than me. Because when I was seven, my aunt gifted me that iron cross. However, when I wanted to use it, I mean, have access to it, when I was fourteen, it wasn’t in its box anymore. I heard she was a godmother to a child years later after that. Are you sure that you don’t know anything about Olive’s significant other? Not even where–
“Let me tell you something. I think the significant other was my aunt’s godchild, you know what I mean? So when they died Olive wanted to cope with her loss.”
“Claver, Claver, I think Olive just sent me something!”
Claver sat in his seat for five minutes. Pauline never called him again but instead sent him a screenshot of Olive’s text.
I’m leaving here now without retribution or even a smile from the cloud. I’ve tried pretending the curves of the wrought fence were supposed to be for me, but I was wrong. I try imagining the grimace of the person who killed my other half…
Olive texted I think I’ll deliberate with my family before we decide what to do next. Can you please send me your aunt’s contact information?
Claver replied, She’s dead.
Olive asked if they could meet up for lunch sometime soon. After reading the message, Claver closed his phone. He returned to his office with a clear head and wrote on a new page of his journal:
This office was only a mine, you struggle to get what you want, then leave.
He ripped that page out and left it on his desk. A hummingbird appeared outside his window, and for the first time that week, he smiled.
