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East of Eden
Mountaineers · 10th–12th
Cal tells Kate, “I don’t hate you,” and then, “But I’m glad you’re afraid.” Is that gladness a sign that he is free of her, or a sign of how much of her he still carries?
The tension Kate leans in eagerly, “Sure, you’re my kind. Maybe you’re the same. Why wouldn’t you be?”, and when Cal asks whether she ever felt “like you were missing something,” her face closes “against him”; Cal answers, “I’m my own. I don’t have to be you… If I’m mean, it’s my own mean,” and leaves saying, “I don’t hate you,” and “But I’m glad you’re afraid.”
Notice the two rooms Cal sits in, the dining room after the raid and Kate’s gray lean-to, and what the light and silence are like in each.
The chapter has two sections. The first opens with the narrator’s account of how Salinas now and then cleans itself up: the church and the women’s club stir, the papers demand a raid, the police and the gambling houses both get ready, and twenty or more Chinese, a few bums and some travelling salesmen are jailed and fined while the town relaxes. In the fall of 1916 a raid on Shorty Lim’s fan-tan game scoops up Cal, who says he was only watching. Adam fetches him from jail and says almost nothing. At breakfast the silence grows until Cal jumps up and shouts at his father to punish him and get it over. Adam looks up, and for the first time Cal looks into his father’s eyes and sees himself reflected. Adam asks whether he has failed his son. He says he does not know his sons, that he is as bad a father as his own father was, and that he himself was once a prisoner for just being there. He asks what kind of boy Cal is and what Aron is like. Cal says Aron is good and admits that he does bad things to his brother. He tells of Aron’s wish to be a minister and of Abra’s anger at it. Cal makes the coffee, and in the kitchen he tests himself and finds his old hatred gone. He asks to run the ranch so that Aron can go to college. Saying he does not think he will hate anyone again, not even his mother, he gives away that he knows about her. He says Aron does not know and could not stand it. Adam says he trusts him. In the second section Cal is so happy that Lee asks whether he has found a girl; Adam tells Lee that Cal knows about her. To guard his father’s happiness, Cal watches Kate’s house and follows her Monday route: the bank vault, the dress shop, the beauty parlor, Dr. Rosen, a box of chocolates. In the eighth week she catches him at her gate. He tells her he is her son and wanted to see what she is like. She takes him into a windowless gray room, shows him her bandaged fingers, says the light hurts her eyes, and asks about Aron and Adam. When Cal says he loves his father, something twists in her. When he asks why she shot his father, she tells him to run along and wipe his nose, and he tells her that he has made Aron cry. She boasts of fooling everyone, calls him Charles, tells how she broke free of Adam, and says Cal is her kind. He asks whether she ever felt she was missing something, and her face closes. She tells him that if he has fits he did not get them from her. Cal says he is his own, that he thinks she is afraid, and leaves saying he does not hate her but is glad she is afraid. In the parlor, Joe and one of the girls see only a figure streaking out the door.
Read the chapter yourself before the lesson. A few things it takes for granted. Kate is Cathy, the twins’ mother. When the boys were babies she shot Adam and left him, and Adam told them she was dead. She now runs a brothel across the tracks on Castroville Street. In the chapter before, Cal learned the truth and saw the house, and Lee told him that whatever he does will be his own doing, not his mother’s; that is what Cal means by “What Lee said was true.” Years ago Adam was arrested as a vagrant and put on a road gang; he escaped, and that is the year in prison “for just being there.” Samuel Hamilton, an old friend, knocked Adam down when the twins were babies to wake him to his sons. Charles is Adam’s brother. Fan-tan is a gambling game, drummers are travelling salesmen, and the tank is the jail’s holding cell. In the Bible, Caleb is one of the two men who lived to reach the Promised Land. Kate’s “Chinaman” is her slur for Lee. The talk between Joe and the girl at the end hints at drug use; it needs no more than that. A teacher who has read on knows more about Kate, Cal and Aron; keep all of it out of the talk. The chapter does not settle who Cal’s father is, and Kate’s slip with a name does not settle it either. Do not let Kate become a plain monster: the chapter gives her pain, fear and an “aching twist.” Do not let Cal’s last words become a clean victory: his parting line has an edge. Slow down three times: in the silent dining room, from “In the clock-ticking silence” to “I’ve failed you, haven’t I?”; at the gate; and in the gray room, from “Sure, you’re my kind” to the slammed door.
Retell The student tells the chapter back, from the town’s gambling raids to Cal running out of Kate’s house. Look for the narrator’s account of the staged raids; the silent breakfast, Cal’s shout, the eyes and Adam’s “I’ve failed you”; the talk about Aron and Abra, the coffee, the ranch, and the slip about his mother; Adam’s trust; Cal’s happiness and Lee’s puzzlement; the Monday route; the gate; and the gray room, from the bandaged fingers, through Cal’s confession that he has made Aron cry, to his last words at the door. Look for nothing added about what Kate keeps in the vault or what she does next. Then ask which one sentence the whole chapter turns on, and why.
Imitate the author After copying, the student writes a short paragraph in the manner of the first passage, about some habit of a family, a team or a town that comes round again and again: open with a grand word for a small or crude thing, follow with two short, flat sentences that say nothing changes, balance two starting points on one word used twice, and end with a sentence that springs the joke on one word. Then a paragraph in the manner of the second, about someone on the morning after an old quarrel is mended: begin with a sentence that holds impatience and pleasure together with “and yet”; then a general truth, a semicolon, and that truth turned on the person; then a sentence in which they test themselves and find something gone; and end with a sentence of three rising wishes. Read both aloud beside Steinbeck’s and ask which sentence carries the weight.
Debate Take sides on the last written question. One side argues that Cal’s gladness shows he is free of Kate. It gathers the old hatred dredged up in the kitchen and found gone; Adam’s trust and the “ferment of happiness”; “I’m my own. I don’t have to be you”; “If I’m mean, it’s my own mean”; and “I don’t hate you.” The other side argues that the gladness shows how much of her he carries. It gathers Kate’s “Sure, you’re my kind”; the mouth, teeth and cheekbones Cal does not know are his; his own “Sometimes I work my brother over”; Kate’s “smart but senseless knife of her cruelty”; and the slammed door. Each side must answer the other’s strongest piece, and each must use Adam’s “Nobody can be remelted.” Neither may say what Cal does in later chapters, and neither may settle anything about who his father is.
Purpose Close on the chapter’s design. It opens on a town that knows its raids are staged and feels clean anyway: “It is one of the triumphs of the human that he can know a thing and still not believe it.” It ends with Joe, who has seen a boy streak past and decides that “the less you know, the better off you are.” Between them, Cal goes looking to know: his father at breakfast, his mother on her Mondays and in her gray room. Ask why a chapter about a boy learning what is in him is framed by people who would rather not know. Name the habit it practices: looking hard at something and judging whether you believe what you see.
Easier Read aloud together the silent breakfast, from “In the clock-ticking silence” to “Cal wanted a blame for himself.”; the kitchen, from “In the kitchen Cal urged on the water” to “in honor of his father”; the end of the breakfast, from “I have hated him,” to “I trust you, son,”; and the gray room, from “How’s your father?” to the slammed door. Talk through the second, third and fifth discussion questions, then answer the last written question aloud before writing it.
On level Talk through all five discussion questions in order, then write both written questions as a thesis, the strongest objection and a revised thesis, each with lines from the chapter.
Harder Ask for one argued essay on faces in this chapter: Cal seeing “two Cals” in his father’s eyes, Aron’s eyes and hair in Kate’s, and the mouth and teeth Cal does not know are his own. Judge what Cal learns about himself from each meeting, and how much of his certainty at the end he has earned. Meet the strongest objection: the reader knows something about Cal’s face that Cal does not learn in this chapter.
1. The narrator calls it a triumph that a person “can know a thing and still not believe it.” Who in this chapter does that?Theme
What it asks It asks the student to carry the narrator’s line from the town into the people of the chapter. The chapter opens on the gambling raids. Everyone knows when one is coming; the police get ready, the gambling houses get ready, and the papers set up their editorials “in advance.” Twenty or more Chinese, a few bums and some travelling salesmen are jailed and fined, and “The town relaxed in its new spotlessness.” The narrator adds, “It is one of the triumphs of the human that he can know a thing and still not believe it.” Then the chapter turns to Cal, and the line keeps finding new owners. Adam tells Cal he was a prisoner for nearly a year “for just being there”; Cal says “I don’t believe it,” and Adam answers, “Sometimes I don’t either.” He says that Samuel Hamilton told him he was a bad father when the twins were babies, “And now I know what he meant.” In the gray room Kate says twice, “The light hurts my eyes,” and Cal answers, “I don’t think the light hurts your eyes. I think you’re afraid.” At the very end Joe says, “the less you know, the better off you are.” The question touches the hinge: before Cal claims he simply knows what he is, the chapter shows how many people hold a truth at arm’s length.
Kate. She has built a room with no windows and says she rests there because the light hurts her eyes. She says it once, sees Cal glance at her eyes, and says it again “with finality,” as if saying it could make it so. Cal does not believe her. If he is right, she knows what she fears and will not let herself believe it, much as the town keeps its spotlessness by not looking.
The light hurts my eyes.
I don’t think the light hurts your eyes. I think you’re afraid.
Adam, and he says so himself. He knows he spent nearly a year in prison and that he robbed a store when he escaped, yet “Sometimes I don’t either.” Samuel told him long ago that he was a bad father, and only this morning does he say he knows what Samuel meant. He had all the facts for years; the breakfast is the first time he believes them.
Sometimes I don’t either, but I know that when I escaped I robbed a store and stole some clothes.
And now I know what he meant.
A strong answer A strong response names someone in the chapter and grounds the choice in the page. One reader says Kate: she says twice that the light hurts her eyes, the second time “with finality,” and Cal thinks she is afraid. Another says Adam: he admits that sometimes he does not believe his own prison year, and only now knows what Samuel meant long ago. The best answers carry the narrator’s line from the town to the people, ask whether “triumph” is meant straight, and notice that Joe closes the chapter by choosing not to know at all.
2. When Cal’s fear turns to resentment, the narrator says a trapped fox might feel “anger at the paw which held him to the trap.” Whose paw is that?Author's choice
What it asks It asks the student to read one simile closely. Adam has fetched Cal from jail and said nothing to him but “Come along!” At breakfast he stares into his coffee. “In the clock-ticking silence Cal began to be afraid. He felt a strength flowing out of his father he had never known was there.” His legs prickle and he is afraid to move them. He knocks his fork against his plate and “the clatter was swallowed up.” Then: “As the fear began to chill, resentment took its place. So might a trapped fox feel anger at the paw which held him to the trap.” Cal jumps up before he knows he will move and shouts, “Do what you’re going to do to me! Go ahead! Get it over!” In a trap, what is held is the fox’s own paw. A little later, when Adam tells him he did nothing wrong, Cal says, “Maybe being there was wrong,” and the narrator says, “Cal wanted a blame for himself.” In the gray room Kate will boast, “Nobody can trap me.” The question touches the hinge: whether what holds Cal is in himself or outside him is the chapter’s question in small.
Cal’s own. In a real trap the paw that holds the fox is its own leg. Cal is caught by something in himself: he went to Shorty Lim’s “Many times,” and when his father refuses to blame him he goes looking for blame. Even his body holds him; his legs prickle and he is afraid to move them. His anger is at himself, and it bursts out at the nearest person.
Cal wanted a blame for himself.
Itching prickles of agony ran up his legs, and he was afraid to move to restore the circulation.
Adam’s. The thing that holds Cal is the strength he feels flowing out of his father, a silence so heavy it swallows his fork and the clock. Adam is the paw, and Cal turns on him: “Do what you’re going to do to me!” The anger is at the one holding him there, and it is a boy’s anger at a father who, minutes later, admits he has not seen his sons “as people.”
He felt a strength flowing out of his father he had never known was there.
Do what you’re going to do to me!
A strong answer A strong response says whose paw it is and grounds the answer in the breakfast. One reader says Cal’s own: in a trap the fox is held by its own leg, Cal has been to the gambling house “Many times,” and minutes later he “wanted a blame for himself.” Another says Adam’s: Cal feels “a strength flowing out of his father,” the silence swallows every sound he makes, and he turns on his father with “Do what you’re going to do to me!” The best answers read the picture literally before they read it as a figure, and notice that in the gray room Kate boasts that nobody can trap her.
3. At the end of breakfast Adam says “Cal!” harshly, and then he tells his son, “I trust you.” What is he trusting Cal with?Character
What it asks It asks the student to read the last moment of the first section. Cal has said he does not think he will hate anyone, “not even my mother,” and stopped, “astonished at his slip.” Adam says, “You know about your mother.” The narrator adds, “It was not a question.” Cal says Aron does not know and could not stand it: “He hasn’t enough badness in him to stand it.” He wants to add “any more than you could, sir,” but leaves it unsaid. Adam asks, “Do you think there’s any chance of keeping Aron from knowing? Think carefully.” Cal has been to her house: “I had to know.” He hopes Aron might go away to college. Adam asks, “But you’re smarter?” and Cal says, “A different kind of smart.” Then “Adam seemed to grow until he filled one side of the room. His face was stern and his blue eyes sharp and penetrating.” He says “Cal!” harshly, and then, “I trust you, son,” and the section ends. The next section opens, “Adam’s recognition brought a ferment of happiness to Cal.” The question touches the hinge: this trust is what Cal carries out of the dining room and, in the end, into the gray room.
His brother. The whole talk just before is about keeping Aron from knowing, and Adam told Cal to “Think carefully.” Cal has a plan and the “different kind of smart” to carry it out. The stern face and the harsh “Cal!” are the face and voice of a man handing over a hard job. Adam is trusting Cal with his brother.
Do you think there’s any chance of keeping Aron from knowing? Think carefully.
A different kind of smart
Himself. Adam has just learned that his son knows “All about” his mother and has been to her house. That is the knowledge Cal is most ashamed of, and Adam answers it not with an order but with trust in Cal himself. Earlier he told Cal he “shouldn’t be ashamed.” The narrator calls what follows “Adam’s recognition,” not his command: he has finally seen his son.
But you shouldn’t be ashamed.
Adam’s recognition brought a ferment of happiness to Cal.
A strong answer A strong response says what Adam is trusting Cal with and grounds it in the end of the talk. One reader says his brother: the talk is about keeping him from knowing, Adam says “Think carefully,” and the stern face belongs to a man handing over a hard job. Another says himself: Adam has just learned Cal knows “All about” his mother, and he answers the thing Cal is most ashamed of with trust; the narrator calls it “recognition.” The best answers hear the harshness and the trust together, and notice how this trust changes the way Cal walks and what he does next.
4. For weeks Cal is sure Kate has not noticed him, but at her gate she says, “This isn’t the first time you’ve followed me.” By then, which of them knows more about the other?Inference
What it asks It asks the student to weigh two kinds of knowing. Cal sets out to watch Kate as a guard would: “He set himself to learn all he could about her. A known enemy is less dangerous, less able to surprise.” He learns her Monday route to the minute: the safe-deposit vault at the bank, the dress shop, Minnie Franken’s beauty parlor at about two-fifteen, Dr. Rosen at three-thirty, a two-pound box of chocolates. “She never varied the route.” Because she walks looking straight ahead, “he was convinced that she did not notice him.” In the eighth week she is standing behind the privet when he strolls past: “This isn’t the first time you’ve followed me. What do you want?” She asks, “Who told you to do it?” When he tells her she is his mother, she says, “What? What is this? Who are you?” Then Cal feels “the delicate change of balance as when a seesaw moves. His was the upper seat now.” She looks at him closely and “observed every feature.” The question touches the hinge: this is the first time mother and son look at each other. In the gray room Kate will claim to know what Cal is, “Sure, you’re my kind,” and Cal will claim to see her fear.
Kate. Cal was sure he was unseen, and he was wrong: she knew she was being followed, and she was waiting behind the privet when he came by. His eight weeks gave him the outside of her life, a route and a box of chocolates, and nothing of why. In one look she “observed every feature” of his face, and in the gray room she reads him again before he has said much at all.
This isn’t the first time you’ve followed me.
I might have known you’d cover up.
Cal. Kate saw a boy behind her, but she did not know who he was or why he came; she guessed that someone had sent him. He knows her route, her hours, her name and what she did to his father. When he says who he is, the seesaw tips his way, and though her face does not change, Cal knows “she was on the defensive.”
Who told you to do it?
His was the upper seat now.
A strong answer A strong response says who knows more and grounds it in the Mondays and the gate. One reader says Kate: Cal thought he was unseen, but she knew she was being followed, and in one look she “observed every feature” of his face. Another says Cal: she had to ask who he was and guessed that someone had sent him, while he knew her route to the minute, and when he spoke the seesaw tipped his way. The best answers ask what kind of knowing each one has, a route watched from outside or a face read at once, and keep the vault and the doctor as the chapter keeps them, unexplained.
5. When Cal says he loves his father, “an aching twist” rises in Kate’s chest. What hurts her?Character
What it asks It asks the student to read the one moment in the gray room when Kate loses hold of herself. She asks, “How’s your father?” Cal says, “I don’t want to talk about him.” She says, “Oh, no! You like him then?” and he answers, “I love him.” The narrator says, “Kate peered closely at him, and a curious spasm shook her—an aching twist rose in her chest. And then she closed up and her control came back.” She offers him candy. When he asks why she shot his father and ran away, she asks whether any “girls or young women” come to the house. Later she tells how Adam nursed her: “He tried to tie me down that way. Most people get tied down that way. They’re grateful, they’re in debt, and that’s the worst kind of handcuffs.” Asked whether she ever wished she had stayed, she says, “Christ, no!” The chapter names no feeling here, only a spasm and an ache. The question touches the hinge: Cal’s love for his father is something in him that is not hers, and it reaches her.
Something she lacks. The word “aching” belongs to loss. A son saying plainly that he loves his father is a thing Kate has never had, or chose not to have, and for a moment it gets past her guard. The narrator says her control “came back,” which means for a moment it was gone. Her “Christ, no!” later may be the control speaking.
a curious spasm shook her—an aching twist rose in her chest
And then she closed up and her control came back.
The love itself, as a threat. To Kate, love and gratitude are how people get tied down. Cal’s love means Adam has the boy, and has him in the way she escaped. She steadies herself, and when Cal asks why she shot his father, she asks instead about women at Adam’s house. What hurts is not longing but the sight of the handcuffs on someone else.
They’re grateful, they’re in debt, and that’s the worst kind of handcuffs.
Christ, no!
A strong answer A strong response says what hurts Kate and grounds it in the moment and what follows. One reader says something she lacks: “aching” is a word for loss, and her control “came back,” so for a moment it was gone. Another says the love itself, as a threat: to Kate gratitude and love are “the worst kind of handcuffs,” and soon she is asking about women at Adam’s house. The best answers stay with the spasm the page gives, notice what Kate does next, and keep her a person and not a monster.
1. Right after Kate tells him to “wipe your nose,” Cal says he has made Aron cry, and that it makes him sick. What does he want her to hear?
What it asks It asks the student to read one speech against an earlier one. At breakfast Cal told his father about Aron: “I cheat him and I fool him. Sometimes I hurt him for no reason at all.” Adam asked, “And then you’re miserable?” In the gray room Cal asks Kate again and again why she shot his father, and each time she puts him off. Now she says, “You talk older than your age,” and “But you don’t talk old enough. Maybe you’d better run along and play—and wipe your nose.” Cal answers, “Sometimes I work my brother over,” and then, “I make him squirm, I’ve made him cry. He doesn’t know how I do it. I’m smarter than he is. I don’t want to do it. It makes me sick.” The narrator says, “Kate picked it up as though it were her own conversation.” Her first words are “They thought they were so smart,” and she ends, “I fooled every one of them.” A few minutes later she says, “Sure, you’re my kind.” The chapter does not say why Cal tells her. The question touches the hinge: what Cal offers Kate of himself here is what she will claim as hers, and what he will later call his own.
That he is no little boy, and that he is like her. She has just sent him off to wipe his nose, and he answers with the worst thing he can do and a boast. He is claiming a place beside her, and she gives it to him: she takes up his words as if they were hers and, minutes later, calls him her kind.
I’m smarter than he is.
Kate picked it up as though it were her own conversation.
That it makes him sick. He tells her what he told his father at breakfast, and he ends on the shame, not the skill. Adam heard the misery and asked about it. Kate hears only the cleverness. If Cal is testing her, her answer is the first sign that she does not have what he has.
I don’t want to do it. It makes me sick.
And then you’re miserable?
A strong answer A strong response builds a thesis about what Cal wants Kate to hear, meets the strongest objection, and revises. One thesis says he wants her to see that he is no little boy and is like her: she has just told him to wipe his nose, he answers with his cruelty and “I’m smarter than he is,” and she takes it up “as though it were her own conversation.” The strongest objection is that he ends on the shame, “It makes me sick,” as he did with his father, who asked, “And then you’re miserable?” A good revision might say he offers her both halves and watches which one she takes: she takes the smartness and lets the sickness drop, and that choice shows him something about her. The best answers use the breakfast and claim nothing the chapter does not give about his reasons.
2. Cal tells Kate, “I don’t hate you,” and then, “But I’m glad you’re afraid.” Is that gladness a sign that he is free of her, or a sign of how much of her he still carries?
What it asks It asks the chapter’s whole question. At breakfast Adam says, “Nobody can be remelted,” but that morning Cal finds “The poison of loneliness and the gnawing envy of the unlonely had gone out of him.” In the kitchen “He dredged up an old hatred to test himself, and he found the hatred gone.” He tells his father he does not think he will hate anyone, “not even my mother.” In the gray room Kate says, “Sure, you’re my kind.” Then Kate, “as she had always, drove in the smart but senseless knife of her cruelty,” telling him that if he has fits he did not get them from her, and “anticipating the shock and beginning worry in him.” Cal speaks “happily.” He says, “I was afraid I had you in me.” Kate says, “You have.” He answers, “No, I haven’t. I’m my own. I don’t have to be you,” and, “I just know. It just came to me whole. If I’m mean, it’s my own mean.” He tells her he does not think the light hurts her eyes, that he thinks she is afraid. At the door he says, “I don’t hate you,” and “But I’m glad you’re afraid.” Her voice thickens “to a croak,” and he slams the door. The chapter does not say whether Cal’s new happiness will last.
Free. Cal leaves without hatred, as the kitchen test promised. The gladness is relief: the woman he was afraid of turns out to be afraid herself, so her power over him was never what he feared. He even takes his meanness from her and calls it his own. A boy who still carried her would not walk out happy.
He dredged up an old hatred to test himself, and he found the hatred gone.
No, I haven’t. I’m my own. I don’t have to be you.
Carries her. Gladness at someone else’s fear is exactly what Kate shows when she glances up at Cal, waiting for the shock. At the door Cal does to her what she tried to do to him, and slams it. His own sentence gives it away: the meanness is still there, whatever name he puts on it.
Kate, as she had always, drove in the smart but senseless knife of her cruelty.
If I’m mean, it’s my own mean.
A strong answer A strong response builds a thesis on what the gladness shows, meets the strongest objection, and revises. One thesis says he is free: the kitchen test found his hatred gone, he leaves saying “I don’t hate you,” and the gladness is relief at finding that the woman he feared is afraid. The strongest objection is that gladness at someone’s fear is what Kate herself shows when she waits for “the shock and beginning worry” in him, and that Cal says it on the way out and slams the door. A good revision might say the gladness is both: it is cruel, and Cal claims the cruelty as his own, which is the only freedom he says he has. The best answers weigh “I don’t hate you” and “But” together, use Adam’s “Nobody can be remelted,” and claim nothing beyond this chapter.
At intervals Salinas suffered from a mild eructation of morality.A belch. It is a long Latin word for a crude thing, and the narrator uses it on purpose: the town’s fits of virtue come up now and then like a belch, short and noisy, and then they are over. The grand word for a low act sets the mocking tone of the whole account of the raids.
Gambling was invariably the sin to be eradicated.Always, without exception; every single time. It is built from in-, not, and vary: it never varies. The narrator uses it for the punch line of his joke: a crusade may start in the pulpit or in the women’s club, but the sin it picks is always gambling, the one that is safe to attack. Later in the chapter Kate’s Monday route never varies either.
Gambling was invariably the sin to be eradicated.Pulled out by the roots; wiped out completely. It comes from Latin e-, out, and radix, root, the same root as radish. The town speaks of gambling as a sin to be torn out by the roots, and what follows is one night’s raid and a few fines. The big word measures how far the talk outruns the deed.
The town relaxed in its new spotlessness and the houses lost only one night of business plus the fines.The state of having no spot or stain; perfect cleanness. The suffix -ness turns the adjective spotless into a thing the town can own and rest in. The word is ironic here: the town relaxes in a cleanness that lasted one night, and everyone knew the raid was coming.
Adam’s irises were light blue with dark radial lines leading into the vortices of his pupils.The plural of vortex: a whirl, like water spiraling down a drain, that pulls things toward its center. Looking into his father’s eyes for the first time, Cal sees dark lines running into the vortices of the pupils, as if the eyes drew him in, and deep in each pupil he sees his own face. The Latin plural works like index and indices.