The Shape of Family Page 19
August was playing the electric guitar, and he moved from tuning up right into a solo. His left hand slid up and down the fingerboard while his right hand twanged on the strings. Karina didn’t recognize the melody, but his virtuosity was clear. As August trailed off with a single blazing vibrato note, he nodded to Micah, standing behind the keyboard, who began to play, fingers dancing up and down the keyboard. August joined back in on the guitar, then Rufus, another resident Karina had met at Thanksgiving, blended into the harmony on bass. They all played together for a while, until finally Micah led several dramatic chords to close. Karina clapped along with the others but still found herself fading. The loud music was compounding her exhaustion and her head began to ache again.
Ericka leaned close to her and whispered, “Do you play anything?”
“Not really,” Karina said. “A bit of clarinet when I was a kid.” The clarinet her parents had bought for her twelfth birthday still sat on the top shelf of her closet back home. She’d been excited at first; it felt important to have a musical instrument of her own to carry back and forth to school, her name emblazoned on the case. She forbade Prem to touch it and yelled at him once when she found him on the floor of her bedroom with the clarinet in his mouth. “That is so gross!” she screamed, tearing it out of his hands. “Now I have to sanitize the mouthpiece and throw that reed away!”
Her father encouraged her to continue with band practice when their lives resumed after Prem’s death. He dutifully drove her to school early, and though she went through the motions, she couldn’t hold the clarinet without remembering the hurt look in Prem’s eyes and the yelp that escaped from his throat as she pulled him across the room. When she told her dad that she wanted to quit a few weeks later, he didn’t protest.
Micah called Zoe up, and she took a seat behind the drum set in the corner, sticks poised in the air. When the music picked up again, Karina managed to slip out of the room unnoticed. Feeling a strange brew of disappointment in herself, she settled into her bed. After having slept on the couch for so long, she’d forgotten the comfort of a bed, which felt safe again in this new space. Still, as she lay alone in the theater, Karina felt surrounded by a sea of the unfamiliar, struggling to figure out the daily routine and norms of her new home. As the music from below pulsed through the floorboards, Karina hoped it wouldn’t take long to find the sense of belonging she had expected.
* * *
When Karina awoke in the middle of the night, the absolute darkness of the theater was unsettling, and it took a moment for her to remember where she was. Her head was aching and she desperately needed water. As she walked down the hallway, all the doors were open and the entire structure of the house was silent, asleep, breathing together. She crept down the staircase, gripping the banister carefully. In the kitchen, she drank a full glass of water and poured herself another. As she passed the living room again, half-lit by moonlight through uncovered windows, she was startled to see two figures lying on the couch, fully nude and entwined, with a kaftan blanket draped across their legs. One body was olive-toned and muscular, the other very fair. Neither face was visible, but she recognized Zoe’s blond dreadlocks. Shaken by the sense that she was intruding, Karina returned quickly to her room and climbed into bed, only later remembering she’d forgotten to leave her door open.
32 | karina
JANUARY 3, 2015
It felt like she’d only been back asleep for a few moments when the gong sounded the next morning, and though she was still tired, Karina didn’t allow herself to linger in bed. She quickly got dressed so she was prepared to join the others on the patio, determined to do better today. As she sat in meditation with her eyes closed, the fragrance of the incense coiled into her nostrils, bringing her back to childhood. She tried to concentrate on Micah’s guiding voice as her mind rebounded between various thoughts. By the time Micah rang the gong again, Karina realized she had not truly heard anything he’d said and had again failed at meditating. Was this what it was like for Mom, when she sat in Prem’s shrine for hours of prayer? How did she maintain her concentration all that time? Karina felt a new appreciation for her mother, for all those hours she spent in what had looked like nothingness but now seemed unattainable.
After a breakfast of Greek yogurt with homemade spicy cinnamon granola, Ericka said, “Hey, Karina, Micah said you know how to take care of the horse. Will you show me?”
The two of them walked down the path to the stables. “When did you come live here?” Karina asked.
“End of last summer, about four months ago,” Ericka said. “It was a godsend, this place. Micah. I needed a safe haven and I’m so lucky I found it.”
Karina glanced sideways at her as they approached the stables, where the horse was chewing on the front bar, eager to be let out. When she opened the stall, he ran into the field with a loud whinny. “How so?” She grabbed a rake from the tack wall and began shoveling out what appeared to be several days’ droppings from the stall.
“I was in a bad situation. I’d been living with this guy—the love of my life, I thought.” Ericka shook her head. “It was good in the beginning, but after a few months . . . He didn’t treat me right. He had a temper.” She looked at Karina. “It was bad. But I didn’t have anyone to turn to. Not really on good terms with my family, know what I mean? And I know it’s not smart—everybody warns you not to do this—but I grew apart from my girlfriends after being with him for a while. It was just so intense. It took all of me, you know?” Ericka offered to take the rake from her and continued cleaning out the stall.
Karina nodded, knowing too well that feeling of being all-in; how it could destroy you when the thing you’d handed yourself over to suddenly vanished, leaving a giant void in its place. She felt reassured that she wasn’t alone in that, but also an unexpected flicker of gratitude that James had been decent, at least until the end. Karina opened a bag of fresh shavings to scatter on the ground.
“I was working at a juice bar on the beach where Micah and his friends surf sometimes, and they’d come in afterwards with their wet suits off to their waists, like half-peeled bananas.” Ericka giggled. “The boss always made them sit outside so they didn’t drip all over the floor. When things got worse at home, I started working at the juice bar more—for the money, and also just to get away. One day, Micah came to pick up his carrot-ginger juice, and he just stopped and looked at me, really looked at me. And he asked me why I was so sad.” Ericka’s voice cracked, her eyes shiny. “I burst into tears, and my boss was so freaked out, he told me to take the rest of the day off.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “Not really comfortable around too much estrogen, you know?”
Karina smiled as she refilled the water bucket.
“So, I took off my apron and sat outside with Micah and Justin and Cameron. Have you met Cameron, from the bike shop?”
Karina nodded, remembering Cameron had been a guest at Thanksgiving. At the time, Karina had been proud to be the first of that group to move in. Now, tossing fresh hay into the stall, she was ashamed of her pettiness.
“It was like this black storm cloud that had been hanging over me just lifted away a little bit. They were so kind. They made me laugh. I came to the Sanctuary that night for dinner.” She looked over at Karina with a smile. “The next morning, I waited till he left the apartment, then I packed up my one bag and left. After two years of living together, it turned out to be just that easy. New home, new friends. Even took on a new name.” Karina looked incredulously at her. “First, it was so he couldn’t find me.” Ericka stroked the horse’s long neck. “But sometimes, when the answer comes easy like that, you know it’s right. I’m telling you, Karina, this place is magic. Just let go and see what happens.”
* * *
Late that afternoon, standing in the middle of the fields, Micah called out to them, “Group circle in an hour, folks.”
“What’s that?” Karina asked August, who was working near her. He’d rolled up the long sleeves of his
shirt, revealing forearms marked with bold tattoos: a thick ankh symbol on his left arm, a bass clef on the right. She recognized that his was the body she’d seen entangled with Zoe the night before.
August raised an eyebrow. “Group circle? We do it a couple of times a week. Kind of a collective therapy session—a chance to keep ourselves honest and clear the air around here.”
An hour later, they sat on the grass so that everyone was able to see one another. Micah plucked a fresh lemon from a nearby tree and held it in the air. “Same ground rules as always. Only speak if you have the lemon. And speak with complete honesty.” Micah had told her that one of the cardinal rules at the Sanctuary was to ask a question like “How are you?” only if you genuinely had the time and desire to hear an honest answer. Similarly, you should not blithely say “nothing” or “fine” in response, as you’d been used to doing before.
David, one of the older guys in the house at almost forty, held up his hand and Micah tossed the lemon to him. He turned it over in his hand for a moment, then looked directly across the circle. “Justin, I feel like you’re shirking your responsibilities in the field. You help a bit with the weeding or fertilizing, then wander off somewhere on the property and come back when the work is nearly completed. I had to say something, man, after today.” David looked around at the others to explain. “He was taking a nap under that big oak tree on the other side of the hill. We can’t be doing that.”
“Speak directly to Justin,” Micah said gently, “and speak only about your own feelings.”
Justin held up his hand and David pitched the lemon at him. “I felt really violated today, man. You invaded my privacy. I feel like you’re trying to control me, to impose yourself—”
“Remember to use ‘I’ instead of ‘you,’” Micah reminded him.
The discussion escalated as David grew angry and impatient, and Justin became defensive. Karina was uncomfortable watching what felt like a private altercation between two people along with a gallery of observers, though there was also a bit of a voyeuristic thrill in it.
Ericka, who was always cheerful with everyone, spoke up. “Justin, I was disappointed when we went to the grocery store last week. You left me to go wandering through the produce section, tasting samples and chatting up the staff.” Ericka’s tone was nonconfrontational. Micah was nodding. “I was just disappointed you weren’t really my partner.” After she spoke, Justin’s posture changed. He sat on the floor with his knees folded, his arms wrapped loosely around them, staring at a spot on the floor. Justin was the newest person in the house other than Karina, and his discomfort at this moment became hers. She made a mental note to be more helpful around the house with meals and cleanup, even when she was exhausted.
“Justin, how do you feel, hearing that?” Micah asked.
“Feels shitty, man.” Justin scratched at his sideburn and shook his head. “I don’t mean to be a free rider here, but I guess that’s what I’ve been doing.” He looked up now, around the circle. “It’s no excuse, but it’s just nice to be in a place where I can count on people, you know? Where everybody”—Karina was surprised to hear a crack in his gruff voice—“everybody takes care of me.” He sniffed, brushed his nose roughly with his thumb. “I never had that before, you know, growing up with a drunk mom and no dad. Nobody ever gave a shit about me.”
Karina felt her throat swell as Justin’s voice caught, recognizing that sense of feeling alone, if not as neglected as he’d been. He cleared his throat and continued. “I’m not used to being able to count on people. I guess I was taking advantage of that.” He hung his head and spoke the next words softly. “I’m sorry, people. I’m genuinely sorry. I’ll do better.”
Karina looked around the group, unsure how to react. To her surprise, it was David who stood up and crossed the circle. He reached a hand toward Justin, pulled him to his feet and gave him a bear hug. David braced his strong hands on each of Justin’s shoulders and said, “I just want you to be the best you can be, man.” Justin nodded, then Ericka stood to embrace him. Karina wondered if they were all expected to repeat this gesture and readied herself to stand, but Micah spoke up. “Let’s take ten minutes and meet back here.”
Micah, David and Justin huddled together, and Karina walked over to the patio and found August lighting up a cigarette. “Is that allowed?” she asked. August smiled wryly and shook his head. “Not usually, but I get a reprieve during group circle. So tense sometimes, I need something to take the edge off, you know?”
Karina nodded. She had just witnessed something remarkable transpire. Such honesty and self-revelation were foreign to her, and perhaps this was why she found herself so intrigued by it.
August turned his head to exhale. “Three cigarettes a week is still better than the pack and a half I used to smoke every day. At this rate, I’ll be weaned completely by summer. I never liked to smoke in the summer anyway.”
“Ah,” Karina said, “so you’re more of a seasonal smoker?” She smiled at August. It was a relief to discuss something light after the emotional intensity of group circle. “By the way, you were really great at the Music Salon last night.”
August smiled and shook his head. “You know, Micah is like a musical genius. He plays four instruments totally by ear. He doesn’t like people to know this, but he went to Juilliard for a few years before he moved out here.”
“He did? Why wouldn’t he want people to know that?” Karina asked.
August shrugged. “You know, Micah doesn’t believe in labels. They get in the way of your authentic self. It’s one of the reasons he started the Sanctuary, where we can all just be our best selves. Without all the crap out there.” He nodded out to the horizon, encompassing the world outside their property.
33 | the olanders
FEBRUARY 2015
Keith entered the hotel ballroom shortly before the event was to begin and saw the event planner rushing from table to table, adjusting centerpieces. He couldn’t help but notice her shapely figure in the snug black dress as she leaned over.
“Oh!” She stopped bustling when she noticed him and came over, breathless. “Everything looks good. The AV guys were here an hour ago and we double-checked all the equipment. The laptop’s hooked up to the screen and . . . what else?” She glanced around the room, decorated with platinum tablecloths, elegant white and green floral arrangements and strategically placed up lights that created a soft, sophisticated glow. Large commercial cameras on tripods stood in the corners of the room, and glittering silver stars hung from the ceiling. Lining the entrance to the ballroom was a replica of the Hollywood Walk of Fame, with a star emblazoned with the name of each person on the company’s management team.
“Looks great,” Keith said. Brittany . . . Brandy . . . What was the girl’s name? He’d only spoken with her a dozen times over the past few months as she organized this closing dinner for one of the firm’s top clients. Vida had become the number one player in video editing software with its acquisition of a competitor, a transaction Keith had led and closed.
“Brianna?” one of the hotel’s catering staff called out. “Do you want the cupcake tower set up before guests arrive or after dinner?”
Brianna. That was it.
* * *
Hours later, after two glasses of champagne and an earthy burgundy, Keith stood at the podium and praised Vida’s CEO and management team for their visionary leadership and shrewd business acumen. After he showed a short film that satirized Vida’s laborious acquisition process and generated much laughter and applause, the CEO replaced Keith at the podium.
Mack raised his glass. “I want to start out by thanking Keith Olander for closing this transaction, against many obstacles. Not only is he great at his job, but he’s truly one of the good guys.” Mack took a sip and everyone else followed suit, and the room resonated with the clinking of glasses and people calling out Keith’s name.
One of the good guys. What did that even mean? In this crowd, the bar was pretty low. Keith
wasn’t an adulterer, he was generous at bonus time and he didn’t yell at his people. But did all that add up to make him good?
What would happen if people found out about the SEC investigation? The reputation he’d worked so hard to build would be tarnished in an instant. Jaya had always warned him to be extra careful with every expense report, in every interaction with subordinates who might be sensitive to criticism. He’d always believed that she just didn’t understand the culture of investment banking and the people who populated it—the crude language, the yelling at analysts like it was military boot camp, the punishment of long hours and work overloads that simply came with the territory. He hadn’t yet told Robbie Weiss, his boss and CEO of the firm, but he would need to soon if the investigation proceeded. With heaviness settling in his stomach, Keith recalled his father’s words: “Don’t pre-worry. Deal with it when it happens.” This had been his mantra every time creditors came calling or a business started heading south. And where did that advice get him? Keith always thought it made his father a coward, the way he shirked from his impending failures, but he supposed that depended on how you defined success.
* * *
Later, over drinks at the bar, Mack and the team ribbed Keith about the attractive bartender who kept flirting with him. Mostly married themselves, these guys loved to live vicariously through Keith, whom they imagined bringing home a different woman every night. They had no idea how it really felt to be alone in a hotel room, flipping aimlessly through TV channels to fill the few hours between work and sleep, knowing that no one was waiting for a good-night phone call from him or would anticipate his flight home the next day. These guys envied his freedom, but they didn’t understand how draining dating could be—the dance of figuring out someone new, the mishaps of expectations and communication that inevitably arose. And it didn’t sit right with him, to be seen as a swinger rather than a husband and father. It was a reminder that he’d failed at his most important life roles. Without satisfying the guys’ prurient interests, Keith excused himself for the night on the pretext of his early morning flight.