The Shape of Family Read online

  * * *

  On the morning of the community board meeting to address the chickens, they held a special meditation session on the back patio. With her eyes closed, Sero followed the mental images Micah painted, of the future utopian Sanctuary, where they not only grew all their own fruits and vegetables, but also produced their own milk, made their own yogurt, butter and cheese, baked their own bread. Solar panels and water wells would minimize their impact on the earth. She meditated on what this place would feel like, the pride that would come from knowing they were self-sufficient, that they were not taking from the planet but taking care of it. When Sero opened her eyes afterwards, she was not the only one wiping away tears. The sun was rising over the hills in the distance, the birds were chirping, and she had never felt so sanguine about her future than at that moment.

  Micah proposed that the entire Sanctuary family undertake a one-day fast, to demonstrate solidarity and resolve for their mission. “You must decide what you’re willing to sacrifice for the greater good of this community,” he said. “Are you willing to give up a few meals that your body doesn’t even truly need? It’s not much of a sacrifice when you think of it that way, is it?”

  Everyone readily agreed, so after yoga, they all went directly to their work, while Micah left for the meeting. The day seemed to drag on forever. Sero hadn’t realized how much time was normally passed in preparing, enjoying and cleaning up from breakfast and dinner. She grew hungry a few times, but her appetite passed, and she found herself acceptably satiated with tea and chewing gum. The true deprivation was not having Micah around.

  When he walked in the door, six hours later, one of his shirttails was untucked and his hair was disheveled—the way he looked after a late-night jam session. He dropped his binder of materials on the table with a thud. Sero felt her stomach twist with anxiety. She had listened to Micah rehearse his presentation last night, in his bedroom. She’d thought he was very persuasive and told him so.

  “Friends, we have a formidable enemy over there.” Micah stretched out his arm and pointed outside. “But today, we prevailed.” His face brightened with a smile, and enthusiasm crept into his voice. “I made our case for the chicken coop and the board agreed we have a right to keep the birds on our property.”

  Ericka and Zoe started cheering. “All right, Micah!” Rufus called out. “That’s my man!” Sero felt a silent pride gathering within her chest.

  “So, I’ve decided we should get a dozen more chicks and expand the coop. And beginning tomorrow, I’m going to start looking for two calves. Finally, there will be milk at the Sanctuary!” At this, everyone applauded. August held two fingers to his mouth and let out a long, high wolf whistle.

  “They approved the cows?” Sero beamed at him, the hunger pangs in her belly all but forgotten. “Not yet, but they will. Right now, we need to send a message to that neighbor, to the board. We aren’t going to be subject to power and control by others. We came to the Sanctuary so we can live free. We didn’t escape the oppression of our dysfunctional families or our abusive relationships or our addictions just to be subject to more unjust rules, did we?”

  “No!” they said back in unison. “No, we didn’t!”

  “We came together to live a better way. We don’t need permission for that. We’re getting closer to our dream, friends.” Micah smiled.

  * * *

  The next morning, Sero came down to the kitchen to find an enormous pile of assorted citrus heaped on the island: oranges, grapefruits, tangerines. Chef Guy was slicing and working the fruit through a commercial juicer, filling up a big pitcher. “What’s all this? From our trees?” Sero asked skeptically.

  “Nope.” Rufus grinned as he peeled an orange. “Courtesy of our fine neighbor. We’re showing him: he can’t control what we do with our land, or we’ll control his.”

  “You just took all this? Does Micah know?” Sero asked, as Ericka and Zoe joined them in the kitchen.

  Rufus looked up at her, one eyebrow raised. “Whose idea do you think it was?” He popped a slice of orange into his mouth. “Mmm, these blood oranges are awesome! Try.” He offered some to the three women.

  “No, thanks,” Ericka said. “I’m fasting a little while longer.”

  “Still?” Sero asked.

  “Me too,” Zoe added. “It was such a high yesterday, and our focus really worked, you know, to support Micah?”

  Sero skipped breakfast to go along with the others, but by noon, her hunger got the better of her and she came up from the basement to get something from the kitchen. Rummaging through the fridge, she found a package of pre-sliced cheese. The wrapper bore the name of the monster chain with new stores deceptively called “neighborhood markets,” but which still sold the mass-manufactured food they shunned at the Sanctuary. Curious, she pulled out a slice and nibbled on the corner. It was flavorless and had the texture of smooth plastic. Where had this come from, and why was it in their otherwise wholesome kitchen?

  Looking around, she found more anomalous grocery items: blueberries and apples that weren’t organic, bottles of vinegar and almond butter from the same mega-market. She took the vinegar bottle in hand, intending to find Micah and ask him who was doing the shopping, but then reconsidered. He was under so much pressure these days. Some nights, he laid his head on her shoulder in bed and confessed that the problems with the house and landlord were weighing heavily on him. Sero wanted to continue to be his place of refuge, not another source of worry.

  * * *

  Ericka began to lead regular fasting days at the Sanctuary every Sunday. After meditation and yoga, when they would normally eat breakfast, she instead led them through a visualization exercise to imagine all the energy their bodies normally expended in food preparation and consumption being redirected toward building their vision of the Sanctuary and out into the universe toward the collective good of others. “We can sustain ourselves on much less than we do. Don’t be greedy in taking from the universe. Teach yourself to step back, take less, leave more for others. Self-restraint will make you stronger.”

  Serotina grew accustomed to the fasting days, especially since she had not been eating lunch for months now. She knew there would be a wall of hunger in the late morning, and another in the late afternoon, and she pushed through them by steadily drinking black coffee and tea. She found it remarkable that her body could go an entire twenty-four hours without food, when all her life she had fed it every few hours without even thinking about it. Sometimes she felt drowsy or a little dizzy in the sun, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle.

  After a couple of weeks, Ericka began fasting on Wednesdays as well. Some people in the house joined her and others did not. While Serotina had come to appreciate the feeling of discipline and cleansing she had on Sundays, she found a second fasting day too difficult to endure. On Wednesdays, she ate breakfast furtively and felt guilty whenever she did so in front of Ericka, who remained cheerful as she worked hard all day.

  * * *

  At the end of April, Sero noticed that about a quarter of the cannabis plants in the flowering room had developed mold on their leaves. She tried to nurse the damaged plants back to health by pruning them, but when that proved ineffective, she isolated them to stop the mold from spreading to the other plants. Climbing the steps out of the basement, she wondered how she was going to break the news to Micah that they needed to procure new plants, mature ones, which would be costly, if they wanted to fulfill their existing orders on time.

  Walking through the house to look for him, she heard the sound of a guitar strumming from the living room. She followed it, picking up the distinct tenor of Micah’s deep voice, and the undertones of someone else’s. Something made her walk quietly toward the room and approach from the side where she wouldn’t be seen. Her stomach fell as she saw Micah sitting behind Cerise, holding a guitar on her knee, her hair falling into her face. His left hand was on top of hers, instructing her where to put her fingers on the fingerboard. She’d heard a rumor
that Cerise might be invited to move into the Sanctuary but had brushed it off since no consensus vote had come up yet. The only open space in the house was in Sero’s room, which for the past four months had been hers alone. But now, as she watched Micah brush Cerise’s hair from her eye, she wondered if she’d missed something. Cerise giggled when she managed to play a chord. Sero backed away quietly from the living room and returned to the basement.

  During the next morning’s meditation session, she reflected on the scene with Micah and Cerise. Why had it bothered her so? He was just showing her how to play the guitar. Micah was a kind-hearted, generous soul. That’s why everyone loved him. That’s why she loved him. And he loved everyone. He told them all that, individually and collectively, all the time. She chided herself for her own small-mindedness.

  * * *

  “We need to talk about who’s moving in next.” Justin opened up the group circle discussion. They were in the living room, sitting on the large leather sectional and the floor. “Cameron’s been waiting since Thanksgiving, man.”

  “There are some concerns about Cameron,” Micah said gently. He stood up and began walking around the perimeter of the circle, hands clasped behind his back. “Cerise and Daphne are moving in this Friday. They’ll be joining Sero in the theater, so we’ll need everyone to help get them situated and prepare a welcome meal.”

  “When did we decide on that?” Justin said. “I don’t recall voting for them.”

  “I don’t know, you must’ve missed that group circle, Justin. Maybe you were napping.”

  Sero thought back to the group circles she’d attended and those she might have missed for work, because she didn’t remember voting on Cerise and Daphne either.

  “When are we voting on Cameron?” Justin asked. “I’d like to know what the issue is. He’s a totally stand-up guy, I can vouch for him.”

  “We don’t have space right now,” Micah said. “Also, the dairy cows are arriving soon and we need to figure out a milking schedule—”

  “Don’t change the subject,” Justin interrupted. “Cameron can bunk with me. We can squeeze another futon in the room.”

  “Justin!” Micah snapped. “We’ll discuss it later, you and me. Okay?” He stared Justin down. Sero felt her stomach curdle with anxiety. No one spoke back to Micah, not even in jest.

  “Nah.” Justin shrugged. “Let’s do it now.” He rolled his head to look around the circle. “In front of everyone. That’s the way it’s supposed to be, right? Everything out in the open. So, here’s what I think, Micah. You like bringing in more girls, especially your type of girls—”

  “The dairy cows will need regular—” Micah interrupted in a raised voice.

  “What happened to consensus, huh? Or even democracy? It’s a fuckin’ dictatorship. Should we even be getting cows, with all the methane they release—”

  “ENOUGH!” Micah bellowed from deep in his throat, an outburst that shut down Justin and took everyone else aback. Sero glanced around; the others looked as shocked and frightened as she felt, averting their eyes from both Micah and Justin. “Group circle’s over for today. We have a ton of work to do. It looks like shit out there. The beans need trellises, the strawberries haven’t been watered in forever, and the damn citrus trees have some sort of pest infestation. Don’t you care about this place, guys?” When no one responded, he yelled, “Let’s GO!”

  Everyone scrambled to their feet and moved outside. Micah and Justin remained behind, and that was just as well. Sero was so disturbed by Micah’s anger that she didn’t want to see him right now. The mood in the fields was tense, as everyone busily pulled out work gloves and tools and worked quietly.

  “I think Justin’s tried to hit on every woman here,” Zoe said at last.

  Not me, Sero thought, unsure how to feel about this.

  “And he always does a half-ass job washing dishes,” David added.

  “Well, it would help to have regular hot water in the kitchen,” August said, chuckling. “How long till the plumbing’s finally repaired?”

  Sero tried to tune it all out, the negativity and the bickering. She walked over to the citrus grove by herself and tried to figure out what was wrong with the trees. Some type of pest had been eating tiny holes in the leaves and leaving a viscous white layer on the fruit, which couldn’t be scrubbed away. It would require some research to find a solution, but she was preoccupied with Greenfields and the moldy plants, about which she still hadn’t told Micah, and now she was even more reluctant to do so.

  Sero was uneasy the rest of the day. She and Jasmine went about their work at the Greenfields farm—mixing the feed in large tubs, replacing burned out bulbs—without discussing what had transpired during group circle that morning. Was she the only one who thought something was wrong? She kept dwelling on Justin’s accusations. Is that why there were so many ethnicities in the house? Was the very thing that had made her so comfortable here all to suit Micah’s taste—all the petite, attractive, tan-skinned women? When their work for the day was done, Sero returned to the house and headed for the front closet to retrieve her phone, craving a conversation with Izzy.

  When she reached the foyer, however, she heard loud banging sounds coming from outside and glanced out one of the windows beside the front door. Micah was out there alone, swinging a pickaxe over his head at a new patch of paver stones near the unearthed pipes. She watched for a few moments; the wild, violent way he swung was disturbing. Sero grabbed her phone and ran out the back door toward the stables. She slowed to a walk when she was a comfortable distance from the house, and dialed Izzy’s number. Voice mail. She texted her mom, who was now back from India and had shared pictures of her grandparents and their flowering oleander bushes.

  When she reached the stables, she stroked Buddy’s head for a few moments before entering the stall. She raked up the floor, refreshed his bucket of water and put out some fresh hay, even though the last batch was barely touched. The horse was uncharacteristically quiet, his tail hanging limply as she moved around him. “Hey, Buddy,” Sero said, picking up the body brush and turning her attention to his coat. She noticed a lump protruding above the corner of his mouth and touched it gently. “What’s wrong, huh?” Buddy remained staid, unresponsive even when she tried to lead him out of the stall for a walk. Not until she was back at the house did her phone buzz in her pocket. Surrounded by the others, she reluctantly sent Izzy to voice mail.

  It was a small group for dinner that evening, as Ericka, Zoe and a few others were on their Wednesday fast. The big group dinners that Sero had loved so much didn’t happen as often at the Sanctuary anymore, and this saddened her. Micah joined them late in the dining room, but Justin did not show up. “What happened?” Sero whispered to Micah as they ate. “With Justin,” she added in response to his blank look.

  “Gone,” he said, reaching for his wineglass.

  “What? For good?” She felt an unsettling in the pit of her stomach.

  “Yes, for good. And it really is. His choice, but good for all of us.” He looked at her with a smile and took a long sip of wine.

  41 | serotina

  APRIL 30, 2015

  The next evening, after dinner, Micah called for a group circle. They sat outside, around the large firepit, each person’s face either aglow or shadowed, depending on the angle.

  “We have to get serious here, friends.” Micah took a plump grapefruit from a nearby tree and rolled it into the center of the circle. “As you all know, Justin left yesterday. After his outburst during group circle, we had an open discussion, and I decided it was time for him to leave.”

  Sero replayed his words from the night before. Hadn’t Micah told her that Justin had chosen to leave on his own?

  “But his stuff is still in our room,” Jeremy said. “You sure he’s not just pissed off, the way he gets sometimes, and he’ll come back in a few days?”

  “He’s not coming back. I asked him to leave and that’s final. He didn’t want his belongings. Yo
u can use them or toss them,” Micah said. “As we all know, the Sanctuary is a special place. Many of you pointed out that Justin didn’t honor our values all the time, so it was best for him to leave. For the good of the group.” Micah glanced around the circle. “This is an important juncture, friends. Cerise and Daphne are joining us tomorrow. We’re on the verge of great things. Each of you should ask yourself right now, at this moment, whether you really believe in our vision.” It sounded like a rhetorical question, so Sero remained quiet, but she saw several people nodding. “Do you?” Micah extended his arms out in front of him.

  “Yes,” David said.

  “Yes!” Ericka echoed. And a chorus of voices called back to him.

  “What are you willing to do to make those beliefs a reality?” Micah’s voice rose. “It won’t be easy. We have obstacles and challenges in many forms. There are those, like Justin, who try to break us down from the inside. And there are those out there”—he pointed out behind him—“who are threatened by what we represent. I want to show you something.” Micah stood, walked a few feet away from the firepit, and came back carrying a newspaper bundle. “This is an example of what we have to contend with.” He placed the bundle down on the ledge of the firepit and delicately began to unwrap it.

  Jasmine screamed, her hands flying up to cover her face.

  “Oh my god,” Ericka said.

  “What the hell is that?” Rufus muttered.

  Sero craned her neck to see. Nestled in the center of the crumpled newspaper was a grotesque bloody mess of matted white feathers, tiny entrails, and what appeared to be a small orange beak.

  “That,” Micah said, pointing to the bundle, “is what’s left of our dozen new baby chicks, courtesy of our neighbor’s dog.”

  The rest of the group shook their heads in disgust. “Oh my god, what a sick fuck,” Rufus muttered.

  “He’s doing this because he’s threatened by us, but we’re not going to let him win,” Micah said. “Tomorrow, I’m going to get two dozen new baby chicks, and we’re going to install barbed wire around the coop, in case that dog comes back.”