The Shape of Family Read online

  “We’ll just send him a little warning.” Rufus took the jug from Micah, unscrewed the lid and pulled back from the sharp odor. “Show him it’s in his interest to let us be.”

  Micah nodded. “And if he keeps messing with us, the karma’s going to come around to him. Use it liberally on the fruit.” He wiped his hands on his jeans. “Live and let live. That’s all I’m saying. Not like it’s strong enough to kill people.”

  “I’m not sure about that.” Sero rose slowly from her chair.

  “Ah.” Micah waved his hand in her direction. “Don’t worry so much, Sero. It’s fine.”

  “Hey, Jas,” Rufus said. “You want to give me a hand with these?” He hoisted the two large black trash bags he’d filled.

  “Sure.” Jasmine jumped up to help, and as Sero watched them ascend the stairs, she wondered if there was something going on between the two of them.

  Once they were alone in the basement, Micah stepped toward her. “Hey, don’t be angry with me. I can’t handle that right now.” He reached out a hand, and Sero, softening, took it. He caressed her face with both hands, then closed his startling blue eyes and leaned forward to kiss her, long and slow. Despite herself, she melted under his prolonged touch. “Thank god for you, Sero. You, and this . . .” He gestured around the basement. “If it wasn’t for Greenfields, none of this would be possible. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “What are we doing here, Micah?” She couldn’t hold it in any longer; she needed answers.

  His mouth formed a lopsided half-smile and his eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what are we really doing?” She let go of his hands. “I’m not sure anymore. First you said Justin decided to leave, then you said you kicked him out. All decisions are supposed to be unanimous, but you just decided yourself on Cerise and Daphne. You didn’t even ask me, and they’re sharing my room.”

  Micah’s smile twisted into a sneer. “Oh, so now you want to question me? Because you’re jealous? Don’t do that, Sero. That is so predictable, so beneath you, common jealousy.” He shook his head and she noticed the pulsing of his jaw muscle.

  Sero felt perspiration moisten her armpits. She forced a smile onto her face, stepped forward and took his hand again, hearing the thud of her heartbeat loud in her throat. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, lightly on the lips. “You’re right. I’m so sorry. I just . . . miss you.”

  Micah gave her a small smile, but she saw a distinct coldness in his eyes.

  * * *

  After Micah left the basement, Serotina walked out the exterior door to the stairwell at the side of the house. She sat on the top step, staring out over the grounds of the Sanctuary, where the sun would soon be setting. She loved this place, how it shaped her view of what was possible. She loved the people here, who had been so welcoming and supportive, seeing only the best in her. Ericka had offered her friendship and vulnerability. Zoe had taught her through yoga how to integrate parts of herself that hadn’t made sense together before. Jeremy and August had helped her move out of her lonely apartment. Micah was the first person to truly see her for who she was. He had held her hand when she entered the ocean, helped her face her fears with gentle confidence.

  The money, the papers in his office, Justin’s accusations—it didn’t add up. Sero suddenly felt as if she couldn’t breathe freely. She knew there were problems brewing here, but she didn’t know if she could bring herself to leave this place. What about her friends? How could she just leave them behind if she cared about them? She could be more effective by staying. She’d been able to influence Micah before; she could help him get back on track now. And if not, perhaps she could convince some of the others, at least Ericka, to leave with her.

  Serotina stood and walked toward the swimming pool. She pushed off her sandals and wrapped her toes over the edge. The scent of chlorine drifted up and began to itch at her nose, but she stood in place and inhaled deeply. Her mind drifted back in time, running over the years like a stone skipping water, alighting on certain memories. She thought of Prem’s bright smile, her mother with her roses, her father teaching her to play golf. She thought of Izzy and her dog and Mr. Chuckles, Mrs. Galbraith and her bonsai. She remembered the glory of winning a trophy at the Science Olympiad, and the pride she felt when she was awarded her scholarship. She thought of James, and she allowed herself to linger on those memories—the good ones—for a while.

  She sat down at the pool’s edge, observing how the water distorted the size and color of her feet. Last year, she hadn’t been able to get this close to a pool without panicking. Her mind returned to Micah and the things he’d taught her, the things he’d said. If it wasn’t for Greenfields, none of this would be possible. She heard something deep inside her, barely discernible: a voice telling her what to do. But fear shrouded her, paralyzing her.

  “Hey, Sero!” A voice from behind startled her. Ericka was leaning out of the back patio door. “Dinner!”

  Sero waved at her, then stood, shook off her feet and returned to the basement. Inside, she locked the door and worked quickly, some force propelling her through the next motions. She carefully poured the large jug of rat poison into the newest batch of seedlings, young and vulnerable. She rinsed out the empty jug in the utility sink. After filling it with water, she placed it in the same spot on the basement floor, this one small act of courage all she could muster right now.

  * * *

  By the time Sero joined the group in the dining room, Micah was speaking, holding a wineglass in the air.

  “There are those who are threatened by what we represent,” he said as she entered. “We must fortify ourselves. Tomorrow night, there will be a new moon—it won’t be visible in the night sky, but it is a new beginning, and I propose a celebration at the Sanctuary. A bacchanalia. A ceremony of rebirth and recommitment. We will pledge ourselves to one another, and to our vision of the Sanctuary. Let us all wear white, the color of purity. We’ll enjoy a tremendous feast, music and swimming under the stars. I will share an exciting new initiative that will change everything we do at the Sanctuary.” He smiled over at Sero. “And each of the rest of us will present an offering to our family here at the Sanctuary—words of what this place means to you, food you have prepared, music from your heart. It will be . . .” He cast his glance skyward for the right word. “A Renaissance.” A broad smile spread across his face. “We will recommit to one another and look to the future.”

  How badly Sero wanted to believe him, to fall into the vision of comfort and love he presented.

  “Are you with me?” Micah asked softly, and someone in the group murmured. “Are you with me?” he said, louder, and several voices assented. “Are you with me?” Micah’s voice rose, had risen, turning his question into more of an exclamation, and as the group shouted, “Yes!” Sero found herself joining in.

  * * *

  Later that night, upstairs in the theater room, Cerise and Daphne were preoccupied, planning their contribution to the Renaissance. Serotina pulled her journal from the top drawer of the dresser, flipped to the back and pulled out the page torn from the calendar in her room years ago. The grainy image of Prem, with his missing front teeth and ice-pop blue tongue, made her smile. He would look nothing like that now, of course. She tried to see him as he would be today at fourteen: as tall as her, with oversized man feet, and a thick swath of hair falling into those thickly-lashed eyes that the girls would love. Touching his nose, she refolded the picture and slid it under her pillow.

  46 | serotina

  MAY 18, 2015

  The next day, everyone was in heightened spirits as they prepared for the evening’s festivities. Ericka and Zoe offered to do a load of laundry with bleach to ensure that everyone would have enough white clothes. The spirit of celebration reminded Serotina of her Thanksgiving visit, when she had felt swept up by the collective energy. She collected eggs from the coop and harvested some vegetables, then helped Ericka roll out pastry for an apple
pie. Along with everyone else in the house, who had showered at staggered intervals so they could all have hot water, she dressed in white clothes—a pair of skinny jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt. She took the folded calendar page from under her pillow and tucked it into her back pocket, wanting Prem close by.

  As the sun began to set, Micah called them all out onto the patio, where he opened two bottles of champagne and passed them around to kick off the festivities. Sero stood at the back of the group, leaning against the house. Micah stood in front of them, fingertips touching, as he waited for everyone to have a glass in hand. “Tonight, our Renaissance will serve as our recommitment to one another and the community we are building here at the Sanctuary. And to initiate the newest members of our family.” He smiled generously at Cerise, who was sitting practically at his feet, and Sero felt her expression curdle before she caught herself. “But first,” Micah continued, pacing the width of the patio. “I want to share an exciting announcement. Serotina, Jasmine and Rufus have been working for months to build an important new initiative here at the Sanctuary, down in the basement. It’s called Greenfields, and it produces the best medical marijuana on the market today.”

  Sero saw the others share looks of surprise and approval. David smiled widely and pumped a fist in the air. “Just medical?”

  “Well,” Micah said, smiling, “it meets the rigorous testing requirements for medical marijuana.” He paused. “But we’re all adults here, and you’ll all get a sample tonight.”

  Cheers and hollers went up in the crowd. Sero noticed Zoe put a hand on August’s arm.

  “Let’s thank Serotina, Jasmine and Rufus for their efforts,” Micah continued. “Their work enables us to do so much good for so many people, and we can feel good about that, as a family.”

  Sero heard a low snort. As she looked around to see who might have made the noise, Micah began to walk the perimeter of the patio. “And this, in turn, gives us greater freedom. We can now afford to focus all our energies, collectively, here at the Sanctuary. Those with outside jobs can leave them.” Jeremy cheered and whistled at this news. “No more dividing your time and energy. No more working for someone else.” He held his champagne glass high in the air. “You can work for your family and your community and your future!” The group erupted into cheers, and as Micah waited for them to die down, he walked around the circle, touching shoulders and arms as he passed. “The earnings from Greenfields will finally allow us to make the investments we’ve been wanting to and get us one step closer to making our dream a reality.” He stopped behind Jasmine, resting both of his hands on her shoulders as he looked around the circle. “Solar panels. Dairy cows. More fruit trees.”

  The snorting sound came again, louder, and this time Sero knew its source was unquestionably August.

  “How about some hot water?” August spoke up. “It would be nice to take more than a three-minute shower.” There were a few chuckles from the group, but not Micah, whose expression remained serious. Sero watched him nervously.

  “Well, if small, individual comforts are more important than investments that benefit the earth, then yes, I suppose we can consider plumbing,” Micah said with distinct sarcasm. “But we did this so we can—”

  “We?” August interrupted. “We did this? C’mon, man.” He looked to Zoe and Ericka on either side of him. “We didn’t take a vote and all decide to build a pot farm in the basement.” Zoe put a hand on his elbow and gave him a pleading look.

  There was silence while Micah and August locked eyes. Sero suddenly felt cold and wrapped her arms around herself. Micah turned away, and when he spoke again, his voice was calm and slow. “After dinner, we will begin our offerings to the Sanctuary, including our beautiful Music Salon. You guys are in for a real treat tonight. Daphne is a wicked guitar player.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and she beamed at him.

  August pushed back his chair, the legs scraping loudly against the patio stones, and he walked toward the swimming pool. Zoe stood to follow him, but Micah held up one palm. “Let him go, Zo. Give him his space.”

  Slowly, Zoe sank back down in her chair.

  “Cheers!” Micah held up his champagne glass and took a long sip, and everyone followed suit. After the toast, Micah asked Serotina to lead the group into the basement, where she explained the Greenfields operation, and Micah and Rufus rolled a few joints to take back upstairs. The group sat on the patio together, passing the joints and drinking champagne, watching the sun set on the horizon. Sero faked her turns at the joint, the way she’d learned to do at parties in high school. Down on the pool deck, August sat in a lounge chair, his back to them, the glow of a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers.

  Cerise leaned over to her. “Sero, it’s so amazing what you’re doing down there. I’m totally blown away.” Her words were slightly slurred. “I’m going to ask Micah if I can work with you guys. I bet he’ll let me.” She smiled and tried to raise an eyebrow but was too impaired and bent over laughing instead. Daphne was dancing by herself on the lawn; Jasmine and Rufus were slow dancing seductively together.

  After the sun dipped below the horizon, everyone went inside to help Chef Guy prepare their five-course feast. The air was suffused with the scent of marijuana. Sero watched Micah enter the kitchen, his arm around Zoe’s shoulders. Sero stood up, walked down to the pool deck and sat on the lounge chair next to August. He took a long draw on his cigarette and blew the smoke out the other side of his mouth. From behind them came the sound of the amplifiers starting up in the house, followed by a few twangy notes on electric guitar. August winced at the screech. “Jesus,” he muttered.

  “Hey, you want to talk?” Sero said gently.

  August shook his head. “Why, Micah send you to check on me?”

  Sero flinched. “No, I . . . ,” she stammered. “I was actually just going down to check on Buddy.” She put her hands on her knees as if she was ready to go. She had left her shoes inside but didn’t want to retrieve them now. “See you at dinner?”

  August dropped the stump of his cigarette onto the patio and took a new one out of the package.

  Serotina followed the path toward the stables and slowed her breath as she tried to compose herself. She checked the feed trough and noticed that Buddy was still not eating much. It had been a couple of weeks since she had noticed the lump near his mouth, which was still there. She began to brush out his coat and Buddy nickered quietly. She felt unsettled by August’s reaction, and hurt that he had dismissed her so brusquely. Suddenly, the music from the house stopped with a loud crashing noise, and moments later, a door slammed. She peered out the window to see August storm out of the house. He was heading down the path toward the stables, and she was about to go to him when she saw Micah chase after him. Sero drew back into the stable, where she could watch through the open window, out of view.

  “August!” Micah shouted, catching up to August outside the stable. “Hold up, Auggie! C’mon, man. You can’t be mad at me.”

  “I can’t?” August yelled. “I’m a fucking addict, Micah. You know that. You brought me here because it was a safe place. I’ve been clean over a year—”

  “Dude, this isn’t coke or heroin we’re talking about—it’s weed.”

  “Doesn’t matter, Micah. It’s still a drug!”

  “We have liquor in the house, and that’s a drug. Did you have champagne tonight, August, or am I mistaken about that?”

  “Fuck you, man!” August spat, pulling the box of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. “You’re a fucking hypocrite.”

  “And nicotine? You think that’s not a drug? Don’t fool yourself. I’m not the hypocrite here.”

  August pointed an unlit cigarette at Micah. “I see through you. She may not, but I see right fucking through you.”

  Micah turned his head slightly and considered August. “Ah, so that’s what this is about?”

  “You know damn well what it’s about.” August’s voice was tight and angry. He stood with his back to the
stable, facing Micah.

  “Listen, man,” Micah said. “We are all free to exercise our will, to be our own people. Zoe is free to make her own choices. The two of us go way back, man, before you were even here. There’s a deep connection between us. It’s undeniable.”

  Sero sank down to her knees as she unfolded Micah’s words, the same ones he’d used to describe the two of them. A hot flush of shame rose to her face, and she dropped her head into her hands.

  “I’m sorry you’re hurt,” Micah said, “but you know everyone here loves you. Zoe loves you. I love you.”

  “Why her, Micah? You can have anyone. Why her? I just can’t—” His voice broke off and he began to sob. “I thought this was my home. I thought you were my friend, man.”

  “We are all free, Auggie. All of us. You are too.”

  “Yeah, well,” August said, his voice turning harsh again. “Then I’m getting the fuck out of here.” He spat the words in Micah’s direction. “And Zoe’s coming with me.”

  “No, she’s not.” Micah’s voice was icy calm. “You can make a choice for yourself, not for someone else, not for her.”

  August threw the cigarette carton onto the ground, ran his hand through his hair and laughed. “God, I could really use a fucking joint right now.”

  “Auggie,” said Micah, shaking his head slightly, “you know it’s only you who can control those urges.”

  “You bring drugs in the house and tell me to resist, Micah? You’re full of shit and I finally see it.”

  Micah hooked his thumbs into his front pockets and smirked. “Well, I could say the same about Zoe. After all this time, how can you expect me to resist?”

  In a sudden burst, August took a swing at Micah, whose head twisted to the side as the punch landed. Sero covered her mouth with her palm to contain her gasp. Micah stumbled and, after he regained his footing, touched his mouth and saw blood. The expression around his eyes hardened. As if in slow motion, Micah reeled back his arm and his fist made contact with August’s jaw with an unmistakable crack. August flew backwards, his head slamming against the hard concrete wall of the stable. Buddy whinnied and shook his head. Sero wrapped her arms around Buddy’s neck and buried her face there, unsure if she was comforting him or herself.