The Shape of Family Read online

  “August!” Micah shouted. “Come on, Auggie.” Sero turned to peek through the window and saw Micah crouched on the ground, slapping August’s face. “Oh god. Oh no. Auggie! Oh shit.” She watched as he checked for August’s pulse at his wrist. Serotina felt her mind separate from her body, float up and high above it, watching the futility of the scene below. Micah put his ear to August’s mouth, shook his shoulders, then fell onto August’s chest. “Goddamn, Auggie. Goddamn you!”

  Sero sank down to the hay-covered floor and rocked back and forth. Something sharp and metallic glinted at her from beneath the shavings and she unearthed an old horseshoe nail. She clenched her fingers around it, then pulled its sharp metal tip across her forearm, slowly at first, then faster and harder until there was a series of crisscrossing red lines across the length of her inner arm: four, then sixteen, then sixty-four, and she lost count. A mixture of pain and relief flooded her body, her mind swirling with shame and guilt.

  When she came back to herself, she realized it was silent outside. On hands and knees, she peered through the doorway. August’s unmoving body lay on the ground, but Micah was gone. Sero crawled out of the stable, over to her friend. Memories flashed through her mind: the floating spaceship, his arm underneath. This time would be different. She would stay calm. She placed two fingers on August’s wrist and closed her eyes, willing herself to feel a pulse. Was it there? She couldn’t tell. She switched to the other wrist and tried again. Her breath quickened. She placed her ear to August’s mouth to feel his breath, to his chest to listen. She felt a drumming in her ears. Sirens? She looked around; the night sky was dark. The only sound was music coming from the house, a furious drum riff. She reached to her back pocket, but of course her phone wasn’t there. She had to call for help—how could she call? The house was so far away, and she couldn’t leave August here all alone.

  Just then, she heard a rustle. When she looked up, Micah was standing a few feet away, a shovel in his hand. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said.

  “We have to call for help,” she stammered. Buddy whinnied from the stable.

  “It’s too late. He’s gone.”

  She choked back tears, laying her palm on August’s chest. “No.”

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Micah repeated, his voice cold. “Go back to the party. Tell them everything’s fine. I’ll be up in a minute.”

  “What? We have to at least get Zoe. She deserves to know.”

  “I’ll tell Zoe later.”

  “What . . . what are you going to tell her?”

  “The truth,” Micah said. “August wasn’t committed to our cause anymore. He stopped believing in what we’re trying to do here. Did this to himself. Relapse.”

  She stood up slowly, shaking her head. “No.”

  “You know she’ll believe me,” Micah said. “It’s better for everyone this way, trust me. Now, go back to the party.”

  Something inside her boiled irrepressibly and the words erupted before she could stop herself. “You can’t do this, Micah. It’s . . . wrong.”

  “Wrong?” A dark shadow passed over Micah’s face and he smirked. “Like growing marijuana without a license? I can’t take credit for that. That was all you, wasn’t it? You purchased that equipment, using your credit card. You nurtured those plants and harvested them. There are a dozen witnesses in the house right now who will attest to that.” Micah held his arms wide, the shovel dangling from one of his hands. “Hell, it was even you who shipped those first packages across state lines. Don’t forget that, Karina.” That name punctuated his statement, his warning clear. “Now. Go back to the fucking party before people start wondering where we are.” He stabbed the tip of the shovel into the dirt. “Tell them August and I went for a nice long walk.”

  Sero looked down at August’s lifeless body one more time before making a wide circle around Micah and taking the trail back to the house. In darkness lit only by the moon, she picked her way carefully across the fields, not daring to look back toward the stables, where Buddy’s whinnying continued. Her mind ran through all the incidents he’d mentioned, forming a pattern. Micah had purchased the plants, but with a thick envelope of cash that left no trace. Her left arm ached with the angry gashes she’d made. She closed her eyes and felt them burning behind their lids, images of Micah’s hard expression and August’s lifeless body flashing across her mental screen. What had really happened to Justin, when he’d left all his belongings behind?

  Loud music emanated from the house, and she could hear the voices and laughter of her friends inside. Quietly and deliberately, she moved along the side of the house to the front, carefully making her way around the broken driveway stones in her bare feet. Her heart beat out a syncopated rhythm in her chest as she reached the bottom of the driveway and turned onto the road, then made her way down to the end of the cul-de-sac. Not until the festive sounds of the Sanctuary could no longer be heard behind her, did she finally feel safe.

  And then, she began to walk toward the Pacific Ocean, drawn to the largest body of water she could find.

  47 | prem

  Before that day—the day Kiki found me in the swimming pool—she loved the water. She liked to do somersaults underwater and practice her swan dives off the board, and she really loved being in the ocean, especially in Hawaii, where the water was warm. Neither of us could believe that was the same frigid body of water we saw when we drove up to San Francisco for Easter brunch. Kiki tried to walk into those cool, gray waves, but she couldn’t get in all the way; she couldn’t be the super-mermaid I drew into my award-winning graphic novel, WaterMan, who saves the world from drought.

  But she just stopped, after that day. She stopped going in the water, or even near the water, which made me sad, because in addition to me and Gilly, that was just one more thing she loved that she didn’t have in her life anymore. I was really proud of her when she was brave enough to do it again, to visit the ocean, then try surfing. I was proud of her when she dipped her toes into a swimming pool just like the one where she found me; I know she had to be really strong to do that. One day, I hope she’ll make it in all the way into a pool again.

  Kiki didn’t want to swim with me that day after school, and she didn’t want me to swim alone, but that’s no reason to be afraid of the water forever. There are good reasons to fear the water. It’s big, it’s powerful, it’s controlled by forces we can’t see, and it can make us feel really small when we stand next to it.

  But the water is also full of magic. When we go underwater, our bodies feel like we’re floating in outer space. Our ears feel like we’re in a tunnel. We can make bubbles and do somersaults and try all kinds of things we can’t do on land. All those amazing creatures live under the water: the colorful fish we saw in Hawaii, and some that don’t even look like fish, just like rocks or leaves. There’s a whole different world down there.

  I just wanted to look at the water that day. That’s why I climbed up onto the chair. Once I saw it, the clear blue pool with light dancing on its surface, I thought I would just dip my legs in. It was so refreshing and so playful, lapping at my legs, begging me to slip in. It couldn’t hurt, I thought, to play in a different world, where the rules of gravity and movement were different, just for a little while. And I had so much fun in the pool, steering my spaceship into another galaxy, hiding underneath it from the invading forces, shooting the spray gun I got at Tommy’s birthday party. It was so much fun. I can’t think of a better way to spend my last moments on earth.

  I wish my family could understand that. They always think about my death and me missing from their lives. But I had a pretty wonderful eight years with a family I loved, who usually laughed at my jokes, friends to see every day at school, pizza nights and vacations and birthdays filled with love. And I had the best sister in the world. My death was just a moment, and not even a bad one. I was joyful up until the end, then peaceful when Kiki was with me, then nothing.

  I’ve been with my family ever since that day,
and if they could really let go of all those feelings of guilt and sadness, they would feel me there.

  That’s what I tried to tell Kiki that day she reached the Pacific Ocean. I think she finally heard me.

  Found

  48 | the olanders

  MAY 19, 2015, 12:30 P.M.

  Keith’s hands grip the steering wheel as he drives faster than the speed limit, faster than is safe, the way people expect a middle-aged guy to drive an expensive sports car. He feels a twinge about how his life has turned into a cliché: a high-flying career, financial success (for now), failed marriage . . . wayward child?

  “Tell me again what the police said?” Jaya asks.

  Keith glances in his rearview mirror and down at the radar detector. “They picked her up this morning on the beach, alone, about twenty-five miles from campus. She was disoriented and gave them the wrong name at first, which is why it took a few hours for them to track us down. She called herself Sarah. Does that sound familiar to you, one of her friends?”

  Jaya shakes her head, stares out the window. Tension fills her chest cavity and her fists clench an imaginary steering wheel as they did that day after the phone call on her way home. She feels the terror of seeing emergency vehicles parked out front, and hears the screech of her tires as she drove up onto the flower bed. Once again, she is suspended in time and space, waiting for something terrible to arrive. She forces herself to breathe deeply, even as the image of Prem’s lifeless body on the pool deck intrudes.

  “Jaya.” Keith takes one hand off the wheel and places it atop hers. “I don’t know what’s going on, but it’ll be okay. If she’s in trouble, we can sort it out.” He doesn’t share what he learned on the drive over to the house, when he called the university and was told that their daughter was no longer enrolled, that she had not, in fact, been on campus in five months, ever since they saw her over winter break. Keith is wary of telling Jaya everything at once, uncertain of how much she can handle.

  Jaya closes her eyes and leans her head against the cool window, repeating a mantra softly under her breath, masked by the hum of the car’s engine. In her mind, she sees young Dev spinning away from her on the merry-go-round, then Prem sailing off into the universe. Now her daughter. The distance between Karina’s life and hers is increasing with the passage of time—a runaway bunny she cannot catch.

  * * *

  At the precinct station outside Santa Barbara, a young female officer meets Keith and Jaya at the front desk to escort them to the room upstairs where Karina is waiting. “Has your daughter ever been diagnosed with mental illness?” she asks as they climb the stairwell.

  “What?” Keith exclaims. “Of course not. She’s a scholarship student.”

  “It’s not unusual for bipolar disorder or schizophrenia to manifest for the first time in a person’s early twenties,” the officer says. “You should have her assessed when you get her home. In addition to the disorientation and name confusion, she appears to be food-deprived and have some self-inflicted wounds on her inner arm.”

  Keith stops on the landing. “She . . . you mean, she tried to kill herself?”

  The officer looks slowly from one of them to the other. “They don’t appear to be those kinds of wounds, not a serious attempt at suicide anyway. But there are signs of self-harm.”

  “What was she doing at the ocean?” Jaya asks.

  “According to the 911 caller, she stood in the water for a while before walking farther in. She was dressed in street clothes, so I don’t know what her intentions were, if she was in possible danger of . . . well, drowning can happen quickly in those currents. Even for a strong swimmer.”

  A small cry escapes from Jaya as she stumbles on the step, grabbing the banister just in time. Keith moves to hold her up and keeps his arm wrapped around her shoulders as they take the last few stairs together.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Olander,” the officer says as they reach the top landing, her hand on the door handle. “I’m not sure what’s happening with your daughter. All I know is she needs all your love and support right now.”

  Keith and Jaya nod solemnly, at the mercy of this stranger who seems to know more about their daughter than they do.

  * * *

  The cardboard container of fried eggs and hash browns is nearly clean, after Karina wipes up the last morsels of cheesy yolk with the toast, then her finger. It tastes so good, and she hadn’t eaten anything since early the day before. A scratchy gray blanket is draped over her shoulders, sealing in the chill of clammy clothes against her skin.

  The door to the room swings open, and the female officer who brought her the food enters. “How was your meal?” she asks.

  The kindness this officer has shown Karina makes her want to cry—this person who doesn’t even know her. Karina nods in thanks and offers up all she has to give. “Do you know, when an egg comes out of a hen’s body, it has a natural coating that seals the pores of the shell against bacteria in the air? It’s a natural insulation system. As long as you don’t wash fresh eggs from a hen, they don’t have to be refrigerated. They can stay out on the counter for two weeks.”

  The officer gives her a small smile. Her eyes look puzzled.

  “At commercial farms,” Karina continues, “the eggs are all washed and disinfected with bleach to kill any traces of salmonella, and the protective layer is also washed away. That’s why store-bought eggs have to be refrigerated right away.”

  “There’s someone here for you, Karina,” the officer says gently, and now Karina notices two other figures emerge from behind her. Her mother and father. “We gave her some food,” the officer says to them. “And we offered her a change of clothes since, you can see, hers are soaked. But she refused.”

  “Thank you,” her mother says to the officer, putting her palms together in a gesture of gratitude.

  The officer smiles. “I’ll give you some privacy. Take as much time as you need.” She pulls the door closed, leaving Karina and her parents alone.

  They approach her tentatively, as they would a wild animal. The distance feels enormous. Karina stands and takes a step toward them, her mask crumbling as she falls into her mother’s arms. “Shh,” Mom says, stroking her head, rocking her gently side to side. The rhythm of her mother’s movements soothes Karina; from behind, her dad’s strong arms wrap her in an embrace. She stays there, comfortable in the safety of their cocoon, until Dad pulls away.

  “We’re so glad you’re okay, honey. Can you tell us what happened?” His face is worn, his eyes tired, and suddenly Karina feels the weight of her own exhaustion. She cannot hold herself up any longer. She slumps back into the chair, rests her head on the table. Her parents sit down on either side of her, Mom’s hand never leaving her back.

  Where should she start? The Sanctuary, Greenfields, Micah, August? Further back: Natural Foods Market, Henry, James? How far back does she have to go to unwind the bad decisions, the poor judgments and all the pain? Prem. Karina sits up and pulls from her back pocket the wet piece of paper. She unfolds it on the table, smooths the creases with her palms and looks at the smiling face of her little brother. She hears Mom’s breath catch. “He spoke to me,” Karina says, softly at first, then again louder so they will believe her. “Prem spoke to me at the ocean.” She looks at Dad, his eyes full of sorrow and confusion, as if he pities her or thinks her delusional.

  But Mom squeezes Karina’s hand resting on the table, and her eyes glisten as she smiles. “And what did he say?”

  “It wasn’t my fault.”

  “What wasn’t, darling?” Mom asks.

  “It wasn’t my fault he died.” With the voicing of these words, a torrent gushes from her, a sobbing she can’t choke back.

  “Of course, it wasn’t, honey,” Dad says, his brow furrowed.

  Karina places her palms on the edges of the photo, its color faded along its creases. Prem’s boyish face and missing teeth. His expression of sheer joy. She smiles at her brother, touches the tip of her nose, then his. “He
was happy,” she says in a whisper. “He had a good life.”

  “Yes, he did.” Mom smiles as she takes Karina’s hand in both of hers and grips it tightly. “And he is always with us.”

  Karina meets Mom’s eyes and nods, sharing their first moment of true understanding in a long time. Dad looks uncertain, but his eyes are brimming with tears and he picks up her other hand and grasps it. For a few silent moments, the three of them, enjoined, look back at Prem’s smiling face.

  * * *

  Keith excuses himself from the room, and Jaya takes in the image of her daughter. It has been only five months since she last saw Karina, but in that time, her body has grown leaner, her face colored by the sun, and there is something new behind her eyes that Jaya can’t quite place.

  “It’s okay now, honey. We’re going home.” She squeezes Karina’s forearm and sees her flinch. Jaya thinks this is a response to her words, but when Karina pulls her arm away, she realizes it is her touch. Recalling the officer’s words, Jaya gently pushes up the sleeve of Karina’s white shirt and sees her inner forearm covered with fresh cuts and scratches. It first seems like a disorderly mess, but when she looks closer, there is a grid of parallel lines underneath that can only be intentional. She looks up at Karina’s face, but her daughter won’t meet her eyes. Jaya moves the sleeve back down and Karina pulls her arm close to her chest, protectively.

  Jaya recognizes her daughter has chosen the physical pain of hurting herself to mask the internal pain she suffers. Physical pain can often be easier to tolerate, Jaya has learned through the discomfort of traveling with the Guru and working at the ashram—sleeping on floors, traveling on buses, fasting for periods of time. Inner suffering is harder to endure, but only when you face those emotional and psychological demons can you truly find peace. After suffering the worst loss imaginable, she has spent years struggling with her interior terrain of guilt, pain and sorrow to find meaning in the world and her life again. She can even find beauty now. Karina will find those things too, she knows.