Chapter 1- Start to Summer

Alex's mother moved through the kitchen with the particular efficiency of a woman who had already left in her head. Passport. Tickets. Hotel confirmations. She checked each item twice, then a third time, because the third time was the one that mattered. His father stood by the car, honking once. A short blast. The kind that said hurry up without saying hurry up.

"You have everything?" she said.

"Yes."

"Clothes? Toiletries?"

"Yes."

"Phone charger?"

"Mom."

She looked at him. Eighteen years old, six foot one, and still her boy. The kind of boy who tripped over his own shoelaces and laughed at jokes nobody else found funny. He had a way of filling a room without trying, and not always in a good way. She touched his cheek. He let her.

"JJ will take care of you."

"I know."

"It's only two months."

"I know, Mom."

His father honked again. Longer this time. The kind that said I mean it.

Alex grabbed his bags. Two suitcases, a backpack, and a pillow in a garbage bag because the pillowcase was in the wash. He threw them in the trunk. His father gave him a nod. Not a hug. A nod. That was his father's currency. Nods and silence, and the silence was usually worth more.

They pulled out of the driveway. Alex watched his childhood shrink in the rearview mirror. Then he watched nothing. Trees. Highway. More trees.

The commune sat at the end of a dirt road three miles past where the pavement gave up. His father's sedan was not built for dirt roads. He heard something scrape underneath and winced. His mother gripped the door handle.

"It's just a rock," his father said.

It was not just a rock.

They came over a rise and there it was. A collection of buildings that looked like someone had started a farm and then changed their mind halfway through. A main house, painted white, peeling in places. Several smaller cabins scattered around it, each one different, like they'd been built by people who disagreed on what a cabin should look like. A large garden. A barn that had been converted into something. Solar panels on every roof. Wind chimes everywhere. The wind chimes made the whole place sound like it was humming.

"Quaint," his mother said.

His father said nothing. He parked next to a pickup truck that had seen better decades.

Aunt JJ came out of the main house. She was fifty-two, or forty-eight, or somewhere in that range where women stop counting and start rounding down. Tall. Brown hair going gray in streaks she refused to hide. She wore a loose linen shirt and cutoff jeans and no shoes. She walked across the dirt like it was carpet.

"There he is," she said.

She hugged Alex. Not a quick hug. A real one. She held him at arm's length and looked at him the way people look at something that has grown.

"You got tall."

"Happens."

"And handsome."

"Happens less."

She laughed. It was a big laugh. The kind that took up space.

His mother and JJ talked at the car. Logistics. Emergency numbers. When they'd be back. Alex's father unloaded the bags without being asked. He set them on the porch, gave Alex another nod, and got back in the car. His mother kissed his forehead. She smelled like sunscreen and the airport.

"Be good," she said.

"Always."

"I mean it."

"I know you do."

They left. The dust hung in the air behind them. Alex watched the car until it disappeared over the rise. Then it was just him and JJ and the wind chimes.

"Come inside," she said. "I'll show you around."

The main house was bigger than it looked. A large kitchen with a wooden table that could seat twenty. A living room with mismatched furniture and bookshelves covering every wall. Alex ran his finger along a shelf. No dust. Someone cleaned these books. That said something about a place.

"How many people live here?" he asked.

"Fourteen. Fifteen with you."

"All family?"

"All family," she said. "Not by blood. By choice."

She said it the way people say things they've said a thousand times. Rehearsed but still sincere.

"Most of them are out right now. You'll meet them at dinner. I've got a cabin set up for you. It's the one by the garden. Small but private."

"Sounds good."

"There's a bathhouse. Communal. Everyone shares. I'll show you where it is."

He nodded. Communal bathhouse. Fine. He'd been to summer camp. He could handle communal.

They stepped outside. The afternoon sun hit him. July in the south. The kind of heat that sat on you like a blanket. JJ walked him past the garden. Tomatoes, squash, herbs he couldn't name. Past the barn, which had been converted into a workshop. Past a fire pit with benches arranged in a circle.

A woman came out of one of the cabins. She was young. Maybe his age, maybe a year older. Dark hair cut short. Brown skin. She wore a sundress and nothing on her feet. She saw JJ and waved.

"Maya," JJ said. "Come meet my nephew."

Maya walked over. She had a way of moving that suggested she'd never been in a hurry in her life. She looked at Alex the way you look at a new piece of furniture someone brought into a room. Assessing. Not unkind.

"So you're the city kid."

"Suburbs," Alex said.

"Same thing."

"Not really."

"Really."

She smiled. It was a quick smile. There and gone. She had dimples that didn't match the rest of her face, which was serious and angular. The dimples belonged to someone else.

"He's staying in the garden cabin," JJ said.

"Good spot," Maya said. "Close to everything."

"Including the bathhouse," Alex said, because he thought it was relevant.

Maya looked at him. Then at JJ. Something passed between them. A look. The kind that contains an entire conversation neither party wants to have out loud.

"Yeah," Maya said. "Including that."

She left. Alex watched her go. JJ watched him watch her.

"She's nice," Alex said.

"She is."

"Everyone here is nice?"

"Mostly. Chloe's a handful, but she grows on you. You'll meet her at dinner."

"What's the deal with the bathhouse?"

JJ paused. She looked at him. She had his mother's eyes, he noticed. The same brown. The same way of looking at you like they could see the thing you weren't saying.

"I'll explain at dinner," she said.

"Why not now?"

"Because dinner is when everyone's together. And this is the kind of thing that's better explained together."

Alex didn't like that answer. He filed it away. He was good at filing things away. He'd been doing it his whole life. Things people said that didn't quite make sense. Looks that lasted a beat too long. The kind of details that meant nothing until they meant everything.

He spent the afternoon unpacking. The cabin was one room. A bed, a dresser, a chair, a window that looked out at the garden. Clean. Simple. The sheets smelled like lavender. Someone had put flowers in a jar on the dresser. He didn't know what kind. Orange and small.

He lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. The wood had knots in it. Each knot looked like an eye. The ceiling was watching him. He told himself to stop being weird.

He thought about the summer. Two months. No school. No job. His parents hadn't wanted him home alone. They'd said it was because of the trip, but Alex suspected it was because the last time they'd left him alone, he'd tried to make grilled cheese with an iron and set the curtains on fire. That was two years ago. They still brought it up.

He thought about the commune. Fourteen people. JJ said mostly family by choice. He wondered what that meant. He wondered about the bathhouse. He wondered about the look Maya and JJ had exchanged.

He fell asleep. When he woke, the light had changed. Gold. Late afternoon sliding into evening. He could smell something cooking. Garlic. Onions. His stomach responded.

He changed his shirt. Put on a clean one. Ran his hands through his hair. Looked at himself in the small mirror above the dresser. He looked like himself. That was the best he could say.

The main house was loud when he walked in. People everywhere. The kitchen was full of movement. Pots, pans, someone chopping something with a rhythm that sounded like a drum. The table was set. Places marked with mismatched plates. Candles. Real candles, not the electric kind.

JJ saw him first. She waved him over. "Alex, come here. Everyone, this is my nephew. Alex. He's staying for the summer."

Faces turned. Fourteen of them. He counted. Thirteen women and one man. The man was old. Sixties, maybe seventies. He sat at the end of the table with a beard that went to his chest and a look of permanent amusement.

"Hi," Alex said.

He felt like a zoo animal. An exhibit. The new thing. He could feel them cataloging him. His height. His hands. His awkwardness. The way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Maya was there. She gave him a small wave. The dimples appeared and vanished.

A woman next to her leaned over and whispered something. Maya elbowed her. The woman laughed. She was blonde. Short. Round face. She looked like she laughed at everything, which meant she either found the world genuinely funny or didn't take it seriously. Alex couldn't tell which.

"That's Chloe," JJ said in his ear.

"The handful?"

"The same."

Chloe looked at him. She didn't whisper anymore. She spoke at full volume, which seemed to be her only setting.

"JJ says you're funny."

"I don't know about funny."

"What do you know about?"

"Not much yet."

She grinned. "Honest. I like honest. Honest is rare."

"Eat," JJ said. "Sit."

He sat. The food came. A stew. Thick, rich, made with vegetables from the garden. Bread baked that afternoon. Wine for the adults, water for Alex. He ate. The food was good. Better than good. Everything tasted like something. In the city, food tasted like convenience. Here it tasted like effort.

The conversation moved around him. People talked about their day. The garden. Repairs on the barn roof. A book someone was reading. A movie someone wanted to watch. It was domestic. Ordinary. Like a family dinner, except the family was bigger and stranger and everyone seemed to genuinely like each other.

Alex ate and listened. He was good at listening. You learned more listening than talking. People revealed things when they forgot you were there.

After dinner, they cleared the table. Alex helped. He carried dishes to the kitchen. Chloe stood next to him at the sink. She was shorter up close. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder.

"So, city kid."

"Suburbs."

"Maya told me. Same thing."

"It's not."

"It is. You want to know how I know?"

"How?"

"Because you're confused."

"About what?"

She looked at him. The grin was gone. She was serious. Or trying to be serious, which for her was the same thing with less conviction.

"You'll see," she said. "Or actually, you won't. Not yet. But soon."

"That's cryptic."

"I'm a cryptic person."

She went back to grinning. Alex didn't know what to do with her. She was the kind of person who made you feel like you were always one step behind.

The sun was down. The sky was purple. Alex stood on the porch of the main house. People were dispersing. Some to cabins. Some to the fire pit. Maya walked past him.

"Goodnight, city kid."

"Goodnight."

She paused at the bottom of the steps. "Don't be late for breakfast. We eat early. And don't be alarmed."

"By what?"

"Morning."

She left. He watched her disappear into the dark. A cabin door opened and closed. A light went on, then off.

He stood there. The wind chimes hummed. Somewhere an owl. The sky was full of stars. More than he'd ever seen. In the suburbs, you got a handful. Here you got the whole sky.

JJ came out. She stood next to him. She was holding a cup of tea. The steam rose in the cool air.

"Good first day?" she asked.

"Yeah. People are nice."

"They are."

"What did Maya mean, don't be alarmed?"

JJ sipped her tea. She looked out at the dark. The wind chimes filled the silence.

"Alex," she said. "I should tell you something."

"Okay."

"This community. It has a way of life. A philosophy. We believe in living naturally. As nature intended."

"Okay."

"That means different things to different people. For some it's the garden. For some it's meditation. For some it's the clothes."

She paused. The pause lasted three seconds. He counted.

"The clothes?" he said.

"We don't wear them. Not most of the time. Not when it's warm, which it is most of the time. The bathhouse, the garden, the common areas. Clothing is optional. For most of us, it's not an option we exercise."

Alex said nothing. His brain did the thing it did when it received information it wasn't prepared for. It ran it back. Then ran it forward. Then back again. Like rewinding a tape and playing it at the wrong speed.

"You're telling me this is a nudist commune."

"I'm telling you we live naturally."

"You're telling me everyone here walks around naked."

"Some of us. Most of us. When the weather permits."

"The weather always permits here. It's July."

"Yes."

He thought about dinner. All those women. Thirteen of them. He thought about the look between Maya and JJ. He thought about Chloe saying you're confused. He thought about the bathhouse. Communal. Everyone shares.

"You couldn't have mentioned this before?"

"Your mother didn't think it was relevant."

"My mother doesn't think a lot of things are relevant."

"She thought you'd be comfortable."

"She was wrong."

"Give it a day. You'll adjust. Everyone does."

He looked at her. She was calm. Completely calm. Like she'd had this conversation before. Maybe she had. Maybe every new person got the same porch talk, the same tea, the same wind chimes filling the same silence.

"And me?" he said. "Do I have to?"

"No. Nobody has to do anything. That's the point. We believe in choice. You wear what you want. Or don't wear what you want. It's your decision."

"I'll wear clothes."

"Fine."

"All the time."

"Also fine."

"Good."

"Good."

She finished her tea. She put her hand on his shoulder. Warm. Steady.

"Get some sleep. Breakfast is at seven. Maya said don't be late."

"She said don't be alarmed."

"That too."

JJ went inside. Alex stood on the porch. The wind chimes. The owl. The stars.

He thought about the summer. Two months. A nudist commune. Fourteen people. Thirteen women. He thought about his goal, the one he'd made on the drive up, half-joking, half-serious. The one about the women. The one he'd told himself was just a fantasy. Something to think about when he was bored.

He walked to his cabin. He lay on the bed. The knots in the ceiling looked like eyes. They were still watching.

He closed his eyes. He thought about Maya's dimples. Chloe's grin. The look that passed between them. He thought about what tomorrow would look like. What breakfast would look like. What seven o'clock in a nudist commune looked like when you were eighteen and awkward and wearing clothes and everyone else wasn't.

He didn't sleep. Not for a long time. The wind chimes hummed. The owl called. Somewhere, someone laughed. A woman's laugh. Low and warm and carried on the night air like a promise.

Alex stared at the ceiling. The eyes stared back.

This was going to be a different kind of summer.