Chapter 3- Kitchen Help

Alex slept for an hour. Not on purpose. He lay on the bed thinking about knots and eyes and news, and then he was asleep. When he woke, the light in the cabin had changed. It was amber. The kind of light that made everything look like a painting of itself.

There was a knock on the door.

"Dinner prep," Maya called. "JJ wants you in the kitchen."

"Why?"

"Because she said so."

"That's not a reason."

"It's the only reason that matters around here."

He put on a shirt. He didn't want to. He was getting used to the air on his skin. But the kitchen meant work, and work meant focus, and focus meant he didn't need the distraction of his own bare chest in a room full of women.

He opened the door. Maya was there. Shorts. Tank top. Barefoot. The dimples.

"You slept," she said.

"I closed my eyes."

"You snored."

"I don't snore."

"You snored for twenty minutes. I was on the porch."

"Why were you on the porch?"

"Listening to you snore."

She walked. He followed. The path from his cabin to the main house went through the garden. The tomatoes were coming in. The beans were climbing their poles. Everything grew here. Alex didn't know much about growing things, but he knew what healthy looked like. This place looked healthy.

The kitchen was in the back of the main house. It was big. Bigger than it needed to be for thirteen people. Industrial sink. Long wooden counter. A stove that looked like it had been built before anyone alive was born. Pots hung from a rack above the island. Copper. Dented. Loved.

Ruth was already there. She'd lost the sarong. She stood at the counter naked, cutting onions with a knife that looked too sharp for the job. She didn't look up.

"City kid. Sink's over there. Carrots need peeling. Potatoes need scrubbing. JJ wants a root vegetable roast."

"I can do that."

"Can you?"

"I can peel a carrot."

"That's what they all say."

She didn't explain who they were. She kept cutting onions. She didn't cry. Alex wondered if that was a skill or a deficiency.

Maya pointed him to the sink. There was a colander of carrots and a basket of potatoes. The potatoes were small, misshapen, covered in dirt. They looked like they'd been pulled that morning.

"Garden potatoes," Maya said. "They're ugly but they taste like potatoes are supposed to taste."

"How are potatoes supposed to taste?"

"Like earth. Like something that grew."

She handed him a peeler. It was old. Wooden handle. The blade was dull. He'd have to work for it.

He turned on the water. It came out cold. He picked up the first carrot. It was crooked. It looked like it had tried to grow straight and given up halfway.

He peeled. The peel came off in thin strips. They fell into the sink. The carrot underneath was bright orange. Brighter than any carrot he'd seen in a store.

Chloe came in. She was wearing an apron. Just an apron. It covered her from the waist to the knees. Everything else was out. She looked like a painting of a revolution. She tied it tighter.

"I'm on onions," she said.

"Ruth's on onions," Maya said.

"Ruth's been on onions for twenty minutes. She's slow."

"I'm precise," Ruth said. She still didn't look up.

"You're slow and precise. I'm fast and approximate. We'll have more onions."

"We'll have uneven onions."

"It's a roast. The onions melt. Nobody sees the cuts."

Ruth stepped aside. She handed Chloe the knife. Chloe took it. She started cutting. She was fast. Ruth was right about approximate. The pieces were all different sizes. But there were more of them.

Alex scrubbed potatoes. The dirt came off in the cold water. His hands were freezing. He didn't mind. It gave him something to focus on that wasn't the fact that three women were in various states of undress five feet away, all acting like this was normal.

It was normal. For them. He was the variable.

He peeled carrots. He scrubbed potatoes. He trimmed the ends off green beans. Maya worked next to him. She was trimming beans too. Her hands moved fast. She didn't look at what she was doing. She looked at him.

"You're good at this," she said.

"I'm adequate at this."

"Adequate is more than most men manage."

"How many men have been in this kitchen?"

"You're the first in two years."

He stopped peeling. He looked at her.

"Two years?"

"Two years. Since the last one left."

"Left."

"Left. Was asked to leave. Same thing."

Ruth looked up from the counter. She'd started on garlic. The cloves cracked under the flat of her knife.

"It's not the same thing," Ruth said. "Leaving is a choice. Being asked to leave is someone else's choice."

"Tomato, potato," Chloe said. She kept cutting onions.

"It matters," Ruth said. She said it to Chloe, but she was looking at Alex.

Maya put down her beans. She dried her hands on a towel. She leaned against the counter.

"He's going to find out eventually," she said.

"Find out what?" Alex asked.

Ruth looked at Maya. Maya looked at Ruth. Chloe kept cutting onions. She didn't look at anyone.

"Find out what?" Alex asked again.

Ruth set down her knife. She wiped her hands on a cloth. She turned to face him. She was still naked. He tried to look at her face. He succeeded. Mostly.

"This commune wasn't always all women," Ruth said. "JJ started it with couples. Seven couples. Fourteen people. Equal split. It was supposed to be balanced."

"What happened?"

"Men happened."

Chloe snorted. She didn't look up.

"The men didn't like the rules," Ruth said. "The commune has rules. No hierarchy. No ownership of land. No closed relationships. Everything shared. Food, work, space."

"Everything?" Alex asked.

"Everything. The men agreed to it. Then they didn't. Three of them started claiming territory. This is my garden. This is my cabin. This is my woman. JJ talked to them. They didn't listen. So she asked them to leave."

"Four of them," Maya said. "The fourth left on his own. He didn't like the atmosphere after the others were gone."

"So then it was just women."

"It was just women for two years," Ruth said. "And it worked. It worked better. The gardens grew. The commune grew. Women joined. The dynamic shifted. JJ said it was like the place could finally breathe."

Alex picked up a potato. He scrubbed it. He set it in the colander. He picked up another.

"So why am I here?" he asked.

The kitchen was quiet. Chloe stopped cutting. Maya looked at the ceiling. Ruth looked at him.

"Because JJ asked for you," Ruth said. "Specifically. She called your mother. She said she wanted her nephew for the summer. She said you needed fresh air. She said it would be good for you."

"That's what my mom said."

"That's what JJ told your mom to say."

He set down the potato. He turned off the water. The sink was quiet. Just the drip of the faucet.

"What was the real reason?"

Ruth glanced at Maya. Maya glanced at Chloe. Chloe glanced at her onions.

"JJ wanted to see what would happen," Ruth said. "With a man here. A young one. One who didn't know the history. One who didn't bring baggage. One who wasn't trying to claim anything."

"I'm an experiment."

"You're an invitation. There's a difference."

"I don't see it."

"An experiment tests a hypothesis. An invitation opens a door. JJ isn't testing anything. She's opening a door."

Chloe started cutting again. The knife hit the board. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

"She knew," Chloe said. "About you."

"Knew what about me?"

"That you'd fit. That you wouldn't try to own anything. That you'd be easy."

"I'm not easy."

"You're easy," Maya said. "In the good way. You don't push. You don't grab. You stand there and you blush and you pull the same weed four times. That's easy."

"That's not easy. That's incompetence."

"It's the same thing. With men. Incompetence is easy. Competence is threatening. JJ wanted easy."

He didn't know what to do with that. He turned the water back on. He scrubbed potatoes. The dirt came off. The potatoes were clean. They were still ugly.

Ruth went back to garlic. Maya went back to beans. Chloe went back to onions. The kitchen sounded like a kitchen again. Knives on wood. Water in the sink. The oven preheating.

Nobody said anything for ten minutes. Alex peeled. He thought about JJ. He thought about her on the porch with her tea. He thought about the way she looked at him. Not like a nephew. Like a piece she'd moved on a board.

He thought about whether that bothered him. It should have. It didn't. Or it did, but underneath the bother, there was something else. Something that felt like being wanted. Not wanted by a person. Wanted by a place. The commune wanted him here. JJ had arranged it. The women were adjusting to him. He was the variable, and the variable was welcome.

That was new. He'd never been welcome like that before. Not at school. Not at home. Not anywhere.

"She also knew something else," Ruth said. She said it to the garlic. Not to him.

"What?"

"She knew what you look like. Without clothes."

The water was running. He couldn't hear clearly. He turned it off.

"What?"

"Your mother sent pictures. Christmas. Summer. Pool party. One of them was you in swim trunks. JJ saw it. She saw enough."

"She saw me in swim trunks."

"She saw you in swim trunks that were too small."

Chloe laughed. It came out sudden and sharp. She covered her mouth with her hand. The knife stopped.

"Sorry," she said. She wasn't sorry.

Maya's dimples appeared. She didn't smile. The dimples appeared anyway.

Alex stood at the sink. His face was hot. His neck was hot. His ears were hot. He was a furnace with hands.

"So JJ brought me here because of my swim trunks."

"JJ brought you here for a lot of reasons," Ruth said. "The swim trunks were one of them."

"That's not a reason to invite someone to a commune."

"It's not a bad reason."

"It's a weird reason."

"This is a weird place. You noticed."

He had noticed. He'd noticed the naked women at dinner. He'd noticed the wind chimes. He'd noticed the cabins with no locks. He'd noticed the garden that grew too well. He'd noticed that everything here ran on trust and tea and the force of JJ's personality.

He picked up the last potato. He scrubbed it. He set it in the colander. He dried his hands on the towel Maya handed him.

"Does everyone know?" he asked.

"Know what?" Ruth asked.

"About the swim trunks. About why I'm here. About all of it."

"JJ told me," Ruth said. "I told Maya. Maya told Chloe."

"I told nobody," Maya said.

"You told me," Chloe said.

"I mentioned it."

"You described it."

"I described the situation. Not the specifics."

"You described enough."

Alex picked up the peeler. He peeled a carrot. He didn't need to peel it. He'd already peeled it. He peeled it again.

"So the whole commune knows."

"Not the whole commune," Ruth said. "Four people know. Five, counting JJ. Six, counting you."

"That's half the commune."

"It's less than half. There are thirteen of us. Plus you. Fourteen."

"Six out of fourteen is almost half."

"Almost is not half."

He peeled the carrot a third time. There was barely anything left. It was a skeleton of a carrot. He set it down.

"Does JJ know that you told me?"

"JJ knows everything that happens in this kitchen," Ruth said. "This is her kitchen. This is her commune. These are her carrots."

"These are garden carrots."

"The garden is hers. The seeds are hers. The dirt is hers. The women who work the dirt are hers. Not owned. Hers. There's a difference."

"You said that before. About experiments and invitations."

"I say true things more than once. It helps them stick."

The oven beeped. It was hot. Ruth took the roasting pan from the shelf. She oiled it. She laid the vegetables in. Carrots, potatoes, onions, garlic. She salted them. She peppered them. She laid rosemary across the top. She put it in the oven.

"Forty minutes," she said.

Maya wiped down the counter. Chloe swept the floor. Alex stood at the sink with his skeleton carrot and his red ears and the knowledge that his aunt had seen a photo of him in small swim trunks and decided to build a summer around it.

He didn't know what to feel. Embarrassed. That was first. Then flattered. Then confused. Then something that didn't have a name. Something between flattered and terrified. Like standing on a diving board and looking down and knowing you'd jump but not knowing what the water would feel like.

Maya touched his arm. Light. Brief. Like a bird landing.

"It's not a bad thing," she said. "Being wanted somewhere."

"I didn't say it was bad."

"You looked like you thought it was bad."

"I looked like I was thinking."

"Same thing. For you."

She squeezed his arm. Then she let go. She took the apron off Chloe. She hung it on the hook. She went to the door.

"Forty minutes," she said. "I'll be on the porch."

She left. The screen door slapped.

Chloe leaned on the counter. She looked at Alex. She was still grinning. That knowing grin.

"City kid," she said.

"Yeah."

"For what it's worth, I didn't believe Maya."

"About what?"

"About the swim trunks. I thought she was exaggerating."

"She wasn't."

"I know that now."

"How?"

"I saw you this morning. In the garden. Without your shirt. The shorts you're wearing don't hide much."

He looked down at his shorts. They were standard. Khaki. Above the knee. They hid plenty.

"They hide enough," he said.

"They hide some." She held up her thumb and forefinger. An inch apart. "Some."

She went to the door. She paused.

"The roast is going to be good," she said. "Ruth's roasts are always good."

"Great."

"You should sit next to me at dinner."

"Why?"

"Because I'm fun and the other seats are taken."

She left. The screen door slapped.

Ruth was alone with him. She was washing the knife. The water ran over the blade. She dried it. She put it back on the magnetic strip.

"Ruth," he said.

"Mm."

"Is any of this normal?"

"Define normal."

"Normal. Regular. The way things usually go."

"Nothing here is usual. That's the point. JJ built a place where usual doesn't apply."

"And me?"

"You're the most unusual thing that's happened here in two years. Maybe ever."

"Because I'm a man."

"Because you're a man who doesn't know he's unusual. That's rare."

She turned off the water. She dried her hands. She walked past him. She stopped at the door.

"Alex."

"Yeah."

"JJ's not a schemer. She's a gardener. She plants things and watches them grow. She planted you here. That's not manipulation. That's agriculture."

"That sounds like the same thing."

"It is. But agriculture feeds people."

She left. The screen door slapped.

Alex stood in the kitchen. Alone. The oven ticked. The vegetables roasted. The smell of rosemary and garlic filled the room.

He thought about agriculture. He thought about JJ planting him. He thought about seeds and dirt and the way things grew when you put them in the right place.

He thought about the swim trunks. He thought about his mother sending that photo. She probably didn't think anything of it. Just a Christmas card. Just a pool party snapshot. Just her son in trunks that were a size too small because he'd grown and she hadn't replaced them yet.

JJ had looked at that photo. She'd looked at it and seen something. Not just the obvious thing. Something else. Potential. That was the word. She'd seen potential.

He didn't know if that was flattering or terrifying. He decided it was both. He decided both was okay. Both was honest.

The oven ticked. The rosemary smelled like a garden. His hands smelled like potatoes. His ears had finally cooled.

He went to the porch. Maya was there. She was in a hammock. She was reading. The book had no cover. Just pages.

"Forty minutes?" she asked.

"Thirty-five now."

"Sit."

He sat on the porch step. The wood was warm. The sun was going down. It was amber again. The light that made everything look like a painting.

"Maya."

"Mm."

"Did JJ really plan this?"

"Plan what?"

"All of it. Me being here. The summer. Everything."

Maya turned a page. She didn't look up.

"JJ plans everything," she said. "That's what founders do. They see a field and they see a garden. They see a nephew and they see a summer."

"And what do you see?"

She looked up. The dimples.

"I see a guy sitting on a porch step with potato hands and a red face. That's enough for me."

She went back to her book.

Alex sat on the step. The sun went down. The amber turned to purple. The wind chimes played their song. Somewhere inside, Ruth's roast was filling the house with the smell of earth and rosemary.

He thought about what Ruth said. Agriculture feeds people. He thought about what Maya said. That's enough for me. He thought about what Chloe said. The shorts don't hide much.

He thought about JJ. On the porch. With her tea. Looking at the garden like she'd built it with her hands. Because she had.

She'd built all of this. The commune. The gardens. The cabins. The population. She'd built it and she'd maintained it and now she'd added him. One more piece. One more variable.

He didn't know what he was supposed to grow into. He didn't know what she'd planted him for. He just knew he was here, in the dirt, and the sun was warm, and someone was watering him.

The screen door opened. Chloe.

"Dinner," she said.

She held the door. He stood. He went in. The dining hall was full. Thirteen women. One long table. One empty chair.

Next to Chloe.

He sat down. The roast was in the center. The vegetables were caramelized. The rosemary was crisp. Ruth sat at the head. She didn't sit at the head. JJ sat at the head. JJ wasn't there yet.

As if on cue, JJ came from the kitchen. She had her tea. She always had her tea. She sat down. She looked at Alex. She looked at the table. She looked at the roast.

"Ruth's roast," she said. "My favorite."

"It's everyone's favorite," Ruth said.

"That's why it's my favorite."

JJ sipped her tea. She set it down. She looked at Alex again. Her eyes were warm. They were the eyes of someone who had planted something and was watching to see if it would grow.

"How was dinner prep?" she asked.

"Informative," he said.

"Good. Kitchen work should be informative."

She didn't ask what he'd learned. She didn't need to. She already knew.

They ate. The roast was good. The vegetables tasted like earth. Like something that grew.

Alex ate next to Chloe. Across from Maya. Two seats down from Ruth. At a table full of women who knew things about him that he hadn't known they knew.

He ate his potatoes. He ate his carrots. He didn't peel anything. The peeling was done.

After dinner, he washed dishes. Maya dried. Chloe put them away. They worked in silence. It was a good silence. The kind that didn't need filling.

When the last plate was put away, Maya handed him the towel.

"Tomorrow," she said.

"Tomorrow what?"

"Tomorrow is another day."

"I know how days work."

"Do you?"

She went to the door. She paused.

"You should know something, Alex."

"What?"

"The news that travels fast here. It's already traveling."

"What news?"

"You'll see."

She left. The screen door slapped.

Chloe was still in the kitchen. She was wiping the counter. She looked up.

"She's right," Chloe said. "The news is traveling."

"What news? I didn't do anything."

"You don't have to do anything. You just have to be."

"That doesn't make sense."

"It makes perfect sense. You'll figure it out."

She hung the cloth on the hook. She went to the door.

"City kid."

"Yeah."

"Sweet dreams."

She left. The screen door slapped.

Alex stood in the kitchen. Alone. The oven was off. The dishes were done. The counter was clean.

He went to his cabin. He lay on the bed. The knots in the ceiling. The eyes.

JJ had planned this. All of it. The commune. The women. The summer. Him.

He was a seed in her garden. He was a variable in her experiment. He was an invitation she'd sent to herself.

He closed his eyes. He didn't sleep. Not yet. He thought about agriculture. He thought about doors opening. He thought about news traveling fast.

He thought about what Maya said. You'll see.

He would see. Tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that. All summer long.

He smiled. The knots watched. The eyes watched. The cabin was quiet.

Outside, the wind chimes played their song. Someone was humming. It might have been Maya. It might have been Chloe. It might have been the commune itself, humming itself to sleep.

Alex closed his eyes. He slept. He didn't snore.

Nobody was on the porch to hear it.