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“Naomi. Gia. Oh, and Marjorie has kids, but they’re over eighteen. They aren’t here anymore. Sarah doesn’t have kids, either.” She steps around a pile of clothes. “But she’s working on it. She’s not here right now.”
“Where is she?”
Rhiannon smiles. “Monitoring. She’s about eight weeks along, from IVF. The clinic we use is kind of far—it’s easier just to stay overnight and get all the appointments out of the way. We have pooled collective funds to pay for the treatment for residents, if you want it.”
“Really?”Rhiannon hadn’t told her this at the café. It seemed…odd. But maybe Lenna just needed to get used to a communal way of thinking.
“A lot of people are desperate to be mothers when they come,but it hasn’t worked out for them yet. Sarah’s one of those, actually. It’s taken her nearly two years of trying. Or they wanted to do the single-mom route, but, well, not everyone wants to go it alone.”
“So lots of women want…help.”
“Of course.” Rhiannon says it like it’s a no-brainer. “Takes a village, right? There’s no reason for mothers to be so isolated. It’s not how our species evolved.” She nudges Lenna playfully. “We like to call it amommune,actually.”
“I get it,” Lenna says quietly.
As they walk down the hall, Lenna catches mingling scents of coffee, essential oils, and dog hair. From somewhere down a back hallway, a woman sings a nursery rhyme. A child’s shriek rings through the air.
“Melissa’s in there with all the littles. She’s their teacher. Already got some of them reading. She also makes medicine out of herbs and other plants. She’s very holistic.”
“Doesn’t she have a one-year-old? Who’s watchingherbaby?”
“Everyone else.” Rhiannon laughs. “That’s the point. We all watch everyone’s kids.” She looks down at Teddy. “Do you want to go in with Auntie Melissa, honeydew? Learn some shapes and colors?”
Teddy nods, and Rhiannon swishes him off. He pads down the hall, knowing where to go. Rhiannon smiles proudly, and Lenna feels a stab of envy. Rhiannon told her that Teddy cried as relentlessly as Jacob when he was a baby, too. But there’s no sign of that child now.Isthere magic here? Or is it because Rhiannon is simply a better mother?
Then Rhiannon pushes through another door. “This is the kitchen.”
The floor may have been white at one point, but it’s been colored over so heavily with permanent marker that it now resembles a Jackson Pollock painting. The countertops and table are coveredin papers, pots and pans, magazines, and art supplies. But there are two refrigerators. The modern appliances are incongruous amid all the clutter. The stove is actually the same high-end stove Lenna heated soup and bottles on at home with Daniel.Daniel.She pushes guilty thoughts from her head.
Hanging on one wall is a large chalkboard outlining the meal plan for the next week. Lenna appraises the menu:Tacos. Polenta. Corn soup.It sounds homey but also somewhat gourmet. There is a line on each meal square delineating who will prepare the meal.Coral,it reads, afterStreet tacos.AndChicken adobo.AndCorn soup.
To the right of the menu board is another chalkboard, this one even larger, markedChore Chart.It’s a chalky grid of various activities. The squares are divided into days of the week, Indoor and Outdoor jobs, and times of the day the jobs need to be completed. The leftmost side of the board bears a list of names—Lenna spots Rhiannon’s. Next to each person’s name is a number. Someone named Naomi, for example, has been awarded the number 20. Next to Rhiannon’s name is the number 15.
“Are those rankings?” Lenna asks.
“Points. We’re assigned jobs every day, and each of them carry a point value; if we accumulate enough during the week, we can trade them in for some time off or some other treat. Since it’s Monday, no one’s accumulated that many points yet. You have to get to one hundred for the perks.”
“And what are the other luxuries besides time off?”
“Items from the outside world, like chocolate bars. A certain brand of soap. We have a stash. The pooled money buys it all, but then we dole it out.” Rhiannon shrugs. “It gives us incentive. A goal. Most people don’t really need it, but we all have days where we don’t feel like getting out of bed, just like everyone else.”
Lenna rolls her jaw. “And does it feel satisfying? Like, instead of being out there in the world, having a job…”
“I’ve tried both ways. I always thought I’d like this way, and I do.” She smiles. “Maybe you will, too, Len. It’s not as weird as it looks.”
It’s not weird,Lenna almost says, a knee-jerk politeness. But it kind ofisweird. Her stomach starts to hurt again.
“I’ll show you the patio, if you don’t mind going into the heat again.” Rhiannon holds up a hand preemptively. “Jacob will be fine out there. We have misters that will spray his head. And if he cries, all the better. It’ll scare off the critters.”
With that, she pushes a heavy door into the elements. The sun is still sweltering, but like Rhiannon said, the misters installed on the porch help. Lenna tries to stand under the spray with the baby, but he squirms and shuts his eyes and looks like he’s winding up to wail again.
“Okay, okay, we’ll go over here,” Rhiannon says.
There are some kids gathered around a small outbuilding and playground, all barefoot with messy hair, in baggy pants rolled up at the ankles. A few of them don’t wear shirts. Their skinny limbs tangle together as they play.
Rhiannon notices her looking. “They’re growing up together. One big family.”
The kids shriek and laugh. Theydoseem like friends. The noisiness soothes her. Lenna pictures what she’d be doing if she were home right now. On a normal day, Daniel would already be at work. Jacob’s sobbing would be the only noise in the big, airy house. When Daniel would come home, she’d make desperate attempts to soothe the baby, because while she has learned to tune it out, sort of, Daniel has not. She might take Jacob on a walk, or bobble him on the patio—although she worries about bothering the neighbors. She might just plop him into the car and drive him around.
