20

20

A fter Flora finishes her video message to Connor and triple-checks that the Wi-Fi is disconnected, she makes her way downstairs. She has a sudden craving for a crisp BLT on toasted sourdough, but she knows none of those ingredients are in the house.

Her mother is no longer in the living room when Flora returns, and Iris's bassinet is empty. Flora's body jumps to high alert. Where could they have gone? She writes an epic narrative within the span of a few seconds that involves her mother kidnapping her baby, Flora hiring a private investigator, and Iris being found years later living under another name in a different country.

Then she hears a clattering noise from the garage.

Flora finds Jodi rifling through a couple of boxes in the far corner. Iris lounges content in a bouncer nearby.

"What happened here?" Jodi asks as Flora enters. She's pointing to the destroyed activity cube.

"Oh, uh—" Flora is supremely self-conscious. Her fingers automatically find the wound on her forearm and graze the fresh bandage she switched out this morning.

But Jodi has already moved on. "I was thinking there were some old baby toys in one of these boxes I sent you when I moved." She returns to the task, bent over a large cardboard box, her arms disappearing deep within its contents.

"I honestly haven't looked through those in ages," Flora says.

"Well, that much is obvious," Jodi retorts.

Guilt pangs at Flora; her mother carefully packed those boxes years ago, assuming Flora would get use out of her old things. But Flora barely took inventory of them before placing them in storage. That guilt, though, is quickly followed by annoyance; her mother knows Flora doesn't like to collect stuff, and yet she shipped it on over when it was no longer convenient for Jodi to keep around.

Flora sits on the cold concrete floor by the bouncer and lightly taps it with her fingers. Iris bobs up and down as Flora watches her mother.

"Do you remember these?" Jodi asks, holding up a large pink and purple toy cupcake. She sticks her fingers through the top and flips the edges out and over, and the whole thing turns into a girl wearing a dress. Like a reversible jacket.

Zephie squeals with excitement and squats down next to Flora. They used to love these and called them their hidden fairies.

"Oh my God, I wonder if they still make these things," Flora says, reaching for the doll. She instinctively sniffs it, remembering how it used to magically smell like cake batter. Surprisingly, it still does. She holds the doll up for Iris to see, showing her the mechanics of the toy's transformation.

Jodi joins Flora on the floor, moving slowly onto one knee and then the other. Her hair is pulled again into a taut bun today, a stark contrast to how she always wore her hair when Flora was growing up: loose and billowy. As Flora watches Jodi settle onto the concrete, her attention wanders to the twitching eye. The involuntary spasming irks Flora even though she knows it shouldn't. Perhaps it's because it is yet another reminder of her mother's age; that eventually, these frailties will grow and unravel her seventy-year-old body, probably long before the two of them are able to find some kind of equilibrium.

Flora is suddenly profoundly grateful they have this time together.

"What is that?" Flora asks, distracted by a small object under a stuffed alligator in the box.

A flicker of recognition crosses Jodi's eyes before she stifles it, shrugging. "Oh, huh, that shouldn't be in here," she says, reaching for the strange object. She sets it on the ground behind her, like she'll find a place for it later.

"What is it?" Flora asks again. "Can I see?"

Jodi holds it up. "It's just a hippo's tooth."

Flora reaches for the six-inch arched piece of ivory and pries it from her mother's grasp. " Just a hippo's tooth?" She inspects the artifact. The back of the tooth is silky smooth, whereas the front is adorned with inscriptions. Lions and human figures with lion heads that wield knives. One depiction is simply a pair of long legs attached to a circle at the top. In another, a large bird carries a knife on its back. Flora rubs her thumb over a series of hieroglyphic characters.

"Why do we have this?" she asks. "Where did it come from?"

"It's called a ‘birth tusk,'" Jodi says. "Meant to ward off evil forces or something. I don't know, your father got it for you when you were little. I think he found it on a work trip."

"This does not seem like something Dad would buy," Flora says skeptically.

"In Pennsylvania, maybe? Probably at the Egypt museum there."

Flora nods. "Oh, okay, that makes more sense. Like a gift-shop trinket."

"No," Jodi says, shaking her finger. "It was more than that. He put that thing under your crib. Like it would actually work."

Flora laughs. Nothing about this story seems credible. "Dad?! Science is the only reliable road to truth Dad?"

Jodi shrugs. "I wanted to get rid of it. I didn't even want to know what the hell kinda voodoo he was pulling."

Flora exhales in disbelief. "I don't get it. Why would Dad want something like this?"

Jodi raises a shoulder before returning to the box of toys. Flora can tell her mother is done with the topic, but Flora continues to stare at the tooth in her hand, flipping it over. The tip is worn and used, and she wonders what history it bears.

Why would her father buy this? And why would he place it under Flora's crib? These actions are completely incongruous with the Michael that Flora knows. But then, why would Jodi lie about the tooth's origins?

When her mother is distracted, Flora slides the birth tusk into her own pocket and makes a mental note to ask her father about it.

From the bouncer, Iris wails, announcing her hunger, and that's when Flora remembers her own grumbling stomach. Flora pries the baby from her seat and makes her way back into the house. It's only then that she realizes Iris's bare arms are ice-cold—how could she have been so stupid? It's freezing out here in the garage. Iris should have had a jacket.

She tells Jodi as much, and her mother replies, "I said that. When you first got out here. Remember? I said she needed a sweater. I didn't know where they were."

"You did?" Flora asks, her voice trailing.

Jodi nods.

Behind her, Zephie scoffs and sings under her breath. "Liar, liar pants on fire."