32

32

F lora brings Iris into the bathroom and straps her into her bouncer on the floor. With a pacifier in her mouth, she is content to look around the room, wide-eyed.

As Jodi sleeps down the hall, Flora prepares a bath, desperate to wash off the stink and filth and stress of the last few hours. In the mirror, she sees a deranged woman. Her hair is matted, her scalp sore from not brushing her knots for days. Dried blood cakes her forehead where she banged it on the rocking chair. Her cheeks sink in below her eyes, and her arm wound is exposed, now calcified in a yellow crystal scab. Her head pulses; her arms ache. She is moments from total mechanical failure.

Flora tests the water with her fingertips. It's hotter than she can stand, but she wants it that way. She slowly slips over the edge, gently submerging her body. The hot water stings, and she would normally pull away from the sensation, but she is disconnected from it somehow. She feels only an echo of the pain. She wishes she had a fancy bathtub that would pelt her with scalding-hot jets.

Iris complains from her bouncer, and Flora looks over the edge to find the baby staring in her general direction.

"You wanna join Mamma?" she asks.

Iris blinks "yes," and Flora reaches into the cold air for her daughter. She doesn't worry about the water dripping on the floor or getting the bouncer wet. She unzips Iris's onesie and lifts her toward the bath. After opening the diaper and letting it fall to the floor, she rests Iris on her legs, belly-up, with only her lower half in the water. Iris can't smile yet, but Flora knows she wants to.

Flora wonders briefly about the temperature of the bath. But it doesn't feel that hot anymore. She's sure it's fine.

"Doesn't that feel good?" she asks, gently massaging the clean water into Iris's tiny shoulders and cleaning behind her little ears. Her tiny body turns pink in delight.

Suddenly, Flora feels water on her back and a similar massaging sensation, as if she is touching her own body instead of Iris's. But when she looks over her shoulder, she sees her mother on the edge of the tub.

"Mom? How did you—?" She didn't hear her come in, didn't even notice when she propped herself on the nearby porcelain. "Your feet! Did you walk here?!"

"I crawled," Jodi says with a smile.

Goose bumps sprout on Flora's forearms.

"Relax," her mother says, continuing to massage her daughter's shoulders and neck.

Flora leans back, intoxicated by her mother's touch and the weight of her child on her legs. Without warning, Flora begins to cry. The hot water and loosening muscles release something within her that she cannot contain.

"I'm just so tired," she says between sobs.

"I know," Jodi coos. "Shhh, I know."

She dunks Flora's head back just long enough to wet her hair, then lathers a large dollop of shampoo between her palms. Her brittle nails scratch Flora's scalp, and Flora emits a low moan of pleasure.

"I felt the same way," Jodi continues as she washes Flora's hair. "I was so exhausted. At one point, I even convinced myself the baby wasn't real. That she was just a hallucination."

Surprised, Flora tries to turn her head toward her mother, but Jodi dissuades her with her hands, continuing the massage.

"Just listen," she whispers. "Try to relax."

Flora squeezes Iris's hands, twisting her daughter's tiny fingers in between her own.

"My baby wasn't real," Jodi continues. "That's why I would hear cries when they weren't happening. She was a phantom. Trying to trick me."

"That's pretty twisted," Flora says, her voice cracking as she becomes uneasy.

Jodi tends to Flora's hair lovingly. "An evil phantom," she whispers.

"Mom…" Flora's eyes go wide with thought. "Did you try to hurt me?"

This time, Jodi allows Flora to turn her head, and she makes eye contact. "No, Flora. Of course not. I never would have hurt you."

A headache pulses at the base of Flora's skull.

"I was trying to save you," Jodi says, "from that evil. From the bad inside."

Flora is lightheaded. "But…"

"And that's what I'm here for now, too," Jodi says. "To save you."

"Save me from what?" Flora asks.

Jodi shifts on the tub's edge, positioning herself in front of Flora, and suddenly her hands are on Flora's upper chest. She nods as she leans forward and pushes Flora under the water. Flora doesn't resist as her face goes under. She holds her breath as the water sinks into every pore, every crevice. When she tries to resurface, though, she is met with resistance. She holds more tightly to Iris's hands and pushes with her feet to overpower her mother's force.

"What the hell?" she asks when she reemerges. Iris still lies oblivious on her legs.

"I'm trying to save you," Jodi says again. "You and me, Flora, we weren't built for this. We weren't made for motherhood."

And though Flora wants to fight her, wants to disagree, she can't. Because she is a failure; that much is clear. And her daughter deserves better. This time, when Jodi pushes her under, she takes her breath a second too late, and the water fills her throat and gurgles and bubbles down to her lungs. She needs to cough but can't, and when she releases air out of her mouth, the water churns and swirls. Her eyes are open this time, and she sees her mother's face, rippling and distorted through the water's surface. Her mother is sad, resigned. She does not look like she enjoys what she is doing.

Flora almost lets her do it, too. She almost closes her eyes and succumbs to the warmth. But then Iris's small head appears under the water beside hers, and she realizes that her mother's plan is not meant only for Flora.

And this—this she cannot allow.

Flora flails her body, knocking her knee against the side of the tub, her leg throbbing up to the hip in response. She tries to lift her hands, but her mother has them blocked with one of her arms, and Flora is weak, so weak. It's as if she has been drugged, but she knows she has not. Her body is just done.

She again presses through her feet, and this time her torso shoots up from the water with such force that she headbutts her mother, who falls backward. With her mother on the floor beside the tub, Flora lifts Iris from the water and inspects her. She wails loudly, and the noise is a godsend. She is alive.

But before Flora can do anything else, she feels the pressure of her mother's hands on her torso, and her body falls toward the wall when her feet slip on the slick porcelain of the tub, her shoulder slamming into the tiles and dislocating from the joint.

Her muscles RIIIIIPPPPPP.

oh my God I can't move my arm oh my God

She is put together wrong, like a broken puppet.

Iris hangs from Flora's limp grasp, and Jodi lunges forward to retrieve her. Flora takes sharp breaths between her teeth. Jodi lifts the baby from the water and then ceremoniously holds her head in one hand, preparing to dunk her backward like a baptism. Flora leans against the wall with her bad shoulder and screams in pain as she uses the wall to brace herself. She kicks out her right foot and slams it into Jodi's chest, sending her reeling. The baby goes with her, not ideal but the lesser of two evils, at least safe from the water for the moment.

Jodi is disoriented, Iris still in her arms, and Flora uses that very second to reach over the edge of the tub with her good arm and— SLAM —whack her hand against Jodi's burned feet. Jodi wails, and Flora whacks them again. Blood sprouts beneath the gauze.

Iris cries, pressed uncomfortably into Jodi's chest, naked and exposed and cold.

Flora's left arm is useless. It hangs limp at her side, and she can't even make a fist with that hand. She needs to pop it back into place. She uses her right hand to lift her left arm, the pain seizing and gripping and threatening to knock her out. But she maneuvers the arm above her head and reaches with her left hand to the opposite shoulder. Then, moving on instinct alone, she swiftly yanks the arm across, relief crashing against her as the joint pops back into place. It's not perfect—a dull ache pulses beneath the surface—but she has regained use of her limb.

The combination of relief and pain makes black spots dance in her vision, and when they dissipate, she sees Zephie. The little girl stands beside the sink, watching Jodi with deep hatred. When she sees Flora exit the daze, she tells her emphatically, "The birth tusk! It's in your pants pocket, remember? Use it. "

Flora nods, wishing desperately that Zephie were real, that she could use her own hands to reach for the tusk and pull Iris to safety. But Zephie is here, that is all she can do, and Flora is grateful. She takes a breath and lunges for her pants on the floor. Her wet fingers grapple with the fabric in search of the pocket and finally pull out the birth tusk. She holds it up for her mother to see.

"Look! Look! I didn't leave it in the fire. I have it right here !"

Jodi's eyes go wide. She holds on tighter to Iris and scoots her butt toward the wall for support. "Flora. What have you done?"

"What have I done? You're trying to kill me! You're trying to kill my baby!"

"I'm not!" Jodi screams, crying now. "I'm trying to save you both!"

"No wonder this thing wants to destroy you! It's protecting Iris!"

"You don't understand. You don't understand." Jodi repeats this over and over, rocking herself back and forth, pressing Iris tighter and tighter against her chest.

Zephie is crying now, too, getting more and more hysterical, shouting for Jodi to let go of the baby. Shouting that Iris isn't safe. But, of course, Jodi does not hear her.

"Give her to me," Flora says to her mother, wielding the birth tusk like a weapon.

"I can't do that," Jodi says sadly, climbing onto her knees, with one hand on the floor and the other holding little Iris. She crawls toward the bath.

this is it she is going to drown my baby

Zephie screams, and when she does, Flora feels something unusual. A sense that her body has been here before.

Without hesitation, Flora lurches forward and stabs the sharp end of the birth tusk— thwunk! —straight into Jodi's bad eye. The tooth travels through the jelly marble and only meets resistance as it pierces the brain behind it. Jodi falls backward, surprised and uncomprehending.

Flora grabs Iris and holds the wailing baby against her. Skin to skin. Just like she was taught in the hospital.

see I can do this I can do the things they tell me to

She ignores the tears trailing down her own face and ceremoniously towels Iris dry and places her in her bouncer. Flora's movements are stilted, not quite her own, born of repetition and muscle memory rather than any conscious decision.

When she stands, she again feels lightheaded. In the mirror, she sees her wet hair glued to her neck, her left shoulder red and swelling. And then, behind her—movement. Zephie is there, watching, and Flora sees something in her expression. A fear or warning or premonition. And then—her mother appears in the mirror, too. Jodi smiles at Flora through the reflection. The birth tusk is still lodged deep into her bad eye. Flora whips around so that she's face-to-face with her mother and swings her arms up in self-defense when she sees that Jodi is coming for her. Flora's hands claw erratically at her mother's face, the nails scraping her mother's paper skin and drawing blood. But it's not enough to deter Jodi. Flora watches as Jodi's arm rises high into the air, a dense porcelain soap dish in her hand, and arcs downward toward Flora's head.

A loud thunk, a hard smack, and the world goes black.