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This was the first time she was leaving the house with Iris alone. Apparently, it was going to take more planning than a goddamn PhD dissertation.
Flora doesn’t want to try. She wants to fold Genevieve up into the diaper bag and take her home.
The space had not yet been defined because the life that was going to define it had only just sprung into existence.
He leans into the camera, largely blocking the shelves behind from view, and raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I will? Sounds like a plan.” Flora can’t help but laugh. A deep belly laugh. “Just to be clear, you think I’m asking you to have sex with me? That’s how you think I want to be repaid for a month of no sleep?” “Oh, is that—I misread—is that just totally off the table?” Flora tilts her head to the side. “I’m still in diapers, man. Literal diapers.”
Lmao men!
The moment Iris emerged into this world and the closest nurse finagled the squealing baby onto Flora’s chest, a thought grabbed Flora by the throat— I would step in front of a train for this creature —and squeezed.
The cells of her body had formed another body that was now exposed to the world, and she knew that she would never stop fighting for that body as if it were still her own. If those cells died, then her cells died. Nothing had ever made more sense.
just like it did on the nights she couldn’t sleep, those late hours when the Night Hag came.
“I was lost! You lost me!” Flora shouted. Her mother looked around self-consciously before kneeling to Flora’s level. “You don’t look lost to me,” she said, smiling and brushing a strand of Flora’s hair behind her ear. “What could it have been, five minutes?” Flora knew exactly how long it had been. She had just learned to tell time in school. She was without her mother for nearly half an hour.
Wow she didnt give a hoot or even notice
Unmoving markers of forced joy.
Lol oddly cynical way to describe it but sure ok
And then it hits her: before the internet, mothers had mothers.
She can hardly believe it has been four years since she last heard her mother’s voice.
letdown noun [s] 1. the painful release of milk every two hours 2. life since Iris was born
In the other sense, her baby is completely dependent on her. Flora could do anything to this tiny human, who cannot fight back. Bile burns her throat.
Having a partner who is there but not really there must breed its own kind of loneliness.
And then comes the peak: a heavy weight she has long thought of as the Night Hag, who sits on her chest and stomach, crushing her organs until she knows the insides of her body will soon be on the outside.
she realized that her suffering didn’t lessen the families’ suffering. And by convincing herself that it did, that it somehow paid some moral price, she was putting herself on a pedestal that she hadn’t earned.
Flora’s father had always been the translator between the two key women in his life, softening Jodi’s words in midair as they made their way to Flora.
“You’re such a bright light, Flora. And when she’s around, or whenever you talk to her, that bright light dims.”
If she continued to enable this dynamic with her mother, at some point her light wouldn’t just be dimmed; it would be altogether extinguished.
Every detail widens her awareness and reminds her that the world is still turning beyond the confines of her endlessly repetitive routine.
If the number was blocked, Flora would never know whether or not her mom had tried calling. This way, she could assume the narrative that she was the one in control. That this was her choice.
Bugs. Lots and lots of bugs. A line of beetles marches up the outside wall of the house and into Iris’s window. who opened this window
Zephie says, “I think maybe we were wrong.” For a moment, Flora doesn’t understand. But then she looks back at the window and sees—there are no beetles. The crib is empty, the mattress clean, save for the wet spot of Iris’s puke. There were never any bugs, only Flora’s sleep-deprived mind manipulating her.
And there it is again: Flora’s childhood. First, the Night Hag. Now, Zephie. Is her acute loneliness summoning these visitors from her past?
The irony of this is not lost on Flora: that she cannot feel what is there but she can feel what is not.
Zephie pipes up from behind Flora, snickering in her ear, “Isn’t that a fucking joke! No one takes care of Mommy.” Flora balks in surprise. She doesn’t remember Zephie ever cursing before. But then Flora spots her neighbor’s horrified expression. Was it actually Flora who said those words out loud?
Earlier today, Flora asked Zephie why she is still a child. They had always been the same age when Flora was growing up. “I’m stuck at the age you abandoned me,” Zephie told her. The realization slapped Flora with a pang of guilt.
Something about all of this feels familiar. Like she has seen this face before. And then she remembers. She has seen this pig’s face before. It’s the same as the one on that activity cube she hid away in the— “IT’S A BARNYARD SINGALONG!”
Flora leans in close to inspect them, but she is instantly startled and flinches away. did this pig just fucking wink at me
“Did you hear that?” she asks Zephie, because it makes perfect sense that she would ask an entity that doesn’t exist if she, too, heard a potentially imaginary noise.
She opens the door, the outside chill prickling her naked bare skin,
Wth she open the door half naked
“You’re leaving a trail. Should we be concerned that your arm is leaking?” what a funny way to think about bleeding
Jodi smiles at the baby and then at Flora. For this moment, none of the baggage between them exists. The only thing that’s real is this miracle Jodi is holding, this tiny human who is all that matters in life. And this time, Flora lets herself cry.
when she has pumped nearly double what she normally does, she sees the bloody clog floating in the bottle of pink liquid. strawberry milk
*gags*
Still, though, she does not tell her mother about the activity cube, the return of her invisible friend, the trail of beetles. She does not tell her she is afraid she’s losing her mind.
It was only when Flora was older that she realized the truth was far worse than Jodi’s account. Her mother had actually seen everything: she’d watched as Flora had gotten the idea and reached her hand toward the burner. It wasn’t that she didn’t see it happen; it was that she did and simply didn’t stop it.
They work silently in tandem, assuming a familiar rhythm, even though her mother has never been in this house. There’s something about their dynamic that feels like muscle memory. Flora and Jodi have slipped into a well-choreographed dance.
those were bugs last time there’s no man From the table, Zephie clicks her tongue in disagreement. “There weren’t actually any bugs, remember?” Flora freezes, skillet in midair.
Iris, my girl… night-night…” The smooth, quiet voice emerging from the whispers would almost be comforting if it wasn’t so horrifying. Flora’s eyes flash toward the camera. It’s pointed toward the empty crib, so the man has no idea she is standing mere inches from the lens. “Unplug the damn thing!” Jodi shouts. “So you can hear—?”
In fact, it is becoming increasingly apparent that Jodi would be content if Flora wasn’t here at all.
Imaginary.’ I hate that word.” Flora doesn’t know how to respond. Was Zephie always so self-aware?
She talked about the teeth and how they used them in the Middle Kingdom to protect children.” He clears his throat. “I didn’t believe any of it, obviously. I just thought you might like it. So I threw her a few bucks for the souvenir.” He’s lying about that last part. Flora can tell.
“It wasn’t for dehydration,” he says heavily. “And it wasn’t just overnight. She was there for ten days. In the psych ward.”
“I guess we know why she’s really here, then,” Zephie says. She leans against the wall that separates the living room from the kitchen. “To make sure you don’t end up in the psych ward like her.” Flora nods slowly. “Yeah,” she says. “Or to make sure I do.”
“You know, when they finally went into the apartment, they found beetles eating her dead body.” Flora stops in her tracks. “Beetles?” Jodi continues, unfazed. “A whole trail of them. They came in through the window. ‘Flesh-eating beetles’ they’re called. Who knew? Some of them were even crawling into her mouth, eating her from the inside.”
“Oh, Flora,” Jodi says, “you’re still young. You’re still under the illusion that the world is not mysterious.”
She is absolutely tethered to another human being. And she has no one to blame but herself. She feels like a shit mom when she has these thoughts. The truth is, she has never loved another living thing the way she loves Iris. So how can such competing feelings coexist within her simultaneously?
She runs her fingers over the cover of a slim, worn book titled The Yellow Wallpaper.
Hmm interesting choice considering.
