"Sylvester loves you."

"Shut the hell up, you stupid bird," Florence snapped. Sylvester wasn't working today, that made it easier for her to come in. She was experimenting with some new adhesives; once she was done, she would pass her samples on to Happy. It was odd, completing a hired job in such a disjointed fashion. But with four children under ten between the group, Paige in Texas, and Toby guest lecturing at the local colleges, it was hard for them to all be together.

Of course, it was hard for them to all be apart, too. A different kind of hard.

"Sylvester loves you," Super Fun Guy squawked again.

Walter looked over at the bird with some alarm. "Is he talking to you?"

"He's repeating the same crap that Toby taught him to say. Don't start."

Walter turned his computer mouse upside down and studied it. He set it back down. "Tracking oddly."

"What?"

"Nothing." Walter studied her. "You are still having such a rough time. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm going to that meeting again. It didn't feel as wrong being there as I thought."

"Good. I have to pick up Amber at four."

"Early night for the Gallos?"

"What?"

"You said you had to pick Amber up at four."

"Oh." Walter frowned.

Florence approached the subject gently, folding her hands as she leaned over her desk. "Didn't realize you said it out loud?"

"No." He looked down, still frowning. "That's been…happening. A lot. Lately. More often than before."

"It's okay, you know. When I came out of my coma, I didn't feel normal for a long time. Your head trauma is a perfectly legitimate excuse for everything you've had going on."

"I don't want excuses," he said. "I never needed them before. My brain was enough."

"Walter." She got up and crossed the space between their workstations, sitting on the desk and watching him. "We're human, the both of us. Humans have limitations. But we can turn them into strengths by recognizing what they are and doing what we have to do to overcome it, whether that means adjusting, dictating to others, assigning tasks to others, or just looking at a problem a different way. It doesn't make us weak or stupid. It's what…normal people do."

Walter lifted his head and looked at her, something new in his eyes. Alarm? No, Florence thought. It wasn't alarm. But it was…something.

Then he stood. "My God, Florence, you're absolutely brilliant." Leaning over, he kissed her on the cheek before grabbing his coat and running out of the garage.

Florence stayed stock still, staring in the direction he had gone. "I…" she said to the empty building. "Thank you?"

"You're welcome!"

Florence jumped, having forgotten that Super Fun Guy was there. "Jesus tap dancing Christ."


Linda had them break off into groups. "It's easier to talk when it's more informal," she said. "We've been doing some big group sharing and other activities with everyone, but we've got some new folks and we want them to feel as at home here as us long timers do."

Florence was grouped up with Hope, Morgan, and Leela. Hope was the other newcomer of their foursome. She wanted to talk first, and she was getting no objection from Florence. She knew she'd have to open up to them. But she wanted to see how Morgan and Leela responded to someone first.

"I married a man older than me," Hope was explaining. "I was twenty-eight, he was forty-nine. Not really a big deal, not like he met me when I was a kid or anything, but…I think…I think his age had a lot to do with this." She sighed, rubbing her hands on her jeans. "I got pregnant. It took us a while; we both got fertility tested and were fine, so I guess it was just stupid luck. Three years into the marriage. Well anyway, I want to do a home birth, in a tub. It's harder than you'd think to get a midwife who is professionally trained and is willing to do it, but my husband had money. My labor was ridiculous. I was having contractions off and on for over a week before things really got started, I wasn't sleeping, I was exhausted before the hard part even came along."

Florence bit the inside of her mouth. The flashbacks to Tilly's birth were still almost unbearable. She focused on Hope's knee, and on her voice, struggling to keep the images, the smells, the feelings at bay. Her finger ached where her ring had dug into it, even though the injury was healed. The smoke from the plane crash…she shook her head slightly, clearing her senses.

"…and by then, I was just so tired," Hope continued. Florence felt bad for zoning out. "My husband kept on telling me to focus, to just breathe and push and the little one would be there before we knew it." I swear I pushed for a day, even though I know they wouldn't have let me for that long. I was so tired I couldn't even enjoy seeing the baby for the first time. "A son," my husband said. He repeated it. "A son." He told me how well I'd done, how handsome the baby was, I held him for a bit and then they wrapped him all up and I got down to the rest of the gross stuff that happens when you have a baby. My husband was holding him. Marveling over him. Talking about how loved he was. He left the room and called his relatives. Everyone was over in an hour. I was so tired. But we had to show off this baby." Hope stopped, staring down at her knees. "It was around the time the guests started leaving that I began to cry. My sister asked me what the matter was. She was probably expecting a hormonal response. But I'd just realized that my husband hadn't told me he loved me through the whole ordeal."

"You think he just wanted the baby," Morgan said.

Hope nodded. "He did just want the baby. He was getting older. Time was running out. That was four months ago."

"How is the little one doing?" asked Leela.

"I don't know," Hope said. "When I realized I was – or at least had become – an incubator, I left him. He had the money. He has lawyered up and won't let me see Seymour. Word has it he's got a nanny for him. Word also has it she's about six months away from giving him another one."

"Hope, I'm so sorry," Florence said.

"Are you going to fight it?" Leela asked.

"What can I do?" Hope said. "He's a wealthy white dude. I'm a lower middle class black woman. And we all know how this country is."

"I, my, um…" Florence stammered. "I know some people who know the law. That could...help." Maybe offering up Sylvester wasn't the best idea, given their circumstances. But she felt for Hope. She wanted to help.

"What good would it do?" Hope said. "I don't have much of an education, I don't have money. I don't even have a stable place to live. I'm so stupid. I should have just knuckled under and stayed with him."

"No," Morgan said, "no one should have to stay in a situation where they're being used."

Hope big her lip, tugging at one of her acrylics. "I just feel really lost. My life doesn't have direction anymore. I don't even know if I want to fight for custody. He'll just make things miserable. And I know he'll care for Seymour. That little one will want for nothing."

"Did you…please don't take this as an insult," Morgan said, "I don't mean it to be, but…did you ever want him? Seymour."

Hope was quiet a moment. Then "you know, I don't really think that I did. I thought I would grow to want him, grow to love him, you know, like that lady in the musical about the pie. My husband took me to see it on tour. She didn't want her baby, didn't want her baby, wasn't excited about the pregnancy, not a party, but then she gave birth and she saw the little one that'd been inside her kicking and rolling and she knew that she loved her. I didn't have that moment. I had nothing like that. In a way, I'm almost glad I don't have to be his parent. I wouldn't have done well. He doesn't deserve to grow up with a mother who is indifferent. The woman he's with now, she's so maternal. She loves kids, makes her living that way. She'll do so much better for him than I ever could."

"You don't know that," Florence said.

"No, I do. No offense. I just know me better than you do."

"That's fair," Florence conceded.

"We're all here if you need anything," Leela said. "I mean, if you need a place to stay, I have a couch."

"I have a spare room," Morgan said. "You could go back and forth…"

"Thanks, but I…" Hope shifted her weight. "I'm not comfortable enough with that. I'd feel like too much of a burden to folks I barely even know. I'm just…scared. I'm scared of any course of action. I think I'll do this, but no I can't. So maybe I do this, but no, I can't bear that either." She looked at her hands. "Can I be done?"

"Of course," said Leela.

"Florence. Do you want to talk at all?"

Morgan's voice was gentle, but Florence wasn't ready. Not to share all the details. But… "I guess…I mean, I have PPD, that's…that's the thing. The main thing. My daughter was born early. Really early. And I'm sort of stuck inside my head, roommates with the trauma of her birth, well, not trauma, it was, it was just a, it was…"

"Trauma," Leela said. "I know people make fun of that word. She's been traumatized, she's triggered, whatever. But they're real things. We can use the words."

Florence bit her lip and nodded. "Okay. I was traumatized by her birth. And I felt like a bad mother. And I was scared she was going to die, so I kept my distance. Which just made me feel like a worse mother. And then people only referred to me as her mother, or his wife, and it was like my entire identity was gone. And then I realized I was basically codependent in my relationship, so I separated from my husband, which hurts him, which hurts me."

"Codependency can be rough," Leela said. "My ex and I were like that. Couldn't go a day without seeing each other or we had panic attacks."

"I was like that," Florence said. "I was constantly afraid of things, afraid of pain, of losing the baby, of what would happen next, and if I wasn't with him, leaning on him…I would lose control."

"How has it been since your separation?" Hope asked.

"It's sucked. I cry a lot. I cried in the arms of a few of my coworkers a few weeks ago. I've felt like this endless fog is around me. And it's harder because I don't have my husband to lean on. But I just…I have to get past this so I can learn to handle things on my own again."

"Were you guys codependent when it came to other things? Like, couldn't go out without him, couldn't spend an evening alone?"

"No," Florence said. "But as soon as any type of crisis happened…I couldn't function. And he…" her voice was threatening to crack, so she paused. "He missed the baby's birth. It wasn't his fault. Everything happened so fast."

"I…I don't want to really start picking apart your relationship," Morgan said, "so forgive me for it. But…isn't that a major part of relationships? Leaning on each other when times get tough? No one wants to go through hard times alone. If my mom hadn't had my dad when her parents died, she might have…uh…you know."

"I guess," Florence said. "But like, I could. not. function."

"You like being strong and independent," Leela said. "I can see that in you. It can be hard to learn that it's okay to be vulnerable."

But I am vulnerable! Florence though. Sylvester's seen all sides of me. He saw me through my coma. He's the only person I've slept with. "I have gotten better at that," she said. "But I don't know how to draw the line. How do I know what is just leaning on your spouse, and what is too much?"

"It might be a good idea," Leela said, "to not ask yourself that. Ask yourself if you're allowing him to take care of you when you need it. Don't ask what's too much. Ask what is too little. If the roles were reversed…if he'd been traumatized by some event, would you have wanted to be there for him?

I was. He'd shot someone, shortly before they'd gotten together. He'd done it in defense of his friends. The person had died. It had been a necessary action. But it had haunted Sylvester. Even years afterward. His eyes would glaze over. Or he'd wake up crying. Shaking. She'd held him. And comforted him. And talked it over with him, time and time again. She'd loved him through it. And she'd told him, more than once, that you'd do the same for me.

He'd tried. Or maybe, she thought, he believed he was still helping her, by letting her call the shots. She hated not know if she wanted that, or wanted guidance.

More than anything, she wanted his arms around her. She wanted to be close.

"You'll be okay, love," Hope said, patting Florence's chair. "We've got you, and it sounds like you have other people who've got you, too. This is a maze, but we'll get through it."

"Yes we will," Florence said, a small smile on her face. She said it partly for Hope's benefit.

But she said it partly because she believed it. These women, these women that she had only met one week ago, were somehow making her see a light that hadn't been present in months. It was faint, that light. But it was enough to tell her this was the right direction.

This way to safety.