Smooth slate tiles dominated the floor and seamlessly climbed up the four walls that surrounded Zehra. The bathroom was as neat as a pin, and every haircare product and miracle elixir looked as pristine as the day it was carefully placed on the shelf. The bamboo shoots and orchids accentuated the spa-like qualities Zehra’s mother hoped would set any weary mind at ease. With her back pressed firmly against the door, Zehra rubbed her temples in slow concentric circles; she was deeply vexed. Her bare palms squeaked down the surface while she head-butted the hapless door several times. Matilda’s so ignorant and desperate for attention. It’s so sad to see how far this trollop will go to make me look bad! She vaulted off the door and stomped to the bathtub and took a seat off the ledge. Of all the trifling things, she should know better not to touch my hair, let alone lay this mess in it! Zehra nearly yanked the handle off the circular dial as the faucet began spewing water. Her fingers sifted through the stream until the temperature was adequate.

As the tub filled with water, Zehra sorted through a plethora of hair care products and selected her favorite detangling shampoo and enrichment conditioner. The cabinet door beside the tub opened as Zehra disappeared inside then reemerged with a homemade bath bomb. She remembered mixing the ingredients and setting the molds- the finished product didn’t look perfect, but it got the job done- wait, what am I talking about? The cabinet door slammed shut as Zehra returned to the tub. The water reached a respectable level; she dipped her toe to test the temperature and it was excellent.

The bath bomb fizzled on the edge of the tub as Zehra stepped inside. She dunked her head in the water and attempted to part her hair with very little success. A line of shampoo spread across her hair like mustard as she generously massaged the elixir through her head. The proper set was a very important step within the hair-washing process. A stiff hand batted the bath bomb into the water; it dived into the tub and bobbed up fizzing. The bomb took on a life of its own as it spun around in concentric circles. Zehra closed her eyes and sank into the water. Her nose was swimming in fields of lilacs and lavenders when she decided to dunk her head in the water once more. When she emerged from the water, it took on a sickly yellowish color. She massaged her scalp and pulled back a hand covered in what she could only describe as snot. She found her nose creeping towards the mucus-like substance and nearly retched in the bathwater. The stench was reminiscent of rotting chicken flesh.

The pleasantries ended after that. Zehra drained the water and opted for a shower instead. She repeated the process, working the shampoo through the soupy mess atop her head. A glob of putrid-smelling muck splattered the tub and Zehra lost her lunch. The conditioner had little effect on her hair; it felt heavily weighted and damaged beyond repair. All her product failed her and she started to wonder if this might be the work of something beyond Mathilda’s capabilities, something more nefarious. The bath and the shower were disastrous in the end.

Zehra wrapped her head in a towel and slid her arm through the sleeve of a fluffy white robe lined with a colorful pattern of rainbow clouds. To no one’s surprise, the tub had been destroyed. Thick yellowish-brown tracks raced up and down its surface. The cleaning solution beside the tub openly mocked her, but Zehra knew any attempts to clean this disaster was beyond her expertise; besides, her mother was much better suited to jobs of this magnitude. She dropped her clothes in the hamper behind the door and opened the door to the hallway, allowing a few clouds of steam to escape.

A barefoot emerged from the bathroom and nearly tripped over the furry mound curled up outside. As the other leg sailed over Mt. Howard, his head shot up suddenly, nearly taking off Zehra’s kneecap and setting everything off balance. Stumbling forward, she grasped at anything that would prevent her fall, but skid into the carpet face first. Howard stood to his tiny meaty legs and walked to Zehra’s face and licked it adequately before switching away.

The doorbell rang and the front door opened with a whoosh of vacuum-sealed air. Zehra dragged herself to the banister and looked on. Her mother’s vocals climbed several octaves as she put on her phoniest voice. At that high level, she always managed to insert the most nauseating laugh. “I’m doing great, thanks for asking. How are you doing tonight?” She sighed at her mother as she took the pizza, knowing good and well that woman didn’t care about his night. “Hey, we all have to get that paper by any means necessary.”

Ugh, she just inserted the laugh and it wasn’t even funny! That laugh nearly made Zehra puke as the stomach-churning conversation continued. “Here’s a little something for your trouble... No, thank you, and God bless...goodnight.” The door closed and her mother reverted to normal— “Dinner, hurry up for it’s gone!”