Caul Baby by Morgan Jerkins (read any book .TXT) 📕

“Oh, she’s adorable!” Amelia gushed. She walked over to Hallow with outstretched hands and said to Josephine, “Can I hold her?”

“No,” Josephine said, and moved farther away from Amelia.

“Jo—” Maman said sternly then smiled at the Webers. “Forgive her. She’s a new mother, and like all new mothers, she’s territorial.”

“We understand,” Amelia said. “We have three of our own, which is why”—Amelia turned to Josephine with a haughty expression and continued—“you can understand why this is important to us.”

“Certainly.” Maman stood to her feet and grabbed the utility knife.

“Wait,” Eric said. “How do we know it works? This is a lot of cash we’re handing over.”

“You’re right. You don’t know. So let’s do a demonstration.” Maman sliced her left wrist. Eric yelped and Amelia flinched, only for them to watch as her gaping wound closed back up again before their very eyes. “Josephine—” Maman snapped her fingers, and Josephine held out her right arm.

“What are you doing?”

“My caul is just as good as anyone else’s. Look, there’s a piece left right near the crook of my elbow. Go ahead.”

“No, no, no,” Amelia said. “We wanted the baby. After all, she’s newer. That’s premium value.”

Landon touched the right side of Josephine’s waist and whispered in her ear, “I got you. It’s okay.”

With tears in her eyes, Josephine reluctantly handed the baby over to Maman, and Landon wrapped both his arms around her, pulling her into the corner.

“You don’t have to watch.”

“I do,” Josephine said.

The process was completed in under a minute: a round incision on Hallow’s chubby left thigh as she cried and stared at Josephine, whose own tears would not stop streaming down her face. Amelia plopped the cash on the dining room table, thanked the Melancons, and snatched the caul as soon as Maman held it out in her hands. The Webers could hardly contain themselves as they gathered their coats and left. With Hallow back in her arms, Josephine trailed behind the couple and watched as a driver opened their car door, started the engine, and drove away. She lingered by the window, watching the rustling of the leaves and the laughter of passersby, wondering if this was as good of a time as any to open the door and just leave herself. She repeatedly kissed Hallow on her forehead and said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“I’m proud of you,” Maman said. “You know that, right?”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Josephine snapped back while keeping her eyes toward the front-facing window. “You’re only proud of me for doing what you ask. You don’t give a damn about my feelings, and you never have, so don’t patronize me.”

“We do what we do, not because we enjoy the process. It is a means to an end. Your first cut wasn’t exactly perfect for me either. My first cut wasn’t good for my mother. But we get on with it because we have to.”

“Get on with it?” Josephine shook her head. “This isn’t washing the dishes, Maman! Is everything so cut-and-dried with you? You don’t ever stop to think that not everyone is like you or Grandmère? These aren’t just babies we have no connection to. These are our children.”

“Exactly. And we must ensure that our children can survive, yes?”

“There are more things to life than just money.”

“Ha!” Maman slapped her right knee. “The only people who believe that cockamamie foolishness are the people who’ve always had it. But if you wanna try your luck . . .”

Maman opened the door, and the cold breeze enveloped all three of their bodies. “Go.”

“What?”

“Go. You don’t wanna be a part of this? You wanna go out there like a vagabond and see what it’s like with no money, then go.”

“Stop playing, Maman. You know everything would crumble if I took Hallow with me.”

“Ah.” Maman snapped her fingers and pointed in Josephine’s face. “But not before you crumble first. You wouldn’t make it farther than Marcus Garvey Park and you know it. Once you walk out that door, you have no money of your own that’s not connected to me, no education besides the homeschooling I taught you, and you got no one outside of here but Landon, who already has a ready-made family of his own, and no space for you.” She smiled, sure of her victory. “Nothing. But you go ahead and try.” She paused. “Go on, now.”

Josephine looked down at Hallow then out the gate and could not take one step out the front door. Maman laughed, then slammed the door. Hallow started to cry and Landon interjected and took her from Josephine’s arms. The two women were now face-to-face, staring into each other without saying a word.

Then Maman slapped Josephine with the back of her hand, causing her to fall to the ground, and said, “Didn’t think so.” She straightened her posture and retired to her bedroom with her nose high to the ceiling as she walked by an incredulous Landon and a fussy Hallow.

There on the ground, the distance to the front door stretched longer and longer. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining the length because of the impact of the slap or that was truly her mind’s estimation of how difficult it would be for her to leave. Nevertheless, she averted her gaze from the lacquered brass of the doorknob, stood to her feet and straightened her posture like Maman, and soothed her red cheek before holding out her arms so that they could be full of her baby again.

6

There were cracks on all four corners of Maman’s bedroom, and they were hungry. Black, jagged, and deep, they resembled outstretched hands whose claws leaned toward the center, anticipating when they could devour her whole. They were Maman’s biggest nuisance. Over the years, she’d squandered thousands to get them painted over, but there was no polymer in the world that could overpower a vengeful spirit. She knew their brownstone was askew ever since Iris had been born. Cups stained in the cupboard minutes