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

I will never know that kind of hurt. I will never know what it’s like to lose in that way. But then again, I gave birth to two caulbearing daughters.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” Maman took the blunt from between Josephine’s fingers and pulled. “If any of your children were supposed to live, then there was always a probability that they wouldn’t have been born with a caul. But all your children died, and so we know that they weren’t. Even if they had lived and weren’t born with cauls, what kind of life were they going to have in here anyway? They would not be useful here. I’ve seen these dynamics play out back in Louisiana; the non-caulbearing ones always feel left out. Look at how Helena was lashing out at everyone when Hallow first moved in here. Now imagine what would have happened to your children. The body remembers, yes. But your body did you a favor.” Maman raised the blunt toward Josephine as if she were toasting in her honor and took another hit.

Josephine’s bottom lip dropped. She leaned back in her seat and replied, “My God. Is that what you think—that all children are good for is to be useful?”

“For our home, yes. Actually . . .” Maman’s chest expanded as the smoke filled her insides. “For anyone’s home. Children have to be useful. They weren’t born just to be born but to continue a lineage. We have been given a gift, Josephine. Can’t you see? The reason we’ve been able to stay here is not because there’s ample opportunity for Black women to get ahead in traditional jobs, nor is it because of some benevolent landlord, but because of this . . .” Maman ran her fingers along the caul on Josephine’s leg.

“I wouldn’t say good as new but since we’re on the subject of children, I actually have something that I’ve been sitting on for a while.”

Maman placed her hands on her knees and leaned forward. “Go on.”

“I would never do what you’ve done to Hallow, what you’ve done to me.”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“You showed her off like a pet monkey. When you took her out a while back, you had to show her off by hurting her. You did the same thing to me when I was a kid and—”

“And what?”

“And it’s fucked up.”

Maman grinned. “Ah, now she has some bite. Keep it coming.”

“It’s bad enough that even to this day I have to look away when you cut her, and she just takes it like a good child. Doesn’t nearly cry like I used to. But whatever you did to her when you took her to that block association meeting, Maman . . . it wasn’t good.”

“She’ll get over it.” Maman flicked the ash from her blunt into a silver tray.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Nobody just ‘gets over it.’”

“Sure they do. With time.”

“I never got over my miscarriages.”

“Because you like to be stuck in the past and wallow in your own misery.”

“And you never got over Dad leaving you. His picture is still on your desk.”

“Wow.” Maman cackled then started to clap. “Brava. Someone’s talkin’ spicy now.”

“Don’t mock me.”

“I keep your father’s photo on my desk because he still gave me you and Iris. In my life I found that men are only useful for two things: money and children—both important to keep a family strong. Love is just a by-product.”

“For you. I’m not like you. I love and then I love again. I love Landon and I love Hallow, and as her mother, I’m telling you, don’t do that to her again. You only take her out if I say so, and I want a rundown of what happened when you two come back. Nothing happens off my watch, do you understand?”

“Hmm. Very well. Understood.”

Josephine sat a little bit taller in her seat, grateful to finally have the respect that she had sought for a long time. In her proud posture, she could see the cracks on the wall behind Maman. They did indeed look like claws, and she was not sure if it was the cannabis or the flickering of the glowing light, but those claws flexed and retracted as though they were readying to snatch Maman up.

“How do you sleep at night with that? They look bigger from the last time I saw them.”

Maman looked over her shoulder. “Oh, you mean Scuff? Aww, Scuff ain’t so bad.”

“You have a name for it?” Josephine asked, disgusted.

“Once you’re so familiar with it like I am, you might as well give it a name since it’s been around so long.” Maman shrugged. “What are you gonna do? It’s an old brownstone.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Listen.” She ignited her lighter while holding the blunt in her mouth. “This is my home. I worked my ass off to the white meat to maintain it. I’m gon’ live in it and I’m gon’ die in it and that’s that on that. Do you understand me?”

Josephine nodded.

“Anyways, I’m getting tired.” Maman placed the lighter on the nightstand, where the end of one of her pillows was hanging over it.

“You’re never nervous about that?”

“About what?”

“That.” Josephine pointed to the cloth of the pillow beside her lighter.

Maman shrugged her shoulders. “No, I’m not. I’m tired, Jo. Go back to Landon and give him what he came for and what you certainly dressed for.”

“I’m not in the mood,” Josephine said with her eyes still fixated on the lighter.

“You want him to go back to Valerie?”

“He can do whatever he wants. Valerie and I aren’t in competition with each other. I like this freedom right now anyway.”

“Spoken like an other woman.”

“I’m not the other woman. I’m just someone he visits from time to time. Got no children between us so there’s no one keeping him here.”

“You forgot to count yourself.”

“That’s probably the nicest thing you said all night.”

“And you do share a child together. Hallow is your child. You’re the only mother she’s ever known.”

“Make that the nicest thing.” Josephine yawned. “Maybe I will go back