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Read book online «Caul Baby by Morgan Jerkins (read any book .TXT) 📕».   Author   -   Morgan Jerkins



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see a Black woman with long dreadlocks and skin the color of drenched red clay before her. The stranger leaned forward with a grip on her mobility scooter, and the other hand balled into a fist on her left hip.

“Excuse me?” Josephine asked.

“You’re that bitch who took my sister’s child away from her before she ever been born.”

“Excuse me. I haven’t any idea who you are.”

“Take off those cotdamn glasses and maybe you’ll see me better.”

Josephine removed her sunglasses and immediately knew. She recognized the lines in the woman’s face, which gave way to the rage that her sister displayed that Sunday afternoon. Her jaw dropped. “You’re related to Laila.”

“I am, and I haven’t forgotten you. I can tell you ain’t never had no children. Your hips the size of my ironing board. You walk around here all high and mighty. You ain’t nothing but a doll. A pretty doll in a big ol’ dollhouse.” She spat on Josephine’s pump. “You’ll reap what you sow. You hear me? You done turned my sister crazy. Can’t even walk outside, husband left her. This ain’t the last you seen of our family. You hear me? I may not be able to beat your ass, but one day we will get you back for what you’ve done.”

Josephine pushed her sunglasses up the arch of her nose and feigned a smile. “Good day,” she said, and left.

Later that evening, Landon visited her bedroom and Hallow, who was old enough to know what they would do, left the room. When he mounted her, his foot accidentally hit a hard object underneath the bed and made a knocking sound. He hissed and leaned backward to see what had caused the pain, but Josephine pulled the ends of his shirt to bring him closer to her chest.

“What was that?”

“It’s nothing.” She smothered him with kisses before he grabbed both of her hands from his neck.

He got a good look at her face, looked underneath the bed, and pulled out an antique cherry trunk. He unlatched the locks to find several blouses and skirts stuffed on the inside and a wad of cash.

“Going somewhere?”

Josephine sighed. “Maybe.”

“Where?”

“Someplace better. Come on, you shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve wanted it for so long. And now that Hallow is older, I . . .” She dropped her hand on her thigh and leaned toward the window.

“You just want to leave her?”

“I—”

“Jo, no. No.” She kept shaking her head. She closed her eyes and the tears streaked her cheeks. Landon crouched down and grabbed ahold of both of her arms. “Jo, listen to me. Listen to me.”

“No. I want you to cut off most of our cauls and we’ll sell them to our women in need in this neighborhood. I don’t care about the price. We don’t need much to leave, and we can move to White Plains or Pleasantville or, I don’t know, the Berkshires.”

“We? I can’t leave, Josephine; you know that.”

Josephine sniffed his mouth and said, “Your breath doesn’t taste like a foul mix of citrus and dairy. She’s given up caring. So why do you stay?”

Landon released his grasp and sat on the bed beside Josephine. He clasped his hands between his legs, and she recounted the confrontation she’d had at the deli.

“Damn,” Landon said.

“Yeah.”

“Did she say anything else? Are you really sure it was Denise?”

“Yes, it was. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I mean, your guilt has been eating you up all these years. Just wanted to make sure you saw what you really saw.”

“I know what I saw. I ain’t crazy. But, God . . .” She shook her head and started to cry. Landon touched her back, and she popped her shoulder to reject the touch. “Don’t you see?” She turned toward him, and the glow of the nearby candles kept one side of her face in the shadows. “We’re a cursed people. Always have been, always will be. And I can’t stay here any longer. I’m dying. Don’t you see? That’s why I couldn’t bring forth life. Don’t you see? You’re not looking at anything but a doll. A doll in a big ol’ dollhouse.”

Landon was familiar with Josephine’s sadness. But this time, it was meted out through flickers and not large explosions. He didn’t know what to do, so he did nothing. They sat in silence long enough for the glow of the candle to dim. In the darkness, he could see traces of Josephine’s figure bending down and pulling the trunk to the middle of the floor before plopping into bed, which stunned him into immobility. How many nights had he touched her arms and not taken heed to his fingers sinking deeper and deeper into her skin? How many nights had he entered her body and she whispered to him to plunge deeper, to where he thought she intentionally wanted him to hurt her? How many nights had she asked for him to drag his fingers along the remaining pieces of her caul and pull? Before sliding underneath the covers alongside Josephine, Landon silently drew breath in his open hands and smelled traces of peppermint. Valerie did not give a damn about anything. The children were getting older. One needed money for college applications; another needed money for basketball. As the children grew and learned about autonomy, the distance between him and his wife stretched into a ravine. He and Josephine had Hallow, yes. But she was getting older, and she was becoming more independent even while sequestered in this dilapidating brownstone. The further Hallow pulled away from them both, the more he and Josephine pulled away from each other.

At least when she was a child, he and Josephine could try to imagine themselves in her small, chubby face, where the fixed mold of who she was destined to be had remained to be seen. But now her cheekbones sat high where his and Josephine’s slumped. Her strands of hair roamed throughout her scalp, each one of different curl and texture, which alluded to her muddled origins. When she was little, she

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