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

“Who is Mr. Epelbaum?” Helena asked Hallow.

“Somebody who’s about to change all of our lives, that’s who,” Josephine said. “A scientist wanted a piece of our caul to turn it around, sell it on the market, and distribute it to a wider audience.”

“What?” Helena faced Landon. “He’s legit?”

Landon nodded. “As legit as they come.”

“I guess we don’t need to speak in private, then.”

“Speak in private about what?” Maman asked.

Helena shot a glance at Hallow before fishing in her tote bag for a folded pamphlet. She unfolded it and placed it on the coffee table.

Hallow leaned over and read the big bold font in the center of the front page. “Blessed Waters Doulas?”

“Mm-hmm.” Helena nodded. With pride, she crossed her arms over her chest.

“I don’t get it,” Hallow said.

“You told me that you want to be more a part of Harlem and you want to help more people who look like us, right?”

“Right.”

“This is the place to do it. I used to take classes here. Got certified and everything. Even saw a few clients as a doula myself till I burned out. But I still wanted to be involved, so I did a bit of grant writing for them a little over a year ago. The practice was started by this older woman—she’s a saint. Getting you in should be no trouble because with all these conversations surrounding Black motherhood both online and off, they are probably gonna need some more help.”

“Getting Hallow in to do what?” Maman asked.

“To moonlight as a doula apprentice. It’s in East Harlem. Not too far from Central Park. I know, given your special circumstances, that’s a voyage. And if that Epelbaum guy is legit as y’all say he is, then it’s the best of both worlds. You give him the caul, you make a lot of money, and then you can also do some community work. Everybody wins.” Helena clapped her hands together once. “Boom.”

A pronounced creaking sound from outside the living room interrupted the conversation. Iris entered with one staggered stride after another. Her wide, unblinking eyes rocked the three ladies, who stared back at her with not a clue as to what to do or say. Iris looked at Helena, and tears pooled in her eyes.

“I didn’t want to call your name because I didn’t want to hear nothing and be wrong.”

“It’s me. I’m here.”

Iris touched the top of Helena’s head and cupped a cheek in her hand. “You look beautiful. You look like—”

“You. I know. Maman already said that. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

She crouched down beside Helena and softened her tone. “How is life outside of here? Are you having fun? Are you making friends?”

Helena guffawed at such juvenile questions but quickly understood that her mother was trying to make casual conversation, as it had been years since they had last seen each other in person. And besides, what else was Iris going to ask her? The last time Helena could recall Iris being outside was when the accident happened, or maybe she herself had forgotten because her small mind could not process her mother leaving somewhere, someplace without her. And now she, as her daughter, her carbon copy, was off somewhere, someplace that Iris didn’t know, which left Iris to remain suspended in time, a fixture in this home like the others, both sentient and non. Everyone was waiting for Helena to respond, and when she did, she too had tears rising in the corners of her eyes. “It’s fine, Mom.” There was so much Helena could have said—places she could’ve named, men she entertained, incidents she was thankful to have survived, but it was not the time or place. Though the two women were alike in looks, they resided in different times, their frayed bond unable to be sutured with the casual conversation of “catching up.” Helena didn’t expect to see her mother. She thought that Iris would stay downstairs and Helena could speak to Hallow without their ever crossing paths. Now that Helena had seen her, she expected to have some residual rage left in her spirit or at the very least more warmth toward Josephine, who mothered her more than Iris ever did, but she didn’t. She was calm and centered, feeling strong enough to be standing between her two mothers, not as a hurt little girl but as an empowered woman.

Unbeknownst to everyone else in the brownstone, Iris kept to herself in the basement not only to avoid scaring and inconveniencing anyone with her conversations but also because she could not stand to suffer the secondhand embarrassment of how Josephine’s life was playing out. She hadn’t wanted Helena to grow up to be as sycophantic as her sister. Once Helena was of no use to the family business, she became as bitter and unruly as Iris hoped. Whenever Helena had an outburst as a child, Iris grinned with pride. Whenever Helena back talked, Iris encouraged it so that Helena realized early on that nothing she could do would ruffle Iris’s feathers. The freedom that Iris gave Helena to roam and rant and the flimsy and irregular admonitions that Josephine handed out triggered within Helena a surging desire to destroy, until finally, the fire petered out. She grew older and found herself by living away from the brownstone and seldom came to visit. Iris dabbed at the corners of her eyes as she imagined Helena blooming unbridled with all of her humanity somewhere along some avenue in the city. Reuniting was unnecessary. Iris knew that she was alive, so there was no need to cry.

Helena reluctantly gave her mother a hug, and Iris hugged her back. Josephine and Landon had already gone upstairs to their bedroom and Maman to hers, but Hallow quietly observed the heartwarming scene. She watched the two silvery-haired women sway from side to side, with Iris kissing Helena’s scalp and Helena gently patting her mother’s back. Hallow shrank into a nook in the corner and thought of her birth mother