The School for Good Mothers(36)

Frida takes Emmanuelle’s hand gently, lovingly. She relaxes her face and speaks in the soft, pleasing pitch of a customer service representative. There are so many questions she can’t ask: Who made you? How easy is it to break you? Are you wearing a diaper? Do you eat and drink? Can you get sick? Can you bleed? What happened during the lunch hour? When Emmanuelle was unfrozen, she collapsed into Frida’s arms as if she’d been holding her breath the whole time. That can’t be good for her.

The instructors observe and give pointers.

“Relax your jaw,” Ms. Khoury tells Lucretia.

“Use your imagination,” Ms. Russo tells Beth, the broken bird.

“Your voice should be as light and lovely as a cloud,” Ms. Russo says.

“What does a cloud sound like?” Beth asks, looking up at Ms. Russo through a curtain of glossy hair.

“Like a mother.”

“But that makes no sense.”

“Mothering isn’t about sense, Beth. It’s about feeling.” Ms. Russo pats her heart.

Frida asks Emmanuelle if she’s friends with the other girls. Emmanuelle shakes her head. Frida pitches her voice higher, extolling the virtues of female friendship. She never spoke to Harriet in such a thrilling fashion. No one ever spoke this way in her family. At the dinner table, her parents talked about work. She wasn’t asked about her day or her feelings. With Harriet, motherese had felt no more natural than braces. The higher Frida’s voice, the more suspicious Harriet became.

Frida glances at the clock. It’s 2:43. They should have landed in San Francisco by now. She hopes Harriet behaved on the flight.

The lesson segues from motherese to physical affection. Both skills will be part of their daily mothering practice and will serve as the building blocks for more complex mothering tasks.

Hugs and kisses must communicate safety and security. Hugs and kisses should be plentiful but not smothering. The instructors demonstrate with Ms. Russo playing the mother, and Ms. Khoury the child. The mothers must first assess their child’s needs: Hug or kiss or both? What kind of hug? What kind of kiss? Quick and gentle? One cheek, two cheeks, nose, or forehead?

The mothers must not kiss their dolls on the lips. On the lips is European, sets the wrong precedent, makes children vulnerable to molesters.

Ms. Khoury whimpers. Ms. Russo pulls Ms. Khoury to her breast stiffly. “One, two, three, let go. One, two, three. Release.”

They shouldn’t hold for more than three beats. Sometimes five or six beats is permissible if the child is injured or has experienced verbal, emotional, or physical trauma. Up to ten beats is permitted in extreme situations. Longer than that will hinder the child’s burgeoning independence.

Remember, the instructors say, you’re no longer dealing with an infant. The mothers can add some words of encouragement as they see fit. I love you. It’s going to be okay. There, there.

Frida sees Emmanuelle watching her, cataloging her. She tries to keep her expression neutral. Hiding her feelings has never been her strong suit. Her wide-open face was a dead giveaway whenever she traveled in Asia. Obviously an American. All her life, her mother has scolded her for frowning.

The instructors act as if a three-second hug is the most reasonable thing in the world. There are a few giggles, a few smirks and eye rolls, but for the most part, the five of them obey. Lucretia and Linda begin the one, two, three quick squeeze. Beth rocks from side to side, giving her hugs a personal flair. Frida and Teen Mom are on their knees, arms outstretched, trying to capture their elusive doll children.

Teen Mom is too aggressive. The instructors scold her for grabbing her doll by the wrist and making false promises.

“You can’t offer treats,” Ms. Khoury says. “We don’t use a reward-based parenting strategy here.”

Frida struggles for control. Emmanuelle wanders into the learning space of other mothers.

“Rein in your doll, Frida,” Ms. Russo says.

Frida begs Emmanuelle to accept a hug. She thinks of the night before her very bad day, remembers how frustrated she felt when Harriet wouldn’t hold still for her diaper change.

She catches Emmanuelle and counts to three, then stops counting. She should have let Harriet sleep with her that night. Every night. Why had she ever wanted Harriet to sleep in a different room? If she were holding Harriet now, she would caress Harriet’s back, sniff her neck, squeeze her earlobes, kiss her knuckles.

Ms. Russo again calls Frida’s name. She’s been hugging Emmanuelle for three minutes.

“It’s one-two-three, release, Frida. Which part are you having trouble with?”



* * *



Goodbye time comes promptly at five thirty. At the instructors’ whistle, the dolls line up at the door to the equipment room. Frida hugs Emmanuelle goodbye. The doll holds her arms stiffly by her sides, acknowledges Frida with a curt nod.

Deprived of the naps their human counterparts enjoy, the dolls are tired, but they don’t become fussy or hyper, instead becoming subdued in a way that would never happen with real children.

The mothers smile and wave. After the dolls are out of sight, their faces go slack. Frida’s face hurts from smiling. She follows her classmates down the stairs. Lucretia is comforting a weeping Beth. Lucretia says maybe she’s wrong about the robot stories. Maybe these robots are not evil in any way.

“I don’t think you should ask for a different doll.”