Chapter 11 Two years, six months, and thirteen days. That's how long Chris's life insurance was supposed to last in a worst-case scenario when I did the math. But adding an infant into the mix is going to throw us into poverty level. I can't get a job if I have an infant. I can't afford day care if I get a job. I can't sue Jonah for child support because he's not even the father. When Elijah begins to cry, I pile the paperwork together and go tend to him. Again. I thought Elijah was nothing like Clara was at this age, but I'm beginning to think I was wrong. Because all he's done for the last few days is cry. He naps occasionally, but he's mostly been crying. I'm sure it's because I'm not familiar to him. He's used to Jenny, and he hasn't heard her voice in a while. He hasn't heard Jonah's since Sunday night. I'm doing the best I can at pretending this will turn out okay, but I'm starting to worry it won't, because Jonah hasn't responded to a single one of my texts. Jonah very well may not come back. And do I blame him? He's right-I'm the one related to this baby by blood. Not him. It's as if Elijah is more my responsibility now. Despite being on the birth certificate, Jonah really doesn't have an obligation to raise a child who was created by my sister and my husband. I was hoping the two months Jonah has spent with Elijah would be enough to form that unbreakable bond between parent and child and that he'd come to his senses and show up, apologetic and heartbroken. But that didn't happen. It's going on day four and here I am, possibly about to raise a newborn in the midst of this chaos. Last night, I couldn't stop thinking about it while I sat in the living room, holding Elijah as he screamed his head off for an hour straight. I actually started laughing hysterically in the middle of all the screaming. It made me wonder if I was going crazy. That's how they always depict crazy people on television. Laughing in dire situations, when they should be reacting more appropriately. But all I could do was laugh, because my life is complete and utter shit. It's shit. It. Is. Shit. My husband is dead. My sister is dead. Their illegitimate child has been handed over to me to raise, when my own daughter barely speaks to me anymore. I'm not qualified for this. And I can't even escape this shit life to watch television because the damn TV is still broken. "I should call them." "Call who?" I spin around, shocked to find Clara home. I didn't even hear her walk through the door. "Call who?" she repeats. I didn't realize I said that out loud. "The cable company. I miss television." Clara shakes her head as if she wants to say, Cable is so outdated, Mom. But she doesn't. She walks over and takes Elijah from me. There are two cable companies in this town, but I get lucky and call the one we actually have an account with first. I'm on hold forever before I finally get an appointment confirmed. When I hang up, Clara is looking up at me from her position on the couch. "Have you even slept yet?" I'm assuming she asks this because I'm in yesterday's clothes and I haven't brushed my hair. I can't even remember if I brushed my teeth. I usually do it before I go to sleep and as soon as I wake up, but I haven't done either of those things, because Clara is right. I haven't slept. I wonder how long someone can go on no sleep. Apparently for Elijah, it's seven hours, because that's how many have passed between his last nap and this one. "Call Jonah and tell him to come get his son. You look like you're about to break." I avoid responding to her comment, lifting Elijah out of her arms. "Can you run to the store and grab some diapers? I only have one left, and he needs changing." "Jonah can't bring you more?" Clara asks. "Isn't that his responsibility?" I look away from Clara, since she's staring at me like I'm water and she can see right through me. "Cut Jonah some slack," I say to her. "His world has been turned upside down." "Our worlds were turned upside down too. Doesn't mean we'd abandon an infant." "You wouldn't understand. He needs time. My wallet is in the kitchen," I say, continuing to avoid throwing Jonah under the bus, no matter how much I want to. Clara takes my money and leaves for the store. When it's just me and Elijah, I lay him on the pallet I made for him. He's finally asleep, and I have no idea how long it'll last, so I take advantage of it and use the time to go to the kitchen and rinse out his bottles. He hasn't had breast milk since Jenny died, but he seems to be taking to formula pretty well. It just makes for a hell of a lot of dishes. I'm scrubbing one of the bottles when it happens. I start crying. Lately, when I start crying, I can't turn it off. I cry with Elijah at night. I cry with him during the day. I cry in the shower. I cry in my car. I have a perpetual headache and a perpetual heartache, and sometimes I just wish it would end. All of it. The whole world. You know your life is shit when you're handwashing baby bottles, praying for Armageddon.