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Jacob chose that moment to let out a piercing scream. I kissed his head and rubbed his tummy, praying he would relax and go to sleep.
“Well, it gets easier,” mom said. “Once they are old enough to be put into daycare, you can get back to your life.”
The thought of dropping them off at daycare in the morning, leaving them all day, and picking them up in the evening made my heart ache. I looked at the little boy in my arms, his face all crumpled up, his hands clenched into fists. I took his hand in my fingers and kissed it until his fingers stretched.
How will I ever make this work?
“Jared,” my mother called. “Come meet your grandsons.”
My father, who had busied himself stocking my fridge like he was gearing me up for an apocalypse, froze at my mother’s words. He looked up, a guarded expression in his eyes, and finally shut the fridge door, walking our way.
He stared down at the tiny child in my arms, and then at his brother on my mother’s chest. He didn’t say a word.
“What are their names?” His voice had a weird tone to it, like he didn’t want to know.
I didn’t want to tell him. I didn’t want to hear their names come out of his mouth. And suddenly, I wished I hadn’t given them my last name. Because I felt like my boys deserved a better name than the steel-hearted cruel man in front of me who had told me I shouldn’t have kept them.
I didn’t answer him. I just stared back, jaw clenched, wondering what would happen if I refused to answer.
Somehow, he didn’t argue or push me. He stared down at Matthew who was nuzzling my mother’s neck, still whimpering slightly. Dad’s hand twitched like he wanted to reach out and touch him… but he didn’t.
My mother answered my father’s question. “Matthew and Jacob. Aren’t they precious?” she said, turning so he could see Matthew’s face.
“They’re beautiful, Maria.” He turned and went back to the kitchen.
My parents left after a few hours, and I was alone with the boys again. They finally settled down, a little earlier today than normal, and I sighed in relief as I put a lasagna in the oven for my own dinner. It was enough food for three days, but I planned to eat as much of it as I wanted.
I can do this. I might have to stoop to begging my condescending parents for help… but I can do this.
After dinner, I nursed the boys again and put them to sleep. I lay down on my mattress on the floor. The boys were in a crib I’d bought at a thrift store. It was slightly damaged, and I’d had to duct-tape it back together, but it was sturdy, and the mattress and bedding were clean. I watched the boys sleep, trying to figure out what to do next.
As far as my classes, those were dropped for the fall semester, and I was unsure about the spring term. The university understood, and put a temporary hold on my account due to personal reasons. I had an invitation to return, but I had to pay back my scholarship if I didn’t re-enroll within one year.
Can I do one year? Can I work, save money, stay home for one year, and then put the boys in daycare while I go back to school?
Alone in my apartment with my babies sleeping in a broken crib on the floor, I found myself crying again. I wanted the world for them. I never wanted to leave them for more than afew hours, let alone full days. But I knew I didn’t really have a choice. Ihadto get a degree, and a real job with decent benefits if I wanted to take care of them myself. As much as I’d like to stay with them all the time and care for them, daycare and public school were my only options for our future. Especially if I was alone.
The very next day, my landlord knocked on the door again.
I told him I had his rent, but he said it didn’t matter “Keep it,” he shrugged. “I don’t care. The owner has sold the place. You have thirty days to move out.”
“What?” I shouted.
He jumped back from me.“I’m sorry, hon, I really am.” But he wouldn’t meet my eye.
“I want proof!”
He pulled out a memo on the company letterhead that detailed the transfer of ownership, and the plan to “update” the building to create luxury apartments.
“I can’t move out! I have nowhere else to go! Nowhere else I can afford! You can’t do this!” I shouted. I didn’t always let my anger out, but now I was furious and I couldn’t stop it. My whole body buzzed with adrenaline and anger, and my arms felt numb.
“Hon, calm down—”
“Calm down? Oh, what did you expect? You tell me I have thirty days to move out and you tell me tocalm down?” I don’t remember what else I said, but by the time I was done yelling at him, he had backed away and was walking down the hall, trying to get away from me. Other neighbors had opened their doors, and they were all yelling now.At least I wasn’t the only one who was mad.
I slammed the door shut and leaned my back against it, sliding down until my butt hit the floor. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I sobbed, and for the first time, I let myself admit how completely helpless I felt.
I cried for an hour, but the sound of the twins crying forced me to my feet. Swallowing gulps of cold water from the sink, I splashed my face and pulled Matthew into my arms.
