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"Lie down," I tell her, guiding her back

"I have to--"

"Chelsea, I’m here Let me help you," I bark, ready to shake her at this point I brush her hair back fro beautiful--face "I’ll make sure the kids are okay"

She stares at me for a moment, like I’m an apparition Or a dream And then slowly, her eyes ith tears They trickle silently out of the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks

And every one fucking destroys ?"

She breathes out a shaky breath and wipes her cheeks "I’m justI’m so tired, Jake I’m so tired"

For the first time, I think about what it ot that phone call How she probably raced around, throwing necessities in a bag, figuring she’d send for the rest of her things later How she had to withdraw from school, probably break the lease on her apart existence

And then she was here--so needed, all the tiements, care for six kids who couldn’t possibly care for the therief She had to keep the apart

And she had to do it completely on her own

And I knoithout a doubt, that she hasn’t taken a second for herself To process her own pain, get a handle on her own sorrow and loss There couldn’t have been any ti--it was only a matter of time before she co will be okay"

She s it tight

"Thank you"

• • •

After that, I do triage War-zone ether in the botto wretched faces, each with his own barf bucket beside hian are in Riley’s bed, with a wastebasket next to thee of sleep I pay close attention to the two-year-old, who gazes at lassy eyes

"Hiii," she rasps exhaustedly

I run h her baby-fine hair "Hey, kiddo"

Then I head down to the kitchen, where Rosaleen is perched on the counter beside her baby brother, holding a bottle for him She says she kno to do it--that she’s watched her mother and Chelsea do it a thousand tionna have to burp him," she tells me, and then explains how it’s done Carefully, I lift hiht arms like a bomb that could detonate at anyhi his back

"Like this?" I ask the seven-year-old