Mother of All Secrets(33)

“What did she say when you talked? What did she say about me?” Now I was curious to see if even Tim could perhaps shed some light on my relationship with Isabel, offer a reason I might have written what was said in that Google Doc.

“It was a brief conversation. Super brief. However, she did tell me before we hung up that she thought you were a lot stronger than I was giving you credit for.”

My chest warmed for a moment. I closed my eyes. Thank you, Isabel. Thank you.

“Did the police talk to you?” I demanded. “About your little phone call?”

He paused yet again for what felt like a full minute but was probably only a couple of seconds, choosing his words carefully.

“They did. I’m sure they were just, like, going through her call log and stuff, following up with anyone who was a question mark, which I totally get why I would be.”

My heart started pounding, activated by disbelief and betrayal. “And you didn’t tell me that, either?” Clara had started squirming, so I put her on the bed on her stomach; she stared back and forth between us, captive audience to our fight. I wondered if we were traumatizing her by arguing right in front of her.

“It was just yesterday. After they came here to talk to you. They called me at work. I told them exactly what I’m explaining to you, about why I called her, and I haven’t heard from them again.” He put his hand on Clara’s back and stroked her with his thumb.

“Talking to detectives is a huge deal, Tim, no matter the reason or the outcome. I told you about the detectives coming here. I was so shaken. Don’t you think it would have made me feel better to know that they’d followed up with you, too? That they were talking to literally everyone who’d been in contact with her?” It wouldn’t have made me feel any better about her calendar entry or my damning Google Doc, but I wasn’t going to mention that. Now I was being choosy with my truth, too. As I’d been for weeks now. As I would have to be for the rest of our marriage.

“I would have told you, but I actually thought it would make you more anxious about the whole thing, not less. Because then I would have had to tell you all of what I’m telling you now, and I’d already resolved to just keep it to myself. I didn’t want to risk hurting your feelings and making you feel even lower than—”

“—than I already am. Got it. Well, I’m glad to know what you think of me, at least.” I was willing myself not to cry. To focus on the anger, not the hurt. I didn’t want to cry in front of him and confirm how weak he thought I was. He’d robbed me of the freedom to be vulnerable in front of him without feeling judged.

“Babe, I am sorry. But you have to understand that what I did was out of love and concern for you. It was misguided and stupid, but it wasn’t malicious. I would never intentionally hurt or embarrass you.” He reached for my hand but I pulled away.

I was humiliated and hurt at what Tim had done but also fully aware that it was my own fault for being so unhinged to begin with. If I were just a regular mom, in love with my new baby, suffused with my new-mother glow, happily folding freshly laundered pink blankets while my baby slept in her bassinet, doing postnatal yoga videos in our living room, he never would have contacted Isabel to begin with. He wouldn’t have been worried and confused about where to turn. He would have had nothing to hide from me.

I couldn’t help but wonder, though—was there a chance he was lying? Was he really this clueless about moms’ groups? Or had he concocted an excuse that I couldn’t fault him for as a cover for an even more untellable reason for his contacting Isabel? A small part of me didn’t trust his explanation. Though I knew that the reason I wasn’t able to trust him was because I was burying a secret of my own, even deeper than I’d buried the Google Doc. Something I would do everything in my power to never, ever tell him. I knew that my anger toward him was unfair, since I had betrayed him, too—he simply didn’t know it. And I hoped he never would. But I couldn’t help but wonder if he was as undeserving of my trust as I was of his.

Suddenly I felt like I was stuck on a stalled elevator. I needed to get out of the apartment immediately. It was almost Clara’s bedtime, but I hoped she would tolerate a quick walk. And if she fell asleep in the stroller and it resulted in a more challenging night for both of us, then so be it. It’s not like my sleep could get much worse. I gathered Clara’s blanket, paci, burp rag, and Sophie the Giraffe, trying hard not to forget anything, not to further prove my incompetence to my husband. I also poured the rest of the bottle of chardonnay into a coffee thermos and put it in the stroller’s cup holder. Tim didn’t attempt to come out of the room and continue our conversation. Fuming, I buckled Clara into the stroller and stalked out of our apartment.





Chapter Thirteen



Tuesday, October 6

The next morning I was still reeling from my conversations with both Selena and Tim. Whenever someone was mad at me, or I was convinced that someone didn’t like me, it was practically the only thing I could think about, casting a shadow over me for days. This time was ironically a little bit easier, because my exhaustion made it impossible to care about anything as deeply as I probably would have if I had been rested. The two confrontations were also canceling each other out in my mind. I couldn’t worry too much about either one before I switched to worrying about the other.