Mother of All Secrets

by Kathleen M. Willett

I’ve been an exhausted, overwhelmed, depressed woman I don’t even recognize. And this woman agreed to commit a violent crime. But she isn’t me.

What I needed was to go somewhere remote and sleep for a week straight. To shower more than twice a week. To look in the mirror and actually recognize my reflection, to see me, Jenn, rather than the swollen, grumpy, leaky ghost of who I once was.

I couldn’t help but resent the fact that he was actually sleeping at night and then getting dressed up to interact with other adults all day. From what I could see, his life hadn’t really changed all that much since Clara was born, but mine had been turned upside down by this little person.

After I took her out for sushi, Clara and I went to a club and ended the night with a movie and late-night pancakes on the couch. How was my night? What did that even mean?

No one hands me a freaking medal when I tote him around all day, that’s for sure.”

People probably thought I was on the verge of a mental breakdown myself. I may very well have been.

They’re like millionaires based on his linkedin title and the fact they apparently live in a town house by themselves so I really doubt they need anything from us. It’s always rich people involved in shit like this. Just wait—dirty little secrets will start to come out.

that there was a new Doc. Untitled. Friday, September 25. Appeared to be only one line. I opened it.

Because if I had written it and had forgotten—and had forgotten what had caused me to write it—what else might I be forgetting?

There are tons of runaways, plenty of parents who abandon ship—dads mostly, but some moms, too. And the press only cares about certain missing people. Like if it’s a Black adult from Queens? You’ll never hear about it. Please.”

What do you even mean, you’re missing something? It’s not up to you to solve her case. It has nothing to do with us, okay? It’s very sad, but we aren’t involved. In any way.”

you think we’re all friends, then you must not have any real friends. This is mommy networking bullshit. Not friendship.”

“I was worried about you, Jenn. I am worried about you. You’ve barely smiled since Clara was born. You’re a shadow of who you were. You just seem so . . . worn out.”

After all, the honorable thing for any of you to do, after learning that this terrible man now had a missing wife, would be to offer up your piece of the puzzle.” Isabel slowly looked at each of us, gauging whether we understood.

All he cared about was that we had this picture-perfect life. He made every decision for me: clothes, food, our house.” I thought of Naomi’s little dresses and of how Isabel would rush out of our meetings. I also remembered how Connor hadn’t even known she’d been in a moms’ group; he probably wouldn’t have approved.

Even before he started hitting me, I knew that there was something essential missing in him—an empathy chip. I came to realize he genuinely doesn’t see other people as people.

“Divorce is literally what I do for a living. I can help you with that, and will do so gladly. But I’m not going to help you kill the guy.”

I just wish she would stop mothering me and let me be the mother. But then, she’s always treated me like I’m some irresponsible child. And sure, when I was thirteen and shoplifting earrings from Claire’s every weekend, maybe I deserved that. But this isn’t that. I’m a college-educated, gainfully employed, financially independent woman. I am responsible

But what made it work was that people were usually willing to believe that a woman had been weak, crazy, had succumbed to some kind of psychotic episode.

“Totally! She’s loaded! She could have five nannies! And if you’re that depressed, see a doctor? I don’t really get any of it. I’m jealous of how much weight she probably lost, though. Maybe I should do that, too.”

New York is supposed to be the city that never sleeps, but Upper West Siders didn’t abide by that rule.

“Okay. Fine. So? So yes, I’m with other women. A fact you’ve known for quite some time. So what’s the goal here? What is it you hope to accomplish by parading them in front of me?”

wouldn’t be difficult at all to convince a judge that you’re totally unstable. I could afford a great nanny, or a couple of them, and my life would pretty much continue just as it is. Except that I wouldn’t have to see your annoying mom anymore. That would be that. You’d get supervised visitation, probably. If you’re lucky.”

You really aren’t good for much around here besides folding laundry. You’d find out pretty quickly if you left me that you don’t know shit about shit. There’s no way you could live alone, or take care of a baby by yourself. You need me and you need my money.”

that consent must be enthusiastic, stated out loud, continuous, given soberly. That it can be taken back at any time. The only reason I knew any of that was because I worked at a high school, where these understandings were part of the new health curriculum.

Dermatological surgeons don’t just have access to lethal drugs that make a crime look like a cardiac arrest. Especially when those drugs are completely fictional. For God’s sake. Do your due diligence. You guys are as helpless and unprepared as Allison!”

“You were a doormat. So complacent. So defeated and self-pitying. Until I came to your rescue, handed you an escape plan on a silver platter. Even then, you totally just let me do the heavy lifting, figuring out every detail. What kind of a daughter are you going to raise? The way I see it, people like you really don’t deserve to be mothers,”

Do you know how infuriating it is that my sister got pregnant from one time with a stranger, while on the pill, and just, you know, on a lark, figured she’d be a mom? Do you know what that did to me?”

Uncomplicated and good. He shouldn’t have been saddled with a woman like me, an absolute mess who’d kept the truth from him and was now entangled in a murder. Whatever consequences awaited me, I deserved them.