Mother of All Secrets

by Kathleen M. Willett

I haven’t been me for months. 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.

I felt fairly certain I would never sleep again.

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.

At three months old, Clara had not slept more than three hours straight, and even three-hour stretches were a rare treat. Of course, that meant I hadn’t slept more than three hours, either.

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.

compounding the challenges we were facing as brand-new parents was the fact that I’d also lost my mom to cancer when I was six months pregnant.

Maybe women are in general. Just more equipped to care for these tiny humans.” She shrugged and glanced down at Caleb, who was still sleeping, sucking his paci rhythmically. “We’re not, though,” Selena said, suddenly serious. “Or, if we are, it’s only because we don’t have a safety net. The doctor puts the baby into our arms when it’s born, and from that moment on, we’re the first line. We rise to it because we have to. Not because it’s intrinsically easier for us.

He kissed us both and was off to a day of being around other adults, using his brain and his degree. I wondered if he even thought of us while he was at work.

I also knew deep down that the reason I was lying awake thinking of Isabel and Connor was so that I could avoid thinking about the shameful fact that, while I was certain this had been Tim’s first time having sex since we’d had Clara, it hadn’t been mine.

It took me more than a full second to realize that the woman sitting at the table was Isabel.

“You all know my husband. In the same way.” She took a beat again, slowly turning her gaze to each and every one of us. “And now that we’re gathered together, I’d love if we could talk about why you didn’t tell anyone about Connor’s misdeeds after I went missing, because that was the whole point.” She took a deep, frustrated breath. “And more importantly—let’s discuss how we can make it right.”

The psychology could hardly have been any clearer: Connor had to control everything about our life, since he didn’t have any control of his childhood. In his effort to create what he thought was the perfect life, he didn’t even realize he was doing the exact same thing his father did.

I was grateful beyond measure for this one perfect moment before whatever would come my way days from now.

I hated how much it felt like a final goodbye.

So Vanessa had killed her sister, taken her baby, killed Connor, and planned to kill Isabel, and now we were stuck in this situation, in this house, with her.