“What’s wrong, Elizabeth?” she asks, pulling me from my unpleasant thoughts.

“Oh, nothing mother.” I try to smile, hoping that the small gesture will translate in my voice. I know I fail miserably.

“You know you can still talk to me. I know we’re not that close anymore, but I’m the same mother who’d paint your toenails all those years ago.” The resignation in her voice nearly breaks me. I’m a horrible person and an even worse daughter.

“I don’t think I’m happy,” I whisper. In fact, I know, but I’m hedging slightly to soften the blow to my mother. This is the first time I’ve ever admitted this out loud and it’s terrifying. It’s completely different than when you admit it to yourself. Saying it aloud makes it more real, makes it true.

The pause on the other line is so long, I’m starting to think she didn’t hear me. Finally she says, “Why?”

I can’t possibly answer that question. There’s an endless list of reasons why Cal makes me unhappy. Why I make myself unhappy. Searching my brain for an easy answer, uncomplicated answer, I come up empty. “I’m just not,” is the response I end up giving her.

“That’s not a very good reason, Elizabeth. You need to focus on your marriage and make it work. You can’t—” She stops as her voice cracks. After clearing her throat she continues, “You can’t just up and leave him without a good reason.” I’m sure she intends for her tone to be firm, but it’s laced with fear, and I know exactly why she’s afraid. There’s a lot on the line, and not just for me. And it all teeters on whether or not I stay married to Cal.

So I do the one thing I’ve become good at over the years. I fake it. I pull on my mask and play the perfect wife and daughter who doesn’t disappoint anyone. “You’re right, mother. I’m just having a bad day I suppose. Don’t listen to a thing I just said; it’s just the exhaustion talking.”

“Very good. Well, I hate to cut this short, but I need to get off of here,” she says, seeming lighter and happier than just a moment ago.

“Okay, I’ll call you next week.” I hang up the phone before she can say anything else. Leaning back against the sofa, I stare up at the ceiling. The pressure returns. I feel it creeping up my back and resting squarely on my shoulders. I don’t want to disappoint her, and I know she’s relying on me to keep this charade up. I’m sure she knows I’m really not happy. How could she not know? No, we’re not close now, but shouldn’t she have mother’s intuition or something? And that’s where my resentment comes in. How could she expect me to stay with someone when I’m not happy? Does she not care, or is it her own preservation that’s pushing her to convince me to stay?

A loud knock on the door startles me, causing me to jump out of my skin. Placing a hand over my heart in an attempt to slow it back to its normal rate, I walk over to the door. I’m not expecting anyone, and Cal would have just walked in, so I’m curious at who could be there.

I peek through the peephole in the door and don’t see anyone. Stepping away slightly, I cock my head a little in confusion. I know I’m not hearing things. Slowly, I open the door to see that my porch is empty. My right foot crosses the threshold as I peer out to see if anyone is there. When my foot lands on the porch, I hear a crinkling sound that catches my attention. Looking down, I see a piece of paper being held down at the corner by a small rock. That’s weird. I bend down to retrieve the note that was obviously left here on purpose.

Do you know where your husband is? Looks like he’s not only a liar, but a cheater too.

I walk off the porch and look in every direction trying to catch a glimpse of whoever put this at my doorstep. What does this even mean? Instantly, visions of Mona quickly appear in my head, and I feel slightly sick. Stumbling back through my house, I resume my position on the couch trying to decide what to do. I have a strong urge to call him and see what he’s doing, but I’m afraid I’ll seem transparent and he’ll know something is off.

Clutching the note in my hand, a myriad of questions passes my mind. Who could have sent this? How are they connected to Cal? What has Cal lied about? Is this person telling me my husband is cheating on me? And how do they know? I look down. My phone rests beside me from when I got off the phone with my mom. Picking it up, I call Cal’s office line.

“Good afternoon, Senator Fitzgerald’s office. This is Alice speaking, how can I help you today?” Alice is the over eager intern at his office.

“Hi Alice. This is Mrs. Fitzgerald, is Cal available?” It’s then that I wonder why I’d call his general office number, and not his direct line. Maybe my subconscious wants more information and thinks this is the way to get it.

“Um, I’m afraid not. He’s in a meeting right now,” she replies.

“Do you know with whom?” I cringe at my blatant attempt to snoop. I hope she doesn’t see straight through me and tell Cal about this.

“No, ma’am, but I could connect you through to his scheduler if you need to know.”

“No, that won’t be necessary. I was just hoping to reach him. I’ll call his cell phone later. Thank you, Alice.”

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Fitzgerald. Is there anything else I can help you with? Pass him a message or anything?” She’s as perky as ever in her offer to give him a message.

“No, that is not necessary. Have a good day.”

“You too, ma’am.” I hang up and stare at my phone. There’s this prickling feeling in the back of my spine nagging me, telling me that I know exactly who he’s in a meeting with. I’ve been trying to push back my suspicions from that day at his office, but with this note burning a hole in my hand, it’s getting harder to ignore.

A FEW NIGHTS ago I had expressed concerns to Cal that I felt like I was being watched. I just couldn’t shake this creepy feeling that there were eyes constantly on me. Cal paused when I was finished with my concerns as if mulling it over. Finally, he rolled his eyes and dismissed my worries saying that we were in a safe community with an alarm system. He insisted there was no need for me to worry. Looking around at the scene before me, we both know he was way off on his assessment.

Policemen and FBI agents have flooded my house. I suppose that’s to be expected when a senator’s house gets broken into. It’s been one week since I got the mysterious letter on the porch, and I never mentioned it to Cal. If the note had said anything other than insinuating my husband is being unfaithful, I probably would have told him. Given the subject matter, though, I decided to keep it to myself. Looking around at the mess in my living room, I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t. Maybe he would’ve taken me seriously then.

I had just gotten back from shopping with Catherine when I noticed the front door was open. Sharp tingles prickled my spine immediately feeling like something was wrong. I know for a fact I had set the alarm and closed and locked the door behind me. After the incident with the housekeeper, I’ve been especially vigilant in making sure this happens. I had pushed the door open, remaining on the porch in case I needed to make a hasty retreat. Listening past the noise of my heartbeat in my ears, I strained to hear if there was anyone in the house. When I was met with complete silence, I proceeded inside. The damage to my house shocked me, causing me to gasp and put my hand over my mouth. Everything was thrown about, broken, and in pieces. Between this and the note, fear immediately settled in and I called the police followed by Cal who was more than furious.

“If it’s alright with you, ma’am, we’d like to ask you a few questions. If you need a couple hours to gather yourself, then you can always meet us at the station.”