Hidden in Lies (4 page)

WALKING THROUGH THE
front doors of the Russell Building, I’m always struck by how grand the southwest entrance is. My eyes travel three stories up the surrounding columns to the dome shaped top before taking in the two marble staircases leading upstairs. It’s a mini rotunda to match the Capitol’s, but without the famous fresco painted on the ceiling. I place my purse on the conveyor belt of the x-ray machine and walk through the metal detector.

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” the security guard greets me with a friendly smile and a tip of his hat. I don’t come here often, so I doubt he knows that I’m the wife of a senator.

“Good afternoon,” I reply with a smile. Grabbing my bag, I walk through the halls to the elevator and wait for it to arrive. Once I’m inside, I press the floor where Cal’s office is located and patiently wait. I don’t usually drop by unannounced since it tends to agitate Cal a little, but hopefully he won’t mind too much today.

Letting myself into his office, I’m greeted by one of the interns that works for him. She’s a young woman who’s eager to learn and submerse herself in this line of work, keen to move up the ladder. Almost too keen.

“Hello, Mrs. Fitzgerald. How are you today?” she asks, a bright smile on her face, but with some apprehensiveness.

“I’m well, thanks. Is Cal in his office?”

“Yes, the Senator is in there, but he might be in a meeting. Do you want me to check or would you like to go on back?” She starts to rise from her seat, but I wave her off.

“No, it’s not necessary. I’ll just pop in real quick, thank you though.” Turning on my heels, I walk toward his office door. I slowly turn the doorknob and poke my head in, but what I see causes me to pause for a few moments. Cal is kissing a woman on her cheek, but it doesn’t look like a regular peck among colleagues. His hand is placed gently on her elbow, as if to draw her into him. No, this seems more intimate. It could be the way she’s looking at my husband affectionately, or the way Cal doesn’t pull back right away. Either way, this is anything but professional. When they see me, they instantly put distance between each other and straighten up, looking tense.

“Elizabeth, dear, what a pleasant surprise,” he says in a light tone as he approaches me, relaxing his posture. It’s then that I realize I’m still standing in the entryway, doorknob still in hand. My eyes travel over to the woman and she’s looking at me with a small, unsettled smile, hands clasped in front of her, but something is off in her eyes. She’s tense and if I didn’t know better, I’d say she looks guilty and apologetic. Cal gently grasps my shoulders and leans in for a kiss. I’m frozen in my spot and don’t move to meet him halfway, but I need not be worried about that because soon his lips are sealed over mine. My body is screaming at me to pull away. He just had his lips on another woman’s cheek, but my mind is very aware of the fact that the whole office can see us right now and I need to keep up appearances. When he pulls back to look at me, I clear the fog from my head and play the role.

“Hi, love, I was just in the area and thought I’d drop in to see you.” It kills me, but I find the will to smile adoringly up at him, when I would like nothing more than to turn and walk back out of this door with not a glance back. It’s all about composure. I’m expected to present myself in a certain light. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

“I’m glad you did. I was just wrapping things up here.” He turns back to the woman with his arm draped over my shoulders. “Is there anything else you needed to discuss today, Mona?”

She stares at me for a moment before swallowing hard and clearing her throat. “No,” she says as her attention focuses back on Cal. Her posture is stiff and she looks extremely uncomfortable all of a sudden. “I think we’re finished for now. I’ll tell the firm to try to hold off the pressure.” She walks toward the doorway and Cal moves us out of her way.

“Sounds good. Have them call me if there are any questions or concerns.” She gives a little nod while avoiding eye contact with both of us and leaves. Cal slowly closes his office door behind her, as if he needs time to collect himself before addressing me, giving the two of us some privacy from the rest of his staff. I try to keep my comments and accusations to myself, but I just can’t.

“What was that all about?” My voice is low, trying to keep my composure and from being overheard through these thin walls.

“What are you talking about?” he asks. Abruptly removing his arm from my shoulders, he walks back to his desk and has a seat, fiddling with papers on his desk as if my presence agitates him.

“You seemed pretty cozy with—what’s her name? Mona?” I cross my arms over my chest and drill holes into his face with my eyes, challenging him to look at me.

Finally bringing his gaze up to mine, he says, “That was nothing, dear. You know how it is with those lobbyists. You’ve got to kiss a little ass sometimes to get what you want. I need her lobbying firm to back off on putting pressure on Congress to pass more gun regulations until after the elections.” He holds eye contact as I try to decipher if he’s telling the truth or not. He’s looking at me confidently like he’s challenging me to question him. While I still feel a little unsettled by the exchange I witnessed, I decide to let it go for now, avoiding an interrogation session and hoping it wasn’t anything more. I know it’s not uncommon for a politician to have a meeting with a lobbyist. But my intuition makes me feel uneasy.

Sighing to myself, I walk toward the chair across from Cal and slowly lower myself into it. “I’d love to sit and chat with you,” he says to me, “but I’ve got to be on the floor in a few minutes to vote.” He stands and grabs his jacket off the coatrack before putting it on. I hear the aggravation in his voice and the anger in his eyes when he says, “That’s why I’m so adamant you call beforehand, so that you’re not wasting your time by coming all the way out here.” He strides up to me and gently grabs my chin, lifting my face up.

My lips turn up at the corners. “It’s okay, I know you’re busy. And time spent with you is never wasted.” He releases my chin and grasps my hand, helping me up before kissing me reverently on my lips.

Shortly after I say my good-byes, I’m sitting in the back of the car on my way home. I try to dismiss the exchange I witnessed between Cal and
Mona,
but it’s hard. Call it woman’s intuition, but something about it just doesn’t sit right with me.

“Will you be needing my services for the rest of the day, Mrs. Fitzgerald?” the driver turns around to ask when he parks in front of my home.

“No, thank you. I think I’ll stay in and wait for Cal’s return.”

“Very well, then.” He hops out and comes around to open the door for me. Once I’m out, I dig around in my bag for my keys. Why do I carry handbags this big? They become a black hole where I can never find anything. I hear the driver pull away right as I locate my keys.
Good thing I found them since he didn’t think to wait to make sure I actually got in.

Walking up to the front door, I’m about to insert my key when I notice it’s already slightly ajar. The housekeeper’s car isn’t out front, so I know she isn’t here still. I freeze as a flurry of questions run through my head. Has someone been in my home? What if they’re still in there? I’m slowly backing away from the door when I realize the alarm isn’t going off and I haven’t been notified by the security company of an intrusion. There’s no way someone managed to break in without tripping the alarm. Taking in a deep breath through my nose, my body starts to relax and I conclude that the housekeeper must have left the door open on accident on her way out.

Cautiously, I cross the threshold and listen for noise, just in case. My ears are met with silence, calming my nerves a little more. I walk through the entry way and into the kitchen looking around to see if anything is amiss. Everything looks to be the way it should be, so I continue my journey through the house. After I take note that everything is as it should be, no televisions, jewelry, or other expensive items missing, I flop down on the couch and chalk it up to the housekeeper being absentminded. It seems to be an honest mistake so I’m not going to mention this to Cal. He would blow his lid and I’d feel bad if the housekeeper lost her job when there was no harm done.

TWO WEEKS HAVE
gone by since I saw Cal with that woman. One would think I had walked in on him bending her over the desk with as much time as I’ve spent thinking about it. I’ve never brought it up again. That’s the thing about Cal; once he tells you something, you never question him. To question him would imply he’s a liar, and he doesn’t take kindly to those who accuse him of lying.

I learned that early on when we had moved in together. It was over something so simple, but it didn’t matter. Cal was leasing an upscale condo when we first met. When I moved in shortly after, I had asked if he would add me to the lease so if something needed to be taken care of while he was away, I’d have authority to deal with it. He said he’d do it the next day. Once I was settled in, I had asked if he had done it. I’ll never forget the look in his eyes. He looked at me with pure contempt, like he couldn’t believe I’d dare ask him something twice. In the moment, I didn’t have time to analyze it, but later on I remember thinking, why on Earth would he react that harshly? Then it came to me.

Power.

Control.

He doesn’t want anything to undermine the power he holds, and that goes for every aspect of his life. If I show any doubt to what he’s telling me, he takes that as a direct hit to the power he holds in our marriage. The power that comes with being the sole provider and the control in making all the decisions in our relationship. He gave me the silent treatment for two weeks. It might have been somewhat bearable if my parents hadn’t been visiting for one of those weeks. It was incredibly humiliating and hard to explain to my mom and dad why Cal hadn’t said two words while they were there. From then on, whenever he’s given me an answer, I’ve taken it and never brought it up again.

The fact that I’ve become a doormat hasn’t escaped me. It torments me. I hate how docile and agreeable I am. God forbid I upset Cal, but this is the price I have to pay. And, in a way, I think it’s a little bit of karma at work too. Serves me right for marrying someone solely for money.

Cal’s at work and I have no plans for the day, so I decide to call my mother and check in with her. After three rings, she answers. “Hi, honey. How are you?” Her tone is perky, but I know she’s trying to hide how tired she is.

“I’m doing okay. How are you?” Closing my eyes, I mentally cringe. I hate how on edge I always feel when I talk to her. Things weren’t always this way, but our relationship evolved over time. I’m not sure at what point it started to change, but I feel this immense pressure to live up to the life she wants me to have. And as much as I despise myself for saying it, it makes me resent her at times.

“I’m great, just a little tired, but I’ve been tired my whole life.” She laughs like it’s a joke, but I hear the crack in it and can tell she doesn’t find her situation funny. And it’s not.

“That’s real good, Mom.” Sighing, my free hand starts twiddling with my hair. I don’t know what else to say to her. How horrible is that? The woman that gave me life, nurtured me within her body, and sacrificed so much while I grew up feels like a virtual stranger. I don’t feel connected to her like I used to. Is it because she played a part in thrusting me into a lifestyle that I’m miserable in? Am I a selfish brat for blaming some of my unhappiness on her? After all, I probably never would have married Cal had she not called and told me—

“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.