Chapter 1 - before eli came home)
Three months before Eli was born, Mason painted the nursery himself.
That fact would become one of the things people used later to defend him.
But he loved that baby.
He painted the nursery.
He built the crib.
He cried at the ultrasound.
All of those things were true.
They were simply not the whole truth.
Mason could be thoughtful when the thing he was doing made him feel important.
He loved choosing the nursery color because his mother praised his taste.
He loved assembling the crib because he photographed the finished result and sent it to his friends.
He loved holding the ultrasound picture because people told him he was going to be a great father.
What he did not love was anything that made him feel unnecessary.
I had known Mason for six years.
We met at a friend's engagement party when I was twenty seven and he was thirty.
He was funny, charming, and unusually attentive.
When I mentioned liking lemon cake, he arrived at my office two days later with a slice from a bakery across town.
When my car battery died during our fourth month of dating, he drove forty minutes to help even though I had already called roadside assistance.
At the time, I thought those things meant he was dependable.
Later I understood they also meant Mason liked being the solution.
He liked being needed.
Our marriage was good in the way a house can look good when there is rot behind one wall.
There were warning signs.
Small ones.
If I made plans with my sister Rachel without checking with him first, he became quiet.
If I stayed late at work, he asked whether my job mattered more than our marriage.
If I was sick, he could be gentle for the first day, but by the second he would become irritated that I was still sick.
Nothing was ever bad enough for me to call it abuse.
It was pressure.
Sulking.
A slammed drawer.
A hard stare.
A sentence that made me feel selfish.
Then an apology.
Then flowers.
Then two beautiful weeks.
That rhythm was so familiar I stopped hearing it.
When I became pregnant, Mason changed.
At first, he became the best version of himself.
He researched strollers.
He read articles about baby sleep.
He came to every appointment he could.
He rested his hand against my stomach at night and smiled whenever Eli moved.
He also became more possessive.
He did not like people touching my belly.
He complained when Rachel wanted to help with the baby shower.
He said my mother was trying to "take over" because she offered to stay with us for a week after the birth.
Then Linda announced that she would be the one staying.
Not asked.
Announced.
"We don't need both mothers crowding the house," she said over Sunday dinner.
I looked at Mason.
He was cutting his steak.
"I think Anna should decide," my father said.
Linda smiled at him.
"Of course she should. I'm only saying my schedule is more flexible."
Mason put down his knife.
"Mom knows the house. It makes sense."
I remember the sudden silence.
My mother looked at me.
She was waiting for me to say something.
I should have.
Instead I said, "Maybe we can figure it out later."
That was the first decision about motherhood I surrendered before becoming a mother.
After dinner, Rachel followed me to the porch.
She was five years younger than me and had always been more direct.
"You don't want Linda staying with you."
"I don't know."
"Yes, you do."
I sighed.
"Mason will be stressed too."
Rachel stared at me.
"Anna, why is every decision about what will keep Mason from being stressed?"
I hated the question because I did not have an answer.
So I changed the subject.
Rachel did not push.
Before leaving, she handed me a small box.
Inside was a baby monitor camera.
"I got the same one for Melissa when she had Sophie. It backs everything up online. Motion, sound, the whole thing."
I laughed.
"You think I'm going to spy on my own baby?"
"You'll thank me the first time he makes a weird noise and you don't want to get out of bed."
Mason did not like the camera.
He smiled when Rachel was there.
After she left, he turned the box over in his hands.
"Why does your sister always buy things without asking what we already have?"
"We don't have a monitor."
"I ordered one."
"You didn't tell me."
He shrugged.
"Exactly. Because it wasn't a big deal."
The monitor he had ordered was audio only.
I preferred Rachel's.
We installed both.
The camera sat high on a shelf across from the bassinet area we planned to use during the first few months.
Rachel helped connect it to my account.
Mason watched us.
"Does it record everything?"
"Only when there's sound or movement," Rachel said.
"That's creepy."
"You can delete clips anytime."
That seemed to satisfy him.
I forgot about the camera almost immediately.
Two weeks later, Mason asked me to leave my job after the baby was born.
Not permanently, he said.
Just for the first year.
I worked in insurance compliance and earned nearly as much as he did.
I liked my job.
I liked the people.
I liked knowing I had a life that belonged to me.
"We can afford it," Mason said.
"That's not the point."
"What is the point?"
"I don't know if I want to stop working."
His face tightened.
"My mom stayed home."
"My mom didn't."
"And your mom missed half your childhood."
It was cruel.
He knew my mother had worked two jobs after my father was laid off.
I stared at him.
He immediately softened.
"That's not what I meant."
"Then why did you say it?"
He came closer and placed both hands on my shoulders.
"I'm scared, okay? I want our son to have everything."
There it was again.
The hurtful statement followed by vulnerability.
The trap door under every argument.
I hugged him.
A month later, I began maternity leave.
A week after that, Eli was born.
By the third night home, Mason stopped asking how I felt.
By the seventh, he started asking when I would be normal again.
May you like
By the twelfth, Linda had moved into our guest room.
And on the twenty eighth night of Eli's life, I learned that Rachel's camera had never stopped recording.
