The McCain Marriage Contract

It was a little over one month already. One month living the double life of the rich wife of a billionaire's son as well as the desperate daughter hustling to keep her father alive. I was sure I was nailing my dual role because no one seemed to suspect a thing. Raymond kept searching for answers that kept eluding him, while my dad got better and better. He was talking better now and he had begun physiotherapy. His progress was slow, almost disappointing, but I found solace in the knowledge that the worst was behind us. It was only progress henceforth.

I was still living peaceably with Raymond and communicating with his father too, mostly to remind him not to tell Raymond about my 'business.' I had not touched a dime out of the $200,000 he gave me as the first installment. Any money I spent on basic needs, such as toiletries and gas for my car, was from the remnant of my previous savings. Even the little tips Tony give me a couple of times when I went to see him, I kept saved too. My eyes and mind were firmly focused on the goal.

There was this gut feeling I occasionally had, a premonitory feeling of doom. This feeling was always present when something bad wanted to happen, and almost all the time something bad did happen thereafter. The day I had the accident at school, the one that scarred me terribly, I experienced the same feeling. I was already sad that period about the fact that Raymond was yet to ask me to the spring dance and he was nowhere to be found, and so I didn't see the premonition for what it was; instead, I waved it off as an overwhelming of sadness, which also made sense. And then the accident happened. Also, the day I lost my mom to an automobile accident I beg her not to go out. I had no real reason for asking her to stay back, something inside of me just didn't want to let her go that day. But, of course, she had to go; she had to get some stuff for work. And then she wound up dead. These were a few out of so many other instances where a sense of impending doom engulfed me, where I could predict the future even though I could never know for sure what would eventually happen. One thing was constant -- it never ended well.

Experiencing this feeling now made me jittery. I realized something terrible was underway and I had to tread carefully. Maybe the McCains were closing in on me. Anyway, I didn't have so much to lose. After all, I was just a desperate girl trying to sort out her father's health. Anybody with a functional heart would understand that. But then I was already considered a public figure and so I already had a reputation or standard of some sort. I could not bear the extent of such a scandal if the true reason behind my marriage was exposed. I had to fight to maintain the secret.

When I went to see my dad in the hospital he told me something that troubled me. "I think I'm being watched, Valerie," he said. His voice was throaty, not quite like what I used to know, but I was grateful whenever I heard it. A throaty, unrecognizable voice was better than no voice at all.

I smiled. "Dad, you are stuck in a place, no offense. How could you possibly know you're being watched?"

"I am, honest. When I look through my door there's always someone watching me," he explained. All the doors were made of glass so anyone could see what was going on on either side. Maybe he was onto something here. Dad did not lose his mind in the course of his ailment so I had to take his words seriously. "Can you describe the person?" I asked.

"He's usually dressed in scrubs, you know, like a nurse, and..."

I interrupted him. "Then maybe that is exactly what he is. A nurse."

He sighed. "I don't know. I just get bothered when I see him there, standing by that desk and looking at me. I'm not sure how to describe the look on his face, whether it's one of sympathy or something dark and creepy." "Well," I said, stretching to hold his hand. "It would appear you are now famous. Probably he was trying to muster the courage to ask you to sign his autograph."

My dad loved in short, raspy breaths. "Maybe I am famous," he said. "If you get to spend the length of time I've spent in the hospital, you gotta be famous." Then his facial features changed and became more serious. "Talking about fame, Valerie, is there something I should know?"

I knew this was coming. I knew I was eventually going to tell my dad about all I had been up to, but I wanted him to make a full recovery or at least get better than he currently was. I was afraid of telling him earlier because I didn't want the shock or my marriage to tank his recovery or something. But I hid everything so well, I took extreme precautions to prevent him from finding out sooner than I intended. I ensured not to wear my wedding band whenever I went to visit him; actually I hardly ever wore the ring. I also gave strict instructions to everyone concerned with his management not to refer to me by any name other than Miss Valerie, so I wondered how he could have figured it out. But then I should have known better. I had never been able to hide anything from my dad. Somehow he always ended up figuring it out.

"Something like what?" I asked. I kept my eyes on the ground avoiding his piercing gaze. I willed that his next words would be about something else, something that didn't have anything to do with the McCains.

"I need you to be honest with me, dear. I promise I won't be mad..." he said.

My heart beat so hard and fast that I did not hear the next few words he spoke. Inside of my head, I was arranging the sentences in layers, from the beginning to this very moment, explaining my decision and why exactly I had to make that call. For some reason, I felt like he would understand because not only was he a very understanding person, but who would not see reason with what I did? Who wouldn't do anything to keep a loved one alive, even if it meant selling their soul to the devil himself? I had made my own decision, one that took a great deal of courage, and it was time to come clean.

"Baby girl," he said softly I was still his baby girl. It was time. "I have to tell you something, Dad," I said. And then my phone rang. Mavis.

I was saved by Mavis.