All Is Not Forgotten(77)

I would want to. But I couldn’t. How could I possibly do that after all of this? After I saw the person he is, the lying, the cruelty, the way he dances in and out of affection and aggression. But I would want to. It feels very hard to know that it’s gone. It was the thing that made my life possible.

“I know. It will be hard to quit Bob. Just do one thing for me? Don’t find a replacement. Just sit with the discomfort. Be lost for a while and see how long you can stand the pain. It’s my guess that it will pass. Like when you stub your toe on the edge of the sofa.”

Charlotte agreed. She had given up her one cigarette, at least for now. And I was so very proud of her! Yes, I had been monomaniacal about saving my son. And yes, I had also wanted to finish my work with Jenny. I had not considered Tom or Charlotte. There was no room for them. But that does not mean I no longer cared. I was deeply invested in both of them. As Jenny would say, they were a math problem I knew I could solve, and solve easily. How could I not want to do that? I am a doctor. It is my calling to heal and to cure.

I had not considered the possible synergies embedded within my plan, but I could see them now. It might have taken years for Charlotte to quit Bob. Years! And by then, it may have been too late. I felt deeply satisfied for Charlotte, and at the risk of sounding egotistical, I was very pleased with myself. Charlotte was going to be all right. I could see it. The quitting was the hardest part.

Bob would not fare quite so well.





Chapter Thirty-two

Fran Sullivan is a woman after my own heart. That is such an odd expression, but we all understand its meaning, don’t we? She was not a good person. Nor was she a kind person. But she took care of her own.

Fran and Bob had met in high school. She was one of those people who likes to indulge, and so she does not exercise or watch her diet or inhibit her cravings in any way. She wears what she likes. Sleeveless dresses in the summer that highlight the flesh under her arms. They swing like elephant tusks as she marches down the street with her brood of men—her three sons and her rich husband. In the winter, she pulls out her furs, coats made of dead baby animals, which repulse most people these days. Her hair is big, her makeup bold. You can smell her perfume blocks away. I imagine she was no more attractive when they met as she was now, but I can also see why Bob married her. She was a valuable member of the team.

I have never met Fran Sullivan in person. Our paths do not cross socially. But she is a large personality in a small town. It is impossible not to notice her.

It is said by many that Fran Sullivan made her husband what he is today. I believe this to be true. I believe that she saw in him a large ego with a huge appetite and that she knew she could use this hunger to her advantage. They had grown up together in Cranston. Lower middle class. Sick of the struggle. Sick of the wealth just miles down the road that was out of their reach. Fran did not attend college. Fran worked as a secretary, helping Bob pay for Skidmore. Bob got a job in a car dealership. He came home every night with his stories about stolen commissions, ass-kissing, backstabbing—they were gladiators in the Colosseum, these salesmen. They are notorious, aren’t they? Car salesmen? Fran had a brilliant mind, a cunning mind, and no conscience whatsoever. In every battle, Bob Sullivan was the last man standing.

Of course, this is all speculation on my part. But I cannot be far off.

Fran also knew that with a large, hungry ego came the need for other women. Younger women, prettier women, more successful women. Think famous sports celebrity with low-life strippers. Why does a man risk everything just to have one more woman tell him how much she loves his big, hard cock? Fran understood men and their egos.

And so when she decided it was time for Bob to run for office—the first office in a line of offices she dreamed would march them right into Washington one day—she hired the private investigator to document his dalliances.

This is how she explained it to Charlotte:

She said it was worth the risk. Having those tapes and photos. She knew she could pay the PI as much as he would be offered by any media outlet. She had already bought his loyalty with years of solid income. She kept them all. Each tape, each photo of her husband with other women. She said they were her insurance policy for two possible storms. The first against any allegations of force. I guess she didn’t want a repeat of what happened when he was on spring break. Can you imagine? She was home working her ass off, and he went on spring break in Florida. Anyway, the second storm was if he ever tried to leave her.

Bob had affairs with dozens of women over the years. There were tapes and photos of them. Some were one-night stands. Some were strippers. Others were staples, like Charlotte. The investigator planted recording devices in the locations where Bob was a regular. The showrooms. Lovers’ bedrooms. The friend’s place in Cranston. The Kramers’ pool house. He also kept a device in Bob’s briefcase. Most of them were voice activated. Some he could get only when he was in radio range, and so he followed Bob any evening he was working late or attending a sales dinner. He gave the recordings and hard copies of the photos to Fran, who kept them in a safe deposit box. A spare key was held by her sister in Hartford.

Fran followed Charlotte to the grocery store two days after Bob said “f*ck you” and left. She waited in her car until Charlotte came out with her bags.

I was putting the bags into the trunk when I heard her say my name. I turned around, and my heart nearly stooped. She had this big smile on her face. It was so big and sweet that it was terrifying. I said hello, how are you, what a surprise, and all of that. I’ve known her for years. Obviously, we’ve had many social functions and work parties. We even played golf at the company’s annual outing. She helped me with the bags, and then she just walked to the passenger side of my car and got in.