And Never Let Her Go (30 page)

“If you spent most of your life trying to be compliant so as not to get into trouble,” Dr. Sullivan explained, “and when somebody is saying to you, ‘Let's work on your assertion,' obviously you are going to start to get panicky that if you
are
assertive, this other person is going to kick you out of their life, or they are going to hate you, or try to manipulate you into trying to go backwards.”

In therapy, determined to change the way she had always dealt with her world, Anne Marie was alternately assertive and frightened. She wanted so much to get well, but even as she made progress, she scared herself.

“She had always been compliant,” Dr. Sullivan said later. “People who got to know her and really loved her were used to saying, ‘Oh you know Anne Marie will go to the show. We will decide and she will just come along.' And as she got firmer and firmer about what she would do and not do, we both knew that some people wouldn't like it—and
that
resulted in increased anxiety.”

Moreover, Anne Marie was keeping so many things secret from people she cared about that she must have felt as if she was about to explode. Mike didn't know about Tom, and most of her friends still didn't know that she was back in touch with Tom. They were all relieved believing that she was not.

Anne Marie also thought she was concealing her anorexia, although that was a secret she could not hide. By wearing loose and layered clothing, she could almost disguise her gaunt rib cage, but her image of herself was so distorted that she saw a heavy woman with fat thighs when she looked in a mirror; other people gasped when they saw how thin she had become.

Robert knew, and Tom; and Jill Morrison was worried sick
about her. Anne Marie hadn't seen Kim for a while, and Jennifer was up in New England. Her brother Brian was startled to see how thin she had become when he saw Anne Marie during a get-together at Kathleen's house. “She didn't look good, and I asked her about it,” Brian recalled. She admitted to him that she was having some difficulty in that area. “But she was a little cryptic about it because my nephews were around, and there were some other people in the house, so she didn't want to talk about it a lot that day.”

Anne Marie assured Brian that she was talking to someone about her problem with food. “She told me that she was getting help for it,” he said.

She told her other friends that she thought she was gaining a few pounds. But still, she took the laxatives every night to rid herself of the few calories she had managed to eat during the day. Amazingly, whereas most women on such a starvation diet completely shut down, her menstrual periods continued as always.

Meanwhile, Tom's E-mail to her was written in such a light and witty style that an outsider might never see the control creeping in. Her replies were equally lighthearted and casual.

She was handling Tom well, she thought. She might even be able to have dinner with him and not have to worry that he would misunderstand.

“Hey,” Tom E-mailed on May 3. “It's 2:30 and I ain't heard from ya so I was wondering what was up. Please give me a call or e-mail me when you get a chance. Is there a good time to call you? Hope you're having a good day, but my guess is you're not. Think mussels . . . in a white sauce.”

M
OST
of Tom's E-mail had a line or two about menus, restaurants, eating. He would not let up about food, mentioning it so often that Anne Marie almost gagged. He continually asked her to go to dinner with him at one or another of the restaurants where they had once dined. It made her sick to think of it.

Anne Marie tried to convey to Tom what she had learned from Dr. Sullivan. “Please do not worry about me,” she E-mailed.

Hey, I'm scared to death that I am killing myself, and that's a very positive thing, because I am forced to do something to make myself better. It's a kind of a bittersweet device. . . . Tommy, I know you want to feed me, but believe it or not, it's not the right answer. I have learned through Michelle and a lot of reading that the more someone tries to get you to eat, the less interested and more determined
you become to do just the opposite. I almost sent myself to St. Francis [hospital] yesterday morning because of how weak I felt. Believe me, Tommy, when I tell you all of this is good for me, because for the first time I am afraid that I am killing myself. . . . I'm ready to tackle this problem I have. I know all you want to do is help, and it's greatly appreciated, but I also need some time alone to work out a lot of stuff. I hope you understand all this mumbo. Anne Marie

Tom would not give her any time alone. He sent presents. He sent food packages, which she swept into the wastebasket of her office. He made dinner reservations for them for Memorial Day weekend, even after Anne Marie told him she was going away for the holiday. Her replies to Tom's messages were one sentence long and, for her, worded strongly. Dr. Sullivan was helping her to say no and stick to it.

A
NNE
M
ARIE
finally told Mike a bit more about her anorexia and he was very supportive. They planned to visit Mike's family over the Memorial Day weekend. Anne Marie both welcomed and dreaded the trip. She didn't feel very well and knew that she was growing weaker.

Just before Memorial Day, Tom dropped into Kim Horstman's office at the Smith Barney brokerage firm in Philadelphia, reminding her who he was. She
knew;
she was the one friend Anne Marie had confided everything to. Kim had not seen Tom since she and Anne Marie went to dinner with him at DiLullo's two years earlier. He asked to take her to dinner so they could talk about Anne Marie. “He said he was in town for a partners' meeting and he was very concerned about Annie's health and he wanted to discuss it with me.”

Kim called Anne Marie and told her that she was having dinner with Tom, and she laughed and said, “That would be great. He will treat you like a queen, it will be fun—definitely go out with him.”

Tom took Kim to the Ritz-Carlton in Philadelphia, and they talked about Anne Marie. “He told me that I was going to be shocked when I saw her because she had gotten so skinny,” Kim said, “and that he was very concerned that she was in serious danger.”

Kim was frightened when she heard that, and listened carefully as Tom spoke of the possibility of doing an intervention with Anne Marie and committing her to a hospital. Kim suggested that it might be better if they went to Robert and told him how worried they were.

“No,” Tom said quickly. “Don't call Robert. Let's think about it some more before we do anything. I've talked to a friend who specializes
in eating disorders, and she recommended Michelle. I found Michelle, and I'm paying her.”

Tom told Kim that he had given Anne Marie a slip of paper with Dr. Sullivan's name and phone number on it, and that he had told Anne Marie that Dr. Sullivan was very highly thought of. In reality, of course, it had been Gary Johnson who had suggested Dr. Sullivan.

Tom seemed absolutely benign as he described his offer to help Anne Marie pay for the therapy that her insurance didn't cover. He gave Kim the impression that he was paying for all of her sessions, although it was Robert Fahey who was sending the $1,000 checks—not Tom. Tom had prevailed upon Anne Marie only once to accept $500 to give to Dr. Sullivan.

Tom said that Anne Marie had given him a book about eating disorders and he had read it. She had given one to Robert, too, but Tom said Robert hadn't bothered to read it. “I'm the only one who has done anything for her, Kimmie,” he said softly. “I buy her groceries—I'm constantly bringing her Gatorade and bananas to build up her electrolytes, and I try to keep her fed, and make sure she's eating correctly.” It was all a lie.

“What about her family?” Kim asked, surprised.

“Nothing. I'm paying for everything. I'm in love with her. Why won't she agree to see me again? I have more money than I can spend in a lifetime—I can give Annie anything she wants, the Lexus, the ten-bedroom house. . . . Why is she spending time with that geek when she could be with me?”

Kim knew that Anne Marie was in love with Mike and that he was anything but a geek, but Tom was adamant. “She doesn't take him seriously at all, you know,” he said. “It's all just a front to look good in front of her family. She isn't in love with him, and I don't understand why she's wasting her time with him.”

Kim simply stared at Tom. She knew Anne Marie and she didn't know him—but he seemed off the wall.

“Am I crazy?” he asked, refilling his wineglass. “Should I back away from her?”

“Yes,” Kim said softly. “I think you should—should back away from her.”

Kim called Anne Marie the first thing the next morning. She didn't tell her everything Tom had said or repeat his disparagements of Mike. But she did say that Tom Capano seemed to be crazy in love with her and didn't understand why she couldn't love him back.

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

“Do you love him, Annie?” Kim asked.

“No. No, I don't.” Anne Marie's voice was flat, almost dead. She sounded tired and at the end of her rope, as if even discussing it was too much effort.

Tom asked Kim out for dinner again a week later. He said he was in town again for another meeting, and why didn't they get together?

Again, they went to the Ritz-Carlton. They had drinks in the lounge and then moved into the grill to eat. Once more, Tom talked about Anne Marie, warning Kim she would be shocked when she saw her. “He said that when he told Annie he was taking me out to dinner again, she said, ‘That's fine—but the next time I want to go with you.' ”

Kim wondered if he was flirting with her and thought that couldn't be; he was so crazy about Annie.

Tom ordered the best on the menu and the finest wine. He talked about his family, explaining that his daughters were going to Europe with one of his brothers during summer vacation. “And he mentioned that his daughter had been sick,” Kim said. “His one daughter had some kind of brain surgery, and it was a very difficult time for him, but she was doing better. We talked about how his father had been an immigrant and how he made his children all millionaires.”

Kim got the impression that Tom was once again presenting himself as a much better suitor for Anne Marie than Mike Scanlan could ever be. He argued that Anne Marie didn't know her own mind. She was jealous of his dating someone else—so that must mean she loved him. “He mentioned he had a date with another woman who worked in Delaware, and Annie said the thought of him being with her made her sick to her stomach.”

That didn't sound like the straight story to Kim. Anne Marie had
never
mentioned being jealous of Tom. All she talked about was Mike.

Their meal came to $130, and Tom added a $26 tip. Kim didn't realize that, for him, this was a relatively cheap night out. If it had been $300, it would have been cheap for Tom. He routinely submitted all his bills for dinner with Anne Marie and her friends to Saul, Ewing for reimbursement, marking them as charges connected with the firm's client, the state of Delaware. Anne Marie was employed by the governor of the state of Delaware, but she never knew Tom got his money back for their meals.

Kim called Anne Marie the morning after her dinner with Tom,
just as she had the week before. Anne Marie commented that if they decided to go to dinner again, she would like to go with them. Kim knew that Anne Marie wasn't jealous; she felt it was more that she wanted to confront Tom on some of the things he was saying about her—and about the two of them together.

But then Anne Marie E-mailed Tom and vetoed his suggestion that she and “Kimmie” have dinner with him, saying, “I don't feel like sharing.” Whenever her friends came along, she knew that Tom tried to enlist them in one of his plans to make her do something. She hated being a specimen to be dissected and discussed.
Poor Annie. Whatever will we do about poor, pathetic Annie?
It was one of Tom's devices.

T
OM WAS HAVING
a busy spring. Only a man as organized as he was could have arranged so deftly the many pieces in the mosaic of his life. He told Kim that he considered himself Anne Marie's very best friend, the one human being in the world she could trust. He never let a day go by without some contact with her. Nor did he miss speaking to Debby every day; her problems were a little different from Anne Marie's but she, too, needed him to see what was best for her. He felt that the Tatnall School continued to ask too much of Debby. She was often on the job from very early in the morning until far into the evening.

Tom fully expected Linda Marandola to become his secretary at the end of May 1996. That would, of course, make her privy to knowledge about his phone calls, but he wasn't concerned. However, the week before Linda was scheduled to start, he called her at home and was annoyed to hear that she had left a cutesy message on her answering machine. That was not acceptable.

When Tom got Linda on the phone, he told her to change the message; it was unprofessional and childlike. Linda demurred and Tom said flatly that she could not work for him if she didn't change the message. Again she refused, telling him that what she had on her home machine had nothing whatever to do with her job at Saul, Ewing.

Tom called Linda's machine several times after that and left her messages, repeating that she was immature and childish. As she listened
to Tom's angry voice, calling her over and over, Linda realized that she couldn't work for him. What had ever made her think that she could? Nothing had really changed; he was the same man he had always been. She called Saul, Ewing and said that she would not be reporting to work after all. She didn't give a reason.

When Tom's secretary told him that Linda was not going to be taking her place, he nodded grimly and said he would call her and see what her problem was. He explained later that he had had a disagreement with Linda over the weekend and she would not return his phone calls.