I couldn’t let him wallow in that guilt. It was still so raw, the image of his wound, his brain matter spilling out, all the blood. And that man just crying on the floor. Tom was shaken by what he almost did and horrified by what he actually did do. I was the one who drove him to it, to put the bat in his car and drive to the showroom. I had to make it right.
Charlotte didn’t say it, but I could tell Tom’s courage and, in the end, his ability to contain his rage had caused her to see him in a new light. She saw him as a man of strength. A man who could protect his family, not just whine about it to others the way he had been doing all year. And yet he was also flawed, wasn’t he? Yes, Bob probably would have died anyway, but Tom did nothing to save the man. He was not perfect. And this gave Charlotte the permission to finally let go of good Charlotte the way she had done with bad Charlotte.
As for Tom, seeing Charlotte’s flaws allowed him to finally feel deserving of her, of his family, and of his life.
Things don’t always happen this easily. But most couples don’t have these kinds of life-altering events to shake them up. Inertia, stagnation, routines—it is hard to change in the face of these powerful forces.
Bob Sullivan’s death had changed them both.
I was mad, of course. Furious. Hurt. Devastated. I walked around with this pit in my stomach that just sucked up everything inside me. I couldn’t look at her for days. I made her tell me the details, where they would meet, how often, for how long. I made her tell me about the day she found Jenny. She apologized just once. She told me about her childhood. She was so calm about it, not pleading for forgiveness, but just wanting me to understand. She said you had helped her to understand herself, how she needed to have her two selves, the good and the bad, because of the shame she carried with her. She cried when she told me about her stepfather, about the first time it happened. I listened, and when she was done telling me, she just got up and left me alone in the room. She didn’t say anything else about any of it for two weeks.
Charlotte said those were the longest two weeks of her life, even longer than the weeks after Jenny’s rape.
It was because there was nothing left for me to do. No action to take. No calls, no errands, no nothing. I just had to sit and let my husband know me, all of me, and decide whether he still loved me. It was very hard because after I told him, I knew I loved him more than I ever had before. Or maybe I should just say that I knew I really loved him, period.
Tom came to Charlotte on a Thursday night. They were alone in their bedroom; the house was quiet.
I walked in, and she was standing at her dresser, looking in the mirror. I could see her reflection from where I was standing. And I saw her for the first time. I mean I really saw her. She was not the woman I thought I had married. But God, she was beautiful! I’m sorry … I’ve been crying a lot lately. She was just so beautiful, that vulnerable girl, and that strong woman—they were all there in her face. And I just wanted to hold her.
Charlotte remembers that night well. I doubt either of them will forget it.
I didn’t notice him in the room until he was almost standing behind me. He reached his arms around my waist and rested his head on my shoulder. He told me he loved me. He told me he thought I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known, more beautiful now than ever, now that he could see all of me. I fell into him. I felt this wall crumble to the ground. There was nothing standing between us anymore. We made love and then I slept all night in his arms.
Sean also found a reconnection with his wife after the death of Bob Sullivan. He came to see me the very next day, the day after he almost killed the man himself. The day after he had the recall.
I drove home like a wild man. I couldn’t get there fast enough. I wanted to tell my wife that I had not killed Bob Sullivan. That I had not killed Valancia. That I had tried to save him. It’s not just that I remember it. I could easily have remembered it only to learn that I had been the one running for that door, driven by arrogance that no amount of reason could ever contain. That’s how I felt about most of life. Living with the anxiety—it made me do so many crazy things. I could have been the one, maybe even wanting to die, finally, after so much suffering. Don’t you see, Doc? I know now that I’m not completely fucked up. That I’m not so fucked up that I led a man to his death.
“No, Sean. You are not so fucked up. In fact, you ran after him. You tried to stop him. And you were willing to die for him. You are a hero.”
I wanted to be a hero. I thought if I killed Sullivan, I would be saving Jenny. Can you imagine if I had not remembered that night? If I had killed an innocent man? I came so close.
“I don’t think you would have shot Bob Sullivan. It’s not who you are.”