...And Never Let HerGo

screens, full of nuance, hidden pleas, gently stubborn refusals—and emotional danger for Anne Marie. Tom attempted to draw her into his separation settlement meetings with Kay’s attorneys, and still dictated whom she should see, even as friends, and what she should feel about them. Tom answered her early morning communiqué two hours later.
    Good Morning, Annie,
    Thank you for the e-mail. Yesterday was very harsh (divorce meeting with attorneys) and I am not sure how to react. I would like to talk to you about it. I’d like to have dinner with you on Saturday night. I need to talk to you about work, and I think you need to talk about Gary Johnson, etc.
    I understand that you’re confused and want to limit our relationship now to friendship. I love you enough to accept that and ask only that we treat each other kindly and honestly. I don’t want to lose you. I also think we shouldn’t lose the closeness we’ve developed. If nothing else, you know you can tell me your fears and hopes and rely on me to support you. I still want to be there for you, which, I guess, is the surest sign that I still love you with all my heart. You cannot do all of this on your own, Annie—no one can. Let me help. Please call me when it’s convenient. I’d like to know about Saturday. You look like you could use a good meal! And you have to admit I’ve always fed you well. Te Amo.
    Tom had just pushed most of Anne Marie’s buttons. It was not for nothing that he had always been the successful mediator. Cautiously, she answered only his comments about other people. She
did
need a good meal, but pressuring an anorectic was the surest way to make her eat less. She did not respond to his invitation for Saturday night.
    O NE night, Anne Marie saw Tom driving by her apartment, slowing down the black Jeep Cherokee and looking up at her windows. It seemed as if he was always somewhere just out of the sweep of her eyes. She was having nightmares about him. He was calling her at all hours, and she let the phone ring and ring until her answering system picked up.
    Her tension showed in her E-mail response to him on February 12.
    Good Morning Tommy:
    I am not sure if you tried to call me last night or not, my phone is all out of sorts. I called from here this morning, and my machine clicked on, but the sound was very faint. I have a call into the phone company . . . Anyway, enough of that BS. Tommy, you scared me this weekend. Starting with Friday, and all the calls you placed. It really freaks me out when you call every half hour. I truly understand how fragile you are these days, and I feel the same way. But . . . . . . . when you keep calling that way, it makes me turn the other way, and quite frankly shut down.
    . . . I’m sorry that I am nothing but a constant disappointment to you these days; it is not fair to you. I have an idea of what I need to do, I just cannot bring myself to start the process. I apologize for being such a horrible person to you. You are the last person on this earth I want to hurt!!!! Did you have dinner on 17th last night? I thought I saw your jeep parked in front of the white Benz out in front of the house last night when I was coming home from Kevin’s. Anyway, I know we have to talk today, but I wanted to start off with this e-mail.
    Anne Marie was telling him that she had seen him driving by, but in an oblique way. And she was capitulating about a face-to-face confrontation. It is probable that they did meet that day in February, but it was not noted in their E-mail. Indeed, there would be no electronic messages between them for several weeks. Whatever Anne Marie said to Tom apparently convinced him that she did
not
want to date him for the time being—and probably never.
    They had come to a crossroads in their relationship. It was the first freedom Anne Marie had had for a long time from Tom’s calls, visits, and messages.
    However, he wasn’t quite finished. On Wednesday, February 14, Valentine’s Day, two men ordered a dozen red roses for Anne Marie Fahey. The first to arrive were from Mike Scanlan and she was delighted to get them. The second floral box was from Tom Capano. She didn’t want them. Despite Ginny Columbus’s cries of protest, Anne Marie dumped them into her wastebasket.
    Valentine’s Day wasn’t perfect; lately, few of her days were—mostly because of Tom. Anne Marie had gone back and forth about what to wear for her date with Mike that night, worried that if shewore a skirt,