Folly Beach - Dorothea Benton Frank [5]
I hated all his toys because they represented just how horribly shallow he could be. We could’ve done so much good with all that money. If I wanted to support something like the library or the children’s schools, he refused, saying he only wanted to give money to things that would thrill him. And he also never missed an opportunity to remind me that he earned the money, not me. He could and would do as he wanted.
He wanted, he wanted, he wanted . . . well, the wanting was at an end because the greedy, covetous, acquisitive son of a bitch was dead. Did he run around? Probably, but I never really knew for sure. That didn’t mean I didn’t have some very real suspicions.
In the last few years, it came to a point where Addison barely resembled the wonderful extraordinary man I had married. How, I wondered, had I managed all those years to keep my mountain of frustrations and deep disappointments out of the conversation with my children? It was either a miraculous accomplishment of mine or massive denial on their part that they merely viewed him as a well-meaning, very distracted man who was sometimes a difficult and demanding grump. I mean, they had their criticisms of him. When Russ was a teenager, he thought he worked way too much and would shrug his shoulders in disappointment when his father missed a basketball game. Russ was the captain of his team and had gone to the College of Charleston on a full ride, which was a point of pride for him to say he didn’t owe that part of his education to his father. And Sara? She didn’t fare as well. Sara suffered horribly from Addison’s lack of attention and spent her high school years dating the wrong boys, getting her heart broken all the time. College had not been a lot better for her socially and so she turned to acting in theater, where she could express herself.
But when they heard the news about their father’s death, they both swore that they adored him and they were honestly devastated to learn that he was dead.
The only person who knew the truth about how I really felt about my marriage was Patti, and she would never betray my confidence. Never in a million years. We both figured we may as well bury the old bastard on a high note.
In some bizarre way, I still cared about Addison and always would. He had given me two wonderful children, a luxurious life, and a long list of things for which I would always be in his debt. After all, we had traveled the world as a family, the children had been sent to good schools, and he gave them incredible opportunities to learn, see, go, and do. If I had ever really felt our lifestyle was that unacceptably vulgar or that his cruelty was too much, could I have left? Of course I could have but we were a family, with all the good and bad, and I wasn’t tearing my family apart over something so stupid as Addison’s conspicuous consumption or because he became more unsatisfied with his entire personal life when the markets declined. It would only have made a bad situation worse. And living with Addison was generally a tolerable situation. Not a joyous one, but tolerable. But let me tell you, markets may rebound but chasing great wealth is a delusional trap.
Two years ago, Patti and Mark began to notice a marked difference in Addison, too, as he slid even further into a new hell. Mark would offer to talk to him all