The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline (16 page)

Sebastian blushed, whether from her words or her touching, I couldn’t say, but it made me laugh out loud and he gave a grin that was embarrassed and amused at the same time.

A crowd of people on their lunch break came in to order food, sending the family scampering back to work, so we sat outside under a sun umbrella and sipped our coffees: espresso for me, regular for Sebastian.

“You didn’t tell me how your first day at work went?”

“Oh, that,” he said frowning.

“Was it bad?” I said, surprised.

“It … well, it wasn’t really what I was expecting,” he muttered, and for some reason he looked embarrassed again.

I rubbed the tip of my finger over his hand. “Tell me.”

“No, it’s just dumb.”

“Sebastian, you just watched me go fishing for a stray condom; it can’t be any dumber than that!”

He smiled wryly. “Yeah, that was pretty funny!”

“It won’t be funny if I get pregnant.” I reminded him.

He gaped. “Could you?”

“Well, of course I could; but don’t worry, I’m going to take care of it. I’ve decided it’s going to be safer to start taking the Pill. I can’t afford any more … accidents.”

Sebastian looked totally out of his depth at this sudden conversational segue. I steered us back to less controversial topics.

“You were saying about your first day at the country club?”

He frowned again, and I could tell he was wondering whether or not he should pursue the more serious subject. He shook his head and chose to follow my lead.

“Well, I thought I’d just be bussing tables but … they wanted me to do other stuff, too.”

“Like what?”

He hesitated, drawing patterns on the palm of my hand with his index finger.

“Sebastian?”

“It’s just kinda lame.”

“Tell me anyway; I won’t tell anyone,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“They had me waiting tables,” he said finally. “Carrying food and drinks.”

“Okay. That doesn’t sound so bad. And…?”

“I had to wear a uniform.”

“That wasn’t a surprise, was it?”

Surely he didn’t have a problem with uniforms; he was the son of a Navy officer.

“Shorts and a polo t-shirt; they were a bit … tight.”

I was beginning to get the picture
.

“Okay: shorts and a tight t-shirt. And…?”

He closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face.

“The women there … they … they grabbed me …
a lot!
”

And I laughed out loud; I couldn’t help it.

“So, basically, you’re telling me you’re a cabana boy—and that all the women were feeling you up.”

“I was supposed to be bussing tables!”

He sounded so indignant; it just made me laugh harder.

“I can’t blame them.” I teased. “Did you get any offers? Any phone numbers dangled in front of you?”

His cheeks reddened, and he stared at the table.

“You did! Sebastian!”

“I said no!”

He grimaced at me and I took pity on him.

“Tesoro, I’m not the least bit surprised—those places are notorious for hiring good-looking young men as a bit of eye-candy for the diamond-wife brigade. I bet your boss is a woman, right?”

He nodded unhappily.

“And she took one look at you and saw dollar signs. That’s all. You’ll just have to put up with a bunch of horny, older women shoving dollar bills in your back pocket for the summer. You think you can do that?”

“I guess. It’s not as much fun as I thought it would be.”

I fell a little bit more in love with him.

I stroked his cheek and rested my free hand on his knee.

“You can always get another job, Sebastian. Besides, they shouldn’t really have you serving drinks at your age. Do they know how young … how old you are?”

He raised his eyebrows. “They do, but I guess I look older than my age.”

It was my turn to blush, especially when I remembered my comment about ‘horny older women’. On the other hand…

“I think I’ll join.”

“What?”

“The country club.”

“Why?”

“I heard there are a lot of horny, older women there—I thought you might need some protection. Besides, it could be fun.”

A slow smile spread across his face.

“Yeah! That would be fun.”

“I’d tip well.”

“Would you throw me your phone number?”

“I think that could be arranged.”

My cell phone rang, interrupting us. It was a number I didn’t recognize, which made me nervous.

“Hello?”

“Caroline Wilson?”

“Yes, speaking.”

“This is Carl Winters, the editor at
City Beat
. I was just calling to say that I loved your ‘Base Line Up’ article. I’d like to run it in Thursday’s issue. You got some great photos there, too. The fee would be $325. And I’d love any other articles you’ve got on life out at the Base. Folk around here are real interested in stories on life from a military point of view. Between 1,500 and 2,000 words.”

“Wow! That’s great! Thank you! Yes, I’m sure I could write any number of articles on military life.”

“You’ve got a very nice writing style, Mrs. Wilson—really draws the reader in. I’m surprised I haven’t run across you before.”

“Oh!”
That was a surprise—a good one.
“We just moved here from the east coast.”

“I guess that explains it. Well, drop by the news desk sometime and we’ll sign you up to one of our standard freelance contracts.”

“I’ll do that. Thank you, Mr. Winters.”

“Call me Carl. It’ll be great to meet you, Caroline. And maybe next time we could send out one of our photographers with you.”

We hung up and I threw my arms around Sebastian’s neck. “
City Beat
is going to print the surfing article.” I said into his chest.

To the surprise of both of us, I started to cry.

“Hey! What’s the matter? This is good, isn’t it?”

“Yes, yes, of course. I’m just being stupid.”

He hugged me tightly. “I don’t understand.”

How could I explain? I wasn’t even sure I understood myself.

He stroked my back and kissed my hair, his touch soothing me. When my sobs finally ebbed, he leaned back and brushed the salty tears away with his thumbs, his face lined with concern.

“Caro? Why were you crying?”

I took a deep breath and tried to order my thoughts.

“It’s just … getting one of my stories printed. You know, someone saying that I’m actually
good
at something. I’m … not used to it. David never…”

I stopped mid-sentence as his face hardened.

“It was just a nice surprise,” I finished lamely.

He picked up my hand from the table and kissed it softly. “Yeah, I get that.”

We sat in silence for some moments.

“Come on,” he said at last. He stood up, still holding my hand.

“Where are we going?”

His expression softened. “To our place.”

“Our place?”

“The ocean.”

I smiled up at him. “Okay.”

CHAPTER 7

There’s something so restful about the ocean. Why is that? Perpetual motion, never still and yet it’s a soothing, peaceful, rolling, restless movement. Even the rage of a winter storm has a quality that strips away troubles, if only for a short time.

And it was
our
place—it was where Sebastian and I went to be ourselves for a few, brief, uninterrupted hours.

Even so, we had to be careful.

We walked in silence, away from the vacationing crowds that were beginning to populate the beach, until the nearest were mere pinpricks on the horizon.

Then, hand-in-hand at last, we stopped to find a secluded dune. I sank down into the warm sand and Sebastian pulled me to his side.

“Are you okay now?” he asked, anxiously.

“Yes. Sorry about that.”

I was embarrassed by my most recent loss of control. It seemed to happen around him a lot, as if some emotional levee had been breached after a decade, a lifetime of holding back.

Sebastian stroked my hair and said in a low voice, “Don’t be sorry. I just hate seeing you unhappy.”

I didn’t know how to reply so I just let him hold me.

For 19 years I’d been someone’s daughter and, for the next 11, someone’s wife. But what was I now? Could I have the chance of a career after all? Could I be something different, something else?

“What are you thinking about?”

I shook my head and smiled. “Not much. But I’ll have to come up with some more ideas for the
City Beat
—if he really meant what he said.”

“Of course he did. You’re a brilliant writer.”

“Well, thanks, Mr. Bernstein.”

His face fell and I immediately regretted my words.

“Sorry, I’m just a little freaked. Maybe you could help me come up with some ideas about life in a military family.”

He pulled a face. “Depends on the family.”

That was true.

“How are Mitch and Ches?”

It seemed an innocent enough question but Sebastian looked away.

“Okay, I guess. I’ve only seen Ches at work.”

“And?”

I waited for him to continue but he just carried on watching sand run through his fingers. “Sebastian, what’s the matter?”

He took a deep breath. “Ches said that he knew I was seeing someone.”

I felt the blood draining from my face.

“How?”

Sebastian looked at me anxiously.

“He got … when I wouldn’t tell him anything he started saying that there must be a reason and what was the problem. He kept on and on at me. He was just horsing around but… ”

Sebastian didn’t need to finish the sentence.

“What made him … suspect?”

“Well, at first it was because I haven’t been hanging out that much. He’s been asking me to go surfing with him and the guys, and when I kept on saying no … I guess he worked it out.”

“Then what … you said ‘at first’?”

His expression was evasive.

“Tell me!”

He sighed. “Ches saw me getting changed into my uniform at work.”

“So?”

“He noticed … scratches down my back.”

Oh! I remembered doing that.

“What did he say?”

Sebastian shrugged, unable to meet my worried gaze. On second thought, I didn’t need to know what Ches had said; I could probably imagine how
that
conversation had gone.

“I told him to drop it but he wouldn’t. I got so mad at him…”

“We’re not very good at this, are we?” I said softly.

“It’s harder than I thought,” he agreed quietly.

My heart lurched painfully and I felt a little nauseous.

“Do you want to end it?”

He looked at me, horrified.

“No! Caro, no! Of course not! That’s not what I meant! How can you say that?”

“Just … if it’s getting too hard…”

He pulled my face to his and kissed me roughly.

“Don’t say that! Please don’t say that! We’ll work it out somehow. Promise me you won’t give up on us, Caro. Promise!”

I felt the edge of desperation in his voice so I kissed him back, trying to pour reassurance into my touch; words that I couldn’t say out loud because I was afraid they might not be true.

He pulled me down onto the sand so I was half-lying across his chest. One hand was tangled in my hair and the other pressing into the small of my back. My lips crushed his and he forced his tongue into my mouth, locking us together.

I had to break off the kiss before we went too far; it was still mid-afternoon and I was hyper-aware that someone could stumble across us at any time.

Sebastian was reluctant to let me go and I had to push hard against his chest to make him release me.

I was breathless when we rolled apart. He threw an arm over his face and groaned softly.

“Fuck, Caro,” he said softly, and he turned to stare at me, his sea-green eyes accusing.

“We have to get back,” I said, cowardly as ever. “You’ll be late for your shift.”

I started trudging back up the beach and, reluctantly, he followed me.

“Don’t forget to bring me an application form for the country club,” I said, trying to lighten his somber mood.

He smiled slightly. “I guess I could take some day shifts, if you’re going to be there.”

“And maybe you’d better arrange to go out with Ches a few times.”

“What for?”

I sighed in exasperation. “To throw him off the scent and…”

“And what?”

“Well, if our plans work out, you won’t be seeing him again.”

His eyes widened in surprise. He clearly hadn’t thought about what he’d be giving up if we did make it to New York.

I looked at him steadily, watching him regain his equilibrium.

“Ches is a good buddy—but I love you: you’re where I want to be.”

And that was it: his alpha and omega.

I drove us back, torn between joy and fear, and wishing the night would race past so we could be together again.

A few blocks from his house, I pulled the car to the curb. He brushed his lips over my hand and got out quickly. “Tomorrow,” he said, and his words were not a question but an answer—and a promise.

The house, my so-called home, seemed empty and unwelcoming. It didn’t bother me, not really, not anymore, but I couldn’t help noticing the emptiness a little more each day.

I set up my laptop at the kitchen table and sketched out some topics for articles. I was pleasantly surprised by how easily the ideas flowed. Then again, after 11 years of being a military spouse, there wasn’t much I didn’t know about Base life. And David talked so much about the hospital that I pretty much wrote out an entire article in one go.

I was enjoying myself too much because I didn’t realize how late it had gotten. Suddenly David was standing over me inspecting the kitchen for evidence of a meal; when he realized nothing was ready, his already chilly look became glacial.

“The least you could do is to prepare a meal when I come home, Caroline, instead of playing around on your computer. I should throw the damn thing away.”

“I wasn’t
playing
,” I said sourly. “I’m working on some articles for
City Beat
—they’ve accepted the one I wrote on surfing and they’re publishing it on Thursday with my photographs.”

He frowned. “What for?”

“Because they thought it was
good
. It may be a surprise to you, David, but there are some people out there who think I can actually do something useful.”

“What would be useful would be for my wife to cook a fucking meal when I come home in the evenings.” He paused, staring coolly at me. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, Caroline. You’re forgetful, distracted, disorganized. In fact I’d say that you’ve been acting very strangely for some time.”

He paused, waiting for his words to sink in. I stared back, afraid he suspected something. For all his faults, my husband was not a stupid man. At least, not in that way.

“I think you should see a doctor. I’ve made you an appointment to see Dr. Ravel,” he said at last, his tone carefully neutral.

“What? There’s nothing wrong with me! Who’s Dr. Ravel?”

“A competent gynecologist, Caroline. I suspect you’re experiencing an early menopause.”

I couldn’t help gaping at him. He was really unbelievable.

“David, I’m only 30! Most women don’t reach the menopause until they’re 50.”

“Don’t be obtuse, Caroline. Early menopause is not uncommon and you have all the symptoms.”

“What symptoms, for fuck’s sake?”

“Don’t use language like that, Caroline. It’s unpleasant and unnecessary.”

“What symptoms, David?”

“Mood swings, irritability … loss of libido. Dr. Ravel will undertake a colposcopy to ascertain which stage you’re at. They are expecting you at OB-GYN Reception at 10
am
. I’ve already checked that our insurance covers the exam.”

“David, I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous. I…”

“Maybe I should make you an appointment with a psychiatrist instead!”

I was outraged. “How dare you!”

“Then you tell me why you refuse intercourse with your husband!” he snarled.

He turned away from me, his ferocious temper barely in check.

Gingerly, I closed my laptop. My hands shook slightly as I prepared a cold pasta salad, but my brain was working feverishly, desperately trying to come up with a suitable reply, some convincing words. As usual, his molten anger silenced me.

I was furious with myself for not standing up to him. How dare he?! Then again, he’d had 11 years’ practice making me feeling inconsequential; there was certainly no reason for him to stop now.

Although he didn’t suspect the truth, I couldn’t help thinking it would be a case of when, not if. My life, once so gray and certain, was now on shifting sands. Whatever the catalyst, no one had forced me to go in the direction I’d chosen. I wasn’t sure what choices I had now, other than to wait until Sebastian was of age. If I went to a lawyer about a divorce tomorrow, how long would it be before my ‘affair’ became known? That was the crux of the problem. I was committing a crime; David’s only crime was to be born an asshole and just grow bigger.

We ate in silence and he didn’t speak to me again that evening. Nor did he try to touch me, which was a blessing.

Breakfast passed with the same cheerless routine. Perhaps we both breathed a sigh of relief when it was time for him to go to work. He flung down my appointment card as he left.

At 9.45
am
I presented myself at the OB-GYN reception. The waiting room was already full of pregnant women, toddlers and babies, each trying to make themselves heard above the din. I felt conspicuous and ill at ease. One of the women smiled kindly and raised her eyebrows in acknowledgment of the noise. She probably assumed I was newly pregnant.

What the hell was I doing here? I’d had a Pap smear just six months ago and that had come back clear. I had no menopausal symptoms and I knew David was just using this as a means of exercising his power: and I was letting him. Again.

I was ashamed of myself for being so weak. Part of me wanted to get it over with to appease him for a few more weeks; but another, newer, bolder part was telling me to stand up to him.

Somewhere a door opened and the moving air caused posters tacked to a bulletin board to flutter colorfully. The notice for a women’s rights group caught my eye: ‘However we dress, wherever we go—yes means yes, and no means no’.

There was something about the simple wording that resonated—perhaps it was my turn, at last, to say no.

I took a deep breath and stood up. The appointment receptionist looked irritated to see me standing in front of her window for a second time.

“Yes, may I help you?” she said curtly, clearly having no wish to help me whatsoever.

“Yes, you may. I had an appointment for 10
am
with Dr. Ravel, but I’ve decided to cancel it.”

“Cancel it?”

“That’s right. I apologize for wasting Dr. Ravel’s time.”
But not yours, you sour-faced bitch.

“Well, that’s most irregular. Dr. Ravel is a very busy woman.”

“Hence the apology.”

“Hmm, well. I can give you another appointment in five weeks and…”

“No, there’s no need. No appointment necessary. Thank you.”

And I left, leaving her puzzled and annoyed.

Damn, that felt good! Even though I knew I’d have to face David’s ire later. What the hell: I was a habitual irritation to him anyway. For the first time, it occurred to me that he might even be a happier man without me in his life. I wasn’t sure he’d see it that way, without his cook, cleaner, party organizer and occasional sexual toy, but it might even be true.