The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline (3 page)

“How’s school?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Oh, okay. I graduate a week from Thursday…”

That would make him 18, I guessed.

“And then off to college in the Fall?”

“Maybe. Dad wants me to enlist, but Mom wants me to get my degree first.”

“What do you want?”

He looked surprised, as if no one had asked him that question. Then he smiled wickedly.

“I want to surf.”

“Of course. The perfect career path—a beach bum. Perhaps we should drink to the endless summer.”

He laughed, a carefree sound that had me grinning back at him.

“I could drink to one of your special limoncellos.”

I must have looked puzzled because he clarified his comment immediately.

“You used to make them for me—alcohol-free!”

“Oh, yes. When you were a kid.”

He frowned, as if something about what I said didn’t please him, but he quickly threw off the thought.

“Do you go to the beach a lot?” he asked, his eyes surprisingly intense.

“I did a little in North Carolina, although I had a job, too. But we’ve only been back here a week; today was my first chance. I’ve still got a lot of unpacking to do.”

I shuddered at the thought of those one-and-a-half crates in the garage.

“I could help you. Unpack, I mean. Carrying stuff and that.”

“Oh, well, thank you. But I expect I’ll manage; it’s not that much really.”

“I’d like to help; it’s great having you back.”

I was nonplussed by his offer and his comment, although part of me acknowledged it would be useful to have someone to do all the carrying. No, he had studying to do, it wouldn’t be fair.

Over his shoulder I saw Donald Hunter stalking toward us and a shiver ran through me: he looked furious.

My expression must have alerted Sebastian because he turned to see what had caught my attention.

“Your mother says you were at the beach again this morning,” barked Sebastian’s father, without preamble. He gripped Sebastian’s arm, spinning him around to face his wrath.

Sebastian blanched. “Yes, but…”

“I fucking warned you what I’d do if you did that again when you should be studying.”

I was utterly shocked that even this foul man would speak to his son like that in front of me, a virtual stranger.

“Dad, I…”

“Quiet!” he snarled.

People were staring. And I was caught in a horrifying paralysis, unable to tear my eyes from this nasty little family drama.

“You can kiss your surfboard goodbye—and no more beach. No son of mine is going to waste his life being a beach bum.”

Sebastian tugged his arm free and faced down his father.

“I studied in the afternoon, Dad. And I paid for that surfboard; I worked for it. It’s mine. You can’t touch it.”

Donald’s face turned an ugly puce, and I thought he was going to hit his son. At the last second he recollected himself.

“This isn’t over,” he hissed, then marched away.

Sebastian stared at the ground, humiliation and anger vying for dominance on his face.

I felt terribly guilty; this was all my fault.

“I’m so sorry, Sebastian,” I whispered. “I had no idea…” My words trailed off lamely.

He shook his head. “He’s just an asshole. I really hate him. I can’t wait to leave home,” he said, fiercely. “The sooner the better.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I just nodded sympathetically. After all, hadn’t I left as soon as I could to get away from my mother? I fished around desperately for a change of topic, but my brain was unwilling to cooperate. Donna returned quickly, looking suitably irritated at Donald’s outburst.
Such bad manners
, I could see the thought flickering across her face.

“Can I refresh your glass, Caroline?”

Without realizing it, I’d downed the cocktail already.

“Oh, yes, thank you.”

“Sebastian, more soda?”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Vorstadt,” he muttered, then left abruptly, his expression mortified.

Donna shook her head. “That poor boy. What he has to put up with.”

“Is his father always like that?” I was still shocked.

Clearly the answer was ‘yes’ but Donna didn’t want to commit herself to anything too definite—or damning.

“Oh, well, Donald is Donald. I’m sure you must remember.”

I stared after Sebastian, recalling other instances of Donald’s bullying from when his son was a boy. I was amazed Sebastian hadn’t turned into a monster himself. He seemed just as gentle and sweet as when I’d known him all those years ago.

The rest of the evening passed with uninteresting small talk, as usual. I stayed away from Estelle and Donald; Sebastian seemed to have disappeared, and David and I ignored each other, as usual.

I was relieved when he decided it was the right time to return home.

CHAPTER 2

The next morning the damn crates hadn’t miraculously unpacked themselves. I was staring at them with antipathy when I heard a car pull up.

Donna Vorstadt stepped out of her new Chevy and waved when she saw me.

“Hello, Caroline, dear, I thought I’d just come and see how you’re settling in. Goodness, I think you’ve got your work cut out there.”

She smiled, commiserating, and I warmed to her a little more.

“Have you got time for a cup of coffee, Donna?”

I didn’t usually feel the need to socialize with the wives of my husband’s fellow officers, but she seemed genuine, and I still knew how to follow some of the niceties of Base behavior.

“Sure, that would be great.”

I realized too late that the breakfast dishes were still scattered across the counter. Oh well, I’d blown my chance of pretending I was perfect.

“Cream and sugar?”

“Just the cream. Do you have skim milk?”

I cleared a space, and we sat down to drink our coffees.

“So, how are you settling in? It’s a pain moving, isn’t it?”

“I don’t mind the physical aspects of moving … it’s just … I had a job I really liked back in North Carolina.”
Oh, too personal.
“Mind you, those crates won’t unpack themselves.”

I sighed and she looked sympathetic.

“I have to run to the shops now, but I could come by this afternoon and help if you like.”

Before I could reply, there was a knock at the front door. I hoped to hell it wasn’t another wife come to help by drinking my coffee.

“Hi, Mrs. Wilson.”

Smiling hugely, Sebastian stood there, dressed in torn jeans and a plain, white t-shirt.

“Oh, hello! It’s nice to see you again, Sebastian. What can I do for you?”

“You said you had to unpack crates; I thought I could help.”

I was taken aback by his offer.

“That’s very sweet of you, Sebastian, but I don’t think your parents would be happy if they knew you were here instead of studying.”

“I’m taking a break,” he said, his lovely smile slipping at the mention of his parents.

“I’m sure they won’t object to Sebastian helping a neighbor,” said Donna, appearing behind me. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Sebastian,” she continued, kindly.

Sebastian reddened when he saw her, and he looked down.

“Well, I could certainly use some help,” I said, feeling flustered.

“Great!” said Sebastian, his smile returning. “I’ll go get started.”

“Thank you,” I muttered to his back.

Donna winked at me. “I think you’ve got an admirer there,” she whispered. “Thanks for the coffee. Call me if you need anything.”

I watched her drive away, and then headed for the garage. Sebastian had already made inroads into the second half of crate number one.

“You really don’t have to do this, you know,” I said, shaking my head in bewilderment.

“I want to,” he said simply.

I decided I’d let him help for half an hour, then kick him out and send him back to his parents before I caused any more trouble for him.

It was darned useful having him there—he heaved tables and chests and boxes full of who knows what, and before I knew it, two hours had flown by.

“Oh crap! It’s nearly lunchtime.” I said, looking at my watch, horrified.

“Did you have to be somewhere?” Sebastian asked, looking concerned.

“No, no, I’m worried about you. Your parents … your studying.”

He shrugged. “No sweat.”

“Look, I’m not going to be responsible for you flunking out. I’ll fix you some lunch and then you must go study. Deal?”

“Okay, deal!” he said happily.

He followed me into the house and I showed him where he could wash his hands. I was stretching up to get some of the tall glasses when I heard him come into the kitchen.

“I’ll get those for you,” he said.

His sudden proximity behind me made me jump as if an electric shock had jolted through me. It was the strangest feeling; I suddenly felt almost nervous as he reached past my shoulder, lightly brushing against my back. I took a step away and turned to find him staring at me, a glass in each hand.

“Thank you,” I said, awkwardly.

He didn’t reply and I had to look away first. The intensity of his gaze made me feel uncomfortable—and in my own home, too, damn it! Yes, and annoyed. I took refuge, hunting through the refrigerator, trying to restore some equilibrium.

“I’ve got soda or a lemon pressé,” my voice was half swallowed by the fridge.

“I’ve never had a lemon pressé. What’s that?”

“Oh well, just lemon juice and sparkling mineral water.”

“I’ll try that, please, Mrs. Wilson.”

The tension left my body and I smiled at him.

“Sebastian, you can call me Caroline. Mrs. Wilson is so formal … and it makes me feel ancient.”

“Okay, Caroline,” he grinned at me.

“Now, I can make you a chicken salad sub or … tricolored salad.”

“Insalata tricolore, per favore.”

I turned to him in surprise.

“I’ve been learning Italian,” he announced proudly. “A correspondence course. My high school only offered Spanish.”

“Really? Molto bene!”

“And I’ve been listening to opera, too. I like Verdi.”

“The fallen woman.”

“Excuse me?” he gasped.

“
La Traviata
: I presume that’s what you mean when you say you like Verdi. Or maybe
Aïda
?
Rigoletto
?”

He let his breath out in a gust. “Yeah, all of those.”

“I thought teenage boys only listened to heavy rock music,” I teased him.

He looked wounded and I regretted my comment. He was obviously trying to impress me.

“I’m glad you like opera; my father loved it.”

“I remember. I remember you and him singing opera in your kitchen.”

“Really, you remember that?”

He nodded, serious. “I remember everything.”

I sighed. “That was a great visit when Papa came to stay.”

Sebastian smiled. “Yeah, he was fun. We blew up a lot of things.”

I rolled my eyes at the memory. “Yes, David wasn’t very happy about it.”

Why I mentioned David at that moment, I couldn’t say.

Sebastian frowned. “How is your dad?”

And the painful memory lanced through me. My dear father, lying shrunken and in pain, tiny and helpless in a hospital bed; the morphine failing to tame the pain of cancer that devoured him whole.

“He passed away—two years ago.”

I could barely speak the words, taken by surprise at the crushing force of the memory. I felt tears hot in my eyes.
Ridiculous, I scolded myself.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” Sebastian whispered.

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but now I was craving his absence. I heartily wished I hadn’t offered him lunch.

“Thank you for your help this morning, Sebastian. It was really very thoughtful of you, but I’m going to have to insist that you go and do some studying as soon as we’ve eaten. I don’t want to get you into any more trouble.”

He pouted, suddenly looking his age. It made me want to laugh, but I truly didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Especially not when he’d been so helpful. I changed the subject.

“Will you go surfing with your friends again soon?”

He sighed. “Maybe. I’ll have to borrow a board.”

“Oh, what happened to the blue one?”

“Dad trashed it—snapped it in half. Said I wasn’t to waste any more time surfing.”

He said the words casually, but I could hear the anger and hurt beneath them; I remembered his father’s threat at the barbecue.

“That’s awful. And it’s all my fault. I should never have said…”

He interrupted me, speaking softly. “It’s not your fault that my father is a sadistic bastard, Caroline.”

My hand fled to my mouth as he spoke, my eyes fixed on his.

“I’m so sorry.” My words were whispered and faint.

He shrugged. “No big deal. I’m used to it.”

“I must buy you a new board, Sebastian. That’s all there is to it.”

I tried to lighten the mood.

“Thanks, Caroline, but it’s cool. I can always borrow one of Ches’s. His dad surfs, too.”

“Well, let me give you a ride home after we’ve eaten. It’s the least I can do.”

He grinned at me, and the tense moment had dissolved.

I sliced some mozzarella and tomatoes, diced the avocado, drizzled virgin olive oil, and ground some black pepper. I was irritated that I hadn’t had time to buy any fresh basil to shred over it. It would have to do.

I found some bread I was going to use for bruschetta, and put a plate in the middle of the table; I imagined a teenage boy would eat a lot more than me.

He tucked in with gusto, swallowing everything in sight.

“Boy, you really can cook, Caroline.”

I laughed at his enthusiasm. “This isn’t cooking, Sebastian.”

“Mom never cooks anything,” he said, raising his eyebrows at me. “Dad thinks she does, but it’s all store bought.”

“Hmm … well, anything you say or do can and will be held against you in a court of law.”

He looked horrified. “Don’t tell her I told you!”

“What’s it worth?” I teased him.

“My ass!” he said, forcefully.

The expression on his face made me laugh out loud.

“Oh, Sebastian, you’ve left yourself open to blackmail now.”

“You can blackmail me anytime, Caroline,” he said huskily.

His eyes were suddenly intense, and I blinked at him in surprise.

“Time to go,” I said blandly, and began to stack the dishes.

He stood and watched me uncertainly for a moment, then helped me clear the kitchen table.

“That insalata was good,” he said, shyly.

“Thanks. Glad you liked it.”

I looked at my watch, a not very subtle gesture. “I’ll get my car keys.”

I played the same CD that I’d listened to yesterday, but I didn’t feel like singing now; the atmosphere in the car was uncomfortable again. I was having trouble keeping up with Sebastian’s mood swings. It must be a nightmare living with a teenager, I reasoned, even one as seemingly mature as Sebastian. Or maybe it was just men in general—David’s mood swings could almost be set by a metronome. The thought made me grimace.

“Can you drop me here?” he said suddenly.

“But we’re not at your place yet?” I said, confused by the request.

He twisted his mouth in the semblance of a smile. “There’ll be fewer questions this way,” he said.

I felt guilty again—he’d spent the whole morning helping me when he should have been studying. And it was obvious his mother had no idea what he’d been doing. I hoped Donna didn’t mention anything to her.

I pulled the car to the curb and waited for him to get out.

He sat for a moment, fiddling with his seatbelt.

“Will I see you again?” he said.

I frowned, puzzled by his odd question. “I expect so. Everyone bumps into everyone on the Base. Now, promise me you’ll study this afternoon.”

He forced a muted smile. “Okay, Caroline. See you later.”

“Bye, Sebastian.”

I drove away. I couldn’t help glancing in the rear-view mirror; he was still watching.

Donna’s words came back to me:
You’ve got an admirer there
.

Oh hell. Just what I didn’t need—a teenager with a crush on me.

Irritated, I returned to my duties in the garage. By the time everything was put away and each assorted oddment had been found a home, I was bone weary. I was grateful to Sebastian—I would never have finished so soon without his help. I didn’t have much experience of boys his age even when I
was
his age, but in my opinion he seemed different … more mature than I would have expected. I wondered if he really did like opera, or whether that was just for my benefit.

God, what it must have been like growing up with those parents. Although Estelle was disturbingly like my own mother, at least I had one parent who’d loved me unconditionally.

I poured myself a glass of water, and took it to the yard to sit in the sun for a few moments of peace. I felt curiously adrift, as if the ties to my life were unraveling one by one. My mother, long absent by mutual choice, my father dead, my job gone; even David was AWOL in spirit.

And I was a shadow.

Oh, stop being so melodramatic.

I blamed my father: the Italian genes.

I needed to get out of the house, off the Base, and do something.