The Education of Sebastian (23 page)

It was nearly midnight when I heard his light tap on the backdoor. I’d been dozing on the couch while I waited for him to finish his shift at the country club.

I made sure the kitchen light was off before I unlocked the door.

“Hi.”

“Hi, yourself.”

We stood staring at each other: he frowned slightly.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course.”

I stood back to allow him to pass, then I closed the door and locked it again. When I turned around he was still staring at me.

“I want to kiss you,” he said, sounding uncertain.

“Do you?”

I didn’t know why there was so much tension between us.

“Caro, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing: just kiss me.”

He hesitated for less than a second then slowly walked forwards. He held the palm of his hand against my cheek and lowered his face to me. He kissed me twice, his mouth lightly touching mine, then he wrapped his arms around my waist and leaned down to rest his forehead against mine.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered.

I smiled and felt my body relax.

“Have you?”

“Yes.” He pulled me in more tightly. “I’m really sorry about yesterday… what my mom said.”

I straightened up abruptly and his hands dropped to his sides as he gazed at me warily. We needed to have this conversation – now.

“Does she know? About you and me?”

He shook his head vehemently. “Of course not!”

I looked into his eyes. “Because she said some things that made me think she did.”

Sebastian looked horrified.

“What did she say?”

I shrugged.

“Please!”

I let out a long sigh, closing my eyes against the unpleasant memory.

“She said I’d been ‘flaunting’ myself and that I wasn’t ‘pure’, that she
knew better
. Sebastian, what does she know? She must know something or why would she have put it like that?”

He ran his hands over his hair looking angry and upset, but stayed resolutely silent.

“For God’s sake, tell me!”

My voice was louder than I’d intended.

He blinked and looked away. “I promise she doesn’t know anything, Caro. It’s just…”

He paused.

“Just what?”

“Just some shit my dad was talking. It’s nothing.”

“Tell me!” I said forcefully.

Sebastian looked at me angrily.

“My dad said you were a hot piece of tail and that you wouldn’t be such an uptight bitch if
your husband
had been fucking you properly.”

I felt sick.

I walked to the kitchen sink, and leaned over it.

“Is that… is that what people think of me?” I murmured.

“No! God no! My father is an asshole, Caro. No one thinks that. Mitch, Bill, Ches: they all think you’re great. I mean, yeah, they think you’re gorgeous, who wouldn’t, but I promise they’ve never
ever
said anything like that.”

I straightened up slowly and turned around to face him. He was standing with his arms out-stretched as if he wanted to touch me but was afraid to.

“Are you hungry?”

He was confused by the sudden change of topic, away from my self-flagellation.

“Hungry?”

“Yes. Did you eat at the club tonight?”

His hands fell to his side and for a second he closed his eyes tiredly, before walking towards me and taking me into his arms.

I tried to resist, still raw from his father’s words.

“Caro, don’t push me away.”

He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and held me.

“I’m sorry, okay. I’m sorry I told you what that asshole said. Hell, you should hear what he calls me sometimes… well, maybe not. I don’t listen anymore. All that matters is that we’re together, okay?”

I didn’t answer.

“Okay?” he said again, more forcefully.

I took a deep breath.

“Okay,” I agreed, quietly.

He kissed my hair and smiled down at me.

We stood there for some minutes, just enjoying a moment of peace.

“So, are you hungry?” I said at last. “Did you eat tonight?”

He rolled his eyes at me and I had to smile.

“No, we were slammed – I didn’t have time.”

“I’ll fix you something to eat: linguini, pesto and pine nuts okay?”

“You don’t have to cook for me, Caro,” he said frowning slightly.

“I want to. Besides, you haven’t eaten… and you’ll need your energy.”

I grinned up at him and he gave in with good grace.

“Well, in that case, yeah, I’m starving.”

He pulled out a chair and sat at the table watching me.

“So, how was work? Anything interesting happen today?”

I was determined that we would have some normal conversation.

“I did that First Aid training certificate this morning. It was all stuff I’d done at the surf lifesaving club, so it was pretty easy. I’ll be mostly working poolside with Ches from now on.”

“You don’t like waiting tables?”

“Not so much: I’d rather be outside.”

“Are you sure it’s not just a chance to impress bored, horny Navy wives with your gorgeous body?”

“There’s only one woman I want to impress,” he said, returning my smile.

“How’s that going for you?”

“Well, it was a bit-touch-and-go for a while, but she’s making me dinner, so I guess it’s going okay. How was your day?”

“Good. I finished another article and have planned out three more. I was afraid I might run out of material, but I’ve got enough ideas to write a whole book, I think. Oh, and I looked up some photography courses at NYU. Have you decided which classes you want to take in the Spring?”

When he didn’t answer, I looked up from the chopping board: Sebastian was sitting, rocking back on the chair, a huge smile on his face.

“What?”

“I love it when you talk like that?”

It was my turn to be confused.

“Like what?”

“When you’re talking about stuff we’re going to do together: about our future.”

I dropped the torn basil leaves and looked directly at him.

“Sebastian, I didn’t
have
a future until you got me thinking about one. God knows how long I’d have carried on drifting. But you have to promise me something…”

“Anything: I’ll promise you anything.”

I took a deep breath.

“I want you to promise me that when you… when you start thinking about a different future… without me…”

His expression changed and his eyes darkened with anger.

“Jesus, Caro! How can you say that to me?”

“No, please! Just tell me first. No, let me finish. We can’t ignore our age difference and one day, when it starts to… change things, I’ll understand. I don’t want us to sink into indifference and dislike. Been there, done that. When you decide to go, just… just give me some notice. That’s all I ask.”

He stared back.

I was glad I’d said it: I’d needed to say it, but Sebastian looked really angry.

“Caro, don’t you understand how I feel about you? I love you: you’re all I want. I want a future with you – I want our lives to be together. I’m not a kid: I’ve had to grow up fast. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time now. And I want to take care of you.”

“I’m just saying that I’ll understand when that changes.”

“Don’t patronize me, Caro,” he said, sounding even angrier. “You think I don’t know what it means to make this commitment, but I do. You think I’m giving up everything and that I’ll regret it later, but you’re wrong. I’ve seen what a bad marriage is like; I’ve seen how miserable my parents have been. But when I’m with you, I feel… so incredibly happy, like the world is worth it after all. I know how rare that is; I’ve
seen
how rare that is. Don’t dismiss how I feel just because… just because I’m younger than you. You’re beautiful and kind and talented and you have a gift… people are drawn to you – and you don’t even see it. And it’s just one of the things I love about you.”

I sighed, feeling his anguish in every word.

“And what about children, Sebastian?”

He blinked several times.

“What about children?”

“Well, do you really want to be saddled with children when you’re twenty? No, I don’t imagine you do. Well, what about when you’re in your thirties and you like the idea of having a couple of kids running around the house and I’ll be in my late forties and
too old
.”

He shrugged, trying to look casual but I could tell that he was rattled.

“If you want kids we can have kids.”

I smiled sadly and shook my head.

“It doesn’t work like that, Sebastian: we’d both have to want them – and time isn’t on our side. Do you see what I’m saying?”

“Yes, I see what you’re saying – and I see what you’re doing: you’re trying to think of every reason under the sun why we shouldn’t be together. But none of that matters – if you want to be with me.” He took a deep breath. “Do you, Caro?”

I sighed. I wanted him more than air, but I had to make him think,
really think
, about what we were doing.

“Sebastian, how long do you think these
physical
feelings will last? Six months? A year? Two, if we’re lucky. And then what? What about when you make friends at college and you introduce them to your
older
girlfriend? What about…”

But he interrupted me.

“None of that matters. And I think you’re wrong anyway – I can’t imagine not wanting you – not ever. You’re smart and funny and I enjoy being with you even when we don’t… when we’re not… making love. When I was eight years old, I used to imagine that you were my girlfriend and that we’d run away together. And then you left and I’d lost my best friend, too. I used to dream about you coming back. As I got older, I… I began to understand the… the nature of my feelings for you better. I didn’t think dreams could come true – but they have for me, Caro. Why are you so scared? I mean, forget all that legal bullshit… why do you keep trying to… I don’t know, make me change my mind? What do you think I’ve got here that I wouldn’t give up in a heartbeat to be with you? There’s nothing to keep me here: I’ll go anywhere, do anything to be with you.” He sighed. “I know you have more to lose and I hate,
hate
that I’m responsible for that, but… Do you want to be with me? Forever. Sempre.”

I didn’t have any words of opposition or defiance left in me. The future was unwritten: maybe one day I would be too old for him and he would leave me – it seemed inevitable. But wouldn’t two or three years of love be worth having, regardless? I knew my marriage was over: it had been over for a long time before I’d met Sebastian – I’d just been too much of a coward to admit it.

Was I prepared to take a chance on the future… a chance on love? I looked into his lovely face, tension and fear and anxiety holding him rigid. I thought again about the question he’d asked me: did I want to be with him.

“Yes. I do.”

He exhaled deeply as if he’d been holding his breath.

“That’s all that matters.”

He pushed his chair back and walked over, draping his arms around me. He rested his chin on my shoulder and nestled his face in my neck, his breath warm on my skin.

We stood like that for some moments, allowing the fear and tension to drain away.

“You’ll have to let go if I’m going to finish making you supper,” I said gently.

I felt his smile as he tightened his grip momentarily and then let his hands slide away. He sat back at the table and grinned at me.

“It’s good to know you want food more than you want sex,” I couldn’t help commenting.

He laughed. “It’s about even at the moment, but you told me that I’d need my energy so I’m just following your advice.”

I loved to see him like this, happy and relaxed, teasing me. I felt guilty for causing the tension in the first place, but relieved we’d talked it through – for now, at least.

I finished making the pesto and served up the linguini with toasted pine nuts and freshly grated parmesan.

“Aren’t you having some?”

I shook my head. “I had mine hours ago.”

“It smells great.”

He ate rapidly, shoveling in huge mouthfuls. He was clearly ravenous. I thought it was rather poor that the club hadn’t ensured that their young staff had had a proper meal break.

“What’s this photography course that you’re interested in?” he said, between mouthfuls.

“When I met up with Carl Winters at City Beat he really liked my photos of Base life. I thought I might try and take a course in photojournalism. What do you think?”

“That sounds great. I haven’t seen your photos – I’d really like to.”

“Would you?”

He rolled his eyes at me as he chomped through another enormous mouthful.

“Okay, well, I’ll show you later if you like.”

“Later, like tomorrow,” he said assertively.

A thrill of anticipation ran through me at his words. Yes, later.

“I’m going to have a glass of wine: would you like one?”

“Isn’t that illegal,” he smirked at me. “Plying a minor with liquor!”

I glanced over my shoulder at him as I retrieved the bottle of red wine I’d opened earlier.

“If I’m going to go to hell, I may as well do it thoroughly.”

He laughed. “I’d rather have a beer, if you’ve got one.”

I pulled a face. “Beer doesn’t go with pesto. Here, try this.”

I passed him a small glass of red wine.

He tasted it hesitantly then smiled. “That’s really good: what is it?”

“It’s a ten year old Barolo. It’s better when it’s not too fruity. Most people like the oakier-tasting ones but I guess I get my old-fashioned ideas from my dad.”

Sebastian looked impressed.

“Do you know a lot about wine?”

“A bit. Well, only what papa taught me. His family used to grow Moscato grapes.” I shrugged. “Maybe they still do.”

“Let’s find out!” he said, his eyes sparkling with adventure, “when we take that road trip.”

“Can you ride a motorcycle?”

“Sure! Well, I don’t have a completion certificate from the motorcycle training course, but I took a few lessons, and I’ve ridden Ches’s. It’s cool.”

I saw that he’d cleared his plate and was eyeing the fruit bowl.