The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline (19 page)

“Why sure! I’ll phone Shirley and set it up.”

I found myself looking forward to it and I was curious to meet Mitch’s wife. The fact that David would be torn between his disapproval of Shirley and his desire to encourage my friendship with Donna only added to my pleasure.
But how the hell was I going to get through the next three-and-a-half months with this man?

First we had to get through dinner.

Johan gallantly offered me his arm as we walked up the front steps, much to Donna’s obvious amusement and David’s sullen irritation.

The maitre d’ fussed around our table, pulling out chairs for Donna and me before introducing our waiter for the evening—a familiar face was grinning down at us.

“Oh, hello, Ches,” said Donna, pleasantly. “What a nice surprise! So you’ll be our waiter. How are you?”

“Very well thanks, Mrs. Vorstadt.” Then he turned to Johan. “Hello, sir. Hi, Caroline!” he grinned at me.

I smiled back. “Hi, Ches, how are…”

But before I could finish the sentence David snapped, “Her name is ‘Mrs. Wilson’.”

Ches’s smile vanished while Donna and Johan looked embarrassed.

“David,” I said softly. “I’ve met Ches before: he and his father were kind enough to help me with my surfing article.”

“I know who he is, Caroline,” said David sharply, “and it’s not appropriate that he addresses you by your first name.”

Donna hid a look of disgust behind her menu, and I saw a hard look pass over Johan’s face. David had screwed himself royally this time. I didn’t care about that, but I was mortified by the way he’d treated Ches.

“Perhaps you can tell us what the specials are, Ches?” said Donna coolly.

“Sure, Mrs. Vorstadt,” said Ches, with a chastened tone.

We placed our orders and I tried to think of some way to apologize for David’s appalling rudeness.

“By the way, Ches,” I said, “the surfing article will be published in
City Beat
tomorrow. Yours and your dad’s picture are in it. I’ll buy a copy for each of you. Will you tell your dad for me? And Sebastian and Fido. I never did find out his real name.”

He grinned at me. “Okay, thanks, Mrs. Wilson, I’ll do that.”

He walked away smiling but David pursed his lips. “Don’t be over-familiar with the wait staff, Caroline.”

“He’s our neighbor,” said Donna, raising her eyebrows to make the point.

“Of course,” said David after half a beat.

Johan cleared this throat and threw a warning look at his wife.

It was a wonder we didn’t all have indigestion before we started. But then our wine waiter arrived and the talk devolved into a discussion of how well New World reds stacked up against Old World. I kept my mouth firmly shut—now was not the time to irritate David even further.

Johan picked a soft Californian Merlot and ordered a jug of iced water.

Our entrées were very slow arriving and Johan’s eyes began flicking back and forward toward the kitchen. The maitre d’ came out to apologize, saying that two members of staff had suddenly gone sick and that they were short-staffed but trying to remedy the situation.

That’s when I saw Sebastian.

He wasn’t in his usual sports assistant uniform; instead he was dressed in long, black pants, a white button down shirt with a black bow tie. He was walking purposefully toward our table, carrying a basket full of small bread rolls.

No! No! Shit!

I then had to endure the hideous spectacle of my lover serving my husband, while I tried to stop myself from screaming and running.

Donna smiled as I studied my linen napkin.

“Hello, Sebastian. We’ve already seen Ches this evening. It looks like you boys are running the place tonight.”

I didn’t dare look up to see his face but I could tell from his voice that he was nervous as he tried to laugh.

“Not really. They’re just very short-staffed—I haven’t done this before.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, dear. You look very handsome, doesn’t he, Caroline?”

My head jerked up at the sound of my name.

“Oh, yes. Very.”

There was a pause that felt long enough for the world to end.

“Would you like some bread?” Sebastian said awkwardly.

I shook my head while David reached across me to take two rolls. Donna also declined but Johan looked hungry enough to eat all the rolls and the basket, too. Luckily Ches was close behind bringing out our entrées. I had no idea how I was going to eat anything, my stomach was so tied in knots. And I still couldn’t look at Sebastian.

The men dug into their food with gusto. I glanced up to see Donna give me a small wink; I had no idea what she was referring to but I tried to smile back; I probably just looked sick. From the corner of my eye I could see Sebastian waiting on other tables and Ches hurrying to and fro.

“I wonder if those boys will both enlist,” said Donna, musing aloud, “you know—following in their fathers’ footsteps.”

“The Hunter boy is going to,” said David confidently. “I don’t know about the other one.”

“Really?” said Donna. “I’m quite surprised—I rather thought Sebastian might do something else.”

“No,” said David with finality, “Donald told me. Estelle has talked him into letting the boy have a year at college first,” he sniffed disdainfully, “but that’s all he’s prepared to pay for; the boy will enlist after that.”

“That seems a little harsh,” said Donna frowning. “Surely they’d let him get his degree once he’s started?”

David shrugged. He really wasn’t that interested.

I was shocked yet again by Donald and Estelle’s callousness; I knew for a fact that Sebastian was unaware of this plan. I was even more determined that he’d get his degree if I had anything to do with it.

The conversation moved onto other people we knew in common and for me at least, into safer
territory.

“Where did you get your fabulous dress, Caroline?” Donna asked while Ches cleared away the entrée plates.

“Westfield: I went this morning.”

“Oh! I wish I’d known. I was there this morning, too. We could have gone together. What a pity I didn’t see you.”

I shuddered internally at the thought of what had so narrowly been avoided.

“I don’t know why she had to pick black,” David complained. “It’s so funereal.”

Donna stared at him in astonishment then turned her sympathetic eyes to mine. I glanced away and caught Sebastian watching me. He looked angry—he’d obviously heard David’s unkind comment.

“Do you have any plans while David is away?” said Donna.

“Excuse me?”

“While he’s at the conference … you know, the thoracic surgery symposium in Dallas?”

I stared at her in bafflement.

“For God’s sake, Caroline!” muttered David. “What is the point of me filling in a schedule if you never look at it?”

“When are you going?”

“They’re flying out on Friday evening and back Sunday night,” Donna added helpfully.

Johan nodded to David. “Have you read the papers yet?”

I barely listened as they discussed the speakers—my mind was racing through the possible ways I could spend my 48 hours of freedom.

“What will you do with yourself, Caroline?” asked Donna.

“Oh, I don’t know. I guess I’ll be able to get on with my writing.”

“And you’ll come to the beach barbecue on Sunday?”

She immediately answered my blank expression.

“It’s for all the Service families. It’s usually pretty good fun and, as you’re by yourself … do say yes.”

With everyone staring at me, I had no choice.

“Yes, of course I’ll come,” I said.

I felt like some weird internal elevator was rushing up and down with its cargo of emotions—from elation at the thought of David being away for two nights, to come crashing down because precious hours when I could have been with Sebastian would now be squandered at a military picnic. Someone sure had a lousy sense of humor.

I deliberately took my time getting ready for bed once we got back from the country club. I hoped that if I was slow enough David would have fallen asleep by the time I slipped under the covers. So far I had managed to avoid any further confrontations about sex, but I knew it was only a matter of time before David would insist on his conjugal ‘rights’.

I closed the toilet lid and sat down with my head in my hands. I couldn’t go on like this—the stress was beginning to get to me and it had only been three weeks.
Was that all it had taken for my life to change so completely?
I wasn’t cut out for infidelity. Or maybe it was simply that Donna’s comment about having been at the mall at the same time as us that had made my anxiety levels spike.

The choices were stark: leave David and set divorce proceedings in action—stay away from Sebastian for another 13 weeks and hope no one put two-and-two together to make four; stay, and save money from my writing so we could disappear to NYC together at the end of September—and hope no one put two-and-two together to make four. Either way people would work out the truth
when we both disappeared at the same time—I hoped that once Sebastian was 18 and there was no
proof
of wrong doing, they’d leave us alone. That was my grand plan. And money was going to be an issue. David had his salary paid into a savings account and gave me $1,000 a month for groceries, gas for my car and utility bills. It was only just enough. I had no money of my own. When I’d had my job back east, David had insisted that my wages went into the communal pot. That’s what he called it, although I never saw the money again. I didn’t even know how much was in our savings account. What a humiliating admission.

But if I could get an article published in
City Beat
every week for the next three months, I’d have over $4,000—enough for seven or eight weeks rent in NYC. It was going to be tight, but when it came down to it, what price freedom?

Although the fact that the age of consent was 17 in New York was reassuring, I tried not to dwell on it. It didn’t change the facts of what I’d done in California, and what I planned to continue doing.

The rumbling sound of David’s snores broke through my grim thoughts: it was safe to go to bed.

I slipped carefully under the sheets and tried to think positively. Tomorrow was a new day: my first ever piece of professional writing was going to be published—and I had a promise to keep to Sebastian.

CHAPTER 9

I collected Sebastian from our special place near the park and drove off quickly. He was unusually subdued.

“Are you okay?”

He shrugged.

I really hoped he wasn’t going to sulk for long—I’d had enough of that in my life, and in particular from David during the last 24 hours.

“Sebastian, talk to me!”

He sighed. “I
hated
seeing you with that asshole last night. How can you stand it?”

I blanched at the anger in his voice.

“I’ve got used to it, over the years,” I said quietly. “But it’s getting harder.”

I could feel Sebastian’s eyes on me as I drove.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

It was my turn to shrug. He didn’t need to apologize—if it was anyone’s fault, it was mine. I looked for a way to change the subject and diffuse the tense atmosphere.

“I need to buy a half-dozen copies of
City Beat
. My article is published today—you and Ches will be in it.”

“Oh, yeah! I can’t wait to see that!” he said, sounding happier.

I pulled up at a convenience store and we both jumped out, racing each other to the stand of newspapers, suddenly light-hearted.

I tore open a copy of the paper, my heart beating rapidly with excitement. I didn’t have to look far—my article was printed on page five with a huge photograph of Sebastian, Mitch, Bill, Ches and Fido.

I felt a sharp pain in my chest as I stared at the photograph of Sebastian. In the picture his sun-lightened hair was still long, and he looked the epitome of young and carefree. I’d taken it just a few hours before his father brutally hacked off his hair; and a few hours after that we had slept together for the first time. But I also felt a great welling up of pride—seeing my article in print with my name beneath it was the first real sense of achievement I’d had since getting my degree at night school three years ago.

“They’ve spelled your name wrong,” said Sebastian frowning.

I scanned the page quickly. “Where?”

“There,” he said, pointing at the small, bold type under the heading.

“No, that’s correct,” I said, looking at him puzzled.

“Your name is ‘Carolina’, not ‘Caroline’?”

“Carolina is the Italian,” I said softly, emphasizing the long vowel in the middle. “David—and my mother—preferred the Anglicized version, but the name on my birth certificate is Carolina Maria.”

I couldn’t help noticing that Sebastian’s lips were pressed tightly together and his knuckles where he gripped the newspaper had turned white.

“Why are you so upset?” I asked hesitantly.

Sebastian took a deep breath.

“That bastard has taken everything from you,” he growled, “even your name!”

I sighed.

“That’s not really true, Sebastian. Everything he’s done, I’ve let him do. Look, this isn’t really the place to have this conversation—let me just buy the papers and we’ll go. Please.”

Sebastian waited outside while I paid for six copies.

When I came out with my newspapers tucked under one arm, he was leaning against the brick wall with his eyes closed. I gazed at him anxiously.

He opened his eyes and looked down at me, forcing a smile.

“Come on, let’s go celebrate your first article, Ms Reporter!”

I smiled back, relieved that he was attempting to lift his mood.

“We’ve got something else to celebrate. David is going away to a medical symposium. He leaves Friday night and doesn’t get back until Sunday evening.”

A huge and genuine smile spread across Sebastian’s face. “
Two nights?!
”

I couldn’t help laughing at his obvious happiness.

Without warning, he pulled me into his arms, hugging me to his chest. My free arm wrapped around his neck and I pulled his head down. His lips were warm and soft, his kiss gentle and sweet. Then I felt his lips part and his tongue swept into my mouth. I shivered with desire and I could feel his growing arousal through his jeans.

I tried to remember that we were in public; reluctantly I pushed him away from me.

“Let’s go to a hotel … like you said.”

His voice was low and rough and he rubbed his hands over his short hair, with evident frustration. But before I could answer, I heard someone calling his name.

My head swiveled to see Ches walking toward us and my cheeks flushed with guilt.
How much had he seen?

“Hey, man! What’s up? Hi, Mrs. Wilson.”

I tried to smile. “Hello, Ches. And please call me Caroline. I’m sorry about last night—I hope I didn’t embarrass you.”

He frowned slightly then laughed it off. “Nah,
you
didn’t. It’s cool.”

Then he turned to Sebastian, a puzzled look on his face, his eyes flitting between us.

“Caroline’s article has been published,” said Sebastian, pointing at the pile of newspapers still tucked under my left arm.

“I was going to deliver them,” I said smiling more naturally, “but now you’re both here.”

I handed a copy to Ches and another to Sebastian.

“Awesome!” said Ches. “Dad is going to be stoked when he sees this!”

“I’ve bought copies for Bill and Fido, too. Can you get these to them for me?” I handed the spare copies to Ches. “By the way, what
is
Fido’s real name?”

Ches laughed. “It’s Arnold. But don’t use it, because he won’t answer, and it’ll just make him want to break my face if he finds out that I’ve told you.”

His attention returned to Sebastian. “So what you doing, man? I’m going to take off and get a surf in before work—they’ll probably want us to start early anyway because they’re still short-staffed—whatever, it’s more gas money for the van. You want to check out some waves or are you
busy
again?”

There was a brief, uncomfortable pause.

“Well, you guys have fun,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’ve got some errands to run.”

“Are you going to the club later?” said Sebastian, a little too quickly.

I saw Ches’s eyes flicker over to him.

“Oh … I don’t know. I’m not a member yet, although Donna Vorstadt suggested we might go there for coffee, but I’m not sure if that was supposed to be today or tomorrow. Maybe I’ll see you
both later. Ciao.”

I tried to convey a message with my careful words but it was hard to tell if it had got through: Sebastian looked pretty pissed off.

I walked away with my copy of
City Beat
under one arm while my stomach played hopscotch.

I felt bereft: I’d counted on a few hours with Sebastian and they’d been ripped away. But I wasn’t going to waste my time either: not any more.

I pulled out my cell phone and dialed the number for
City Beat
.

“Hi, this is Caroline Wilson. Could I speak to Carl Winters, please?”

I was put on hold for a few seconds before I heard the editor’s voice.

“Hi, Carolina, how are you?”

He pronounced my name the Italian way—just like in my article.

“Good, thank you, Mr. Winters. I wanted to say that I thought the article looked really great. Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity.”

“Not at all, and please, call me Carl. I was going to call you. Do you have something for the next issue?”

“Yes, I do. I have 1500 words on the work of the Base hospital and I’ve nearly finished one on military families and what it means to them to move around a lot. That might be a little longer, if it’s okay. I’ve got some interviews with other wives set up for that.”

“Excellent! Can you email them to me or, better still, can you come on in? It would be really good to meet you in person.”

I made a quick decision.

“I’m free now. I could be there in thirty minutes?”

“Great! I’ll look forward to it, Carolina.”

Next I phoned Donna.

“Hi, Donna, it’s Caroline.”

“Hi! How are you?”

“I’m good. I just wanted to thank you for last night. It was … very pleasant.”

She chuckled. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Johan was very taken with your dress—I think I should be jealous.”

I laughed a little uncomfortably. “I was wondering if you and Shirley were free for coffee later today after all?”

She sounded surprised. “I’m free, but I’d have to check with Shirley.”

“It’s just I have a meeting with the
City Beat
editor now and it would be great to be able to tell him that I have another article almost ready.”

“Wow! That’s great! Good for you, Caroline. Look, let me call Shirley and I’ll get back to you.”

The offices of
City Beat
were housed in an orange-stucco, art deco building a couple of blocks from Lincoln Avenue. I managed to park nearby and hurried in with my laptop and notebook. I’d decided to show Carl some of my photographs of Base life. I knew they were pretty amateurish but there were three or four that I thought had come out well.

As I was walking into reception I heard my phone beep. There was a text from Donna arranging coffee at the country club and two missed calls from Sebastian.

I texted him back quickly.

* Hi mtg at City Beat. Very exciting. Will meet Donna

and Shirley at cc 3
pm
. Hope 2 cu. But wkend just for us *

I turned my phone off quickly and introduced myself to the cheerful receptionist.

Carl Winters was much younger than I’d expected—in fact he was probably only a couple of years older than me. Here he was running a whole newspaper in a major city. It made me feel inadequate. But he was friendly and seemed to go out of his way to put me at my ease.

“It’s nice to meet you at last, Carolina,” he said shaking hands. “We’ve had some really good feedback already on the article. What else have you got for me?”

I opened my ancient laptop and while it was slowly cycling through its warm up, Carl started asking me questions about myself. I’d answered three or four before it occurred to me that I was being interviewed.

“How long have you been a military wife?”

“Eleven years.”

“Eleven! You must have been a child bride.”

“Well, not quite, but pretty young I suppose. I know that’s not in fashion these days, although you find it more among the military, I guess.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Rules!” I said, laughing lightly. “If you want to be able to follow your spouse around the country, you have to be married first. Or, if you want to live in sin, you have to live off base.”

“It’s quite different to civilian life, isn’t it,” he said thoughtfully.

“In all sorts of ways, big and small,” I agreed.

I showed him the article on the Base hospital and he nodded as he read through it, which I took to be a good sign. Then I showed him my photographs.

“These are really good,” he said, sounding surprised. “You didn’t say you were a photographer.”

“I’m not. I mean, I enjoy taking pictures, but I’ve no training. I just use my dad’s old SLR. It’s not even digital—I have to get the films processed at the drugstore.”

“Well, they’re really good: they definitely capture that sense of … organized chaos, I guess. Well, Carolina, if we’re going to use your photos, too, there’ll be an additional fee for you: $450 for an article and photo. How does that sound?”

“That sounds wonderful. Thank you.”

He glanced at his watch.

“I’m going to head out and get some lunch now. Maybe if you’re not busy I could buy you a sandwich and a coffee?”

“Oh! That’s very kind of you, Carl, but I’ve set up interviews with a couple of wives from the Base and, as I’m sure you’d guess, none of us do ‘late’.”

He laughed but looked a little disappointed. “Another time then?”

I smiled without answering, thanked him again, and left. He’d seemed very friendly. I hoped that’s all it was.

Despite that slight awkwardness, I was walking on air, thrilled with the response to my articles and with a new sense of purpose. For a few brief moments, I allowed myself to be happy and in love.

Driving out to the country club, I ran through the questions I wanted to ask of Donna and Shirley. Carl Daniel’s assessment of my work had given me confidence—newborn and weak, but it was confidence—of a sort.

I parked around the back, as before. It was only two o’clock and I hoped, really hoped, that I’d be able to snatch a few, private moments.

* Am at cc *

I sat for a minute but there was no reply. I didn’t even know if Sebastian was allowed to carry his phone while he was working. I’d just have to be patient.

At reception I handed in a completed membership form and a check, signed by David, for our first month’s membership. David had felt that last night’s dinner had gone well—he seemed to be oblivious to how much he’d annoyed Johan and Donna. Empathy was not one of my husband’s qualities. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.