The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline (35 page)

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And may I ask why you are working the gym right now and not Mr. Peters?”

Sebastian flushed and dropped his gaze to stare directly over his manager’s shoulder.

“I … I asked to swap, ma’am.”

“
I
arrange the rosters, Mr. Hunter, not you. Kindly go back to your lifeguarding duties and send Mr. Peters to see me, please.”

“But Ches…”

“
Now
, Mr. Hunter.”

“Yes, Miss Perez.”

Sebastian turned on his heel and strode back out to the pool area.

Luckily he was unaware that I’d overheard the humiliating little scene. I could cheerfully have smacked Brenda into the middle of next week for causing so much trouble.

I lingered to order a coffee and the young barista offered to carry it out to the pool for me when it was ready. Now Sebastian was back outside, it was the only place I wanted to be.

Happily, Brenda seemed to have disappeared. Which was lucky for her, the way I was feeling.

Sebastian was slumped in the lifeguard’s chair when I emerged into the sunshine from the gloom of the clubhouse, but beamed at me as I resumed my seat under the sun umbrella. I really was going to have to talk to him about playing it cool. I gave him a quick smile and went back to my laptop. Now Brenda had gone, I had a reasonable chance of actually managing to put some words on the page.

It was surprisingly soothing to have Sebastian sitting there while I worked. I wrote steadily for some time, sipping at the thin coffee that had been brought to my table, becoming more and more absorbed in describing life on a military Base, with its odd mixture of discipline and play, rules and separation that marked us out as different from the world beyond the walls. It made me realize how much I’d come to rely on that sense of orderliness, togetherness, of family, even. I’d felt so alien in this world for so long, I hadn’t even noticed my slow absorption into this isolated, alternative way of life. I wondered if I’d miss it once I left. I didn’t think so, but it was all I’d known for 11 years. Now, at last, Sebastian was offering me something different.

I looked at my wristwatch, astonished that it was already after 5
pm
. I had to get home—and face David. Twelve more weeks of feeling like this, I didn’t know how I’d manage. And I’d be without the warmth of Sebastian’s body beside me tonight. That thought alone made me feel bereft.

I looked up to see him watching me, a small frown creasing his forehead. I smiled quickly and subtly tapped my watch. The corners of his lips turned down and he nodded fractionally.

With a sigh, I packed up my notebook and laptop, and left him behind.

At 6
pm
I heard David’s car pull up. I made sure that his dinner, reheated lasagna and salad, was ready.

As he walked in, I fixed a smile to my face and pulled his steaming plate out of the microwave and placed it on the table next to the salad bowl.

But he didn’t look at the food—he looked right at me, his face stiff and angry, sitting bolt upright at the table.

“Have you got something to tell me, Caroline?”

I’m sure my face was drained of color, because I suddenly felt very faint. I tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come out.

“Well?”

“I…”

“I saw Dr. Ravel today,” he snarled at me, “who reported to me that you
missed your appointment!
”

I felt a sudden desire to laugh. Was
that
all that was bothering him.

“That’s right,” I said, feeling brave now that I was sure it was nothing to do with Sebastian.

“Would you like to explain that?” he hissed.

“I felt no need for an appointment, David. You made it without consulting me. If you had, I would have reminded you that I had a Pap smear six months ago and that there were no problems. And I certainly am
not
experiencing an early menopause—I’m quite sure of
that
.”

Silence filled the room and our eyes locked.

“And what the hell is Dr. Ravel doing discussing me—her patient—with you? Hasn’t she heard of HIPPA?”

“If it’s not physical, it must be psychological,” he said, coolly ignoring my comment. “I’ll arrange for you to see the Base psychiatrist and…”

“No, you won’t, David,” I replied, trying to match his sanguine tone, but with little luck. “I am not seeing a shrink; there’s
nothing
wrong with me.”

“Then why are you sleeping in the guest room?” he yelled, all attempt at any control gone. “
That
is going to stop tonight. I want you back in my bed where you belong!”

“No!” I yelled back. “I fucking well won’t!”

David’s face was comically shocked. “Yes, you will,” he said, with far less force.

I stared back at him and folded my hands across my waist.

“No.”

We glared at each other across the kitchen table.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he shouted suddenly, making me jump.

Adrenaline and mounting anger sharpened my tone.

“Nothing! There’s nothing wrong with me! I wash your fucking clothes, I iron your fucking pants, I cook, I clean, I…”

“That’s your job! That’s what you’re here to do!”

“I’m NOT a fucking servant!”

“You’re being hysterical, Caroline, I think…”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think, David! I’m tired of you bullying me, putting me down, patronizing me, treating me like some sort of simpleton. I was supposed to be a
partner
in this relationship—that’s what I signed up for.
Not this!
”

“You’re acting like a child, Caroline.”

“Then stop fucking treating me like one! I’m thirty fucking years old!”

“And please stop using that vile language.”

“Aaaaaaaagh!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. For a moment he actually looked scared.

Then he stood up abruptly and forcefully shoved the lasagna and salad away from him. The plate slid right across the kitchen table and crashed to the floor, sending a shower of steaming hot sauce and scalding vegetables over my bare feet and legs.

I cried out and jumped back, trying to scrub off the burning food.

“You bastard,” I screamed at him. “You fucking bastard!”

He looked shocked.

“Caroline … I … I didn’t mean for that to … are you hurt?”

I ran to the sink, trying to splash cold water over my burning legs and feet.

“Caroline!”

Tears sprang to my eyes and my voice was shrill.

“Go away, David. Leave me alone.”

Instead, he hovered guiltily while I cleaned myself up in silence. The hot food had left blotchy, red burn marks down my thighs and shins and across the front of my feet. I thought I’d got the hot sauce off quickly enough to prevent any blistering or real damage.

David watched me helplessly. It was clear he hadn’t a clue what to say or do. Just as long as he didn’t try to touch me—if he did, I wouldn’t be responsible for my actions. The great doctor didn’t even offer to get the First Aid kit.

Carefully, I rubbed large dollops of antiseptic cream over my legs and, without a single glance in his direction, I left the room. The pool of lasagna was still spread out over the floor like a crime scene.

I walked upstairs stiffly and lay down on the bed in my room. I wanted to curl into a tight ball but my skin was too tender to stretch like that. Instead I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling. David had never ever hurt me before—not physically. I knew it was an accident but the hate I felt
for him at that moment raged through me. All the years of being belittled and bullied, all the times he’d made feel stupid and inadequate, it all came boiling up inside.

The fury I’d felt when Brenda had flirted too openly with Sebastian was nothing, an insignificant annoyance, compared to the way I felt now.

I was
glad
I was having an affair behind his back. I was
glad
I’d taken a younger man into his bed. I was
delighted
thinking of the humiliation he’d suffer when he finally knew the truth. I wanted to yell it to his face and watch his whole fucking world fall apart.

Even after I heard the front door slam and his car screech out of the driveway, I continued to imagine the fierce joy I’d feel when I finally told him what a pathetic little man he truly was.

I lay on the bed as the house sank into darkness. Outside I could hear the small sounds of the day’s end, people’s lives continuing down the same, certain paths. I’d been like that once—moving from hour to hour, sleepwalking down a road that had been chosen for me—not awake, not aware.

It was all ashes and dust.

I must have fallen asleep because when my cell phone buzzed with a text message, I jerked awake. I struggled to sit up, wondering why I felt so sore and then the memories came flying back like locusts. The skin on my legs felt raw, or rather, the hot tightness of bad sunburn. I was astonished to find that my face was wet. I didn’t know it was possible to cry in your sleep. It wasn’t from the pain—at least, not the physical pain.

I turned on my side to reach the bedside light. The little alarm clock told me it was after 11
pm
; I’d been asleep for nearly four hours.

I expected the text to be from Sebastian and it was—but not the goodnight message I’d anticipated.

* Am outside. Is he there?

There’s no car?

Can I c u? *

I leapt out of bed and immediately regretted moving so quickly. Even in the weak pool of light from the little lamp, my legs looked horrible. I needed to find something to cover them up. I found an old hippy skirt at the back of the closet. It was dated and faintly ridiculous, but it was the only fabric I could tolerate right now. Best of all, it was floor length.

Moving carefully, I made my way down to the kitchen. I stared in disgust at the vomit-like pool of cold lasagna on the tiled floor. That bastard hadn’t even tried to clear it away. I hesitated, thinking I should clean up before I let Sebastian in—he’d only ask questions which I wanted to avoid. But it was too late; he’d seen my silhouette as soon as I’d walked in the kitchen and I could see his shadow rocking impatiently on the balls of his feet.

His smile vanished as soon as he saw my face. My attempt to fool him for even a second had obviously been in vain.

“Caro, what’s wrong?”

I just shook my head and he pulled me into a tight hug. His jeans pushed against my legs, rubbing my skirt fabric against my burns. I winced and he felt me shudder.

“What’s the matter? Did something happen? Tell me!”

I sighed into his chest.

“David and I had a fight,” I said.

He froze as soon as I’d said the words.

“He knows?”

I shook my head slowly. “No. It was nothing to do with you—just a stupid fight.”

He breathed a sigh of something like relief.

“What was it about then?”

He wasn’t going to let this one go.

“He was pissed because I refused to sleep with him—I mean, sleep in his bed, not ... I told him I’d be staying in the guest room.”

“That asshole! Fuck, Caro! I really want to…”

He didn’t finish the sentence but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was thinking.

“Has he … gone out?”

I nodded. “Yes, he’s been gone a while. I’ve no idea when … or if, he’ll be back.”

“Can I come in?”

His voice was hopeful.

“Okay, for a minute.”

He frowned at my unenthusiastic reply. I was so tired and wrung out, I couldn’t handle a jealous and angry Sebastian right now.

He halted in his tracks when he saw the mess on the floor.

“Did
he
do that?”

I nodded silently and fetched a cloth to start clearing it up.

Without speaking Sebastian took the rag from me. I was too weary to argue even though I wanted to. It was just all wrong to have my lover clear up the mess my husband had made in our kitchen over a fight about the matrimonial bed. My brain was tied in knots just trying to keep all the pieces in the right place. Somehow everything had gotten so mixed up and confused.

Finally, the floor was clean and the remains of David’s dinner had been dumped in the trash can. Sebastian washed his hands and dried them on the back of his pants.

He sat down at the table and put his arm around me. I leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes. He wrapped his other arm around my waist and pulled me to his chest, just holding me. Every now and then I felt his light kisses in my hair.

His kindness was the thing that broke me, and tears began to slide down my cheeks.

“Don’t cry, Caro,” he said softly, his voice aching with sadness. “Don’t cry, baby.”