The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline(15)
I fished in my beach purse for the key and tentatively unlocked the door.
“Caroline?”
Who else?
“Hello, David. Sorry I’m late getting home.”
He was waiting for me at the kitchen table. He didn’t look happy—irritation rolled off him in waves.
“Where have you been? Your car was parked out front.”
“Sergeant Peters gave me a ride; he was helping me out with an article I’m writing for City Beat.”
“Peters? Which one is he?”
“Um, he lives out on Murray Ridge. He’s a Staff Sergeant. His wife is Shirley.”
“You know I don’t like you mixing with the non-coms, Caroline,” he said, with finality. “When will you understand that it undermines my authority if my wife hobnobs with the enlisted men—and their wives?”
“I’m sorry, David, but he really was very helpful. He…”
“I’m not interested in your excuses, Caroline.”
I felt the control on my temper starting to slip.
“I’m not making excuses. I’m very grateful for Staff Sergeant Peters’ help today.”
A chilly silence descended.
“I’ll go make supper,” I muttered.
“Don’t bother,” he said sharply. “While you were absent, I made other arrangements. I’m meeting one of my colleagues in the mess. Don’t wait up.”
He strode out of the house and I heard the Camaro screech down the road.
I knew what this meant: David was going on one of his rare drinking binges. He’d probably be falling out of a taxi at two in the morning, breathing his beery fumes in my face.
I was glad when he went, but I knew I’d have to face his wrath at some point.
I tried to settle down and type up my notes, but the yawning absence of his disapproving presence made me restless.
It was starting to get dark, with stars appearing in the east. I dug a coat from the closet, pulled on some sneakers and headed out for a walk.
I took a circular route, wandering toward the park, when I realized that it might not be the most sensible place to be as darkness approached. I looked across and could see a man sitting on one of the benches, his sweatshirt hood pulled over his head.
I was alert but not overly worried: not yet. The quickest way home was to walk past. I debated whether this was the smart thing to do and, in the end, decided that as he wasn’t looking at me, I’d risk the most direct route.
As I got closer I realized the silent figure was Sebastian. What was he doing out here by himself? I almost walked past. I really didn’t need another uncomfortable encounter with him. I had enough on my plate dealing with David’s petulance. But he looked so alone, that I decided to risk a quick word and make sure he was okay. I wondered if he’d had another fight with his father. I hoped it wasn’t because of me again. Or, rather, because of the surfing.
“Sebastian?”
His head jerked up and he looked directly at me before dropping his eyes to the ground.
I gasped. He had a bruise across one cheek, and his lower lip was split.
“Oh, my God! Are you all right?”
What a dumb question: any fool could see he wasn’t all right.
“What happened?”
He didn’t answer, but hunched his shoulders and carried on staring at the ground, as if the answer would spring from between the scraggy blades of grass.
Without any conscious decision, I raised my hand and lifted his head carefully.
He jerked his face away. “Don’t look at me,” he whispered.
“Did your father do this to you?”
He nodded, and a slow burning anger began to build in me.
“Sebastian, let me see. I want to make sure you’re not hurt too badly.”
“I’m okay,” he said in a hollow voice. “I’ve been hurt worse than this.”
The pain in his voice was more than I could bear.
I stroked his face and felt tears beneath my fingertips.
“Don’t cry, Sebastian. It’ll be okay.”
I didn’t feel any force behind my words; we both knew they were empty.
I walked around to stand in front of him. Finally he looked up and met my eyes.
“Come back to the house. I’ll fix you up and drive you home. Okay?”
My words seemed to sink in slowly. He stared for a moment longer, then stood up.
He walked as if dazed, in silence, unseeing. Twice I had to stop him before he plowed into the road at an intersection. His behavior was starting to get me really worried.
When we finally got back, the house was dark. I was intensely grateful for David’s continuing absence; I was certain he would have insisted on phoning Sebastian’s parents had he been there—and no way would anything good result from that.