The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline(24)

And finally my poor, starved heart caught up with what Sebastian had been saying: he loved me. He’d always loved me. Such a balm to my shrunken soul. My damascene moment hit me with extraordinary clarity.

I loved him, too.





CHAPTER 5



A summer of stolen happiness—that’s how I remembered the days that followed. The storm clouds gathered in the distance while my days with Sebastian were filled with light.

We knew we had to be careful. The military was a close-knit family and, like all families, the whisper of disapproval was never far away.

Daytime was easier. David worked until 6 pm most days and every third weekend, but now Sebastian had finished with school for good, his time was his own. Estelle had persuaded Donald of the benefits of a college education for their only child and, as far as they knew, Sebastian was due to start at UCSD in the Fall. Only his mother had reluctantly attended his graduation, Donald being far too busy to attend such a trivial event, and Sebastian had shyly shown me the formal photograph of himself in his cap and gown. My own graduation seemed a shadow in another lifetime.

The hard part was knowing that we couldn’t be together intimately—I was quite clear about that. But the more I saw him, the more I spent time with him, the harder it became. He was beautiful inside and out. I loved the way he looked at the world, with such zest and enthusiasm, despite the coldness of his parental home. He soaked up every smile, every hesitant touch that I could give him. But I knew he wanted more, and so did I. Pandora’s Box had been opened, and it was proving very hard to keep the lid closed. No matter how hard I tried to ignore it, the intense memory of our night of love-making was ever present in my thoughts; I was pretty certain Sebastian felt the same.

We were sitting huddled together, sheltered by a sand dune, while a short shower clouded the horizon, a picnic blanket swaddling us.

“Caro, you know you talked about wanting to go back east—did you mean North Carolina or Maryland?”

“Not Maryland,” I said, shuddering at the thought of being in the same state as my mother. “I was just thinking about getting as far away from here as possible. No, it doesn’t have to be there or North Carolina. Why? Did you have somewhere in mind?”

“Well,” he said hesitantly, “I was thinking maybe we could go to New York City. It should be easy to get work there, right?”

“I guess.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to live in a city that size but after a moment’s thought, I could definitely see the benefits. For one thing, we’d be harder to find; Sebastian was right about the increased chances of finding work. But I was also rather intimidated by the sheer scale of what we’d be undertaking. I’d been there twice, and each time had quailed at the speed at which everything happened. I was afraid I’d be lost. But … with Sebastian? I wouldn’t have to face it alone. I wouldn’t have to face anything alone ever again.

“I looked at some courses at NYU,” he said, in a voice that was just one shade too casual to be believable.

“And?”

“Nothing, really. I just thought it would be cool—you and me in the Big Apple.”

“Sebastian, I don’t mind where we go. If you want to go to New York, if you’ve seen some courses that interest you, then that’s what we’ll do.”

“Really?”

He beamed at me.

“Of course! It’s just as much your future as mine.” Or more.

In secrecy, we planned for Sebastian to apply to NYU with his courses starting in the Spring semester. We—and I delighted in that small pronoun—would leave California as soon as he was 18 on October 2nd, and hoped to hide in the anonymity of the gray metropolis. I would, of course, find work as a journalist, and undoubtedly we would be happy.

I was swept up in that delicious dream. I couldn’t fully hide my happiness; someone was bound to notice.

“Caroline!”

Donna Vorstadt’s voice interrupted my happy musings in the Kwik Shop.

“How are you? Johan and I are really looking forward to your little soirée tomorrow.”

My brain lurched to attention. Had she seen me arrive with Sebastian? No, she was still smiling, acting normally—unlike me.

“Oh, yes, of course! Sorry, my mind was elsewhere.”

So true.

“It must have been somewhere lovely—I called your name three times!”

I flushed uncomfortably and she raised an eyebrow, but was kind enough not to pursue the point.

“David told Johan that you’ll be making some of your delicious little Italian delicacies.”

She glanced, puzzled, at my cart. A milk carton and bottle of olive oil blinked back at her.