The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline(265)

He closed his eyes, holding the lock in his hand.

“Caro, I don’t understand. Why do you love me?”

“Just because … because the sky is blue and the sea is green.”

And then he started to cry. He fisted his hands over his eyes and sobbed into my arms. And, at last, I could hold him. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tightly, willing the darkness away, trying to heal him with my body, with my touch.

“I love you, Sebastian, please don’t push me away. I love you.”

“Oh God, Caro. I just don’t know what I’m doing any more; I’m so fucked up—I feel like I can’t fucking breathe. Don’t give up on me, Caro. Please don’t give up on me. I need you, baby. I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

I could forgive anything now that he’d let me touch him.

I held him for an hour, just stroking his hair, as he rested his head in my lap, my fingers running over his rough beard. I realized he’d taken one small step toward me, toward living again—I needed him to take another.

“It’s time to go out now, Sebastian,” I said, softly.

He closed his eyes and swallowed.

“I don’t know if I can do that, Caro.”

“You don’t have to do this by yourself, Sebastian. We go together. Come on, tesoro. Together.”

I could tell he was nervous, so we took it slowly. I gave him my Yankees baseball cap, which he pulled down over his eyes, and he wore his old biker jacket, which hung loosely from his shoulders, emphasizing how thin he’d become.

I took his hand, and, with Sebastian leaning heavily on his walking stick, we made our way slowly along West Beech Street. Sebastian kept looking over his shoulder, checking the windows of buildings along the road, and I knew he was unconsciously looking for snipers. I didn’t hurry him, we went at his pace, but the feeling that flowed through me from being with him outdoors at last, was almost overwhelming.

“There’s a café over there, Sebastian. Why don’t we go have a coffee?”

“I don’t know, Caro … sitting outside? I wouldn’t feel … safe.”

“Sebastian, you know rationally that there’s nothing to worry about. Let’s just try it for a couple of minutes: if you really can’t handle it, we’ll leave.”

He twitched unhappily, but didn’t argue.

The waiter came toward us and Sebastian flinched away from him.

“I’ll have an espresso. Sebastian?”

His eyes were wide with fear, constantly flicking nervously about him.

“And a Bud Light,” I answered for him.

The waiter wandered away; he was used to a bit of crazy among his customers.

I couldn’t say that Sebastian truly relaxed, but he sipped his beer and began to look a fraction less anxious.

He seemed happier once we were moving again. I could tell he was tired, but I wanted him to see the ocean up close, and not just from the windows of our small home.

The boardwalk was busy, full of people strolling in the sunshine. A teenager on a skateboard swept past and my poor, wounded man trembled with terror at the sudden noise.

“It’s okay, tesoro. You’ll be okay.”

“Fuck, Caro,” he said, his face white with fear.

We carried on walking, Sebastian clinging onto my hand and trying to control his rapid breathing.

It hurt badly to see him so scared when he’d always been so strong, but I knew the only way to help him was to force him to face his fears. We’d face them together.

When we reached the end of the Boardwalk, we found an empty bench and sat looking at the ocean. He breathed in deeply, and I saw that it calmed him. The waves tumbled across the sand and the repeated, rhythmical motion soothed us both. A couple of kids were playing on body boards, shouting out happily. Sebastian leaned forward to watch them, his face alight with interest. The ocean had always been his place of refuge, somewhere his parents couldn’t touch him, and the beach had always had a special significance for us. I became determined that we’d walk here every day, because I believed it would help Sebastian to get stronger. And it would bring us together.

“The ocean always reminds me of you, tesoro. It’s the same color as your eyes today.”

He looked at me in surprise, then lifted my hand to his lips, kissing it gently.

“Caro.”

He breathed my name softly, like a prayer.

As we sat in the sunshine, a light breeze ruffling my hair, I felt life flowing back into his body. He closed his eyes, relaxing in the summer warmth, his face held up toward the light like a young plant that had been kept in the dark.

“Thank you for this, Caro,” he whispered.

I leaned against him and he wrapped his good arm around my shoulder, pulling me in.