The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline(282)

Kambiz’s eyes are popping out of his head when he sees the Afghan food that she’s made, as well: Qabli Pulao of rice, raisins and carrot with lamb; Mantu dumplings with minced beef and onions; spicy vegetables; and two chalow rice dishes.

Atash just smiles because he’s had Caro’s cooking before.

I feel so fucking proud of her. She did most of it herself: okay, well, all of it. I tried to help but she nearly fucking lynched me when I managed to let the rice burn dry … um … the first lot of rice. I’ll do my bit later—all the fucking washing up. Thank fuck she insisted on getting paper plates to eat off of.

And during the day, I have a revelation. I fucking love Christmas!

It was a nightmare when I was a kid: lots of drunken arguments, and most of the time I’d try and hide in my room. It got a bit better when Ches and his folks moved to San Diego because they’d invite me over and I’d spend as much time as I could with them. Yeah, those were pretty good. Got to surf on Christmas Day a few times, although Shirley tore a strip off Mitch if he got us back late for the food.

I’ve had four Christmas’s overseas: one in Iraq with my unit, which was kind of okay, although a lot of the guys were going on about missing their families, and I never had anyone to miss; one in Afghanistan, where we got the fuck shelled out of us on Christmas Day, which kind of put a damper on things; and one where it was just the chaplain going on about some shit or other. Last Christmas I was in Switzerland and I spent it screwing some rich German woman in a fucking amazing hotel in Klosters. Something else I haven’t mentioned to Caro. Did some snowboarding, too.

Caro knows I’ve done this shit, but she never asks and she never uses it as a weapon when we’re fighting, which is pretty fucking cool of her.

I could have flown back to spend Christmas with Ches last year, but since I’d fucked Amy’s friend and her friend’s friend, she’s been kinda pissed at me. Not that I cared about that, but I didn’t want to screw things up for Ches, so I stayed away.

Amy was kind of okay with me when Caro and I got married; it really helped that they got on so well. I think Amy was in a state of shock that I was ‘settling down’ as she put it (several times, for fuck’s sake).

But I wasn’t surprised that she got on with Caro: everyone loves Caro. She’s just so positive, energetic, kind, generous, and no one is capable of hating her for it; she’s so beautiful but she’s even lovelier on the inside. She doesn’t see it—but everyone else does. And she’s so fucking sexy.

This Christmas was—perfect. So full of fun and love and laughter. I am a lucky bastard. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such … such happiness.

I’ve got one more gift for her, but I’ll wait until everyone has gone home.

Finally, finally, we get the place to ourselves. Caro made everyone take food home with them so at least we don’t have to wrap up a load of leftovers. Atash’s family were really pleased with that. Probably got enough to last them a few days.

“I’m just glad to see it gone,” says Caro, groaning. “I can’t eat another thing. Never, never show me another mince pie.”

“You did amazing, Caro. Now sit down and let me do the dishes.”

Of course, she doesn’t.

“Don’t be silly, Sebastian. I can tell your leg is hurting you. Just let me take care of it all.”

“Damn it, woman!” I half-yell at her. “Aren’t you ever going to take a fucking order?”

“Sure,” she says, laughing at me, “when you tell me to get my ass in your bed.”

I groan. How the hell am I going to be able to concentrate on anything else now?

We clear up together and when we’re done, we collapse onto the couch and she snuggles up on my chest.

“Today was fun,” she sighs. “It felt … right.”

“I know what you mean, baby.”

“Let’s go to bed, Sebastian. I’m beat.”

“Yeah, okay, baby … I’ve got another gift for you first.”

“Does it involve getting naked in a variety of new and interesting positions?”

Fuck! She’s a mind-reader!

“Well, yeah, that, too, but … um … there’s something else. I don’t know … you might think it’s lame.”

She sits up and looks at me.

“Sebastian, I’d never think anything you gave me was lame. Not ever.”

“Yeah, well … you might when you’ve heard it.”

“Heard it?”

“I … um … I … I wrote a song for you, Caro.”

She looks stunned.