The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline(288)

“Bathroom,” I whispered.

He grunted something inaudible and rolled onto his side.

Instead, I headed for my laptop, stopping briefly to look in on Marco.

He looked like a tiny angel, a cherub, his face flushed from sleep, one arm flung over his head. My heart skittered, and I pulled the door to, but not closed.

I flipped up the laptop’s lid, and switched it on.

I was journalist and I needed facts: they were my bread and butter.

The bottom line was that in order to even have a child see a doctor it would need to be under our insurance or else pay out of pocket. If we wanted to add Sofia to our insurance, we would need a birth certificate or court documents. The same held true for going to school. We would need to have proof of custody or guardianship or a birth certificate in order to register her. So technically, Sofia could live with us for months, but not long term. We would need to make arrangements to adopt her and start the process immediately.

I batted the idea back and forwards for hours, unsure what to do, finally crawling back to bed and falling asleep a couple of hours before dawn.

I was woken too early by some small person yanking on my arm, wanting pancakes and a glass of milk.

Sebastian sat up yawning, and exhausted as I was, I couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty of his hard body, tousled hair, face sleep-softened.

“Let mommy rest, buddy. She’s real tired.”

He pulled on his running shorts and a t-shirt, discreetly tucking his morning wood away, before taking Marco by the hand, their voices disappearing in a quiet murmur.

Of course, I couldn’t get back to sleep, and in the end I got up and showered, my body still half asleep, my mind whirring.

When I staggered into the kitchen, Sebastian was halfway through burning a batch of pancakes. Okay, they weren’t completely burned, but perhaps just a little darker than I would have made them. His cooking skills had only improved slightly. Very slightly.

I took over while he poured milk into a sippy cup for Marco, and made us coffee. I felt his warm hands circle my waist as I stacked the pancakes.

“So, any thoughts?”

“Lots of them, and all confused.”

“Oh, okay.”

There was a world of disappointment in those two words.

“But I think we should go and see her—see Sofia—as a family.”

“Really?”

I turned to face him and his eyes were lit up with surprise and pleasure.

“Really? You’ll go see her?”

“Yes, but it’s just to say hello. Nothing more.”

I said the words, but inside it felt like that once we’d seen her, there’d be no going back.

Marco picked up on Sebastian’s excitement, and went running around the kitchen yelling and shrieking at a piercing level. He laughed even louder when Sebastian pretended to chase him, and I left them playing hide and seek with the kitchen furniture.

Dear God! If Sofia did join our family, I was in danger of having two toddlers, and one grown-up kid who was more work than the rest of them combined. I couldn’t help smiling at the thought.

A sister for Marco. Our daughter.

I gave myself a good talking to for jumping the gun, but the nervous excitement was bubbling up inside me, too, as we reached Atash’s house.

Two men I didn’t recognize were sitting on the steps, but they seemed to know Sebastian, calling out a greeting. He replied, “As-salaamu’ alaykum,” and I smiled and nodded as we walked inside.

As usual, organized chaos flowed through the small house. Children ran screaming happily, and the babble of voices filled every room. Sebastian hadn’t been joking when he said the house was splitting at the seams. Atash’s house had become an informal community center for the local Afghan population. A good number of them seemed to use it as a staging post to start their journey to other family members spread across the country.

Atash came to greet us, offering the ubiquitous sweet tea. We both accepted, even though I couldn’t stand the stuff, my teeth aching just from looking at it. Sebastian tolerated it better, but had perfected the practice of making one small cup last as long as his visit entailed.

Marco ran out into the tiny backyard, completely at home, mingling happily with the other children, uncaring that they spoke a different language. Maybe when you’re a child, that’s the only language you need.

Sebastian nudged me.

“That’s her. The one sitting by the fence.”

A small girl in a dowdy brown shalwar kameez was pushing her hands in the sandy soil and making a dusty pile in front of her. Her hair was long and loose and her feet were bare, a pair of tattered flip-flops lying next to her. Even though she was a year older than Marco, she didn’t appear much bigger.