Chapter 9
I collected Sebastian from our special place near the park and drove off quickly. He was unusually subdued.
“Are you okay?”
He shrugged.
I really hoped he wasn’t going to sulk for long—I’d had enough of that in my life, and in particular from David during the last 24 hours.
“Sebastian, talk to me!”
He sighed. “I hated seeing you with that asshole last night. How can you stand it?”
I blanched at the anger in his voice.
“I’ve got used to it, over the years,” I said quietly. “But it’s getting harder.”
I could feel Sebastian’s eyes on me as I drove.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
It was my turn to shrug. He didn’t need to apologize—if it was anyone’s fault, it was mine. I looked for a way to change the subject and diffuse the tense atmosphere.
“I need to buy a half-dozen copies of City Beat. My article is published today—you and Ches will be in it.”
“Oh, yeah! I can’t wait to see that!” he said, sounding happier.
I pulled up at a convenience store and we both jumped out, racing each other to the stand of newspapers, suddenly light-hearted.
I tore open a copy of the paper, my heart beating rapidly with excitement. I didn’t have to look far—my article was printed on page five with a huge photograph of Sebastian, Mitch, Bill, Ches and Fido.
I felt a sharp pain in my chest as I stared at the photograph of Sebastian. In the picture his sun-lightened hair was still long, and he looked the epitome of young and carefree. I’d taken it just a few hours before his father brutally hacked off his hair; and a few hours after that we had slept together for the first time. But I also felt a great welling up of pride—seeing my article in print with my name beneath it was the first real sense of achievement I’d had since getting my degree at night school three years ago.
“They’ve spelled your name wrong,” said Sebastian frowning.
I scanned the page quickly. “Where?”
“There,” he said, pointing at the small, bold type under the heading.
“No, that’s correct,” I said, looking at him puzzled.
“Your name is ‘Carolina’, not ‘Caroline’?”
“Carolina is the Italian,” I said softly, emphasizing the long vowel in the middle. “David—and my mother—preferred the Anglicized version, but the name on my birth certificate is Carolina Maria.”
I couldn’t help noticing that Sebastian’s lips were pressed tightly together and his knuckles where he gripped the newspaper had turned white.
“Why are you so upset?” I asked hesitantly.
Sebastian took a deep breath.
“That bastard has taken everything from you,” he growled, “even your name!”
I sighed.
“That’s not really true, Sebastian. Everything he’s done, I’ve let him do. Look, this isn’t really the place to have this conversation—let me just buy the papers and we’ll go. Please.”
Sebastian waited outside while I paid for six copies.
When I came out with my newspapers tucked under one arm, he was leaning against the brick wall with his eyes closed. I gazed at him anxiously.
He opened his eyes and looked down at me, forcing a smile.
“Come on, let’s go celebrate your first article, Ms Reporter!”
I smiled back, relieved that he was attempting to lift his mood.
“We’ve got something else to celebrate. David is going away to a medical symposium. He leaves Friday night and doesn’t get back until Sunday evening.”
A huge and genuine smile spread across Sebastian’s face. “Two nights?!”
I couldn’t help laughing at his obvious happiness.
Without warning, he pulled me into his arms, hugging me to his chest. My free arm wrapped around his neck and I pulled his head down. His lips were warm and soft, his kiss gentle and sweet. Then I felt his lips part and his tongue swept into my mouth. I shivered with desire and I could feel his growing arousal through his jeans.
I tried to remember that we were in public; reluctantly I pushed him away from me.
“Let’s go to a hotel…like you said.”
His voice was low and rough and he rubbed his hands over his short hair, with evident frustration. But before I could answer, I heard someone calling his name.
My head swiveled to see Ches walking toward us and my cheeks flushed with guilt. How much had he seen?
“Hey, man! What’s up? Hi, Mrs. Wilson.”
I tried to smile. “Hello, Ches. And please call me Caroline. I’m sorry about last night—I hope I didn’t embarrass you.”
He frowned slightly then laughed it off. “Nah, you didn’t. It’s cool.”
Then he turned to Sebastian, a puzzled look on his face, his eyes flitting between us.
“Caroline’s article has been published,” said Sebastian, pointing at the pile of newspapers still tucked under my left arm.
“I was going to deliver them,” I said smiling more naturally, “but now you’re both here.”
I handed a copy to Ches and another to Sebastian.
“Awesome!” said Ches. “Dad is going to be stoked when he sees this!”
“I’ve bought copies for Bill and Fido, too. Can you get these to them for me?” I handed the spare copies to Ches. “By the way, what is Fido’s real name?”
Ches laughed. “It’s Arnold. But don’t use it, because he won’t answer, and it’ll just make him want to break my face if he finds out that I’ve told you.”
His attention returned to Sebastian. “So what you doing, man? I’m going to take off and get a surf in before work—they’ll probably want us to start early anyway because they’re still short-staffed—whatever, it’s more gas money for the van. You want to check out some waves or are you busy again?”
There was a brief, uncomfortable pause.
“Well, you guys have fun,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’ve got some errands to run.”
“Are you going to the club later?” said Sebastian, a little too quickly.
I saw Ches’s eyes flicker over to him.
“Oh…I don’t know. I’m not a member yet, although Donna Vorstadt suggested we might go there for coffee, but I’m not sure if that was supposed to be today or tomorrow. Maybe I’ll see you both later. Ciao.”
I tried to convey a message with my careful words but it was hard to tell if it had got through: Sebastian looked pretty pissed off.
I walked away with my copy of City Beat under one arm while my stomach played hopscotch.
I felt bereft: I’d counted on a few hours with Sebastian and they’d been ripped away. But I wasn’t going to waste my time either: not any more.
I pulled out my cell phone and dialed the number for City Beat.
“Hi, this is Caroline Wilson. Could I speak to Carl Winters, please?”
I was put on hold for a few seconds before I heard the editor’s voice.
“Hi, Carolina, how are you?”
He pronounced my name the Italian way—just like in my article.
“Good, thank you, Mr. Winters. I wanted to say that I thought the article looked really great. Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity.”
“Not at all, and please, call me Carl. I was going to call you. Do you have something for the next issue?”
“Yes, I do. I have 1500 words on the work of the Base hospital and I’ve nearly finished one on military families and what it means to them to move around a lot. That might be a little longer, if it’s okay. I’ve got some interviews with other wives set up for that.”
“Excellent! Can you email them to me or, better still, can you come on in? It would be really good to meet you in person.”
I made a quick decision.
“I’m free now. I could be there in thirty minutes?”
“Great! I’ll look forward to it, Carolina.”
Next I phoned Donna.
“Hi, Donna, it’s Caroline.”
“Hi! How are you?”
“I’m good. I just wanted to thank you for last night. It was…very pleasant.”
She chuckled. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Johan was very taken with your dress—I think I should be jealous.”
I laughed a little uncomfortably. “I was wondering if you and Shirley were free for coffee later today after all?”
She sounded surprised. “I’m free, but I’d have to check with Shirley.”
“It’s just I have a meeting with the City Beat editor now and it would be great to be able to tell him that I have another article almost ready.”
“Wow! That’s great! Good for you, Caroline. Look, let me call Shirley and I’ll get back to you.”
The offices of City Beat were housed in an orange-stucco, art deco building a couple of blocks from Lincoln Avenue. I managed to park nearby and hurried in with my laptop and notebook. I’d decided to show Carl some of my photographs of Base life. I knew they were pretty amateurish but there were three or four that I thought had come out well.
As I was walking into reception I heard my phone beep. There was a text from Donna arranging coffee at the country club and two missed calls from Sebastian.
I texted him back quickly.
* Hi mtg at City Beat. Very exciting. Will meet Donna and Shirley at cc 3 PM. Hope 2 cu. But wkend just for us *
I turned my phone off quickly and introduced myself to the cheerful receptionist.
Carl Winters was much younger than I’d expected—in fact he was probably only a couple of years older than me. Here he was running a whole newspaper in a major city. It made me feel inadequate. But he was friendly and seemed to go out of his way to put me at my ease.
“It’s nice to meet you at last, Carolina,” he said shaking hands. “We’ve had some really good feedback already on the article. What else have you got for me?”
I opened my ancient laptop and while it was slowly cycling through its warm up, Carl started asking me questions about myself. I’d answered three or four before it occurred to me that I was being interviewed.
“How long have you been a military wife?”
“Eleven years.”
“Eleven! You must have been a child bride.”
“Well, not quite, but pretty young I suppose. I know that’s not in fashion these days, although you find it more among the military, I guess.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Rules!” I said, laughing lightly. “If you want to be able to follow your spouse around the country, you have to be married first. Or, if you want to live in sin, you have to live off base.”
“It’s quite different to civilian life, isn’t it,” he said thoughtfully.
“In all sorts of ways, big and small,” I agreed.
I showed him the article on the Base hospital and he nodded as he read through it, which I took to be a good sign. Then I showed him my photographs.
“These are really good,” he said, sounding surprised. “You didn’t say you were a photographer.”
“I’m not. I mean, I enjoy taking pictures, but I’ve no training. I just use my dad’s old SLR. It’s not even digital—I have to get the films processed at the drugstore.”
“Well, they’re really good: they definitely capture that sense of…organized chaos, I guess. Well, Carolina, if we’re going to use your photos, too, there’ll be an additional fee for you: $450 for an article and photo. How does that sound?”
“That sounds wonderful. Thank you.”
He glanced at his watch.
“I’m going to head out and get some lunch now. Maybe if you’re not busy I could buy you a sandwich and a coffee?”
“Oh! That’s very kind of you, Carl, but I’ve set up interviews with a couple of wives from the Base and, as I’m sure you’d guess, none of us do ‘late’.”
He laughed but looked a little disappointed. “Another time then?”
I smiled without answering, thanked him again, and left. He’d seemed very friendly. I hoped that’s all it was.
Despite that slight awkwardness, I was walking on air, thrilled with the response to my articles and with a new sense of purpose. For a few brief moments, I allowed myself to be happy and in love.
Driving out to the country club, I ran through the questions I wanted to ask of Donna and Shirley. Carl Daniel’s assessment of my work had given me confidence—newborn and weak, but it was confidence—of a sort.
I parked around the back, as before. It was only two o’clock and I hoped, really hoped, that I’d be able to snatch a few, private moments.
* Am at cc *
I sat for a minute but there was no reply. I didn’t even know if Sebastian was allowed to carry his phone while he was working. I’d just have to be patient.
At reception I handed in a completed membership form and a check, signed by David, for our first month’s membership. David had felt that last night’s dinner had gone well—he seemed to be oblivious to how much he’d annoyed Johan and Donna. Empathy was not one of my husband’s qualities. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
I changed into my bikini and headed out to the pool with my notebook, sketching out some more ideas and refining my questions. I was so absorbed in my work—my work, not my hobby—that it was several moments before I realized that someone was standing over me.
“Your mineral water, ma’am.”
I looked up to see Sebastian smiling down at me.
“Hi,” I whispered.
“Hi, yourself. Meet me in the women’s locker room in five minutes. There’s a door at the back that says ‘Private’. I’ll be waiting.”
My mouth was still hanging open as he walked away, desire shooting through my body. I took a sip from the frosted glass and stood up as casually as possible on shaky legs.
The locker room was mercifully empty. I made my way to the back, glancing over my shoulder every other second, my heart rate accelerating with every step.
I pushed open the door marked ‘Private’ and peered into the gloom of a large storage closet. I gasped when Sebastian’s hands pulled me inside.
He didn’t speak, not with words.
His lips burned on mine and I felt his hands everywhere, drinking me in, pulling me in, heating my blood.
I ran my hands down his chest and then around to his back, pushing them up under his t-shirt to feel his taut muscles and the warm, smooth texture of his skin beneath my fingertips.
He gripped my hair jerking my head back, running his teeth across my neck. I don’t know if it was the dark, or the confined space, or the sense of danger, but Sebastian’s movements were more confident, more assured than ever before, and I was swept away.
I felt the straps of my bikini top suddenly loosen, the thin fabric falling away. His mouth moved from my neck, across my chest and then he ran his tongue between the valley of my breasts and down to my stomach, where he knelt.
He hooked his fingers into my bikini bottoms and tugged them down. I stood naked before him in the dim light while, in his own way, he worshipped my body.
He stood up slowly, kissing me all the way.
I gripped his shoulders, feeling his muscles bunch under my hands as pleasure shot through me. I tugged on the material of his t-shirt, desperate to connect flesh with flesh. He stood quickly and pulled it over his head then crushed me to his chest and kissed me with increasing urgency. I had never felt so desired, never wanted a man as much as I wanted Sebastian at that moment.
He pressed himself into me and I knew that he was as aroused as I was.
My fingers scrabbled at the front of his shorts and I heard his soft gasp. With one, swift movement I pushed his briefs off his hips and reached down to grip him in my hands.
He groaned again then abruptly brushed my hands away. He bent down and pulled out a condom packet from his shorts. The sound of the foil tearing seemed so loud, I half expected someone to bang on the door and demand to know what we were doing.
Sebastian straightened up and fastened his hands on my hips, lifting me up suddenly. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he thrust into me, making me cry out. I clung onto his shoulders as he pushed me back against the wall, moving hard and fast, his face buried in my neck, his breathing becoming ragged.
Behind my bare back, I felt the doors of a cupboard. The contents rattled alarmingly as Sebastian pounded into me.
The rawness and urgency of our lovemaking pushed me over the edge and I climaxed around him, made breathless by the extraordinary turn of events. Four minutes ago I had been working quietly by the pool.
I felt Sebastian slam into me one last time and he cried out softly then sank to the floor with me cradled on his lap.
I stroked his face in the dark. I thought I felt tears on his face but I couldn’t be sure.
I laid my hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart slowly return to normal.
“I love you,” he breathed, placing gentle, loving kisses on my lips. “I love you so much.”
We lay there for some minutes, cocooned by the dim light creeping through the cracks around the door.
“You have to get back to work,” I said softly.
He sighed. “I know.”
“We have the whole weekend to look forward to.”
“I have to work all day Friday and Saturday,” he said sadly.
“The nights are still ours.”
“All night.”
“Yes.”
I felt his lips turn upwards in a smile and he kissed me.
I slid off him, wincing slightly. I’d enjoyed his aggressive lovemaking, more than enjoyed, but I was feeling a little sore. I didn’t care: it was a small price to pay.
We both had to scrabble around in the dark to find our clothes. I couldn’t help laughing to myself—there certainly wasn’t much dignity in it, but damn, it was hot!
We listened carefully at the door but at that time of the day the locker room was still empty. I don’t know what we’d have done if it had been busy—we could have been stuck there for hours! Hmm, that didn’t sound so bad.
Sebastian quickly pressed his lips to mine then snuck out first. He looked his usual, handsome self, although perhaps a little more flushed than usual.
I, on the other hand, looked as if I’d just had rough sex up against a cupboard door in the dark. I stared in the mirror at my reddened face, neck, chest and back, and at my once neat ponytail which was lopsided with half my hair coming loose.
I spent a few minutes splashing myself with cold water, trying to return my skin to its usual olive tones, and combed my hair out with my fingers. Eventually I felt composed enough to leave the locker room. As I walked back to the pool, I imagined that everyone I saw knew exactly what I’d been doing. I felt as if I had a sign pointing at me shouting ‘Locker-room Slut!’.
I slid onto my sun lounger and gratefully took a long drink of my mineral water. I picked up my notebook and pencil and tried to concentrate but my thoughts were well and truly scattered. I couldn’t believe what I’d just done. It had been so intense and exciting and so completely out of character for me. Although I wasn’t entirely sure what my character was anymore. I’d meant it when I’d told Sebastian that it wasn’t David’s fault; that I’d let him take control and allowed him to take away the essence of being me. I’d been a sleepwalker through my marriage: we both deserved better—David as well as me.
I wondered again what David saw in me—had he seen something when I was 19 that was no longer there? Or did he simply prefer a submissive, compliant, bovine wife? And what about Sebastian? Why did he want me? Was it more than just sex for him, or was I being naïve? He said he loved me but…
“I see you’ve been catching some sun—my, you’re looking a little red, Caroline.”
Donna’s kind face was looking down at me.
“Oh, hi Donna,” I said, my voice sounding a little more high-pitched than usual.
“And this is Shirley.”
“We’ve spoken on the phone—it’s nice to meet you in person.”
I stood up to give Donna a quick hug and to shake hands shyly with Shirley Peters who was short and dark haired, and had mischievous hazel eyes; the resemblance to Ches was obvious.
“It’s good to meet you, too, Caroline. I’ve heard so much about you already. You’ve made quite an impression on the boys. Ches couldn’t wait to show me your article.”
She laughed lightly. “My son is certainly a fan and I have my suspicions about Sebastian.”
My face froze as she winked at Donna. “It’s like having a second son—I swear Sebastian spends more time at our house than he does at his own. Hmm, well, not so much lately: Ches thinks he’s got a girlfriend, although I don’t know why it’s such a secret.” She sighed. “Well, maybe I do—I can’t imagine him wanting to bring a girl home to meet Estelle and Donald.”
Donna nodded sympathetically and settled herself in a deckchair under the large, colorful sun umbrella. Shirley headed for the locker room to change into her swimsuit.
“How was your meeting at City Beat?”
I couldn’t help smiling at Donna—she really was interested in my writing. I showed her the article and watched her face as she read it in detail.
“You’ve really caught the spirit of surfing, Caroline,” she said. “And that’s a super photograph. Oh, look: Sebastian still had his long hair there. I wonder why he cut it? I suspect that his father had something to do with that.”
Shirley returned wearing a purple and orange tankini.
“What are you suspecting?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.
“Oh, we were just talking about Sebastian’s buzz-cut.”
“Oh, that,” said Shirley darkly. “He wouldn’t say anything to Ches, but we definitely got the impression it wasn’t voluntary. All the girls at school were crazy about Sebastian, according to Ches. I think if they weren’t such good friends he would have been a little jealous—well, more than a little. There was even something in the yearbook about Sebastian’s long hair, if you can imagine that.” She frowned. “And did you see that bruise he had on his cheek last week?”
She sucked her teeth.
“Hey, Mom!”
Ches was walking toward us in his shorts and polo-shirt uniform. He grinned at his mother and gave her an affectionate kiss on the cheek.
“Chester, honey! Just in time—Donna and I are about to expire from thirst.”
“Hi Donna, Caroline,” he smiled, but whatever he saw behind us made his smile falter. “Hello, Mrs. Hunter.”
Sebastian’s mother weaved her way toward us—it was clear she’d spent some quality time at the bar.
“Donna,” she slurred. “And friends.” She looked at me, “the won-der-ful Caroline Wilson. I almost expected you to be walking across the water in the swimming pool, not lying next to it.”
“You’ve been drinking, Estelle,” said Donna sharply. “Perhaps you should rest on the veranda where it’s cooler.”
“Yes, let’s put the embarrassing drunk where she won’t bother anyone; let’s hide her out of the way,” sneered Estelle. “You sound just like Donald.”
Donna turned to Ches and spoke in a quiet voice. “Is Sebastian here? Can you get him, please.”
Ches nodded and walked away quickly.
Estelle picked up my copy of City Beat and tried to focus her eyes on the photograph. Suddenly she tossed the newspaper into the pool.
“You don’t fool me, Mrs. Wilson,” she snarled. “You were a stuck up bitch nine years ago and you haven’t changed, have you? You’ve just polished up your act. But you don’t fool me.”
“Estelle! Keep your voice down,” ordered Donna, as other people around the pool began to stare. I was frozen on my sun lounger, terrified of what Estelle might say next.
She scowled at me then turned her glazed eyes to Donna.
“You don’t tell me what to do, Donna. I don’t even know why you like her. She pretends to be so sweet and pure—but she isn’t. Flaunting herself everywhere, ingratiating herself. Well, she doesn’t fool me. She’s nothing but a…”
“Mom!” Sebastian’s voice was tight with anger as he walked toward us. “What are you doing?”
Ches stood behind him, one hand on his shoulder, seeming to restrain him.
“Mom, you’re embarrassing yourself,” he said, coldly. “I’ll drive you home.”
Estelle whirled around and slapped him hard. I couldn’t help gasping as my hand flew to my mouth and I started to stand up.
Sebastian’s eyes were almost black with fury. Ches gripped his arm and tugged him backward.
“Come on, buddy, walk away.”
A sudden silence descended, horrified eyes staring at Estelle.
Slowly she came to her senses and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she took in the shocked faces turned in her direction. She straightened her purse over her shoulder and staggered off.
“What the hell was that about?” whispered Shirley.
Donna sighed. “I don’t know: but her drinking is getting worse. Donald will have to do something.”
Shirley scoffed at the idea. “Donald doesn’t give a shit about her—word is that he’s been seeing some young civilian nurse. Seeing to her, probably.”
Donna shook her head slowly. “God knows those two should have divorced years ago. It would have been better for Sebastian if they had. Poor boy; I hope he’s okay.”
“He’s got Ches with him,” said Shirley softly. “He’ll be ok: he’s used to it.”
My heart lurched painfully. I desperately wanted to wrap my arms around Sebastian to comfort and protect him, but I couldn’t. It hurt so much. And then a more painful thought crossed my mind—maybe he wasn’t running to me; maybe he was just running away from that. And if he was, I couldn’t blame him. Besides, couldn’t he say the same thing about me and David?
I didn’t want to believe it, but once the thought was there, it seemed more plausible than to believe that Sebastian would want to be with me.
He had opened my eyes to a world of possibilities, to a world where I could be loved for myself, but would my new life be with him? I was afraid to hope.
After a moment, Shirley stood up. “I’ll just go check on the boys.”
Donna exhaled deeply and looked at me. “Are you okay, Caroline?”
I nodded, still feeling shaken. Did Estelle know?
“That wasn’t really about you,” Donna continued, “she’s just jealous.”
“Jealous? Of what?”
Donna smiled sadly. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Now, what were those questions you had?”
I shook my head. “They seem rather insignificant now.” I stared at the sodden sheets of newsprint that some helpful children were fishing out of the pool.
“Please ask me,” said Donna. “I need something to get my mind off that awful scene.”
We chatted about our shared experiences of living on different bases for several minutes, before Shirley reappeared.
“How’s Sebastian?” said Donna, her concern evident. “Did you see Estelle?”
“Ches and Sebastian got her into the car; he’s driving her home.”
She shook her head. “If there are any more incidents like that, Estelle will have her membership suspended.”
“I’ll speak to Johan,” said Donna. “Maybe he’ll be able to persuade her to…seek some help. She won’t be the first Navy wife to … well, she won’t be the first.”
A subdued Ches returned with some orange juices. Shirley rubbed his arm and they swapped brief smiles. It was refreshing to see the close relationship they had—especially after the unpleasant scene that had played out between Estelle and Sebastian.
I bit my tongue as Ches went back to work—I wanted to ask him if Sebastian was okay, but I couldn’t.
I turned my attention to finishing my article, as Donna had suggested.
Shirley was incredibly helpful, offering fascinating insights into the world of the military wife.
“Of course, it’s hard leaving friends behind, and hard for Chester starting new schools every couple of years, but it’s made us closer as a family, too. And the Marine Corps is a second family; we’re all pretty tight. It’s made Chester good at making friends and he’s a very resourceful boy, very self-sufficient. But we did make sure that his last four years of high school were consistent—we felt that was important for his education. I like traveling and the challenge of new places—new countries. To be honest, I’m dreading the day when Mitch retires: I don’t know what he’ll do with himself. He’s so used to the structure and routine of the Marines, I’m not sure how well either of us will adapt to civilian life.
“But what about you, Caroline? If David decided to quit the Navy, what would you do?”
I twitched uncomfortably, not wanting to have the spotlight turned on me.
“I don’t think his routine would change that much: he’d still work in a hospital; still work his clinics. It wouldn’t make that much difference. Just a different sort of uniform.”
Donna smiled. “Yes, you’re right. Medicine imposes its own set of regulations and routines. Being the wife of a doctor isn’t such a huge leap.”
I’d enjoyed talking to Donna and Shirley—it had been a lot like having friends—but I realized the sun had shifted in the sky and I leapt up.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I have to get back and pack for David. He’s taking everything with him to the hospital tomorrow morning. I have a mountain of ironing to do.”
Shirley laughed and Donna smiled sympathetically.
I thanked them again and waved quickly.