Chapter 12
Donna was on time. Of course.
“Good morning, Caroline. How are you today?”
“Just fine, thank you, Donna. Are these your sons?”
Two attractive men in their twenties with Johan’s Nordic looks were getting out of Donna’s station wagon.
“Kurt, Stefan—Caroline Wilson.”
“Hello, nice to meet you. I hear you’re down from college for the summer break?”
We chatted easily while the boys loaded up Donna’s trunk with the boxes of food stashed in my kitchen.
“My goodness,” she said. “There’s enough here to feed the five thousand!”
“Too much?” I asked anxiously.
She laughed. “I’m sure it’ll all get eaten: it looks delicious.”
I grabbed my notebook and camera, shoved the spare films in the pockets of my shorts and we headed off.
“How many people do you think will be there today?”
“Oh, well, probably a couple of thousand in total—it’s mostly folk from the Naval Medical Center but quite a few families come from the Marine Corps, too. The Peters will be there, and I think Shirley said the boys had been given the day off work, so I expect they’ll tag along…especially if they know you’ll be there—with food.”
I stared out of the window, hoping my burning cheeks wouldn’t give me away.
I hadn’t realized the picnic was quite such a big deal. Of course, if I hadn’t been so preoccupied, I might have been a little more aware. But then again, I’d never gone out of my way to be involved with family life on the Base, not having had a family.
I’d been to Harbor Beach just once before. It was a wide, flat esplanade of fine sand, perfect for families. Lifeguard towers ran the length of the beach between the jetties, where a couple of surfers were catching some small waves. A playground on the sand was a major attraction for the younger children and Donna informed me that some of the older ones—and their parents—would be making use of the volleyball courts: just supply your own ball and net.
The beach was already getting crowded; the military personnel stood out a mile with their crew cuts and buzz-cuts. The parking lot was a cheerful, chaotic crowd with mountains of food being ferried to the fire pits that ringed the beach.
The tide was way out; it would be quite a hike for anyone wanting to go for a swim. But most people seemed intent on playing and eating their way through the day.
I saw volleyballs, soccer balls, Frisbees, footballs, numerous body boards, and lots and lots of kids carrying colorful kites—several in the shape of airplanes. One group of mothers was organizing a sandcastle building contest for the kids—and whichever of the adults felt like joining in; and a group of Marines was planning a pie-eating competition. Something I personally found rather gross—watching grown men shove as much pie in their faces in the shortest amount of time was unpleasant, to say the least. I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to do it. It seemed a waste of good food.
Despite the fact that alcohol was not allowed on the beach, I saw several men openly carrying six-packs. It wasn’t really taking that much of a risk—I knew that you would be hard-pressed to find a police officer willing to give a ticket to someone in the service. I suppose you’d call it a sort of brotherhood. I’d lost count of the number of tickets David had gotten out of because of his ‘Fly Navy’ license plate and his military service window stickers.
There was a real holiday feel to the day—I felt cheerless by comparison despite knowing that I’d see Sebastian later. Nevertheless, I had a job to do, such as it was. I pulled out my camera and started snapping some candid shots of the military at play. To my surprise, I began to enjoy capturing the varied scenes of happiness: games of football that seemed to be rule-free; small children chasing their burly fathers; kids running around in swimsuits; and enough food to feed an army—which it was, of course.
Although it had been advertised as a ‘family’ fun day, there were lots of singles there, too, men (and a few women) adopted into the family of the unit they served with. There was no doubt that putting your life in the hands of the other guys in your unit created quite a bond.
It dawned on me that I was one of the ‘singles’, and that Donna had adopted me into her family for the day. There were worse ways to be treated.
I heard Ches’s van before I saw it, but I studiously kept my eyes on the boxes of food that Kurt and Stefan were carrying to the spot where Donna had staked her claim.
She looked up at the noise and waved furiously to attract their attention. The van rumbled to a stop nearby and I saw that Mitch was driving, with Bill and Shirley sharing the front seat.
My heart began to beat a little faster because I knew that Sebastian was now just a few feet away from me; although he may as well have been on the moon because I wouldn’t be able to touch him. I would hardly dare to look at him.
I didn’t know which was worse—to see him and not touch him, or to not see him at all.
Shirley jumped out first followed by Bill who winked at me, much to Donna’s amusement; Mitch went around to open the back of the van. I kept my eyes on the trunk of Donna’s car, and continued unpacking.
“Can I help you with that?”
Sebastian’s soft voice made me jump. He was wearing a fresh white t-shirt and colorful board shorts, with a pair of wrap-around sunglasses pushed up onto his short hair. He’d also shaved. I felt dizzy just seeing him, but quickly dropped my eyes.
“Oh, thank you!” I managed to mutter.
He grinned at me and took the box from my nerveless hands, following the convoy of Donna’s sons, Bill and Mitch. I picked up the polenta cake, still untouched from last night, and gingerly joined the line.
“I really liked your article, Mrs. Wilson.”
I turned around to see Fido smiling at me. I was surprised; I’d never heard him speak before.
“Thank you! I’m glad you enjoyed it: and please, it’s Caroline.”
Sebastian must have overheard because he turned around and frowned, throwing an angry look at Fido. Fido merely grinned back and insisted on carrying the polenta cake. I tried to keep my smile bright, but inside I was dying—wasn’t this day going to be hard enough without worrying about whether or not Sebastian would be jealous of anyone who spoke to me?
I didn’t think it was a coincidence that Sebastian chose that moment to pull off his t-shirt, flaunting his golden skin, baring his chest, naked in the sunshine. He knew I wouldn’t be able to stop myself having a quick ogle. Of course the other men immediately followed suit and I was soon surrounded by a surfeit of taut, tanned and toned flesh. I pulled my sunglasses over my eyes and tried to think cooling thoughts.
We settled in a loose group around our fire pit, Sebastian securing a spot opposite me, but every time I stood up to get some more of the food, or pass something around, he’d stand up, too, and ‘help’. Then he’d brush up against me: seemingly innocent little touches. Each time my skin blazed with need and I wanted to yell at him to stop—or to not stop but do something about the heat that was rising within me. Somehow I managed to follow a conversation with Shirley about her idea to keep chickens as a way of making some extra cash. I knew nothing about poultry so it was a fairly one-sided discussion.
Bill and Mitch kept up a friendly banter of profanities as they proceeded to char vast quantities of meat. I resolved to stick to cold cuts and salad as I helped to lay out the rest of the provisions.
Several Marines from Mitch and Bill’s unit wandered over to pass the time and help reduce the mountain of food. All the men were eating like their lives depended on it, and my concern that there was too much quickly vanished.
Donna introduced me to all the visitors and I could read surprise on the faces of several when she explained I was the wife of Lieutenant Commander Wilson. Clearly, David’s reputation had gone before.
Kurt and Stefan regaled us with tales of college life, each trying to outdo the other. They were attractive, intelligent young men, good company and entertaining. Stefan was following in his father’s footsteps and studying medicine at UCLA; Kurt had chosen civil engineering and went to school at McCormick in Chicago. Unfortunately, the brothers seemed to have a well developed rivalry which, on this occasion, they were using to take turns flirting with me. It was beyond embarrassing, particularly as I could see Sebastian’s murderous looks from across the fire pit, and Ches’s amused expression. Fido just stared at me, which was more than a little unnerving.
During the course of the afternoon, Sebastian became quieter and quieter, and I sensed that his temper was beginning to fray. Worse still, Fido’s dog-like devotion to me was also becoming more apparent. Every time I reached for something, he leapt up to hand it to me. I had never been so popular—and it had never been less well timed.
I couldn’t help wondering if all the sex I’d been having was giving off some sort of invisible signal; some sort of scent, a pheromone, perhaps. Could that happen? I’d never previously been in a position to need to ask the question.
As unobtrusively as I was able, I stood up, determined to slink away by myself for a while.
“Are you okay, Caroline?” asked Donna.
I cringed as every eye focused on me.
“Oh, I’m just going to go and get some shots of the volleyball game and sandcastle competition,” I said lightly.
“I’ll come with you,” said Sebastian immediately.
“No, no! I’m fine. Stay and enjoy yourself,” I said, just one shade too forcefully.
His eyes darkened with anger and he slumped back to the sand, a surly expression on his face.
Honestly! Did he want to make it so obvious?
I hurried off to take some photographs, including the ghastly pie-eating competition. Even though I ached for Sebastian’s company, there were too many eyes everywhere. I returned half an hour later, when my blood pressure had returned to normal, and avoided meeting his too ardent gaze. But I did see Donna raise her eyebrows and smile. The woman was just too damned observant. It made me nervous.
Ches was interested in my old SLR so I showed him how to change the focus and how to read the built-in light meter. I let him take a few snaps of our group. Bill, of course, bombed the photograph, scooping me up into a huge hug, which earned him a furious look from Sebastian. Then Ches insisted on taking one of me. I didn’t mind—it wasn’t like I’d have to look at it—all the photographs would be developed at City Beat.
“I had an old SLR once,” said Bill. “I wonder what happened to it—I used to love taking photographs.”
“First I’ve heard of it,” said Mitch, raising his eyebrows.
“Hey! I do have one or two secrets, buddy!” replied Bill, raising a bottle of beer in salute. “So, what else do you like taking photographs of, Caroline?”
“You mean other than pictures of fine figures of men like you, Bill?” laughed Shirley.
“Too right!” said Bill, flexing his biceps. “You want to take some photos of me, Caroline? Private photographs? Anytime, honey—but you’ll need a long lens!”
I laughed, trying to seem as if I was enjoying the joke. It was kind of hard when Sebastian looked like was about to punch Bill.
“I do like taking photographs of people,” I said, trying to change the direction of the embarrassing conversation, “but when they’re not aware I’m watching—just candids of people carrying on with their lives. I’m not into landscapes that much—I always admired people like Robert Capa and Cartier-Bresson and…”
“Oh, I love it when you talk French to me, Caroline!” said Bill, winking at me.
This was getting beyond embarrassing.
Ches’s head was swiveling between Bill and Sebastian as if he was watching some sort of tennis match.
I saw Shirley throw Bill a warning look. His only reply was to smirk at her and take another swig of beer.
I wondered if he was deliberately trying to wind up Sebastian. Heaven forbid, but it seemed to be some sort of open secret that Sebastian liked me. It was obvious from the way that everyone’s eyes were drawn to him whenever I became the subject of conversation that they knew something. Thankfully no one had guessed that his feelings were more than reciprocated.
I wanted to shake him or send him for acting lessons or something that made it less damn obvious how he felt about me.
Not only did it make me anxious, but it made me question how successful my own attempts were to act like I didn’t notice him, or didn’t give a damn. The whole thing was giving me a headache and I longed for the picnic to be over. It really wasn’t living up to its billing of a ‘fun day’.
I began to have quite violent thoughts toward Donna—I wished more than anything that I hadn’t accepted her misplaced kindness and instead gotten here in my own car.
The mountain of food continued to diminish and Donna was just encouraging me to serve up the lemon polenta cake when I became aware that the eyes of every male in our group had swung to a spot just behind my right shoulder.
“Hi, everyone,” said a female voice.
“Hi, Brenda,” said Ches, his tone friendly but cautious.
I saw him glance at Sebastian.
Oh. The ex-girlfriend.
Brenda Wiseman was undeniably lovely: a perfect, willowy figure, super-straight blonde hair that she flicked restlessly over her shoulders, pale blue eyes and the smallest bikini I’d ever seen outside of a men’s magazine. Irritatingly, she certainly had the figure to wear it to its best advantage.
While everyone stared at Brenda, Bill’s eyes about popping out of his head and Donna’s lips pursed in apparent distaste, I saw Sebastian glance nervously toward me. I dropped my eyes to the polenta cake and continued to cut it, gripping the handle of the cake slice tightly. It was bad timing on Brenda’s part that I happened to have a weapon too conveniently at hand.
“Hi, Sebastian,” she said.
“Hi.”
His reply was short and unenthusiastic.
I couldn’t help wondering if that was solely for my benefit.
She hesitated for a moment, as if waiting for an invitation. When none was forthcoming, she sat down next to him anyway, stretching out her long tan legs and leaning back on her hands.
“I haven’t seen you since graduation.”
Sebastian stared at the sand. It was clear he had no clue how to handle this.
It was quite funny—if you weren’t me.
“Where have you been hanging?” she persisted, her voice unnaturally cheery.
I wondered if she’d been rehearsing.
“I’ve been busy.”
“Ches said you guys had got jobs out at the country club,” she prompted him.
Sebastian glared at Ches who guiltily shrugged his shoulders.
“So, what do you do there?”
“Lifeguarding,” replied Ches quickly, “and some waiting on tables when they’re short-staffed.”
“Cool!” said Brenda, flicking her hair over her shoulders again.
I wanted to leap across the barbecue pit and make her eat sand.
The men looked amused as Sebastian became increasingly and obviously uncomfortable, his cheeks reddening with each awkward second. Shirley and Donna looked sympathetic and politely tried to maintain a separate conversation. I hated to think what expression was leaking out onto my face.
“Hey, you cut your hair,” said Brenda, reaching out to run one hand across the nape of his neck.
I wanted to snap her fingers off at the wrist.
Sebastian flinched away from her and looked annoyed. I hoped that Brenda would take the hint but she hadn’t deployed her primary weapons yet.
“Well, it suits you,” she said, hitching up her bikini top.
I could have sworn her tits had magnets attached to them the way the men’s eyes seemed to be drawn toward her impressive cleavage. Even Sebastian’s.
“Although I always liked your hair long; but then you already knew that, didn’t you?”
“I cut my hair, too,” said Ches in a farcical attempt to protect his friend from Brenda’s relentless onslaught.
She glanced at him with humiliating brevity.
“Nice.”
“Have you decided where you’re going to school in the Fall?” said Stefan, trying to attract her attention.
“I’ve been accepted at UCLA—and UCSD,” she said, her eyes fixed on Sebastian.
“You should go to UCLA,” said Stefan. “It’s a really great school. What’s your major?”
But she completely ignored him and he crashed in flames, much to his brother’s amusement. Brenda drew up her knees and nudged Sebastian’s arm with her thigh.
“Can we talk?” she said softly.
“I thought you’d be talking to Jack,” he said, coolly.
She blushed.
“Please, Sebastian? In private.”
The sudden timidity in her voice made me look up. She was staring at Sebastian, a worried little pucker between her eyebrows. I had to hand it to her: she was good. And she had guts. She was making a very public statement that she still had feelings for him. In fact, speaking from recent experience, I’d say she was crazy about him.
The burn of jealousy in my throat got worse, running all the way down to my gut. She was gorgeous, sweet, rather brave, extremely determined, and had her eyes on the prize. Oh, and they were the same age. She was perfect for him; she was the sort of girl he ought to be with—assuming she wasn’t really the man-eating tramp she seemed to be channeling.
It was unfair of me to hold onto him; it was wrong.
I felt my eyes began to fill with tears; I hoped I was near enough to the smoking barbecue pit to have a believable excuse.
I waited for Sebastian to tell her there was nothing to talk about.
Except he didn’t.
He pushed himself to his feet in one graceful move.
“Okay,” he muttered.
I don’t know if he looked at me, because my gaze was locked on that damn cake—I’d never be able to eat lemon polenta ever again.
“She’s a nice girl,” said Shirley sympathetically, as Brenda walked away with Sebastian. “I was so surprised when they broke up.” She glanced at Ches, who wouldn’t meet his mother’s eyes, “I don’t know what happened between them.”
I stabbed the cake viciously.
“She’s a hottie!” declared Stefan.
“I remember when she was skinny and wore braces,” said Kurt. “Now look at the size of those bazookas!”
“Kurt!” said Donna in a warning voice.
Mitch and Bill laughed.
I handed around the cake, a painful smile plastered to my face. I told myself that it was wrong to watch Sebastian and Brenda and that I wouldn’t try to see what was happening—it was just coincidence that when I sat down again after helping everyone to cake, I had a clear view.
From what I could see she was using every trick in her well-thumbed manual. Nice girl, my ass!
She pretended to stagger slightly, losing her balance so she could bump against him and take his arm; she played with the strap of her bikini to draw his gaze and show him what he didn’t necessarily have to go on missing. Then she tossed her hair over her shoulder and tucked a strand behind her ear. I was desperate to know what they were saying. Sebastian was shaking his head and she was standing too close and stroking his arm. Then they seemed to be arguing. She was pleading with him, her arms outstretched; he was shaking his head vehemently, his hands on his hips. I don’t know how it happened but then she had her arms wrapped around his neck, her cheek on his bare chest, and he was holding her, rocking her gently, the same way he’d held me last night.
“I’ve got ten bucks says we won’t be seeing Seb till tomorrow morning,” said Stefan, gesturing obscenely with his hands.
“You won’t get any takers on that bet!” laughed Kurt. “She’s all over him!”
Ches looked disgusted, and threw the remains of his sandwich into the fire pit.
“Boys!” said Donna in a warning voice.
I’d seen enough. Seen enough and heard enough.
“Caroline? Are you going somewhere?”
Donna’s attention was directed back to me.
I smiled stiffly, forcing the words out.
“I’m just going to go and take some more photographs before I lose the light—I want to make sure I’ve got everything covered.” And to get the hell away from all of this.
I wandered along the beach, feeling numb even though traitorous tears were leaking from my eyes. I snapped photographs at random, barely aware of what I was looking at. There was only one picture in my head—the one where Sebastian held his ex-girlfriend. His beautiful, sexy, young ex-girlfriend.
I was angry, damn it! So it seemed my hypocrisy knew no bounds. I was angry because Sebastian had left me and gone off with Brenda—the slut who’d screwed his friend Jack. Yes, I was cheating on my husband; yes, I was an unfaithful wife. But I’d risked everything for Sebastian—everything. The life I’d known, jail time, a record—for fuck’s sake.
I had to watch him walk away and smile and smile while he played the villain. I was choked with jealousy and anger and more hurt than I could easily take.
I found myself at the ocean’s edge. The tide had turned and was beginning its slow journey back across the sun-warmed sand. The gentle lapping of water at my feet was soothing. I let my mind wander among the dizzying memories of the last three weeks—a ridiculously short amount of time during the course of a life. And yet…and yet I had never felt so alive: fear—as much as hope—had colored those weeks but I realized I didn’t have to go on like that.
I had expected too much from Sebastian: it wasn’t fair. He was so young…too young to be expected to take on everything I represented, with all my ridiculous insecurities and emotional baggage. If I truly cared for him, I would make it easy for him to go. Of course, it didn’t seem as if he’d need my blessing, the way Brenda had clung to him and the way he’d held her, too.
Much as my body, my whole being ached for his touch, I had a revelation—I was strong enough to make it on my own. He’d shown me how to be strong. Perhaps he’d given me his own strength: I didn’t know. One thing was certain—I couldn’t be with David anymore. And if Sebastian didn’t want me, there was no reason for me to stay.
But it hurt. It hurt badly. I’d opened myself to the possibility of love and now love had slapped me down. Down, but not out: not quite.
I felt a dull tearing inside my chest—part of my heart was breaking, knowing that in all probability I wouldn’t see Sebastian again. I took a deep breath and stared toward the horizon: time for me to grow up at last.
I glanced at my watch. I hoped Donna was ready to leave because I needed to get over to City Beat and drop off the films. Oh, and pick up David’s drycleaning. I quailed at the thought of facing him, or rather, telling him that I was leaving. I needed to clear my head and think how I was going to do that. Just thinking about it made me feel sick. So much for being strong! I was definitely going to have to work up to it. Somehow.
By the time I’d wandered back to the barbecue pit, Donna and Shirley were alone, slowly packing up the remains of the food—women’s work, it seemed. I hurried to help them.
“Did you get all your pictures?” asked Donna.
“Yes, I think so. Are you heading back now? It’s just I need to drop these films in at City Beat?”
“Tonight?” Donna was surprised. “The paper doesn’t go out until Thursday.”
“I know, but the editor asked for them, so…”
“Well, Shirley and I are heading back now anyway. The boys are getting a ride with Mitch. I expect they’ll be rather late.”
She raised her eyebrows and shook her head in a way that suggested boys will be boys.
With everything piled into Donna’s station wagon we drove away from the beach. I glanced once over my shoulder; the sun had begun its slow descent toward the horizon. I don’t know what I was looking for—a soft hiss of steam as the sun touched the sea, or perhaps a glimpse of someone silhouetted on the sand. Of course, there was neither.
It felt like the end of something, but maybe it was a beginning, too.
“That went well, didn’t it?” said Donna, cheerfully.
For a moment I couldn’t think what she was talking about. Oh, the fun day. Right. So much fun.
My lonely thoughts burned like acid. I was so stupid to have expected anything different.
Shirley smiled. “Yes, I think everyone had a good time. Of course, the boys are planning on extending the fun. I hope Mitch keeps an eye on them.”
I didn’t want to think how Sebastian might be extending the fun at this very moment.
Donna smiled, “I’m sure he will.”
For a moment I wasn’t sure if she was answering my unspoken thoughts.
“Hmm, well, he won’t let them drink too much, but I dare say there’ll be a few sore heads in the morning. Mitch did say that there was a possibility they were going to sleep in the van tonight if they didn’t make it back; although I’m not sure how they’ll all fit now Stefan and Kurt are with them.”
Donna shook her head and smiled. “I doubt they’ll care. You know what they’re like when they all get together.” Then her serious look was back. “Although they really shouldn’t be drinking on the beach—Chester is still under age. And Sebastian. And that other boy—Fido.”
Shirley laughed. “Don’t you remember when you were that age, Donna? You’ve told me you bent a few rules in your time—in fact, I distinctly remember you saying that Johan climbed in your dormitory at that private girls’ school of yours.”
I threw a surprised look at Donna. She was a lovely lady, but she’d always struck me as rather formal.
“Oh, yes,” said Shirley, smiling at me, “Donna has her fair share of secrets, don’t you?”
“You’ll be giving Caroline the wrong impression of me.”
“Or the right one,” laughed Shirley. “Yes, Johan used to climb into her dormitory to steal a kiss or two. She nearly got expelled, didn’t you, Donna?!”
“Yes, I admit it all,” smiled Donna.
“Well, now you know where your boys get their wild streak from,” said Shirley with a wink.
“Yes, well…and who would you say Chester takes after?”
“His father!” asserted Shirley. Then she sighed. “I don’t know who Sebastian takes after—luckily the poor boy isn’t like either of his parents. I sometimes wonder if Donald is really his father.”
“Shirley!” said Donna, looking shocked.
“Well, you’ve said yourself he doesn’t take after either of them—he certainly doesn’t look like either of them. Then there’s Estelle’s reputation. And it would explain why they’re always so ghastly toward him.”
“Well,” said Donna, quietly, “I don’t think we should speculate on that. Not without facts.”
Shirley shrugged and for a moment there was an awkward silence in the car.
“You’re very quiet, Caroline. Are you okay?” asked Donna, her eyes inquiring.
“Just thinking about the week ahead,” I replied, my words deliberately bland.
The week. The month. The rest of my life.
In truth, I’d been fascinated to hear Shirley’s speculation about Sebastian’s heritage. I wondered if there was any shred of truth in it, or perhaps it was just the useless, baseless gossip that percolated through so many military facilities.
With a painful jolt I reminded myself that in all reality, it wasn’t any of my business; Sebastian wasn’t any of my business. But I couldn’t resist torturing myself a little more.
“What happened to Sebastian this evening?” I said, innocently, while nearly choking on my words. “They’d all vanished by the time I came back.”
“I think he left with Brenda,” said Shirley, confirming the thoughts that tormented me.
“Oh, I don’t know,” disagreed Donna. “He was talking to Chester for a while, wasn’t he? Or was it before that girl arrived? I thought she was rather…underdressed.”
I definitely agreed with that point of view. Tramp.
Shirley smiled. “All the young girls dress like that, Donna. And, frankly, if she wanted to catch Sebastian’s attention, which she obviously did, she certainly went about it the right way!” She paused. “Although, to be fair, I was a little surprised; she’d always seemed rather sweet when they were dating, hardly the siren of today’s little show and tell. But who knows: they’re probably off having mad, passionate sex behind the pier.”
I could have quite cheerfully stuck Shirley’s head in the passenger door and slammed it several times. It wasn’t that she was saying anything I hadn’t been thinking, but to hear it confirmed by a third party was a new source of humiliation and hurt.
“I should hope not!” said Donna, severely.
“Oh, come on, Donna. You were young once. You’ve got two sons: you know what teenage boys are like. They think about sex every other second—or more often than that. You saw their faces when Brenda arrived—and what she practically wasn’t wearing. I wouldn’t be surprised if every dick within a hundred yards leapt to attention and saluted when she fiddled with her bikini strap. Which of them can say no when it’s offered up on a plate like that? I mean, I’ve tried to talk to Ches about waiting until he’s in love and respect for women and all that, but I’m definitely swimming against the tide there—and I’m probably too late anyway. Mostly I hope he’s being safe: I don’t relish the thought of being a grandmother just yet.”
Donna shook her head but it was clear she didn’t agree with Shirley’s more liberal views. “I think I’d be a nervous wreck if I’d had daughters instead of sons. And their father would have kept them locked up until they’d graduated college…or possibly longer.”
Just then my phone beeped. I decided to ignore it. Donna glanced at me, a quizzical expression on her face.
“It’s probably David making sure I’ve done the drycleaning,” I said, trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
She smiled.
“Yes, Johan said something about a formal dinner at the mess tomorrow. I don’t think he was very keen, having been away for two nights. But who expects the military to be sympathetic to us poor wives?”
Shirley nodded in agreement and the topic moved on to other wives and partners who had dropped by to say hello during the course of the afternoon.
“I think Bill enjoyed himself today,” said Shirley. “I haven’t seen him like that since before he and Denise got divorced.”
“How long have he and Mitch been friends?”
“Oh, ever since we came to San Diego: so it must be at least four years—we wanted Ches to have some consistency through high school.”
I leaned back in my seat as the conversation continued, letting the tiredness wash over me. I was almost asleep by the time Donna pulled up outside my house.
“Did David mention that I was picking them both up at the airport?” she said.
“Oh, I probably should have read David’s text,” I said, guiltily.
“Never mind,” she said, smiling at me. “You’ve got enough on your mind remembering the drycleaning.”
I laughed, although I knew the tone was a little off.
“And I have to get into town. Well, thanks for a lovely day, both of you. And thanks for the ride—and for looking after me.”
I gave Donna a quick hug and blew a kiss to Shirley.
“Our pleasure, Caroline,” said Donna.
“We must have another coffee soon,” agreed Shirley. “Maybe at the country club?”
I had no intention of ever going near the place again but I smiled wanly. I waved them goodbye and watched them drive out of sight. They really had been very kind to me. I’d be sorry to leave them behind.
Tiredly, I got into my own car and headed to the drycleaners. My phone beeped for a second time but I ignored it.
David’s uniform was ready, the woman at the drycleaners proudly informing me that it was their patriotic duty to give precedence to the military. I smiled thinly and thanked her, tossing the plastic-wrapped uniform into the trunk. I was so tired I was about ready to fall asleep at the wheel.
I parked as close to City Beat as I could and jogged the block and a half to the offices.
The reception was in darkness and the door was locked. I rang the buzzer for the intercom and was just considering the wisdom of dropping the films into the mailbox when I saw Carl striding toward the door.
“Carolina, hi! Good to see you! You look well—you’ve got some color on your beach day.”
I realized too late that appearing in a shorts and a skimpy t-shirt wasn’t the most professional attire.
“Oh, yes,” I agreed awkwardly. “It was a lovely day—everyone enjoyed themselves.”
“Did your husband enjoy it?”
His question threw me off balance.
“Um, well, no. He’s away at a medical symposium at the moment.”
“Oh, that’s a pity,” said Carl, although if his expression was anything to go by, that was the opposite of what he really thought. “Well, perhaps you’d like to join me for a quick drink? I was just about finished here anyway.”
I’d definitely given him the wrong impression wearing my beach shorts.
“That’s kind, Carl,” I replied quickly, “but actually I have to go pick him up at the airport now.”
He looked disappointed.
“Are you sure you haven’t got time for one quick drink?”
“Sorry. I really have to go.”
“Okay, well…I guess I’ll see you.”
“Sure. Have a good evening. I’ll be interested to see how the photographs turn out.”
“Drop by any time.”
I waved hurriedly and made my escape. My beat up old Ford made a good standin for a sanctuary.
I decided I’d better check my phone to see what commands from on high David had sent this time.
But the texts weren’t from David, they were from Sebastian. My heart shuddered, an intense mixture of pain and pleasure. With trembling hands I opened my phone. To my surprise, there were three texts, each one more urgent than the last.
* Where are you? *
* I need to talk to you. Where are you? *
And the last one.
* I’m going to your house NOW! *
I gasped and, although I tried to beat it back, hope flared suddenly and brilliantly. It was so confusing—I was still burning with anger and jealousy. He’d left me at the picnic for that girl.
I glanced at my watch—it was just after 9 PM. Donna would be at the airport by now. Another 30 minutes and David would be walking through our front door. It would take me more than 20 minutes to drive home. I did the math.
Fuck.
By now my hands were shaking so badly it took me three attempts to scroll through to find Sebastian’s number on my cell.
The phone rang, and rang, and rang. And then it switched to voicemail.
I hung up and tried again. This time it went immediately to voicemail. This time I left a message.
“Sebastian, do not, repeat DO NOT go to my house. I’m downtown and David will be home any minute. Please, please don’t go.”
I had no idea if he’d get the message or, if he did, whether he’d do as I asked. And then I started to feel angry—really angry. He was the one who’d gone off with his ex-girlfriend; he was the one who was threatening to go to my home just as David was due back.
Maybe my anger was unreasonable but it didn’t feel like it, and right there and then, I needed it.
I drove home as fast as I dared. I didn’t have those get-out-of-jail-free military plates on my car, and I couldn’t risk getting stopped for speeding now.
I screeched onto the driveway, relieved that the house was dark and silent. I’d beaten David home, at the very least.
I nearly leapt out of my skin when I heard Sebastian’s voice in the darkness.
“Where were you?”
“Sebastian!” I hissed. “You can’t be here! David will be home any second!”
“I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.”
His voice was tight with anger.
Well, fuck him! I was pretty damned angry, too!
I shoved the key in the lock and pushed the front door open.
“Get in!” I snarled. “Before someone sees you!”
He pushed past me and I slammed the door shut behind him.
“You can’t be here!” I repeated.
He didn’t answer but suddenly grabbed my waist and pulled me toward him. Without warning, he kissed me fiercely, forcing his lips against mine.
My body started to respond, but anger and fear had the upper hand. I shoved him hard in the chest. He let go, his hands dropping to his side, his face shocked.
“Caro!”
“I mean it, Sebastian. I want you to go. Now!”
His voice turned pleading, the words tripping over themselves.
“I need to talk to you, Caro. You just disappeared. I didn’t know where you were. I know how it must have looked…with Brenda…but it was nothing. I promise. She was upset and I couldn’t ignore her, could I?”
Yes, you could! I wanted to yell at him.
“Why did you just go? Why didn’t you talk to me? You could have called me! Please! I love you!”
I didn’t know what to believe. I did know what I’d seen.
Blue-white car headlights suddenly flooded the hallway and I heard the sound of Donna’s station wagon pulling up outside.
“For the love of God, Sebastian! Just go!”
“When will I see you? Caro, please!”
“I don’t know. Just go. Just get out!” I yelled.
He gave me one, last, tortured look, then turned and ran into the kitchen. I heard him fumbling with the lock on the back door as I moved swiftly through the house turning on lights.
My heart was hammering so loudly in my chest that I barely heard the sharp rap on the front door.
Breathless, I snatched it open.
“You are in then, Caroline. I was beginning to wonder.”
His tone was brusque. It was just what I needed to hear—and I snapped out of my funk.
“I haven’t been in long—I had to drop off some films I took at the fun day to City Beat. How was your flight? Can I get you a coffee?”
“You know I can’t drink caffeine at this time of night, Caroline.”
“A glass of wine, then?”
“I don’t need to drink every day—not like you.”
I blinked. This was a new and interesting development. Now I was an alcoholic? I almost laughed. And then I had an epiphany: I wasn’t scared of him anymore.
“Well, I’m glad to see the flight didn’t affect your good mood, David. I’m going to have a glass of wine. Let me know if I can get you anything.”
I left him gaping in our hallway.
Eventually I heard him stomp up the stairs with his bags. My adrenaline rush over, I felt a little shaky. I hadn’t eaten much at the picnic but now I was ravenous.
Scrabbling through the fridge, I found a jar of peanut butter. I’d bought it for David, not really being a fan, but right now it was just what I needed. I found a dessert spoon and dug in.
I remembered that only this morning Sebastian had told me that he liked peanut butter. Was that really just this morning? It seemed a lifetime ago. In some ways it was.
I started to feel bad for the way I’d spoken to him. I’d thought he was behaving recklessly to insist on coming to my house and taking such a huge risk. Yes, that was foolish, but, truthfully, I was the one who’d behaved badly. He’d looked so hurt as he’d left. No, damn it! I was right to be angry.
My emotions whirled around, reeling from sadness to anger and back again. It was sometime later when I realized that David was being unusually quiet.
I walked upstairs and found him already under the sheets, his dirty clothes scattered on my side of the bed.
When it came down to it, I had to admit that David had Sebastian beaten in the behaving-childishly stakes.
I headed for the guest room. It was cool and calm and untainted by any association with David or any memory of Sebastian. Before I set my phone alarm to wake me in the morning, I wondered briefly about texting Sebastian, but I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say.
I fell asleep with the pain on his face burned into my eyes.