Chapter 4
Sebastian looked confused as I led him back into the bedroom.
I pulled the sheets away and tried to erase the thought that this was David’s side of the bed.
“Lie down.”
He lay back, his beautiful eyes watching my every move. I walked around the bed to lie on my side next to him, pulling the sheet up and around us, cocooning us, protecting him.
I reached out to stroke his cheek, and his lips parted. I traced the outline of his mouth with one finger and then leaned over to kiss him, tasting salty tears.
I moved down to his throat, gentle butterfly kisses, my hair sweeping across his chest. Hesitantly, he lifted one hand, skimming along my arm to my shoulder and then, more boldly, down to my breast.
His thumb circled my nipple and I gasped with pleasure. He immediately lifted his hand away.
“No, don’t stop.”
I continued kissing him across his chest and down to his stomach. His hand moved to my ass, stroking it carefully.
His erection was stirring again so I kissed him there, feeling his body tremble beneath my feather-light touch.
I lay back down beside him and moved his hand to my thighs.
“You can touch me.”
I guided his hand closer. Folding my fingers over his, I massaged myself with his hand, tilting my hips upwards, sucking in a deep breath when he found my most sensitive place.
“Yes, that’s right. Like that.”
It was pleasurable for a few moments, but I wanted more. I took his hand, folding the shorter fingers toward his palm, and slid his index finger inside me.
“Slowly. Yes, in and out.”
He followed my instructions carefully, the gentle assault making me moan and writhe. I angled my hips slightly, and moved his thumb so it made sweet circles around my clitoris. I let out a long sigh of pleasure. His warm lips kissed my throat as his hand continued its steady motion.
I didn’t want to have thoughts of David in my overwhelmed brain, but I couldn’t help comparing…this lovemaking with the selfish sexual demands usually made of me.
I reached down and stroked him, now so firm and erect. I longed to feel him inside me, but I was afraid of rushing him again.
I trapped his hand between my thighs and sat up. He looked surprised and suddenly unsure of himself. I leaned over and kissed him, more forcefully this time, rocking onto him. With his free hand, he wound his fingers through my hair and kissed me back, letting himself go further and take more.
Then he ran his hand over my breasts, and gently pulled on one nipple. The sensation was overwhelming and shocking, an orgasm taking me by surprise. His fingers must have felt the ripples of my pleasure, and he could see the way my body arched and stiffened. So unexpected, so confusing. For me, orgasms were a solitary pursuit; this was new.
“Are you okay?” he asked hesitantly.
It took me a moment to find my voice. “Yes. Very okay. Very, very okay.”
And for the first time that evening, he smiled.
I’d guessed, and I think I’d guessed right, that this was all new to Sebastian, but he made me feel things I’d never experienced before—love and passion. I just hadn’t realized…I didn’t know it could be like this.
“Now your turn,” I said.
A quizzical expression crossed his face. Then a look of understanding as I sat up and kneeled across him. I leaned down to kiss him as his hands snaked around my back, pulling me toward him. He moaned against my mouth, and I pushed myself upright again.
This time I raised my hips and used my hands to guide him inside me. Slowly, I sank down onto him, my eyes closed; I heard him gasp.
At last I could feel every inch of him inside. I took his hands and pressed them against my belly.
“Can you feel yourself inside me?”
His face was filled with amazement.
“Yes,” he whispered. “I can.”
I leaned forward again, my hands resting on his chest, moving my hips up and down in a steady rhythm. He pushed his head back into the pillow, his mouth open, absorbing the new sensation. I felt his body flexing into mine, pushing himself deep inside me.
He began to move faster, more confidently, more desperately, and I let the feeling carry me with him.
I opened my eyes to find his locked on mine, almost feral in their intensity. I moved faster, meeting each movement he made, grinding down as he squeezed his eyes shut, his hands locked over mine. He came quietly as his body quivered inside me. I fell forward onto his chest, breathless and relieved.
We lay peacefully for a few minutes, and I listened to the sound of his heart, slowing to its normal rhythm. Then I slid off him and lay on my back. I think I was smiling.
I felt the bed move, and I opened one eye; he was leaning on his elbow looking down at me.
“Hi,” I said, almost shyly. “You okay?”
He nodded solemnly. “That was…that was…”
“Yes, it was.”
I stroked his cheek, and his eyes closed with a sigh. Then he turned his lips toward my hand and kissed the palm. The unexpected, intimate gesture took me by surprise.
“I love you, Caroline. I always have. My whole life.”
I smothered a delighted laugh.
“That’s a very long time,” I teased him. “You’re only 18—your whole life isn’t that much, really.”
He smiled. “It feels like it sometimes. Anyway, I’m not 18 for another four months; I’ll let you know then.”
As I processed his words, cold shock rushed through me, and a look of abject horror etched itself on my face.
“What?” I couldn’t believe the words he’d just said.
He looked at me, puzzled.
“You…you’re only seventeen?”
He nodded, his expression anxious.
“For God’s sake, Sebastian! Seventeen?”
Shit! Shit! Shit!
He looked at me nervously. “What’s the matter?”
I threw my arm over my eyes, unable to look at him. What had I done? What the fuck had I done?
“Please, Caroline. You’re scaring me.”
I took a deep breath and turned to glare at him, needing to take my sudden panic and anger out on him.
“The matter, Sebastian, is that you’re a minor. What we’ve just done…what I’ve just done…it’s against the law. It’s a felony, for God’s sake!”
“But I love you.”
I wanted to scream.
“Sebastian: it’s statutory rape! Do you know what that means? I could go to prison. If anyone found out…”
“I won’t tell anyone. I love…”
“Don’t say it! Do not say it!” I shouted the words and he flinched.
I ran to the bathroom, afraid I was going to be sick. I held my hand over my mouth as dry heaves raked me. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I felt him hovering uncertainly behind me.
“Caroline, please.”
I held my hand out like a traffic cop, stopping him from coming any closer.
What had I done?
The words echoed emptily.
“Please!” His voice was begging, desperate, but I couldn’t look at him.
My skin felt icy-cold then hot with shame, as a torrent of emotion engulfed me. I staggered to the bathroom door, plucked my robe off the hook and wrapped it around me, as if the thin material could hide my crime.
I tried to push past him to the bedroom, but he blocked my way.
“Oh, God, please, Caroline!” and he tried to pull me to him.
“No!”
I made it as far as the bed before my knees gave way and I sat down, gasping.
“What have I done? What have I done?”
I hid my head in my hands and tried to fight the rising panic.
I knew he was watching me but I couldn’t look. Silently, he sat down next to me.
“I’m not sorry,” he whispered. “That was the best experience of my whole life. I love you; I can’t help it.”
And he pulled me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me, taking care of me, soothing me.
Slowly the shock wore off, and finally I was able to sit up, pushing his arms away.
“I apologize, Sebastian. It isn’t your fault. Please forgive my…behavior.” I spoke coldly, formally, afraid to give way to further emotion. “I think you’d better leave now.”
“Please. Don’t send me away.”
His voice was husky.
When I didn’t reply, he stood up and walked into the bathroom, his eyes downcast, searching the floor for an answer that wasn’t there. I could hear the soft rustle of material and I knew he was getting dressed.
I hurried into the kitchen, needing activity to stop my hands from shaking. I cleared away a puddle of melting ice, and threw the antiseptic cream into the nearest drawer.
Then I leaned over the sink, trying to force some coherent thought into my befuddled brain. I heard his quiet footsteps on the linoleum and, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I turned to face him.
The expression on his face shocked me: he looked so broken.
“Oh, Sebastian!”
And I started to cry.
Half a heartbeat later I was in his arms, my cheek against his chest, and he was stroking my hair.
“Don’t be sad, Caroline, I love you. It’ll be okay.”
I was crying and laughing and crying. How ridiculous. Of course it wasn’t going to be okay. How ridiculously happy and terrified and happy I felt.
I lifted my head, aware that I was red-eyed and hideous.
He wiped my tears with his thumbs.
I thought he was going to speak, but then we heard the sound of a car outside.
“David!”
Panic lanced through me.
“You have to go! Quickly! Out through the backyard. Go!”
He turned to run to the door, then skidded to a halt. “When will I see you again?”
“I don’t know! Go! Go!”
“Promise I’ll see you again! Promise me!”
“Okay, I promise!” I said desperately, staring aghast at the front door.
He pulled me to him, kissing me fiercely. And then he was gone.
Trying to breathe naturally, I ran to the bedroom, straightening the sheets, plumping up the pillows where Sebastian had been lying just a few minutes before. There was no time to change the sheets and I felt faintly appalled by the thought of David sleeping where Sebastian and I had made love.
I heard his key in the lock, and then remembered that I’d shaved Sebastian’s hair in the bathroom. I raced in and fell to my knees, sweeping up the sun-blond hair with my hands and tossing it down into the toilet bowl.
A sudden desire to have something of Sebastian made me pick up one lock and shove it deep inside the pocket of my robe. Then I pulled the handle and watched fascinated as the rest of the hair was swirled away. I splashed some water on my face and ran a brush through my knotted hair.
I heard a crash in the living room. As I’d expected, David was drunk.
“Car’line…Car’line.”
He saw me and licked his lips.
“Beau’ful Car’line. Bella, bella!”
I tried to lift one of his arms over my shoulder so I could help him to the bedroom, but he pushed me off, tugging open my robe. He ran his hands over my breasts as I tried again to steer him stumbling toward the bedroom.
“Come on, David, give me some help here.”
“What I’d like to give you, Car’line. C’mere.”
He tried to grab me again but missed and fell face first onto the bed. He was asleep instantly.
With relief, I straightened my robe and then pulled off his shoes and socks. His uniform would be un-wearable in the morning.
Glad of something to do, I hunted around in the closet until I found a clean shirt and the rest of his spare service summer whites. The pants would need pressing.
I’d tucked the portable ironing board into a closet in the utility room. I pulled it out, wincing when a mop clattered to the floor. But David didn’t stir.
I set the iron to ‘hot’, finding some equilibrium in the familiar drudgery.
I was appalled by what I’d done. What part of ‘forsaking all others’ wasn’t clear? And with a child! Dear God! I deserved to burn in purgatory for all eternity. But I couldn’t think of Sebastian as a child, even though the law defined him as such. He’d made love to me; we’d made love together.
I knew it was wrong: I knew it was right.
I’d have to leave. I’d have to persuade David to take an assignment somewhere else. But what excuse could I give? That I missed my friends on the east coast? No, that wouldn’t even give him pause for thought during the length of a coffee break. That I wanted to be nearer to my mother? No, he’d never believe that. My brain was empty of further excuses.
Maybe I could leave? Leave David, start again somewhere else—no job, no home, no money? It was a terrifying prospect. I’d never been alone my whole life; I didn’t know how to do it.
Miserable, pathetic, whore!
And then a new fear threatened to derail me—I hadn’t used any contraception.
“NO!”
I wailed out loud, then threw a hand over my mouth. “Shit! SHIT! FUCK!” David grunted but carried on snoring.
I wasn’t on the pill, I had no need; David was as infertile as the Gobi desert. But Sebastian…oh God!
I tried to organize a list of urgent jobs for the morning but all I could think was, what if I’m pregnant? For the briefest of moments I imagined an alternate universe where I was the mother of a blond-haired child with eyes the color of the ocean, with a husband who loved me. But that’s all it was: a moment.
Plan B Emergency Contraceptive—that was my priority. At least I could buy it over the counter. I’d have to drive into the city or somewhere I wasn’t known.
How could I be so stupid?
Everything I’d done in the last 12 hours had been lunacy. What on earth was wrong with me?
I realized belatedly that I’d ironed David’s pants to within an inch of their shiny-ass life. I let the iron cool and tiptoed into the bedroom to lay out the rest of the uniform. David was K-O-ed. I stared down at the man who was my husband, for better or worse. I gazed for so long, my eyes were dry. How curious. I couldn’t put a name to what I felt when I looked at him. Maybe something, maybe nothing. My emotional gauge was running on empty; I think it had been that way for a long time. Until Sebastian…no. Must not think. Must not think like that.
Back in the kitchen I fixed myself a coffee which I didn’t drink, and waited solemnly for dawn.
As the sun’s first light filtered weakly through the windows, I had resolved nothing. Go or stay? Stay or go? The devil I knew or the deep blue sea? Go or stay? Stay or go? Endlessly repeated through the torpor of my mind.
The doleful ring of the bedside alarm made me jump. David snorted awake, and I hurried to make breakfast. He liked it hot and greasy after a bender. Luckily, yesterday’s sprint to the store had furnished the refrigerator with bacon and maple syrup. I whipped up some pancake mix and put a dab of oil in the pan.
He arrived at the breakfast table with military precision and in a full-on sulk.
“Nice to see some food for a change,” he muttered.
“How many pancakes do you want?”
“Two.”
Silently I served him the guilty-wife special: three pieces of bacon, two eggs sunny-side up, two pancakes, syrup on the side and coffee.
“This plate’s cold.”
“You want me to heat it up?”
“I haven’t got time for that. Christ, Caroline! Can’t you do anything right?”
No. Probably not.
He left the house without a word. I wondered how long his sulk would last—nine days was the record.
Belatedly, it occurred to me that Sebastian would probably come looking for me once he was sure David had gone to work. I knew it was cowardly and unfair, and I was supposed to be the adult—but I just couldn’t face him.
I showered on the double and ran out of the house without bothering to dry my hair, scooping up my notebook from the hall table as I passed. I couldn’t say why—perhaps some atavistic memory of needing to write, from a time when life was simple.
As I drove away, I refused to look in the rear-view mirror. I had an almost superstitious belief that if I looked, Sebastian would appear. Cowardly to the last, it seemed.
I was ridiculously grateful to find an out-of-town mall with a drugstore sign in cheerful neon, the ‘Good Morning Pharmacy’. Not for me.
The woman serving was sympathetic until she happened to see my wedding ring; then the shutters of disapproval came crashing down and I slunk out, clasping my paper bag.
I hunted for a coffee shop and sat hunched in the corner to order a double espresso and a glass of water.
The Plan B Emergency Contraceptive packaging scolded:
‘Side effects may include changes in your period, nausea, lower abdominal pain, fatigue, headache and dizziness.’
I don’t care! Just don’t let me be pregnant!
I swallowed the pill quickly, then tore up the packaging into postage stamp-sized pieces. My hands were shaking as I sipped the espresso. I probably looked like another caffeine junkie after my fix.
I had to find a way to channel the flurry of half-formed thoughts that gushed through me. Eventually I pulled out my notepad, trying to make sense of the scrawled words and phrases. Working slowly and carefully, I started to plan my article. It felt important, somehow, that of the complete fuck-up I’d made of my life, that I do this one thing well.
I realized I’d been working for over an hour when the irritated waitress asked me if I wanted anything else.
Yes, a life! Oddly enough, that’s not something waitresses served up on a regular basis. I removed myself from her baleful gaze, leaving a larger than deserved tip. Coward.
I hid in my car and wondered what to do next. If I went home, I knew Sebastian would be waiting for me. I didn’t know what to say, and I was afraid of how much more damage I’d done.
“Are you all right, miss?”
A worried looking man in a Padres baseball cap knocked on my car window, making me jump.
I wound the window down halfway.
“Oh, thank you. I’m fine, really.”
“You were sitting there for so long I was starting to get worried. You sure you’re okay?”
What was it about the kindness of strangers that made me want to weep?
“I’ve just got a few things on my mind, but I’ll be okay. Thank you for your concern. That was very sweet of you.”
He nodded, smiled uncertainly and ambled off.
The car engine started with a roar, and I was soothed by the familiar grating sound the gear shift made as I reversed out of the parking space. I drove without a destination, idly wondering what problems troubled other drivers locked in their glass and metal worlds, individual and isolated. Were they pondering the meaning of life, itemizing shopping lists in their heads, or simply idling in traffic, minds full of happy non-thoughts?
The June gloom of early morning had given way to hazy sunshine as I found myself driving along a quiet stretch of Pacific coast. It seemed as good a place as any to brood. The air was mild and a light breeze stirred the stubby grass that tried to maintain a foothold among the dunes.
I kicked off my sandals and felt the fine grit beneath my toes. My thoughts turned inward as I wrapped my arms around my knees and gazed out toward the ocean. Had I reached a turning point in my life, or was this merely a blip on a long and bleak horizon? Was leaping from a failed relationship to a doomed one the most sensible action for a woman of thirty? Rationally, no. But the feel of Sebastian’s body against mine, inside mine; his sweetness, his gentleness. Could I really say that meant nothing? Were those feelings so abundant in my life that I could count them worthless?
The only real love I’d known in my life had been from my dear, chaotic father. Sebastian hadn’t even had that. He was hungry for love.
Could I help him? Answer: I couldn’t. I would only hold him back from all the wonderful things he deserved from life. So I had to let him go.
But where did that leave me? Contemplating leaving everything I had ever known because of one ill-advised hour of passionate lunacy. If I left David, I was well aware I would have nothing, not even my reputation. I had never lived on my own, never lived on what I could earn, never lived without the say-so of someone else. The unknowingness was terrifying.
I sat and stared until I realized with vague surprise that the shadows were beginning to lengthen around me.
I unclamped my hands and stood up stiffly, watching with fascination as blood flowed back toward my white knuckles. I’d wasted a whole day and resolved little—except that Sebastian deserved better than me.
Dread settled like a toad in my stomach. I didn’t know how I could face David after what I’d done. I’d got away with it in so far as he hadn’t caught us, caught me, last night, but I’d never kept a secret from him before—I had no idea how I was going to start. How could I school my face to stone in the next 30 minutes?
I made it home shortly before six, his usual home-time, unsure if I was relieved or disappointed that the house stood silent, untroubled by either friendly or malign presence.
I threw myself into cooking: spaghetti alla puttanesca—tomatoes, olives, chili pepper, capers, garlic. It seemed appropriate—the Whore’s Spaghetti. Odd to think I’d planned that meal yesterday, when I was still an honest wife.
Hearing David’s car in the driveway brought me sharply back to the present.
Set the table. Place the napkins. Open his beer. Pour it in a glass. Wash the salad. Act normal.
“Hi, supper is nearly ready,” I said as brightly as I could manage, my voice sounding shrill and insincere to my ears.
He ignored me entirely. Oh, of course, he was still sulking. That made things easier.
We ate in silence. I cleared the plates without a word. He retired to his study. Not a syllable had passed our lips.
I was grateful to him. It made things so much simpler.
To my bemusement, I was able to concentrate on writing up my surfing story that I hoped City Beat would publish. The words flowed and it was therapeutic to spend the evening in a happier place.
At 11 PM, David exited his study and headed for the bedroom. I wish I’d remembered to wash the sheets today. Whore.
I observed dispassionately that he deliberately balled up his clothes and flung them onto my side of the bed, knowing I’d have to get up early to press the pants—again.
He returned from the bathroom marching with stiff, military precision in his ironed PJs. I had an almost irresistible urge to laugh.
The sheets were thrown back with disdain and he turned sharply, hauling the bedspread onto his side. How marvelously childish.
Smiling to myself, I slid between the sheets and dared myself to feel hopeful.
By morning I knew I couldn’t put off facing Sebastian any longer. I suspected that if I waited at home long enough, he’d appear. I probably had a few minutes to dash to the store to buy milk, vegetables and candy.
I didn’t linger over my purchases, but even so, when I turned into the driveway, there he was, sitting huddled in my porch. At least he was hidden from the road.
My stomach flipped over.
His eyes lit up when he saw me, and he went to stand. I shook my head quickly and luckily he understood.
As soon as I opened the door, he slid inside unobtrusively. I still hadn’t planned what I was going to say to him. I wasn’t even sure it was possible to plan.
We stood looking at each other, the door unyielding against my back.
“Are you okay?” he said at last.
I nodded slowly. “I guess. You?”
“I…I had to see you.”
“Come in,” I said, somewhat reluctantly, pointing to the kitchen. “Can I get you a coffee?”
He shook his head.
This was harder than I’d expected and I’d barely said a word. I sank into a kitchen chair while he continued to stand.
“I tried to see you yesterday. What happened after I went? Was it…okay?”
His voice was low, hesitant.
“David didn’t suspect, if that’s what you mean.”
By contrast my voice was unnecessarily harsh.
Sebastian’s eyes reflected his hurt.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I said coldly.
You can do this. You can let him go.
“Caroline…”
“What?”
He took a deep breath.
“I’ve been thinking about you ever since…” His words came out in a rush. “We can go back east if you like, wherever you want. I can get a job.”
I stared at him, stunned.
“We can be together,” he whispered. “Forever.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry; instead I continued to sit and stare.
“Caro?”
Caro? Oh, I liked that…what a lovely dream.
“Caro!” he said, sounding panicked.
But just a dream.
I sat at the table and rested my head in my hands. This wasn’t what I’d expected; it certainly wasn’t how I’d planned the course of the conversation. Where was my resolve to end this?
I heard a chair scrape across the floor and he sat down next to me.
His beautiful face, so earnest, was just inches from mine. I straightened up and looked at him directly.
“Sebastian: I think you’re very sweet but…”
He cringed as if I’d slapped him.
“Give me a chance—I know we can make it work, Caro.”
“No, we can’t. You’re only 17…I could be arrested. I should be arrested! No, listen to me: the other night was…” I hesitated, unable to find the right word. “But the point is, it was wrong.”
“Not for me.”
I sighed. Again I recalled the sensation of his body against mine, how good it had felt. Good, bad; wrong, right.
“Then we’ll wait until I’m 18,” he said defiantly. “It’s not so long. We can be together and no one can stop us.”
Stupidly tempting.
“I’m married, Sebastian.” You were married two nights ago. Whore!
“You don’t love him, Caro.”
My eyes darted to his. How did he know?
He sensed a small victory and pursued his advantage, grasping my hand.
“I love you. I’ll…I’ll do anything, go anywhere. You can do your writing—we’ll be happy.”
So, so tempting. And his touch: flesh on flesh.
My traitorous mind filled with images of our sweet, gentle, glorious lovemaking. I’d never been touched like that before—it had been an education, a delicious, dangerous awakening.
He could sense the feebleness of my will. His lovely eyes were unclouded, free of all doubt, confident and reassuring. And when he leaned forward pressing his lips lightly against mine, it was a peaceful moment at the heart of a whirling pool of emotions. It was an electric moment, the eye of the storm.
I tried to understand the feelings that filled me, making me lighter than air. I felt beautiful for the first time in my life, safe and secure.
Loved.
Cherished.
He gathered me to him and I clung to the protective circle of his arms, feeling the warmth of his body, and listened to the steady beating of his heart.
Had David ever told me that he loved me? I couldn’t remember that far back. I knew he was cold and controlling, and I knew that he didn’t love me. Sometimes it felt like I was utterly despised.
And finally my poor, starved heart caught up with what Sebastian had been saying: he loved me. He’d always loved me. Such a balm to my shrunken soul. My damascene moment hit me with extraordinary clarity.
I loved him, too.