The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline (100 page)

Her body held tense for a second, then relaxed.

“I know. I’m behaving like a crazy person,” she said. “Sorry. Sorry, Seb.”

I waved my beer at her. “No blood, no foul.”

“God, I’m a horrible hostess. I didn’t even ask how you are.”

I couldn’t help smiling at her. She’d done a complete one-eighty from the bitch who gave me a ride 40 minutes ago.

“Glad to be stateside, and that’s the truth.”

She nodded, thoughtfully.

“Do you still like being a Marine? Even after…”

We all knew she was talking about Fido. Poor bastard got blown up nearly three years ago. Didn’t make it to 19. IED. Bastards.

“Yeah, it’s okay. I mean, I can do it and I like doing the interpreting. I get to actually talk to ordinary Iraqi people.” I shrugged. “It feels like it makes a difference. Sometimes.”

It was hard to explain what I meant by that and the conversation was making me uncomfortable. I was on leave for my best friend’s wedding—I didn’t want to talk about work. I changed the subject quickly.

“So what do you have planned for your bachelorette party?”

She gave a small smile.

“Stacey’s organized it. We’re going to have cocktails here while we get ready; downtown for dinner; and then a club.” She raised an eyebrow at Ches. “There could be strippers.”

“Just don’t let any of those oily bastards touch you, babe,” snorted Ches.

“Oh, I’ll be the one stuffing dollar bills in their posing pouches.”

I couldn’t help laughing, as much at the revolted expression on Ches’s face as anything else. I was happy he was happy, that he’d found his One. My mood soured as I tried not to think of
her
.

Christ, just get over it already!
She’d taught me how to fuck—I should be grateful. I hadn’t had any complaints since I’d started seeing other women. Yeah, I’d kind of been making up for lost time.

Ches nuzzled Amy’s neck. “I’ll pose in a pouch for you any time, baby.”

“Oh, Jesus! Too much information, buddy.”

Ches laughed.

“If it’s okay with you guys, I’ll take a shower and change into civvies.”

Ches waved me away, too busy with his girl to answer.

It felt good to wash off the dust and grit, and I took my time enjoying the hot water and privacy. One thing being a Marine had taught me was to find a private place inside my head. You had to learn how to do that when you were with a bunch of jarhead grunts 24/7.

I pulled on a plain t-shirt and jeans, and headed down, hoping to hell that the make-out fest was done. Otherwise it was going to be a long, damn evening.

I was relieved to see that the happy couple had disentangled themselves, and Ches was setting out placemats and paper napkins.

“I thought we were having pizza?”

“We are,” he said, shaking his head in exasperation, “but Amy wants to do things nice.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that!” I heard her yelling from the backyard.

I smirked at Ches, and mouthed the words, “Pussy whipped!”

He sighed, but I could tell he really loved it.

The pizza arrived, and Ches pulled out some more beer to serve with the meal.

“Oh, hey, man, so I saw Brenda last week. She asked after you.”

“Yeah? How’s she doing? How’s Kimberley?”

“She’s good. I can’t believe the kid is four now. I told her you’d be stationed at Pendleton.”

I threw Ches a look, and he raised his hands in apology.

I didn’t mind hearing about my ex-girlfriend, even though she’d royally fucked up the one important relationship I’d ever had in my life. She’d been pregnant and scared, so she’d made some
bad decisions. But she’d apologized a shitload and we were okay. Even so, I didn’t want Ches making like I wanted to get back with her.

“Nah, she’s cool man. She’s started seeing some guy that works at a used-car dealership. She seems pretty into him.”

Well,
that
was a relief. I didn’t want her to think I’d be up for dating or any of that shit. Friends—I could do that.

“Yeah? Maybe I’ll call her.”

“And Stacey was asking about you, too,” added Amy.

I must have looked blank because she said, “You met her last year at your twenty-first … light brown hair in a cute bob, bangs … you know? She’s one of my bridesmaids.”

“Oh, sure. I remember. Got a brother out at Fort Myer, right?”

Amy smiled brightly. “Yes, that’s her.”

Ches threw me a warning look, and I took the hint: Stacey was off limits.

After dinner we headed out to the garage so I could check on my bike. She started on the second try which was pretty good considering she hadn’t been ridden in nearly a year. Ches had kept her running, but he hadn’t taken her out. Like I said—pussy whipped.

Ches climbed on behind me, and we rode out toward the ocean.

I stopped when we reached one of our favorite surf spots. The setting sun had turned the water blood-red, and the wind had dropped, so the only sound was the breakers rolling across the shore.

“Had some good times here, huh?” said Ches.

I nodded. It was true. We’d come here with Fido the night of our senior prom, when Ches didn’t have a date and I’d broken up with Brenda. We’d gotten wasted on Mitch’s beer and some weed that I’d scored. But this beach—it was also somewhere that I’d taken
her
.

“Hey, Seb,” said Ches, wiggling his eyebrows at me oblivious of the direction my thoughts had taken, “want to relive some of those good times?”

And he held out a baggie and blunt wrappers. Then he frowned.

“Can you? It’s cool if you’d rather not…”

“Nah, it’s not a problem.”

Drug testing was mandatory in the Corps but I was confident that by the time I got to Pendleton, there’d be nothing but a higher tolerance for alcohol in my system after this vacation.

We found ourselves a comfortable dune out of sight from the road, and sank down to the cooling sand.

“You do this often?” I said, raising one eyebrow. “I kinda thought Amy would have your balls in a vise for something like this.”

He twitched a smile.

“Yeah, she’d like to think so. But, I don’t do it that often anymore—responsible citizen and all that.”

“Damn pillar of the community,” I laughed.

“God help that community,” he mumbled.

I watched him roll the joint, glad I was here to spend these last few days of bachelorhood with him.

“You really love her, don’t you?”

A grin crept over his face.

“Yeah. You noticed, huh? She’s amazing.”

He smiled to himself, and took a long hit before passing it to me.

“Kind of obvious, my friend. I’ll miss you, buddy.”

“Jeez, Seb! It’s a wedding, not my funeral!”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

His face was suddenly serious.

“I want it all with her, man. House, mortgage, kids—all of it.” He looked at me sideways. “I thought you’d understand that—you of all people.”

I closed my eyes and sucked in the smoke, letting it sting the back of my throat and drawing it into my lungs before blowing it away.

Yeah, I’d wanted all that. Once.
But I wasn’t going to let that happen now. I’d wised up—and I wasn’t going to give any woman the chance to shatter me into dust. Not again.

“Besides,” said Ches, “Amy’s got great tits.” He sighed. “God, I love burying my face in her tits.”

“Yeah? Well just don’t let her get on top, man,” I couldn’t help saying.

“Why the fuck not?”

“You’ll suffocate.”

Ches looked pissed, and then couldn’t help a quiet chuckle.

“That’s my future wife you’re talking about, Hunter. And by the way, a message from the future Mrs. Peters—she says no hitting on the bridesmaids. Got it?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

I took another drag and passed the joint back. We’d been doing this shit since I was 15 and Ches was 16. It was easy to score down by the pier—pretty much whatever you wanted. Mostly, we’d stuck to weed. It was easier to get hold of than liquor at that age.

“Got any plans for your birthday?” said Ches.

“Yeah, forget the fuck about it,” I said, with a scowl.

My 22
nd
birthday was five weeks away. Last year had been so shit, that my only plan this year was to dive into a bottle of whisky and stay there until I passed out.

“Fair enough,” he said, evenly. “We’ll be back from the honeymoon in plenty of time—we should head out, have a few drinks.”

I grunted something non-committal, and he was wise enough to leave it.

We finished the joint in silence, then rode back to the house.

“Goddamn it, get your ass in the van, Peters!”

Gareth was yelling at Ches while the groom said goodbye to Amy—
again
.

I sat in the back of the minivan, my sunglasses pulled down over my eyes. You got used to waiting around in the military—it was kind of,
Hurry up and wait!
So although it didn’t bother me, Gareth was getting really wound up.

Eventually, Ches unglued his lips from Amy, and with Gareth behind the steering wheel still looking pissed, we headed south on the I-5 to Tijuana. We’d barely left Ches’s street before he was texting Amy. I remembered what that was like—treasuring every moment, every message.

Jeez, I really had to get my head out of my ass!
This was my brother’s bachelor party and I was thinking like a moody emo-bitch.

We crossed into Mexico soon after. I thought I was going to get some shit when the border guards examined my ID, muttering about me being a Marine. We’d all learned some Spanish at school, but it was the vibe and the way they were looking at me that freaked me out. They thought we were a bunch of rich, white Americanos coming for the cheap drinks and cheap chicks—which was true. Except for the being rich bit. I probably had more money than the rest of the guys as Ches, Gareth, Del and Vince had only just graduated and were all paying off their student loans. I wasn’t sure about Tyler as he was a bit older, but he probably worked. I hadn’t had much to spend my pay on in the desert. Maybe it was time to upgrade the motorcycle.

But at least there were a load of US military passing through at the same time—Marines and Navy. Guess I looked a bit different, what with hanging with guys who actually had hair.

Eventually, the border guards waved us through without shooting us or arresting us, but we’d wasted an hour of valuable surfing and drinking time.

Tyler kept giving me this dirty look, like I was personally responsible for the delay. What a dick.

The Tijuana Sloughs had been pumping as we’d driven past, so once we were on the Mexican side, we found ourselves a patch of road and just pulled over.

“Ah, you gotta be kidding!” whined Tyler. “This motherfucker breaks onto rock reef. I don’t want to get my face mashed three days before my sister’s wedding!”

Ches frowned, but I could see Tyler’s thinking had gotten to him. I decided to keep out of it, despite the draw of the pumping five foot barrels.

Del stretched and yawned. “Let’s go get a coffee first and then find somewhere more mellow.”

So we piled back in the minivan and headed south for another 20 minutes. I remembered that Baja Malibu had a rep as a good beach break—bit gnarly for beginners, but it was spitting top to bottom barrels. Too good to miss.

“Hey, Gareth, if you pull off here we can park next to Tecate Jack’s. Then we’ve got surf and beer.”

He nodded and exited from the toll road, then parked on the dead-end street on the north side of the Baja Malibu housing development.

The tide was falling, which made the rides even better. I was stoked. It had been a long time since I’d surfed. I could sense Ches’s excitement, too. He’d even put his cell phone away. Thank fuck for that.

We piled out of the minivan and I couldn’t help noticing that Tyler looked like he was shitting himself but trying to hide it. I guessed he wasn’t that great of a surfer.

“I’m going to get caffeined up,” said Del, strolling in the direction of Tecate Jack’s. “I’ll catch up with y’all later.”

“Yeah, me, too,” muttered Tyler, and no one seemed at all sorry to see him go.

Gareth and Vince started suiting up while I was still mesmerized by the awesome surf.

“You okay, bro?” asked Ches, a puzzled look on his face.

“Yeah, sure. Just … thinking, you know.”

He nodded but didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

He slapped me on the back, and that snapped me the fuck out of it. I pulled off my t-shirt and caught Ches staring at my new tat. I forgot about it most of the time. Most guys that served had something. Mine was done just before I shipped out to Iraq.

“
Semper Fi
, huh?”