The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline (99 page)

I spent the next two days in a drunken haze. It helped. A bit. I even stopped looking at my phone. There were never any messages, so what was the point? Useless piece of junk.

On my last evening before shipping out to North Carolina, Ches persuaded me to leave the house to meet some of his buddies for a drink. I think he was just bored of being with a miserable bastard who’d refused to shift himself off of the couch for the last 48 hours. Amy had wisely chosen to leave me the fuck alone and let Ches deal with my sorry ass. I was just about sober enough to walk to the cab he had come pick us up.

The bar was crowded and noisy. It was just what I needed. If the music was loud enough, maybe it could pound out the thoughts scorching my brain.

Ches steered me to a table and I slumped into a chair. His friends stared at me warily, none of them dumb enough to actually speak to me. I was pretty certain every fiber of my body was yelling at everyone to stay the fuck away from me.

The waitress arrived with a bottle of whiskey and seven shot glasses. Yeah, she was eye-fucking me big time, but she was a blonde, and I
so
wasn’t interested.

Ches poured the drinks and spoke quietly.

“Look, I’m really sorry, man. You know, about Caro…”

Pain lanced through the numbness, punching a bigger hole into my chest. My lungs felt as if they’d shrivel from the burn of hearing her name.

“Ches,” I snarled. “Don’t ever mention that bitch’s name to me again.”

He nodded slowly. “Done.”

I didn’t understand. I
couldn’t
understand. I was so certain Caro would have been here, with me. She was a fucking journalist—how hard could it be for her to find me? Obviously it wasn’t: the only answer was that she didn’t want me. And I was such a fucking fool.

Suddenly, I felt angry. Three years I’d waited for her.
Three fucking years
.

I threw another shot of whiskey down my throat. When I opened my eyes, I nearly had a heart attack: a woman with long, brown hair was staring at me. For a split second, I thought it was Caro. Of course, it wasn’t—just a nice-looking, older chick. Her eyes were blue, not brown. Her eyes
were the wrong color.

She smiled at me and raised her eyebrows as if she was asking me a question.

Whatever.

The answer was ‘yes’.

I pushed myself to my feet and walked over to her.

“Hi,” I managed to slur out.

“Hi yourself, handsome.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure, honey, if you’re old enough.”

I stared back at her. “I’m old enough for a lot of things.”

“Hmm, that sounds interesting.”

She patted the vacant barstool next to her and when I sat down, she laid a possessive hand on my thigh. Even through the denim, I could feel the warmth of her touch.

We talked for about half an hour, I have no idea what about. I do remember the moment when she leaned over to kiss me, ‘accidentally’ brushing her hand over my junk.

I pulled her onto my lap and kissed her hard, feeling the vibrations through her body as she moaned into my mouth. She tasted of nicotine and beer, which made me feel slightly sick, on top of all the alcohol I’d drunk.

“You wanna come outside, soldier?” she said, her voice husky with lust.

I nodded, and followed her as she pulled me through the crowded bar, dragging me into an alley at the side.

Before my brain could catch up with what she was doing, she forced my body against the wall and started tugging at my belt.

“You’d better not be too drunk to get it up, soldier,” she said, her hands rough on my body.

You don’t need to worry about that, baby
.

“Holy shit!” she gasped, as she tugged down the zipper of my jeans.

We fucked in the alley.

Until that moment, the only woman I’d ever been with had been Caro. I thought
this
would burn away the memories. I thought
this
would make me feel something other than pain. But I couldn’t lie to myself. I wanted Caro, just her. I didn’t want
this
.

But it wasn’t Caro. It wasn’t ever going to be Caro.

THE BEST MAN

September 2005

The C-5 Galaxy was a noisy bastard of a plane but listening to
Elephunk
and
Meteora
on my iPod, I could tune out most of it. God, I loved my iPod—best invention ever.

I was flying Space-A, courtesy of being a Marine, so at least I was able to avoid commercial airports. And it was cheaper. We were flying into Edwards Air Force Base and from there I was hoping to hitch a ride to San Diego or, failing that, take the bus.

After a long and uncomfortable flight, I was more than ready to fucking walk the rest of the way, but that was a hundred or more miles. So my luck was definitely in when a CLR captain said he was heading for Miramar and could give me a ride most of the way.

I didn’t feel much like talking and luckily he wasn’t a chatty Cathy. Plus, it was kind of a policy not to say anymore than ‘Yes, sir’ and ‘No, sir’ to an officer. Most of the time I stared out of the window of his Escalade, thinking about the weirdness of the next few days.

As we traveled further south, I began to recognize the names of places that we passed. I was heading home, I guess you could say. Not that it was much of a home. Ever. From San Clemente onwards, I could name every cove, harbor, and surf break. I could tell you which waves were gnarly, which suited a goofy foot, which had reefs, and which broke straight onto sand. A lot of good memories—especially with Ches. I pushed away the not so good ones, and I definitely wasn’t going to think about
her
.

“You visiting family, son?”

The captain’s words interrupted my thoughts.

“Yes, sir. My brother’s getting married—and I’m best man.”

Which wasn’t a lie. I considered Ches my brother, not just my buddy. And with my bastard father and bitch of a mother, Ches and his parents were the only real family I had.

The captain chuckled as he glanced over, amused by the obvious chagrin in my voice.

“Got your speech worked out?”

“Not so much.”

Yeah, that was a bit of a sore point
. I wasn’t really looking forward to the whole public speaking thing.

I saw him shake his head. Well, he was in logistics so he probably planned every day down to the last shit. Whatever.

“When’s the wedding?”

“Four days.”

“You’ve got some time then, Corporal. Where are you stationed?”

“I’ve been at Camp Le Jeune, sir.”

“Been there long?”

“Just a week. Been doing a debrief after a tour in the sandbox, um, in Baghdad.”

“Uh huh. And now?”

Jeez, were all officers such nosy bastards? Probably.

“I just got my permanent change of station, so I’ll be at Pendleton after this leave.”

“Well, that’s good. Nearer to your family.”

“Yes, sir.”

There was no reason to think I’d bump into my father, but I really fucking hoped I wouldn’t. Hitting an officer is a
non-judicial punishment—that could mean anything from a reduction in rank to a court-martial. Either way, I didn’t want to give the bastard the satisfaction.

As we approached Torrey Hills, the captain slowed his car.

“I wish I could take you downtown, son, but I’m on a schedule.”

“That’s fine, sir. Thank you taking me this far.”

He pulled over just past the I-5 off-ramp and popped the trunk so I could retrieve my duffel bag, bed roll and garment bag.

“Good luck, Corporal. I’m stationed over at Del Mar so we might run into each other.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

He accepted my salute and drove off, the tires sending plumes of dust into the light breeze and settling onto my utility uniform.

For a few seconds, I enjoyed the feeling of peace and freedom. The Iraqi desert had just been fucking hot and North Carolina was humid—I was glad to be away from both. I dug out my cell phone and texted Ches to come get me. I was a bit earlier than I’d expected, but I was still kind of pissed when he replied that he was hung up at work and he was sending Amy instead.

His
fiancée
.

I mean, she was okay. I liked her well enough but I’d been looking forward to catching up with Ches.

After about 20 minutes, I saw a beat up Toyota pull over and Amy waved out of the window. She didn’t look happy to see me.

“Get in.”

Yeah, and hi to you, too.

I slung my luggage on the rear seat and climbed in next to her.

“Hi Amy, congrat…”

“Where’s your dress uniform? Tell me you didn’t forget it, because everything would just be ruined and I’ve planned everything, just like
everything
and…”

To my horror I realized she was starting to cry.

“Um, no, Amy. It’s all good. The dress blues are in my garment bag.”

“Oh!” she sniffed, making an effort to control herself. “Okay, then. Look, I really don’t think going down to Tijuana is such a great idea.”

Wow, she could shift gears quickly. Now she was complaining about the plans for Ches’s bachelor party? Give me a fucking break.

“Once you’re over the border,” she snapped, “
anything
could happen. I don’t see why you need to go all that way just to have a few drinks.”

“It’s only 20 miles from your house, Amy,” I said, trying to reassure her.

“Oh, that is just typical of you! It’s in Mexico, Seb! Who knows what could happen? If you do anything,
anything
to fuck up my wedding, I’ll feed your balls to the coyotes.”

I couldn’t help wincing, more at the crazed look in her eye than at what she was actually saying. I hoped Ches knew what the hell he was doing, because right now she was a bitch on wheels. If I hadn’t met Amy before, I’d seriously doubt that my friend was in his right mind wanting to marry her.

I decided that saying nothing was the best answer. She reminded me of a drill sergeant I’d had in basic training, and I wondered what would happen if I yelled, “Sir, no, sir!” Hell, she’d probably run my ass out of town.

And that would be after she gave the coyotes their next meal.

We arrived at the small cottage she and Ches had recently rented. It was about a twenty minute drive from the ocean and Ches’s job at the country club. It was a neat, suburban street, similar to the house I’d grown up in, just a bit smaller and shabbier. Appearances had been everything at the Hunter residence when I was growing up. Outward appearances had to be maintained at all costs. The memory made me want to puke.

I climbed out, glad that the wheels had finally stopped turning. I’d been traveling 16 hours with a four hour lay-over at Altus AFB, Oklahoma. My body felt numb.

“I don’t see why he needs a bachelor party anyway,” Amy muttered to herself. “What’s wrong with having a few beers and throwing some steaks on the grill at home?”

She shot me an accusing look even though I’d had nothing to do with planning Ches’s party. After all, I’d been out of the country for the last nine months. I didn’t think that was going to score me any points with Amy. I kept my mouth zipped.

“You’ll have to sleep on the couch,” she snarled. “I’ve made up the guest room for Shirley and Mitch, and I don’t want it messed up.”

I shrugged. It didn’t bother me where I slept. It was bound to be better than a tent with 19 other sweaty guys, where the daytime temperature was 110 degrees.

“When are they flying in?”

“Friday lunchtime. I
told
them they should have gotten an earlier flight…”

She looked like she was on the verge of tears again. I reached out a hand tentatively and patted her arm; the same gesture I’d use on a sad dog. Just sayin’. For a moment, she seemed to relax and I thought she’d be okay, but then I blew it by speaking.

“It’ll be fine, Amy. I’m sure…”

“Oh, you’re
sure
, are you? Well, that’s just peachy, isn’t it? If
you
say it’s
fine
, what on earth could possibly go wrong?”

I stepped back, waiting for her head to start revolving.

Thank fuck Ches arrived when he did.

He took one look at Amy bristling with fury, while I withered under her steely glare. They should send her against Saddam Hussein.

Ches rolled his eyes, giving her a swift kiss on the cheek before he held out his hand then pulled me into a bear hug.

“Damn, it’s good to see you, man,” he said, a huge smile lighting up his face. “How the hell are you?”

Amy stomped into the house without a word, and Ches sighed.

“It’s nothing personal—she’s been like that all week. Make that all month. I’ll be glad when this wedding shit is over.”

I looked at him cautiously. “Do you still want to go through with it?”

He gave a small smile. “Yeah, sure. She’s not usually like this. She’s turned into a complete Bridezilla over the whole thing. She used to laugh at this kind of crap, but she’s totally lost her sense of humor. She’ll be fine.” Then he muttered under his breath, “I hope.”

I slapped him on the back.

“Well, I’ll just have to make sure your bachelor party is memorable, my friend, so when she’s got your balls nailed to a chair, you’ll remember what it was like to have a life.”

“Fuck off,” he said, laughing.

“So, anyone I know going to TJ with us?”

“Um, Vince, Del, Gareth—you met them last year. The other guy is Amy’s brother, Tyler. You don’t know him. He’s okay.”

Ches didn’t sound very enthusiastic but I guessed he’d been bludgeoned into inviting his soon to be brother-in-law.

“How we getting down there? Are we taking your van?”

“Naw, man. That bastard only does 15 to the gallon. Gareth’s rented a minivan so we’ll be able to bring all our boards and shit, too.”

The plan was to drive down to TJ, have dinner, go to a club, drink until we passed out, and sleep on the beach. Then we could wake up and spend the day surfing, before driving back. Simple.

Ches had only graduated a few months before and money was tight. Besides, we both loved the beach and I was pleased we weren’t heading for Vegas. I’d had enough of fucking deserts after two tours of Iraq in three years. I didn’t want to think that after 20 weeks at Camp Pendleton, the next stop would be Afghanistan. I’d worry about that next year.

“Sounds good, bro.”

His smile dropped away when we both heard Amy yelling from the house.

“Beer?” he said, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

I nodded, slung my duffle bag over my shoulder and followed him inside.

“Oh my God, Chester!” shrieked Amy. “You drank all the milk! We don’t have any milk! And now we have Seb staying…”

She burst into tears, and Ches pulled her towards him as she sobbed into his shirt.

Embarrassed and feeling like a third wheel, I quietly went out the back and sat down on a plastic lounger that had seen better days.

I pulled my patrol cap down over my eyes, and was nearly asleep when I heard the distinctive pop of a beer cap hitting the deck, soon followed by a second.

“Sorry about that,” said Ches, sitting down next to me. “She’s … a little tense.”

“Look, if it’s awkward me being here, I can find a hotel. It’s not a problem.”

Ches shook his head. “No way, man. It’s okay. She’ll be fine. Anyway, I’m just glad you could get leave. I wasn’t sure you were going to make it when they changed your dates.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. But I wasn’t going to miss your wedding—I pulled in some favors.” I shook my head. “I can’t believe you’re getting married.”

I’d known him since I was 13, and he’d been my best friend for all that time. He knew all the shit I’d been through—and I knew he’d back me, no matter what.

Ches smiled. “Tell me about it. It’s a real head spin sometimes. But I want it all with her—marriage, kids—I want
forever
, you know.”

I looked down at my hands, twisting the Corona around, feeling the cool glass under my fingers. Yeah, I knew what he meant. I’d wanted all that once—and I’d thought
she
wanted the same. Turned out I was wrong.

“So,” he said, after a long pause. “You seeing anyone?”

“I’ve been in the fucking desert surrounded by hairy-assed guys for the last nine months. What do you think?”

“No women at all?”

“A couple of hook-ups—women from the motor-pool. Nothing serious.”

He slapped my shoulder.

“The Best Man always gets laid at weddings. It’s like a law or something.”

I grinned back at him, but thought I’d better change the subject when I heard Amy stamping towards us.

“I’ve ordered pizza,” she snapped.

Ches caught her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap.

“Thanks, babe,” he said into her neck.