garbage can. Then he leaned up on one elbow to look at me, resting his free hand on my stomach.
“Are you ok ay?” he said, tenderly planting a gentle kiss on the tip of my nose.
I wasn’t sure how to answer that question.
I ’d promised myself I’d never get involved with another man in the military; I’d been determined never again to be attracted to a younger man; I knew that revisiting the past was a bad, bad idea; and I sensed that Sebastian was a volatile mixture of intense emotions and unexamined anger at the past.
And yet, my reckless body sang every time he touched me.
“Yes, I think so,” I replied, my voice carefully neutral.
I pushed his hand away and sat up, ignoring his confused expression.
“Where are you going?”
“Just to get some water,” I said, without looking at him.
I felt his eyes on me as I walked into the bathroom, brutally aware that my forty-year old body couldn ’t match the exquisite perfection of his.
I pulled on the bathrobe and drank some water from the faucet. The bathroom mirror reflected my flushed face and tangled hair. I’d picked up my hairbrush to resolve one of the issues when I heard Sebastian, and turned to see him standing in the doorway behind me.
“Caro, what ’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” I said, too brightly. “I ’m fine.”
His eyes met mine in the mirror and I could see that he didn ’t believe me, but he didn’t challenge me either. Silently, he took the brush from my hands and slowly, carefully, brushed my hair until it hung in tidy waves down my back.
“You have beautiful hair, Caro. I ’m glad you kept it long.”
His tone was gentle, almost loving.
I shrugged.
“ Every now and then I decide to get it cut off; especially after I’ve been somewhere I haven’t been able to shower for a couple of weeks.”
“That would be a crime,” he said solemnly.
“You can talk!” I said, pointing my chin at the haze of golden hair that clung to his skull.
His lips twitched in a small smile.
“Believe me, babe, I’d grow it if I could. Maybe I should go to my CO and tell him my girlfriend wants me to…”
He stopped abruptly.
I sighed. “It’s okay: I keep forgetting which decade I’m in, too. It’s so strange.”
He nodded in relief.
“Yeah, this is so weird, I feel the same. It’s as if nothing’s changed but everything’s changed. It’s like being in some crazy time machine. I keep expecting your husband to be banging down the door.”
I winced.
“Fuck, sorry. I’m doing it again.”
I smiled, painfully.
“Oh well, I imagine you’ve had some experience with husbands banging on the door.”
“Don ’t, Caro.”
I stared at him for a fraction of a second , then pushed past him, back into the bedroom.
I couldn ’t believe he’d mentioned my ex-husband. Didn’t we already have enough painful memories between us? Apparently not.
I heard the faucet running, and he followed me, carrying a glass of water.
He handed it to me silently , and I took a small sip before placing it on the cabinet next to the bed.
“Thank you.”
He sat back on the bed, covering his lower half with the sheet.
“Caro, I know this is fucking weird but it ’s good, too, isn’t it? I mean, not everyone gets a second chance.”
Is that what this was, a second chance? But a second chance at what? A second chance to rip ourselves apart again?
“Today was fun,” I said, trying to think it through, “and tonight was… good, but the reality is: I’m based in New York and spend between three and six months of the year away from home. You’re a Marine and go wherever they send you. Presumably this next tour of Afghanistan will be six months or maybe longer? And then where, because let’s face it, Sebastian, the chances of you getting posted to the Corps’ Division of Public
“Are you ok ay?” he said, tenderly planting a gentle kiss on the tip of my nose.
I wasn’t sure how to answer that question.
I ’d promised myself I’d never get involved with another man in the military; I’d been determined never again to be attracted to a younger man; I knew that revisiting the past was a bad, bad idea; and I sensed that Sebastian was a volatile mixture of intense emotions and unexamined anger at the past.
And yet, my reckless body sang every time he touched me.
“Yes, I think so,” I replied, my voice carefully neutral.
I pushed his hand away and sat up, ignoring his confused expression.
“Where are you going?”
“Just to get some water,” I said, without looking at him.
I felt his eyes on me as I walked into the bathroom, brutally aware that my forty-year old body couldn ’t match the exquisite perfection of his.
I pulled on the bathrobe and drank some water from the faucet. The bathroom mirror reflected my flushed face and tangled hair. I’d picked up my hairbrush to resolve one of the issues when I heard Sebastian, and turned to see him standing in the doorway behind me.
“Caro, what ’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” I said, too brightly. “I ’m fine.”
His eyes met mine in the mirror and I could see that he didn ’t believe me, but he didn’t challenge me either. Silently, he took the brush from my hands and slowly, carefully, brushed my hair until it hung in tidy waves down my back.
“You have beautiful hair, Caro. I ’m glad you kept it long.”
His tone was gentle, almost loving.
I shrugged.
“ Every now and then I decide to get it cut off; especially after I’ve been somewhere I haven’t been able to shower for a couple of weeks.”
“That would be a crime,” he said solemnly.
“You can talk!” I said, pointing my chin at the haze of golden hair that clung to his skull.
His lips twitched in a small smile.
“Believe me, babe, I’d grow it if I could. Maybe I should go to my CO and tell him my girlfriend wants me to…”
He stopped abruptly.
I sighed. “It’s okay: I keep forgetting which decade I’m in, too. It’s so strange.”
He nodded in relief.
“Yeah, this is so weird, I feel the same. It’s as if nothing’s changed but everything’s changed. It’s like being in some crazy time machine. I keep expecting your husband to be banging down the door.”
I winced.
“Fuck, sorry. I’m doing it again.”
I smiled, painfully.
“Oh well, I imagine you’ve had some experience with husbands banging on the door.”
“Don ’t, Caro.”
I stared at him for a fraction of a second , then pushed past him, back into the bedroom.
I couldn ’t believe he’d mentioned my ex-husband. Didn’t we already have enough painful memories between us? Apparently not.
I heard the faucet running, and he followed me, carrying a glass of water.
He handed it to me silently , and I took a small sip before placing it on the cabinet next to the bed.
“Thank you.”
He sat back on the bed, covering his lower half with the sheet.
“Caro, I know this is fucking weird but it ’s good, too, isn’t it? I mean, not everyone gets a second chance.”
Is that what this was, a second chance? But a second chance at what? A second chance to rip ourselves apart again?
“Today was fun,” I said, trying to think it through, “and tonight was… good, but the reality is: I’m based in New York and spend between three and six months of the year away from home. You’re a Marine and go wherever they send you. Presumably this next tour of Afghanistan will be six months or maybe longer? And then where, because let’s face it, Sebastian, the chances of you getting posted to the Corps’ Division of Public
Similar Books
