Caro is glowing. It hurts somewhere deep inside my chest because I can see now the difference in her. I’d stopped noticing—hadn’t realized she wasn’t happy—and that is un-fucking-forgivable. I won’t let shit like this happen again.
Marco is ecstatic that he’ll be getting time off school, until Caro points out that he’ll lose his place in Little League. I take him to one side and promise that we’ll do a load of surfing and all his friends will be jealous as shit.
Then I have to get him to promise that he won’t tell his mom I said ‘shit’. Little dude worked me for five bucks.
The schools aren’t very happy with us, but Caro talked the Principals into it somehow. I was left behind for that discussion. She says the male teachers get defensive around me, and the female teachers are too busy checking me out to make sensible decisions. Fuck’s sake.
We’ve got to pack light because there won’t be a lot of room on the boat. Shirley is in tears when Caro tells her that she can only take one Barbie doll with her. I promise her that I’ll buy her a Hawaii Barbie when we get there. I’ve no idea if there is such a thing, so Caro might have to figure out how to make a grass skirt and a lei for a doll. And then I start wondering how Caro would look in just a grass skirt and a lei, but because the kids are eating their supper, I have to shake that thought and take a cold shower instead.
It’s a long flight to San Diego. All the kids have done it before, but it doesn’t mean it gets any easier. Thank fuck for laptops and DVDs. We’re taking one with us on the boat, but that’s strictly for Caro’s use. No one is allowed to touch her laptop—that would be like another Marine touching your M16. That shit is just wrong.
Ches is waiting for us at the airport with his Suburban.
I’m shocked by how fat he’s become. It’s been nine months since I’ve seen him and if he wasn’t a guy, I’d swear the fat fucker was pregnant. Caro elbows me in the ribs, which means I must have been staring. But come on! I grew up with this guy—he was as fit as me. I mean yeah, I know that he has an office job and I work in a gym, but that’s no excuse. I’m going to have words with my best friend.
His wife Amy meets us at the front door and even manages to hug me without pulling a face. She’s never been a fan of mine, and she has her reasons. Well, two friends who won’t talk to her because of me. But that was a long time ago now. Women sure have long memories—or maybe the sex I had with two of her buddies was that memorable.
What? I’m a guy—that’s how we think.
Caro goes with Amy to get the kids situated, and I go with Ches to get take-out.
I can’t hold it back any longer.
“What’s with the beer gut, man?”
“Fuck you, Seb! You spend all your day at the gym. It’s hard to find time to work-out. You don’t know what it’s like.”
“I’m calling bullshit on that. I see plenty of guys who have families and office jobs. What’s really going on?”
He looks at me sideways then glances back to the road.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
That pisses me off.
“I see guys every day with their legs blown off. Yeah, they have great prosthetics, but the best equipment in the world isn’t as good as a real leg, and you’re not using yours. It’s just frustrating, man!”
Ches blows out a breath. “Just life, I guess. Kids are growing up. I’m in the same freakin’ job I was ten years ago; jeez, Seb, the same place where we bussed tables when we were 17. I just feel like life is passing me by. And look at you and Caro, doing all this crazy stuff. Amy has her friends, her job, her book club—she doesn’t need me. I just…”
His words trail off.
“I think you’re wrong,” I say seriously. “But maybe you need to think about what you want for you. Spend some time at the beach, go surfing. We always used to go there to figure things out.” He nods slowly. “And I’ll draw you up an exercise schedule, something to get you fine and fuckable, my friend.”
He gives me the finger and we both laugh.
Back at his home, we eat pizza and I can’t help smiling as Ches tries to force down some salad instead of a fourth slice. It’s a start.
I get the kids bathed and into bed, and then collapse onto the sofa with Caro curled up next to me.
Ches and Amy are filling the dishwasher, so I take the opportunity to slide my hands under Caro’s shirt, running my hands across her ribs and brushing the underside of her breasts.
“Sebastian,” she chides in a breathy voice before kissing the hell out of me.
Amy interrupts us. I knew she hated me.
“OMG, you guys! Don’t you ever stop? You’re like a couple of horny teenagers!”
Caro looks embarrassed, but I just grin at Amy and raise my eyebrows. I always did know how to piss her off.
We spend three days with Ches and Amy before we head to the Harbor Yacht Club to find our host family and the boat we’ll be sailing on.
The Falcon looks like something out of a pirate movie with two tall masts and a web of rigging, the sails stored for now.
It’s a beautiful, sleek boat, and I know from the research Caro did that she’s 74 feet and can sleep 12 people. I did a lot of sailing when I was a Marine, but never in anything this swanky. I can’t wait to get on board. The kids are just as excited and Caro’s eyes are shining with happiness.
Our host family come out to meet us. We’ve skyped with Ken and Ellen so we know what to expect. But all the same, I make sure that Ken keeps his eyes off of Caro. He seems cool, but you never know.
His teenage son, Dylan, is another story, with his eyes velcroed to Caro’s chest. When I catch him, my thousand-yard stare tells him that is un-fucking-acceptable—and he looks away.
But his enthusiasm is contagious. And soon we’re clambering all over the yacht, admiring when Ken tells us about it … her.
“She was originally built in Genoa in 1948,” says Ken.
I can’t help turning to grin at Caro. We had some good times there before we were married. She smirks at me and I have to look away before there’s an uprising below decks. Yeah, totally getting into a nautical mood.
Ken is oblivious, but Ellen is smiling at me and Caro. I like her already.
“Falcon was completely restored and rebuilt in the nineties,” Ken continues, “and converted to a twin screw gaff rigged schooner with six cabins—all with AC.”
The polished oak and mahogany gleams in the sunshine.
“Fuck me, she’s a beauty,” I say, still grinning at Caro.
She shakes her head at my language, but smiles back.
~CARO~
My man has a serious potty-mouth—the habit of ten years in the Marines that he could never break, although I’m not sure how hard he’s tried.
He’s so excited about this trip. I think it’ll be good for both of us. There was something about turning 50 that really got to me. I can’t even find the words to explain, but I suppose it’s the feeling that I’m truly in middle-age and the signs are obvious, not just the grays in my hair. Whereas Sebastian, he seems to get even more handsome with age, something I didn’t think was possible.
He has women falling all over him, but he barely notices, or if he does notice, he doesn’t do anything about it. I’ve never had to worry about him like that.
My beautiful boy.
I watch as his muscles ripple under his silky skin—the blue of the sky, the green of the sea in his expressive eyes; the sun forever fixed in his golden hair. The kindness and goodness that matches his beauty on the outside.
He turns to smile at me, his eyes asking me why I’m staring at him so intently. The answer? Because I know I’m loved. My skin will wrinkle and my hair will go gray, my body will bend with age—and I will be loved. In this life and in the next. I will be loved. Whatever the world throws at us, wherever the next adventure leads, I will be loved.
Sempre e per sempre.