He even refused to talk about getting married or anything that involved planning for our future.
“I’m not going to let you marry a useless, fucking cripple,” he roared, when I’d been foolish enough to press the subject. “If I can’t even walk down the fucking aisle without a fucking stick…”
I’d bit back my angry retort that there wouldn’t be an aisle at City Hall, and left him alone to stew in his own black anger.
My own hopes and dreams drifted further away.
In silence, I bent down and started picking up the books that had tumbled down around him – the ones out of his reach. He watched me sullenly for a moment, then reached out to collect the volumes nearest to him. As he picked up my copy of ‘Lolita’ by its cover, an envelope fell out, fluttering to the ground. I knew at once what it was and leaned over to pick it up; Sebastian was faster.
“What’s this?” he said, his voice puzzled. “It’s got my name on it.”
He looked up at me. “The date on it… that’s the day we first…”
“Yes, I know,” I said, quietly.
The small envelope did indeed have Sebastian’s name scrawled across one corner in my untidy handwriting. The date was ten years ago: the day I’d found him alone in the park, bruised and bloodied after yet another fight with his father. The bastard had hit him several times and then hacked off chunks of Sebastian’s long, surfer hair. I’d taken him to my house, patched him up, and shaved the rest of his hair into an elegant buzz cut, trying to mask the evidence of his father’s assault. It was also the night we’d first made love.
“What’s in it, Caro?” he said, fingering the small, paper package.
It was the only time he’d shown a spark of interest in anything in weeks.
I shrugged. “Open it.”
He propped himself up against the couch then heaved himself up so he was leaning against the cushions. He fumbled, trying to open the sealed envelope, the motor skills of his left hand still limited.
He was probably expecting to find some sort of letter inside, but he was wrong.
A lock of long, blond hair fell out.
I saw the shock of recognition on his face.
“This is mine – my hair… You kept it – all these years?”
“Yes, tesoro. It was all I had of you.”
He closed his eyes, holding the lock in his hand.
“Caro… I don’t understand – why do you love me?”
“Just because… because the sky is blue and the sea is green.”
And then he started to cry. He fisted his hands over his eyes and sobbed into my arms. And, at last, I could hold him. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tightly, willing the darkness away, trying to heal him with my body, with my touch.
“I love you, Sebastian, please don’t push me away. I love you.”
“Oh God, Caro. I just don’t know what I’m doing any more; I’m so fucked up – I feel like I can’t fucking breathe. Don’t give up on me, Caro. Please don’t give up on me. I need you, baby. I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”
I could forgive anything now that he’d let me touch him.
I held him for an hour, just stroking his hair, as he rested his head in my lap, my fingers running over his rough beard. I realized he’d taken one small step towards me, towards living again – I needed him to take another.
“It’s time to go out now, Sebastian,” I said, softly.
He closed his eyes and swallowed.
“I don’t know if I can do that, Caro.”
“You don’t have to do this by yourself, Sebastian. We go together. Come on, tesoro. Together.”