I could tell he was nervous, so we took it slowly. I gave him my Yankees baseball cap, which he pulled down over his eyes, and he wore his old biker jacket, which hung loosely from his shoulders, emphasizing how thin he’d become.
I took his hand, and, with Sebastian leaning heavily on his walking stick, we made our way slowly along West Beech Street. Sebastian kept looking over his shoulder, checking the windows of buildings along the road, and I knew he was unconsciously looking for snipers. I didn’t hurry him, we went at his pace, but the feeling that flowed through me from being with him outdoors at last, was almost overwhelming.
“There’s a café over there, Sebastian. Why don’t we go have a coffee?”
“I don’t know, Caro… sitting outside? I wouldn’t feel… safe.”
“Sebastian, you know rationally that there’s nothing to worry about. Let’s just try it for a couple of minutes: if you really can’t handle it, we’ll leave.”
He twitched unhappily, but didn’t argue.
The waiter came towards us and Sebastian flinched away from him.
“I’ll have an espresso… Sebastian?”
His eyes were wide with fear, constantly flicking nervously about him.
“And a Bud Light,” I answered for him.
The waiter wandered away: he was used to a bit of crazy among his customers.
I couldn’t say that Sebastian truly relaxed, but he sipped his beer and began to look a fraction less anxious.
He seemed happier once we were moving again. I could tell he was tired, but I wanted him to see the ocean up close, and not just from the windows of our small home.
The boardwalk was busy, full of people strolling in the sunshine. A teenager on a skateboard swept past and my poor, wounded man trembled with terror at the sudden noise.
“It’s okay, tesoro. You’ll be okay.”
“Fuck, Caro,” he said, his face white with fear.
We carried on walking, Sebastian clinging onto my hand and trying to control his rapid breathing.
It hurt badly to see him so scared when he’d always been so strong, but I knew the only way to help him was to force him to face his fears. We’d face them together.
When we reached the end of the Boardwalk, we found an empty bench and sat looking at the ocean. He breathed in deeply, and I saw that it calmed him. The waves tumbled across the sand and the repeated, rhythmical motion soothed us both. A couple of kids were playing on body boards, shouting out happily. Sebastian leaned forward to watch them, his face alight with interest. The ocean had always been his place of refuge, somewhere his parents couldn’t touch him, and the beach had always had a special significance for us. I became determined that we’d walk here every day, because I believed it would help Sebastian to get stronger. And it would bring us together.
“The ocean always reminds me of you, tesoro. It’s the same color as your eyes today.”
He looked at me in surprise, then lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it.
“Caro.”
He breathed my name softly, like a prayer.
As we sat in the sunshine, a light breeze ruffling my hair, I felt life flowing back into his body. He closed his eyes, relaxing in the summer warmth, his face held up towards the light like a young plant that had been kept in the dark.
“Thank you for this, Caro,” he whispered.
I leaned against him and he wrapped his good arm around my shoulder, pulling me in.
“Ready to go home, tesoro?”
He nodded, and we stood up to walk back to our home.
I led us back by a different route to the bungalow, and we strolled past a café that I’d not seen before: it must have opened while we were living as hermits. Three men with black hair, olive skin and dark eyes, seemed to be arguing loudly. I wanted to take the long way around in case they reminded him of Afghanistan, but something about them intrigued Sebastian. He looked up, and I could tell he was listening to what they were saying. I realized they must be speaking a language he recognized, which could mean they were Afghans.