“Sebastian, I…”
“I really want to hear this, Caro. I really want to hear how hard you tried to find me,” he jeered. “You knew my fucking father was forcing me to enlist because of you, but you didn’t even bother to make a few fucking phone calls. Three years I waited for you, Caro. Three fucking years, while you were off building your career and having a great life traveling all over the world. So yeah, I fucked some women who deserved it, because I’d already been fucked over once and I wasn’t going to let it happen again.”
I felt sick. All that hatred and anger pouring out of him.
“It wasn’t like that, Sebastian. Just listen to me for a moment! Let me explain, I…”
“Go tell it to the Marines, Caro,” he sneered, “because I’m not listening.”
I needed to get some space from him: the bathroom seemed like it could be a place of refuge until he’d calmed down. His anger was scaring me and I didn’t want to say anything that I’d regret later, although it was clear he wasn’t having the same reservations.
I sat on the edge of the bed and reached for my T-shirt.
“Where are you going?” he shouted. “Running away again? Yeah, well, it’s what you do best, isnnt st it? Run away. Fuck that! I’ll save you the trouble.”
He leapt out of bed, pulled on his jeans, thrust his bare feet into his boots and scooped up his T-shirt and jacket.
And then he walked out.
A moment later I heard the throaty roar of his motorcycle.
I pulled the sheet around me tightly, wondering what the hell had just happened. It was hard to believe that the man who’d made such sweet love to me could talk to me like that. Or rather, yell at me like that.
So much anger – at me.
It seemed clear now that the gentle side he’d shown had simply been a mask to lure me in, a mask that hid his true feelings.
But he’d gone and I had no idea if he was coming back. Well, fuck him! He wasn’t the only one who’d suffered; he wasn’t the only one who’d had to struggle. Oh sure, my life had been so easy: I’d cleaned other people’s toilets for nearly three years before my writing earned me enough to give it up. How dare he speak to me like that!
I jumped out of bed and whirled around the room shoving everything into his small overnight bag. I knew his phone and passport were in his jacket, so he hadn’t left anything that he needed. Not even me, said the sad, little voice in my head.
I thought through my options: I could book a cab to take me into Genoa, and from there, take a flight to Geneva. Then it was back to Plan A: wait for my permits to come through for Leatherneck – assuming Sebastian didn’t try to screw that up again, although the odds didn’t look good, given his current rage – do my job and get on with my life. And then I’d write off this episode to experience. Or something.
But it hurt: it really hurt. Just as I’d begun to trust him and let him back into my life…
And then I wondered if he’d be back after he cooled off. I really didn’t want to face very-angry-and-scary Sebastian again tonight. But if I wedged the chair under the door, I wouldn’t be the least surprised if he’d just decide to kick it in. Not that we’d be welcome staying at Casa Giovina after tonight’s stunt anyway, but I didn’t want to add a broken door to our troubles.
In the end, I pulled on my T-shirt and panties and tried to get some sleep. After thrashing around for several hours and replaying the whole horrible scene over and over, I finally lapsed into unconsciousness about an hour before dawn.
My alarm pulled me awake at 7 am and I immediately looked over to the other side of the bed: it was cold and empty – like me.