The Education of Sebastian

It was true: earlier today, while I was pacing around the house, I happened to glance down at my hand and saw the rings – I mean really saw them, and everything they stood for. I slipped off my engagement ring, three small diamonds in a channel setting, and then took off the plain, gold wedding band. I held them in my hand, wondering what to do with them. I considered leaving them on the kitchen table, or on the cabinet next to David’s side of the bed, but in the end, I dropped them into my change purse.

My hand felt so light without my wedding rings, it was as if it could float away, but Sebastian held my left hand to his cheek and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“You’re really leaving him,” he said and I wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question.

“Yes. You didn’t think I would?”

He looked ashamed. “I did and I didn’t. I kept hoping but… I knew how much you’d be giving up. And… and I knew I couldn’t offer you anything…”

I held up my hand to stop him.

“That’s not true, Sebastian. You’ve already given me so much – you just don’t realize it.”

He shook his head impatiently. “Don’t try to make me feel better because…”

I interrupted him again. “I’m not! You’ve given me back my self-esteem and you’ve given me hope for the future. You’ve given me love. You’ve given me yourself. There’s nothing else I want.”

He reached across the table and held his hand against my face. I leaned into him and closed my eyes.

“I love you,” he said.

The waiter interrupted us with a polite cough, a smile and a wink at Sebastian who grinned back.

Sebastian pointblank refused to order antipasti and I couldn’t tell if it was because he was anxious about the cost or because he wanted to get back to the hotel as quickly as possible. Either way, I couldn’t persuade him to change his mind so I had to abandon my thoughts of caponata and ordered the couscous for secondi with half a carafe of the house red.

I didn’t mind: he wasn’t the only one who was thinking about a king-size hotel bed with crisp, white sheets and a double shower. Hmm, sheets I wasn’t going to have to wash: what a treat. Hmm, soapy, wet Sebastian in a double shower. Wait! Wasn’t there a large bath, too, or did I just dream that? Damn! I couldn’t remember. That was really going to bug me.

“What’s the matter? You look kinda pissed,” he said worriedly. “I don’t mind if you have a starter.”

I looked up, confused, then I smiled at him.

“No, that’s fine: I was just trying to remember whether or not there was a bath in the room.”

“That’s what you were thinking about?”

For a second he looked slightly shocked then a wicked grin lit up his face.

“Cool!”

I was distracted momentarily when I caught sight of someone turning away from the window, a glimpse of long blonde hair…

“What were you thinking of doing if there is a bath?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Well, I thought I’d start with getting really dirty… and then getting really clean.”

He swallowed and blinked several times. “How dirty?”

Now he had me on the back foot because I really didn’t know. David was nothing if not traditional. It was only over the last few weeks with Sebastian that I’d begun to explore the possibilities of pleasure.

I looked directly at him. “Let’s find out together.”

His answering smile was glorious.

The waiter arrived with our half carafe and poured a glass for each of us. I could see Sebastian was taken aback and then I remembered his age. How ridiculous that I could forget it, given the unusual circumstances of our relationship. Clearly the waiter was quite prepared to believe that Sebastian was over 21 – he hadn’t even given us a second glance. It made me feel – hopeful.

Sebastian picked up his wineglass and ran his finger around the rim. For a second I imagined him dressed in a black tux and white shirt, sitting in a private box at La Scala. I picked up my glass and angled it towards him.

“Salute!”

He smiled and clinked his glass against mine, “To us.”

A much better toast.

I leaned across the table towards him and whispered conspiratorially, “Of course, you’re too young to drink that legally.”

He smiled and took a long sip.

“I’m too young to do a lot of things,” he said, then dipped his finger into his wine and held it towards me.

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