tried to settle down and type up my notes, but the yawning absence of his disapproving presence made me restless.
It was starting to get dark with stars appearing in the east. I dug a coat from the closet, pulled on some sneakers and headed out for a walk.
I took a circular route, wandering towards the park, when I realized that it might not be the most sensible place to be as darkness approached. I looked across and could see a man sitting on one of the benches, his sweatshirt hood pulled over his head.
I was alert but not overly worried: not yet. The quickest way home was to walk past him. I debated whether this was the smart thing to do and, in the end, decided that as he wasn’t looking at me, I’d risk the most direct route.
As I got closer I realized the silent figure was Sebastian. What was he doing out here by himself? I almost walked past: I really didn’t need another uncomfortable encounter with him. I had enough on my plate dealing with David’s petulance. But he looked so alone, that I decided to risk a quick word and make sure he was okay. I wondered if he’d had another fight with his father. I hoped it wasn’t because of me again. Or, rather, because of the surfing.
“Sebastian?”
His head jerked up and he looked directly at me before dropping his eyes to the ground.
I gasped. He had a bruise across one cheek, and his lower lip was split.
“Oh, my God! Are you alright?”
What a dumb question: any fool could see his wasn’t alright .
“What happened?”
He didn’t answer, but hunched his shoulders and carried on staring at the ground, as if the answer would spring from between the scraggy blades of grass.
Without any conscious decision, I raised my hand and lifted his head carefully.
He jerked his face away. “Don’t look at me,” he whispered.
“Did your father do this to you?”
He nodded, and a slow burning anger began to build in me.
“Sebastian, let me see. I want to make sure you’re not hurt too badly.”
“I’m okay,” he said in a hollow voice. “I’ve been hurt worse than this.”
The pain in his voice was more than I could bear.
I stroked his face and felt tears beneath my fingertips.
“Don’t cry, Sebastian. It’ll be okay.”
I didn’t feel any force behind my words; we both knew they were empty.
I walked around to stand in front of him. Finally he looked up and met my eyes.
“Come back to the house: I’ll fix you up and drive you home. Okay?”
My words seemed to sink in slowly. He stared for a moment longer, then stood up.
He walked as if dazed, in silence, unseeing. Twice I had to stop him before he plowed into the road at an intersection. His behavior was starting to get me really worried.
When we finally got back, the house was dark. I was intensely grateful for David’s continuing absence; I was certain he would have insisted on phoning Sebastian’s parents had he been there – and no way would anything good result from that.
I opened the door, switching on lights as I went and led him into the kitchen. I pulled out a chair and, after a moment’s hesitation, he sat down.
I had to ferret around several drawers before I could remember where I’d put the antiseptic cream. More urgently, I needed a cloth to fill with ice to try and take down some of the swelling. I smashed the ice tray down on the counter and saw Sebastian jump.
“Oh, sorry!” I said softly. He still didn’t speak.
Gently I placed the ice pack against his cheek and lifted his hand for him to hold it in place.
I pulled down the hood of his sweatshirt and an involuntary gasp escaped. Someone – Donald, I guessed – had hacked off chunks of Sebastian’s hair.
“Your father?”
He nodded, his eyes flicking to mine briefly, then away.
Fury coursed through me.
“Because of the surfing?”
He closed his eyes and nodded again.
“Because of me?” I said, my voice a whisper.
His eyes blinked open. “No, it would have happened anyway. I’d already planned to
It was starting to get dark with stars appearing in the east. I dug a coat from the closet, pulled on some sneakers and headed out for a walk.
I took a circular route, wandering towards the park, when I realized that it might not be the most sensible place to be as darkness approached. I looked across and could see a man sitting on one of the benches, his sweatshirt hood pulled over his head.
I was alert but not overly worried: not yet. The quickest way home was to walk past him. I debated whether this was the smart thing to do and, in the end, decided that as he wasn’t looking at me, I’d risk the most direct route.
As I got closer I realized the silent figure was Sebastian. What was he doing out here by himself? I almost walked past: I really didn’t need another uncomfortable encounter with him. I had enough on my plate dealing with David’s petulance. But he looked so alone, that I decided to risk a quick word and make sure he was okay. I wondered if he’d had another fight with his father. I hoped it wasn’t because of me again. Or, rather, because of the surfing.
“Sebastian?”
His head jerked up and he looked directly at me before dropping his eyes to the ground.
I gasped. He had a bruise across one cheek, and his lower lip was split.
“Oh, my God! Are you alright?”
What a dumb question: any fool could see his wasn’t alright .
“What happened?”
He didn’t answer, but hunched his shoulders and carried on staring at the ground, as if the answer would spring from between the scraggy blades of grass.
Without any conscious decision, I raised my hand and lifted his head carefully.
He jerked his face away. “Don’t look at me,” he whispered.
“Did your father do this to you?”
He nodded, and a slow burning anger began to build in me.
“Sebastian, let me see. I want to make sure you’re not hurt too badly.”
“I’m okay,” he said in a hollow voice. “I’ve been hurt worse than this.”
The pain in his voice was more than I could bear.
I stroked his face and felt tears beneath my fingertips.
“Don’t cry, Sebastian. It’ll be okay.”
I didn’t feel any force behind my words; we both knew they were empty.
I walked around to stand in front of him. Finally he looked up and met my eyes.
“Come back to the house: I’ll fix you up and drive you home. Okay?”
My words seemed to sink in slowly. He stared for a moment longer, then stood up.
He walked as if dazed, in silence, unseeing. Twice I had to stop him before he plowed into the road at an intersection. His behavior was starting to get me really worried.
When we finally got back, the house was dark. I was intensely grateful for David’s continuing absence; I was certain he would have insisted on phoning Sebastian’s parents had he been there – and no way would anything good result from that.
I opened the door, switching on lights as I went and led him into the kitchen. I pulled out a chair and, after a moment’s hesitation, he sat down.
I had to ferret around several drawers before I could remember where I’d put the antiseptic cream. More urgently, I needed a cloth to fill with ice to try and take down some of the swelling. I smashed the ice tray down on the counter and saw Sebastian jump.
“Oh, sorry!” I said softly. He still didn’t speak.
Gently I placed the ice pack against his cheek and lifted his hand for him to hold it in place.
I pulled down the hood of his sweatshirt and an involuntary gasp escaped. Someone – Donald, I guessed – had hacked off chunks of Sebastian’s hair.
“Your father?”
He nodded, his eyes flicking to mine briefly, then away.
Fury coursed through me.
“Because of the surfing?”
He closed his eyes and nodded again.
“Because of me?” I said, my voice a whisper.
His eyes blinked open. “No, it would have happened anyway. I’d already planned to
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