Page 82 of What's the time, Mr. Wolfe
It was the most honest I could be with him. His arms loosened just a fraction and he rested his chin on my shoulder.
“Thank you. That’s an honest answer, and I appreciate it.”
“Do you have to...?”
“Yes. Not just for me this time, but for all the boys. The ones who took their own lives. The ones who still want to take their lives. The ones that are so broken they are unlovable, their souls damaged, beyond repair. The ones who can’t rest until every single man in that home is dead. For them, yes, I do.”
“Where do you fit in there?” I asked.
He didn’t answer. He just sat holding me, getting wet from the damp grass with me on his lap, and facing the woods.
“No, Ruby, there is nothing scary out there. I’ve been to hell, nothing on earth could match that.”
We lay beside each other in his bed. We hadn’t fucked, just climbed in, and held each other until he fell asleep.
“Which one are you?” I whispered, stroking the hair from his forehead.
Sebastian was a complex character. I wasn’t sure where I stood in his life. It was still early days and there was a serious age gap. I didn’t care about the age, but I knew other people would comment. I was then reminded of the man who came to visit me, the driver who spoke about him as if he was a friend. I hadn’t seen him since. Sebastian had driven his own car the past week or so.
I watched his eyes move under his closed eyelids and knew he was dreaming. I wondered what about. He didn’t seem to be frightened of anything, unlike me. I had lists of fears. Some irrational, some not. A man like Sebastian would have been on page one, for sure. I couldn’t understand why I didn’t fear him. He exuded danger. Yet, I was deeply attracted to him.
I watched him for ages. He shifted to his back and threw one arm over the top of his head. His chest was exposed. I placed my hand over his heart and felt it beat steadily. His body was imperfectly perfect. His scars were deep inside. I wondered what had happened to him, not that it took a magician to work it out. He’d been in a home and abused. He’d killed one abuser and was about to do the same to another. Even when I said the words in my head, I still didn’tfeelanything about it. I shouldhave, I knew that. I wondered what that said about me.
Was I so screwed up that murder didn’t affect me? Or was it because it was justifiable? I imagined I’d do the same if I were in his shoes.
He mumbled, something incoherent and his brow frowned. I gently kissed his lips and he responded. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. He hadn’t opened his eyes, but I caught one word,need. He had said that he needed me, I wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t the kind of person thatneededanyone, I thought.
I was happiest, I guessed, when I was needed. Grandma had needed me for so many years, I’d willingly given whatever she required. I knew I’d do the same for him. This time, however, I was getting something back.
I needed him. I needed the calm and space to breath without thinking that he gave, whether it was intentional or not.
Feeling his breath on my skin was reassuring. It was also worrying. We’d got very close in a short space of time. He didn’tmess aroundhe’d told me. When he wanted something, he took it. It was our ages, I supposed, that had us think differently about that.
I watched the sun rise, and with it, his eyelids.
“Morning,” I said.
“You haven’t slept,” he replied, stretching, and moving away from me.
“How would you know?”
“Because I felt you.”
“You felt me?”
“Yeah. I felt you looking at me, your hand on my chest. I’m neverfullyasleep. My brain doesn’t shut my hearing completely off. A defence mechanism, I suppose.”
I shuffled over so I was lying on top of him. I rested my chin on my hand that I’d placed over his heart.
“I’m glad you felt me. And no, I’ve dozed, but that’s probably because I slept a lot yesterday. I need to meet Monica today, and then if Mike’s okay, I’ll go back into work tomorrow.”
“You do what you need to do. I have a meeting later, but I don’t want you on your own. I can’t cancel this, so Tony will drive you home and then bring you back here.”
“Who’s Tony? And I can stay at home on my own for a while. It’s okay. I have to go home at some point.”
“He’s the one who soaked you, remember?”
Ah, the mysterious driver that called him Seb.
