Friday's Whims of the Time Traveler 34.1: May 9th, 2010
"Caramel Kisses" is an unfinished novel I began to write back in 2009 and stopped working on in 2010. The two main characters - Adriana Maguire Reynard and Emma Burking - would ultimately be revised for my later completed novella, "The Liffey Is Half-Asleep," in 2011. Several elements of "Liffey" can be found in their original forms in "Caramel Kisses," such as the characters' names, the haiku scene, and Adriana's penchant for writing.
Because of its influence on my later writing, I figured that this story, though incomplete, was worth sharing.
Caramel Kisses: Chapter Twenty
by Belinda Roddie
We planned our wedding for May, six months after the night I had proposed to her. Emma had reminded me that she didn’t need a lavish ceremony, just a small, pretty wedding where her father could lead her down the aisle to a song other than “Here Comes the Bride.” And I was fine with that because Emma was beautiful enough for a small ceremony and we didn’t need anything else to futilely attempt to match such beauty.
I was on a high for a week after the proposal. I told Hudd the day after, while he was taking a break from directing my play at Orpheum and was visiting a shop close to where I was currently working in an archiving position. He had whooped and hollered in excitement, but the glint in his eyes as he did so implied that he had seen it coming all along. We celebrated by having a drink at a local bar, commentating on a Portuguese soccer game while catching up with each other.
“There’s something I want you do for me, Anthony, and it’s going to sound a little unorthodox,” I said, as Hudd polished off his beer and slid the glass to the bartender in a non-verbal request for another drink.
“Oh, nothing’s too unorthodox for me, kiddo. Why else do you think I decided to go into theater?”
“Well, it’ll be a commitment I hope you’re up for,” I replied. “I want you to be my best man.”
I got the typical protest, asking if he really deserved it, if there wasn’t someone else that could be the best man. I thought of my brother, but he was not a friend nor a cohort nor a partner of mine, and Hudd had been able to fit in all of those categories. Not only did he technically qualify, but in my eyes, he was truly the only good male friend I could see with me beside the minister. We toasted to my upcoming marriage and drank deeply, the spiced beer heating up our lips and prickling our nostrils.
An Episcopalian priest would marry Emma and me; no Catholic would come close to even approving this sort of arrangement. We had discussed the typical marriage steps at length, including the cake and flowers and the procession of the bridesmaids and all the fancy things I cared about but hadn’t lost much sleep over. Emma was sitting on the couch, taking a break from her usual baking to read a magazine on wedding gown tips while stroking a much bigger but still fretful Milo.
“So what will you be exactly wearing?” Emma asked me. “I mean, you’re going to be the groom, right?”
I nodded, then added, “I don’t think I could do this wearing anything else but a tuxedo?”
“What?”
“A tuxedo. C’mon, Emma, you know I can be comfortable in that.”
She didn’t put up a fight. Instead, she grinned and I felt a tease coming on, but Milo caught our attention by swiping at the magazine as a page floated in the midst of being turned. I sat down beside my new fiancé and cuddled with her, my knees still sore from the usual standing around sifting through cabinets. With our wedding, it would change soon. I’d have a better job, a better education, for Emma and for anyone else who would enter our lives.
On the exterior, things couldn’t be any better than they already were.
“I suppose you understand just what exactly you and Emma are getting into. Am I right in saying that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hmmm, good. You seem to be the type of girl who can handle this sort of, how can we say it…circumstance in your marriage.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I had gone to Corte Madera to receive Emma’s father’s blessing. We sat together in the large living room of his residence, surrounded by family portraits and paintings and coffee tables as well as the standard fireplace and mantel. I shuffled in my chair as Mr. Burking observed me, though the warmth in his eyes was similar to his daughter, that same warmth like chocolate caramel. She must have inherited it from him. I smiled at the very thought of sweetness being passed down through heritage.
“I want to let you know,” Mr. Burking said, leaning back in his chair with an audible creaking in the wooden backing, “that I am completely willing to allow you to be my daughter’s…husband?”
“Wife. Partner, if that’s more comfortable.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sure this is most likely news to you, sir. Emma hinted to me that –”
“Yes, yes. She didn’t tell me until after her birthday celebration in June.”
I looked fondly at Mr. Burking then, almost feeling bad for intruding on his and his daughter’s lives. He had been able to tolerate being kept in the dark about Emma’s interests for some time, and I admired him for still being able to support her. It seemed like he was willing to support me, so I reached out a hand for him to shake and figured, well, that would be that. He didn’t take it. He looked as if he had drifted into an invisible realm of contemplation.
“Perhaps I should also warn you,” he said, “of what she has said to me.”
I blinked. “Pardon?”
Mr. Burking smiled, but it read more of worry than amusement. “Just as Emma wasn’t open to me on some things, there may be some things she hasn’t been too open about to you.”
“If it’s about being able to function in society as a couple and be able to have a family,” I muttered, a bit painfully, “then I’m aware of it.”
“I see,” said Mr. Burking. “Insight on the matter.”
“No. Experience.” I paused to let the air between me and Mr. Burking calm down a bit, as it seemed choppy and energetic like the beginning of a temperamental wind. There was no hostility between us, but what I felt in the aura around us was shared anxiety, not a good combination. “Mr. Burking, do you think your daughter’s hesitant on marrying me?”
“I didn’t say that,” Mr. Burking argued. “I didn’t even mean to imply it. I’m just saying that Emma’s being rather cautious about the whole matter. I’m aware of how much she loves you, Adriana. But sometimes reality gets in the way of that love being allowed to play out.”
I understood that. Emma had dropped hints throughout the year we had been together, from the very first morning we spent together after the cataclysmic event the February before. I remembered the look in her eyes as the people passing in their pairs stared at us and made the typically snide comments I didn’t wish to recall. I remembered our argument over jobs and financial possibilities. I especially remembered our conversation about family. Emma was afraid. She was afraid that we wouldn’t be able to function as a married couple.
Her father and I sat quietly for a while, our fingers dancing around the buttons of our coats and the collars of our shirts. I suddenly felt a thin smile quivering on my lips at the idea that we certainly acted like a father and son-in-law together, regardless of which gender I truly was. Mr. Burking seemed to notice, too, and while there was no bellyaching laughter about the whole matter, we were able to grin and snicker and the temperature of the conversation seemed to drop significantly. We sighed in unison, two people who truly loved Emma.
“Is there anything you think I can do to ease her mind?” I asked, but Mr. Burking shook his head. He was still reclining back in his chair, almost balancing it on two of its curved legs.
“The best thing you can do right now,” he told me, nodding as he did so, “is carry out that wedding as planned.”
“But what if…”
“Yes, yes, what if something happens,” Mr. Burking finished my thought, but the way he said it was much more subdued and much nicer sounding, not at all like the question raging through my head and making the bristles of hair on the back of my neck stand on end. “If you’re that worried, I’m sure there’s something you can do. Just don’t outright confront her. We English folk have tried to do that for thousands of years, and look what that got us in terms of conquest.”
I laughed full out then because I understood the joke, and this time Mr. Burking reached out a hand for me to shake. I took it gratefully, and I knew that even the process of a marriage was enough to bring me closer to at least two men I wished to be an integral part of my life for the years to come.
Because of its influence on my later writing, I figured that this story, though incomplete, was worth sharing.
Caramel Kisses: Chapter Twenty
by Belinda Roddie
I was on a high for a week after the proposal. I told Hudd the day after, while he was taking a break from directing my play at Orpheum and was visiting a shop close to where I was currently working in an archiving position. He had whooped and hollered in excitement, but the glint in his eyes as he did so implied that he had seen it coming all along. We celebrated by having a drink at a local bar, commentating on a Portuguese soccer game while catching up with each other.
“There’s something I want you do for me, Anthony, and it’s going to sound a little unorthodox,” I said, as Hudd polished off his beer and slid the glass to the bartender in a non-verbal request for another drink.
“Oh, nothing’s too unorthodox for me, kiddo. Why else do you think I decided to go into theater?”
“Well, it’ll be a commitment I hope you’re up for,” I replied. “I want you to be my best man.”
I got the typical protest, asking if he really deserved it, if there wasn’t someone else that could be the best man. I thought of my brother, but he was not a friend nor a cohort nor a partner of mine, and Hudd had been able to fit in all of those categories. Not only did he technically qualify, but in my eyes, he was truly the only good male friend I could see with me beside the minister. We toasted to my upcoming marriage and drank deeply, the spiced beer heating up our lips and prickling our nostrils.
An Episcopalian priest would marry Emma and me; no Catholic would come close to even approving this sort of arrangement. We had discussed the typical marriage steps at length, including the cake and flowers and the procession of the bridesmaids and all the fancy things I cared about but hadn’t lost much sleep over. Emma was sitting on the couch, taking a break from her usual baking to read a magazine on wedding gown tips while stroking a much bigger but still fretful Milo.
“So what will you be exactly wearing?” Emma asked me. “I mean, you’re going to be the groom, right?”
I nodded, then added, “I don’t think I could do this wearing anything else but a tuxedo?”
“What?”
“A tuxedo. C’mon, Emma, you know I can be comfortable in that.”
She didn’t put up a fight. Instead, she grinned and I felt a tease coming on, but Milo caught our attention by swiping at the magazine as a page floated in the midst of being turned. I sat down beside my new fiancé and cuddled with her, my knees still sore from the usual standing around sifting through cabinets. With our wedding, it would change soon. I’d have a better job, a better education, for Emma and for anyone else who would enter our lives.
On the exterior, things couldn’t be any better than they already were.
“I suppose you understand just what exactly you and Emma are getting into. Am I right in saying that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hmmm, good. You seem to be the type of girl who can handle this sort of, how can we say it…circumstance in your marriage.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I had gone to Corte Madera to receive Emma’s father’s blessing. We sat together in the large living room of his residence, surrounded by family portraits and paintings and coffee tables as well as the standard fireplace and mantel. I shuffled in my chair as Mr. Burking observed me, though the warmth in his eyes was similar to his daughter, that same warmth like chocolate caramel. She must have inherited it from him. I smiled at the very thought of sweetness being passed down through heritage.
“I want to let you know,” Mr. Burking said, leaning back in his chair with an audible creaking in the wooden backing, “that I am completely willing to allow you to be my daughter’s…husband?”
“Wife. Partner, if that’s more comfortable.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sure this is most likely news to you, sir. Emma hinted to me that –”
“Yes, yes. She didn’t tell me until after her birthday celebration in June.”
I looked fondly at Mr. Burking then, almost feeling bad for intruding on his and his daughter’s lives. He had been able to tolerate being kept in the dark about Emma’s interests for some time, and I admired him for still being able to support her. It seemed like he was willing to support me, so I reached out a hand for him to shake and figured, well, that would be that. He didn’t take it. He looked as if he had drifted into an invisible realm of contemplation.
“Perhaps I should also warn you,” he said, “of what she has said to me.”
I blinked. “Pardon?”
Mr. Burking smiled, but it read more of worry than amusement. “Just as Emma wasn’t open to me on some things, there may be some things she hasn’t been too open about to you.”
“If it’s about being able to function in society as a couple and be able to have a family,” I muttered, a bit painfully, “then I’m aware of it.”
“I see,” said Mr. Burking. “Insight on the matter.”
“No. Experience.” I paused to let the air between me and Mr. Burking calm down a bit, as it seemed choppy and energetic like the beginning of a temperamental wind. There was no hostility between us, but what I felt in the aura around us was shared anxiety, not a good combination. “Mr. Burking, do you think your daughter’s hesitant on marrying me?”
“I didn’t say that,” Mr. Burking argued. “I didn’t even mean to imply it. I’m just saying that Emma’s being rather cautious about the whole matter. I’m aware of how much she loves you, Adriana. But sometimes reality gets in the way of that love being allowed to play out.”
I understood that. Emma had dropped hints throughout the year we had been together, from the very first morning we spent together after the cataclysmic event the February before. I remembered the look in her eyes as the people passing in their pairs stared at us and made the typically snide comments I didn’t wish to recall. I remembered our argument over jobs and financial possibilities. I especially remembered our conversation about family. Emma was afraid. She was afraid that we wouldn’t be able to function as a married couple.
Her father and I sat quietly for a while, our fingers dancing around the buttons of our coats and the collars of our shirts. I suddenly felt a thin smile quivering on my lips at the idea that we certainly acted like a father and son-in-law together, regardless of which gender I truly was. Mr. Burking seemed to notice, too, and while there was no bellyaching laughter about the whole matter, we were able to grin and snicker and the temperature of the conversation seemed to drop significantly. We sighed in unison, two people who truly loved Emma.
“Is there anything you think I can do to ease her mind?” I asked, but Mr. Burking shook his head. He was still reclining back in his chair, almost balancing it on two of its curved legs.
“The best thing you can do right now,” he told me, nodding as he did so, “is carry out that wedding as planned.”
“But what if…”
“Yes, yes, what if something happens,” Mr. Burking finished my thought, but the way he said it was much more subdued and much nicer sounding, not at all like the question raging through my head and making the bristles of hair on the back of my neck stand on end. “If you’re that worried, I’m sure there’s something you can do. Just don’t outright confront her. We English folk have tried to do that for thousands of years, and look what that got us in terms of conquest.”
I laughed full out then because I understood the joke, and this time Mr. Burking reached out a hand for me to shake. I took it gratefully, and I knew that even the process of a marriage was enough to bring me closer to at least two men I wished to be an integral part of my life for the years to come.
The work you see here has not been edited nor altered since May 9th, 2010.
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