Friday's Whims of the Time Traveler 38.1: 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-Four
Because of its influence on my later writing, I figured that this story, though incomplete, was worth sharing.
Caramel Kisses: Chapter Twenty-Four
by Belinda Roddie
We first met him at a gas station on the way to Shasta for a winter stay at a cabin. My play was now an Off-Broadway success, more than I or Hudd could have ever bargained for. Hudd was able to cheer me up if I was having a difficult day just by sending updates on the play’s process, and how he’d send me New York souvenirs during his stay. The decently sized paychecks did wonders for my mood as well, and I was able to rent out the cabin for a time in the snow, which Emma and I both hadn’t experienced in a very long time.
When we had gotten out the car to pump in the gas, we were close to the mountains and the temperatures were down enough to make me pull on gloves and an extra sweatshirt. The snow was light beneath our feet and mostly browned from the mud underneath the frost, and I could feel my own breath stinging my lips as I let out thick puffs of frosty air. Emma was tired from the drive and found my antics to be somewhat amusing, as she pretended to smoke an imaginary cigarette as the fog billowed from her mouth. I smiled but focused mostly on the pump; the sooner we could have the tank filled, the faster we could get to the cabin.
We went into the small food mart to get some snacks once I had yanked the pump out of the car and twisted the cap shut before the frost got in, and that’s when we saw him. He was standing by the candy bars, visibly looking like he was trying to decide which one would be better. He saw me staring at me and grinned sheepishly. I lifted a hand in greeting while Emma signed the receipt and placed a bottle of water in the hand that was still lowered at my side.
“Who’re you waving at?” she whispered to me, and then she saw him, too. He was tall and dark-haired, most likely with Italian blood like me due to his skin being much more browned than the usual man up in the cold. His dark, bushy eyebrows noticeably furrowed as he looked at Emma, and I saw the two exchange smiles and wave to each other as well, as if we were starting a very awkward friendship.
When he went back to looking at the candy, Emma startled me by walking up to him, brushing past my shoulder and leaving droplets of mist from outside on my sleeve. I instantly felt a bruise-like pain in my chest.
“May I suggest the Milky Way?” Emma was saying to him, standing beside him around the cheap delicacies of American cuisine. “It’s pretty much my favorite chocolate bar.”
“Well, it was either that or the peppermint patties,” he replied, his voice deep and rich, too rich, like cake too heavily laden with dark frosting. I suddenly got a bitter taste in my mouth. “But I think I’ll take your advice.”
He went to the counter to buy his candy, and Emma winked and gave a thumbs-up at me. While some of the ache subsided, I still felt this unquestionable jealousy. It was all very irrational – Emma was my wife, after all, and she wasn’t interested in men any more than being friends with her. Still, I felt the stereotypical husband emotions well up, and I began to fear that I’d become paranoid about the whole situation, that perhaps I’d start questioning her each time she came home late, asking where have you been, who were you with, why didn’t you invite me, for God’s sake, and thinking about paranoia made the ache grow sharper and I felt that unnatural fear grow more intense and I had to excuse myself to get some air in the cold.
Around the dirty, half-melted snow, I had never felt so warm. I loosened the collar of my heavy coat, let the frigid winds sink their teeth into my neck like I was in a horribly campy vampire flick. I returned to my car and saw that the windshield was frosting over, and I twisted the cap of my water bottle and used a good third of it to wash the iciness away. It seemed as if Emma was in the mart for a very long time, and as I turned my head to check, I could see her silhouette moving alongside his, and instantly I felt very, very alone.
Still, they were keeping their distance, and while they seemed very animated, they all seemed heavily focused on me. As soon as she was close enough, Emma rushed over to me and seized my arm, pulling me close to her as if I were her shield or bodyguard. He looked amused by this, but he also had an expression of subtle understanding.
“You shouldn’t have rushed out so fast, Adriana,” Emma said. “Robert’s from Shasta. He’s been giving me a lot of great spots to have our snow days.”
So that was his name. “Has he now?” I asked, and Robert grinned a bit too naturally and extended a large, brown hand.
“Robert Steinbeck’s the name,” he said. “Your wife is a very sweet girl. You’re lucky to have her.”
She told him? “Nice to meet you,” I replied, and when I took his hand I felt the rough spots in his palms and forced myself not to grimace. “I’m Adriana Reynard.”
“Emma told me that you’re spending a week or two up in my old town,” said Robert. “I’m just returning to it from a trip south. Looks like you’re going for what I was escaping from.”
Emma found this to be very amusing. I remained stone-faced and hoped that they would think it was from the cold. Emma was rattling on to me about what Robert did for a living, that he was a mechanic and that he knew a thing or two about dealing with icy slopes and did we need any chains for the car, because he had some, and on and on and on until I felt the urge to just drag Emma into the car and lock the doors and race off into the snowy haze. Robert appeared to take my seemingly apathetic expression easily, as if he, too, was aware of what was happening to me. In a half-assed attempt to feel better, I shot my gaze toward Robert’s hands. No wedding ring. Fuck.
“I gave Emma my phone number in case you need anything,” said Robert. “The landlines around my house tend to get knocked down a lot, so I rely a lot on my cell phone.”
“Super,” I felt myself forcefully uttering, before suddenly seizing Robert’s hand and shaking it in an attempt to conclude the conversation. “Well, it was very nice to meet you, Mister Steinbeck.”
“Maybe we’ll see you up at Shasta?” Emma asked, and for once, I cursed her natural sense of amicability and hospitality.
Robert smiled. “Who knows. Maybe we can meet up for some breakfast or something.”
Oh God please no. But both seemed up for it. And as Emma and I quietly walked to the car, I began to curse myself. I cursed myself for being jealous. I cursed myself for not being kind and friendly and thinking that Robert just wanted to be a friend because he knew about what Emma and I was relationship-wise and seemed very tolerant and god damn it why couldn’t I have been a man if I was going to think so much like one?
And as we got into the car, Emma gave me a look that pretty much echoed my inward sentiments, and without a word I told her my worries in my expression and she smirked and shook her head as if I were being childish or silly. She was trying to make me feel better, that I knew. And perhaps I was exaggerating because already we were lucky to have the support of a nice enough guy who was willing to help us out without the usual stare we received on a daily basis.
I was beginning to succumb to the typical worries of any married simpleton. But I didn’t like it one bit. I did not want to become a simpleton. I would not become a simpleton. I would not become a part of a romantic downfall.
Not on my watch.
We first met him at a gas station on the way to Shasta for a winter stay at a cabin. My play was now an Off-Broadway success, more than I or Hudd could have ever bargained for. Hudd was able to cheer me up if I was having a difficult day just by sending updates on the play’s process, and how he’d send me New York souvenirs during his stay. The decently sized paychecks did wonders for my mood as well, and I was able to rent out the cabin for a time in the snow, which Emma and I both hadn’t experienced in a very long time.
When we had gotten out the car to pump in the gas, we were close to the mountains and the temperatures were down enough to make me pull on gloves and an extra sweatshirt. The snow was light beneath our feet and mostly browned from the mud underneath the frost, and I could feel my own breath stinging my lips as I let out thick puffs of frosty air. Emma was tired from the drive and found my antics to be somewhat amusing, as she pretended to smoke an imaginary cigarette as the fog billowed from her mouth. I smiled but focused mostly on the pump; the sooner we could have the tank filled, the faster we could get to the cabin.
We went into the small food mart to get some snacks once I had yanked the pump out of the car and twisted the cap shut before the frost got in, and that’s when we saw him. He was standing by the candy bars, visibly looking like he was trying to decide which one would be better. He saw me staring at me and grinned sheepishly. I lifted a hand in greeting while Emma signed the receipt and placed a bottle of water in the hand that was still lowered at my side.
“Who’re you waving at?” she whispered to me, and then she saw him, too. He was tall and dark-haired, most likely with Italian blood like me due to his skin being much more browned than the usual man up in the cold. His dark, bushy eyebrows noticeably furrowed as he looked at Emma, and I saw the two exchange smiles and wave to each other as well, as if we were starting a very awkward friendship.
When he went back to looking at the candy, Emma startled me by walking up to him, brushing past my shoulder and leaving droplets of mist from outside on my sleeve. I instantly felt a bruise-like pain in my chest.
“May I suggest the Milky Way?” Emma was saying to him, standing beside him around the cheap delicacies of American cuisine. “It’s pretty much my favorite chocolate bar.”
“Well, it was either that or the peppermint patties,” he replied, his voice deep and rich, too rich, like cake too heavily laden with dark frosting. I suddenly got a bitter taste in my mouth. “But I think I’ll take your advice.”
He went to the counter to buy his candy, and Emma winked and gave a thumbs-up at me. While some of the ache subsided, I still felt this unquestionable jealousy. It was all very irrational – Emma was my wife, after all, and she wasn’t interested in men any more than being friends with her. Still, I felt the stereotypical husband emotions well up, and I began to fear that I’d become paranoid about the whole situation, that perhaps I’d start questioning her each time she came home late, asking where have you been, who were you with, why didn’t you invite me, for God’s sake, and thinking about paranoia made the ache grow sharper and I felt that unnatural fear grow more intense and I had to excuse myself to get some air in the cold.
Around the dirty, half-melted snow, I had never felt so warm. I loosened the collar of my heavy coat, let the frigid winds sink their teeth into my neck like I was in a horribly campy vampire flick. I returned to my car and saw that the windshield was frosting over, and I twisted the cap of my water bottle and used a good third of it to wash the iciness away. It seemed as if Emma was in the mart for a very long time, and as I turned my head to check, I could see her silhouette moving alongside his, and instantly I felt very, very alone.
Still, they were keeping their distance, and while they seemed very animated, they all seemed heavily focused on me. As soon as she was close enough, Emma rushed over to me and seized my arm, pulling me close to her as if I were her shield or bodyguard. He looked amused by this, but he also had an expression of subtle understanding.
“You shouldn’t have rushed out so fast, Adriana,” Emma said. “Robert’s from Shasta. He’s been giving me a lot of great spots to have our snow days.”
So that was his name. “Has he now?” I asked, and Robert grinned a bit too naturally and extended a large, brown hand.
“Robert Steinbeck’s the name,” he said. “Your wife is a very sweet girl. You’re lucky to have her.”
She told him? “Nice to meet you,” I replied, and when I took his hand I felt the rough spots in his palms and forced myself not to grimace. “I’m Adriana Reynard.”
“Emma told me that you’re spending a week or two up in my old town,” said Robert. “I’m just returning to it from a trip south. Looks like you’re going for what I was escaping from.”
Emma found this to be very amusing. I remained stone-faced and hoped that they would think it was from the cold. Emma was rattling on to me about what Robert did for a living, that he was a mechanic and that he knew a thing or two about dealing with icy slopes and did we need any chains for the car, because he had some, and on and on and on until I felt the urge to just drag Emma into the car and lock the doors and race off into the snowy haze. Robert appeared to take my seemingly apathetic expression easily, as if he, too, was aware of what was happening to me. In a half-assed attempt to feel better, I shot my gaze toward Robert’s hands. No wedding ring. Fuck.
“I gave Emma my phone number in case you need anything,” said Robert. “The landlines around my house tend to get knocked down a lot, so I rely a lot on my cell phone.”
“Super,” I felt myself forcefully uttering, before suddenly seizing Robert’s hand and shaking it in an attempt to conclude the conversation. “Well, it was very nice to meet you, Mister Steinbeck.”
“Maybe we’ll see you up at Shasta?” Emma asked, and for once, I cursed her natural sense of amicability and hospitality.
Robert smiled. “Who knows. Maybe we can meet up for some breakfast or something.”
Oh God please no. But both seemed up for it. And as Emma and I quietly walked to the car, I began to curse myself. I cursed myself for being jealous. I cursed myself for not being kind and friendly and thinking that Robert just wanted to be a friend because he knew about what Emma and I was relationship-wise and seemed very tolerant and god damn it why couldn’t I have been a man if I was going to think so much like one?
And as we got into the car, Emma gave me a look that pretty much echoed my inward sentiments, and without a word I told her my worries in my expression and she smirked and shook her head as if I were being childish or silly. She was trying to make me feel better, that I knew. And perhaps I was exaggerating because already we were lucky to have the support of a nice enough guy who was willing to help us out without the usual stare we received on a daily basis.
I was beginning to succumb to the typical worries of any married simpleton. But I didn’t like it one bit. I did not want to become a simpleton. I would not become a simpleton. I would not become a part of a romantic downfall.
Not on my watch.
The work you see here has not been edited nor altered since May 9th, 2010.
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