The Betrothed
for National Novel Writing Month
Day 11
Appetite reawakened, Darrick snatched the chicken leg out of Abby’s hand and took a bite. Satisfied, she turned to her own food and dug in, and for the next few minutes they ate in companionable silence. Darrick would have thought he would never have wanted to do anything but talk with her – the ease with which their conversation flowed astonished and delighted him, even if he spent almost the entire time feeling one step behind – but he found just her presence alone was almost as satisfying, when no words were necessary. For a few moments, they concentrated on filling the holes in their stomachs; the excitement and stress of the day had drained Darrick more than he had realized, and with night coming on, he realized just how little he had eaten in the last few hours. The rest of the crowd followed their lead, and the room echoed with the sounds of the feast and the hum of friendly banter. After a little while, once they had taken the edge off of their hunger, Abby began to give Darrick a tour of the various guests, going around the room and pointing them out one by one. It took a good few minutes; Atlantean families it turned out could be quite large, in order to ensure the survival of at least one male and female heir, and most Houses had several generations present at what Darrick was realizing was quite a significant social occasion. There also seemed to be an artistic streak running through the group, though in Abby’s point of view, ambition often seemed to outweigh talent in that area.
“ . . . that’s Matthew and Carolyn Sanders, their son Arthur, and his wife Joanna, who is the daughter of the Jordans I pointed out to you earlier. Matthew’s a classical musician, Carolyn’s an accountant. Arthur claims to be a writer, but if he’s ever published anything outside of his own webpage I don’t know about it. Next to them are Tristan and Brianna Morgan. They’re newlyweds, so you’ll never see one of them without the other. It’s really quite sickening.” She winked at him and clenched his hand a little tighter, then continued on. “Finally, sitting closest to us are the Connors, Owen and Jennifer, their son Cameron and daughter Elizabeth. Elizabeth is Patrick’s betrothed. She’s as horrible as he is, of course. I wish I knew which one to blame for that.” She rolled her eyes as Darrick chuckled, but the sound of silverware being tossed onto a plate beside them caught their attention.
“Abigail,” Patrick’s cold voice intruded from where he was seated down the table from his sister, “I would kindly ask you to exclude my intended from your mockery. No doubt your . . . unconventional partner is ignorant of basic social graces, but you have no such excuse.” His scowl deepened. “Not that that’s ever stopped you before.”
Darrick opened his mouth to defend himself, but Abby’s hand tightened on his once more, this time almost to the point of pain. He took the hint, and let her handle her brother.
“That’s true, Patrick,” she replied. “I haven’t practiced couching my insults in
socially-acceptable terms to the extent you have. No doubt you and your boring conventional future mate congratulate yourselves daily on just how well you can feel superior to anyone outside of your own little world.”
“I see that degenerate city you’ve called your home for the past couple of years has gotten to you. Not that you weren’t well on the way to corruption already.” Patrick shifted his eyes from Abby to Darrick, and his stare was enough to throw knives. “And I know who to blame for that.”
How can he blame me for anything? Darrick thought. We all just met today!
“Patty,” Abby said, and Patrick looked even more sour at the diminutive name, “I would kindly ask you to exclude my intended from your prejudice. Mother and Father are reasonable people, so I know you have no excuse.” She smirked. “Or would you rather I insult your intended again?”
Patrick huffed and turned away, feigning an interest in his parents’ conversation. Abby’s hand relaxed and she turned to face Darrick again.
“He hates to be called ‘Pat’ or ‘Patty’ or anything of the sort, so I try to use it at least once for every time he calls me ‘Abigail’. Now, where was I . . .”
“Wait up for a second,” Darrick cut in. “What exactly is your brother blaming me for?” Darrick felt lost, despite his mother’s instructions, thrown into this culture at the deep end and left to swim alone. No, not alone anymore. I have someone to stick with me and hold me up as I flail around. The thought was still new to him, and still wonderful.
“My brother doesn’t consider me particularly ladylike,” she said, grimacing, “certainly not in the grand Atlantean tradition. I actually left the bosom of our little community and went out into the wide, bad world, all on my own no less. And the gods only know what I’ve been doing the whole time. Of course it’s your fault, seeing as how I’m bonded to you, the outsider boy.” She laid her head on his shoulder and whispered into his ear. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Darrick said by instinct, though he still wasn’t sure what he was being thanked for. And didn’t really care all that much, considering the result, which he was more than happy to take. “So where did you go?”
“San Francisco. I wanted to be an artist, to accomplish something before I got married.” Darrick tensed. Is that how she sees being married to me? “Not because I thought that being married to you was the end of all that,” she hastened to reassure him, “but because I wanted to find out who I was by myself first. As much as I am by myself, anyway.”
“So how did that work out?” Darrick asked, glad for the opportunity to learn more about the girl who had captured his heart. Or been given it.
“It takes longer than two years to make it as an artist in the city, especially a city like San Francisco. Still, I was making a little bit of headway; I don’t think I was embarrassing myself too much, anyway. Admittedly, I thought I would have some time longer, but the bond knows what’s best. And it wasn’t wasted time by any means. I needed to see something of the world outside of the remnants of Atlantis.” She chuckled sardonically. “Though sometimes I wondered just which world I was seeing.”
“I’m sure there are all sorts of worlds to be seen in San Francisco,” Darrick agreed with amusement.
“My brother was right about one thing, though in such a roundabout way that I never have to admit it to him. In a way, I did leave because of you. I wanted to see your world, be a part of it, learn enough to relate better to you. That wasn’t my entire reason, but it was part of it.” She paused, feeling the weight of the admission. “The opportunity to live as a starving artist in a miniscule apartment with two gay roommates was purely a bonus.” They both laughed. “Okay, so I may have missed it by just a little. So tell me about your world. Tell me about the life of a normal non-Atlantean.”
Darrick opened his mouth, but was not sure what to say. He ran his hand through his hair as he searched for a place to begin.
“I’m not really sure what you want to hear,” he said slowly. “I was born, went to school, made honor roll, went to college. It’s all so normal I don’t know what to describe in detail.”
“What are you studying?”
“History.”
“And what do you want to do with that?” Abby prompted.
“Probably grad school,” Darrick said, a bit sheepishly. It didn’t feel like much of an answer to him.
“Nice to know you have such definite plans for the future.” Normally Darrick would have taken umbrage at such a statement – certainly, he had heard it enough from his parents – but Abby’s tone made it obvious that she meant nothing critical by it.
“I’m only a sophomore,” Darrick said, hoping he didn’t sound defensive. “Plenty of my friends still haven’t declared a major, or have changed theirs several times. I figured I still had plenty of time to make up my mind.” He sighed, and for the first time he started to think through the ramifications of the decision he had made. He didn’t come close to regretting it, but he realized that one choice, however right, would preclude others. “I guess I’m going to have to hurry that up a bit.”
“Why?” Abby’s eyes were innocently wide.
“Well, it . . . it just doesn’t seem responsible, playing the perpetual student when I’ve got a family.” Did that sound bad? Do I sound like some chauvinist from the fifties, or is that what Atlanteans expect?
“Oh, Darrick, you don’t have to worry about that,” Abby said, her voice reassuring. “I don’t want you to give up anything to have me, and I certainly don’t want to pull you away from anything you want to do. Don’t leave school on my account.”
“But I don’t want to ask you to work just to put me through who knows how many more years of school.” Abby’s grin widened.
“You don’t have to,” she said. “When I left for San Fran, my parents weren’t all that happy about it, but they were understanding, and they wanted me to be comfortable. They gave me a weekly allowance that was more than generous. I wanted to make my own way, though, so I just stuck it in the bank and let it accumulate. Darrick, I’ve got enough saved up to keep both of us for years, if we live modestly.”
“Years?” Darrick’s eyes widened. “Just how rich is your family?” Abby reddened.
“You outsiders really are direct, aren’t you? Another benefit of my two years in the city: I have some idea of how to answer that question. I always knew we were rich, of course, but I didn’t realize just how much until I got away from it a bit. Lets just say that, while we may not be Bill Gates rich, I’d say we’re at least movie star rich; and unlike most movie stars, we know what to do with our money. I don’t want for us to live on that forever; I want us to have our own life. But I don’t see anything wrong with using it to get us started.”
Darrick wasn’t sure how he felt about that idea; he was marrying Abby, but he still didn’t think he wanted much to do with anything else Atlantean. And that meant not relying on anything that could tie them to it.
“But we don’t have to talk about all that right now,” Abby said. “This is our Presentation night! Let’s leave the future to the future. We’re together. Right now, that’s all that matters.”
Darrick couldn’t agree more.
for National Novel Writing Month
Day 11
Appetite reawakened, Darrick snatched the chicken leg out of Abby’s hand and took a bite. Satisfied, she turned to her own food and dug in, and for the next few minutes they ate in companionable silence. Darrick would have thought he would never have wanted to do anything but talk with her – the ease with which their conversation flowed astonished and delighted him, even if he spent almost the entire time feeling one step behind – but he found just her presence alone was almost as satisfying, when no words were necessary. For a few moments, they concentrated on filling the holes in their stomachs; the excitement and stress of the day had drained Darrick more than he had realized, and with night coming on, he realized just how little he had eaten in the last few hours. The rest of the crowd followed their lead, and the room echoed with the sounds of the feast and the hum of friendly banter. After a little while, once they had taken the edge off of their hunger, Abby began to give Darrick a tour of the various guests, going around the room and pointing them out one by one. It took a good few minutes; Atlantean families it turned out could be quite large, in order to ensure the survival of at least one male and female heir, and most Houses had several generations present at what Darrick was realizing was quite a significant social occasion. There also seemed to be an artistic streak running through the group, though in Abby’s point of view, ambition often seemed to outweigh talent in that area.
“ . . . that’s Matthew and Carolyn Sanders, their son Arthur, and his wife Joanna, who is the daughter of the Jordans I pointed out to you earlier. Matthew’s a classical musician, Carolyn’s an accountant. Arthur claims to be a writer, but if he’s ever published anything outside of his own webpage I don’t know about it. Next to them are Tristan and Brianna Morgan. They’re newlyweds, so you’ll never see one of them without the other. It’s really quite sickening.” She winked at him and clenched his hand a little tighter, then continued on. “Finally, sitting closest to us are the Connors, Owen and Jennifer, their son Cameron and daughter Elizabeth. Elizabeth is Patrick’s betrothed. She’s as horrible as he is, of course. I wish I knew which one to blame for that.” She rolled her eyes as Darrick chuckled, but the sound of silverware being tossed onto a plate beside them caught their attention.
“Abigail,” Patrick’s cold voice intruded from where he was seated down the table from his sister, “I would kindly ask you to exclude my intended from your mockery. No doubt your . . . unconventional partner is ignorant of basic social graces, but you have no such excuse.” His scowl deepened. “Not that that’s ever stopped you before.”
Darrick opened his mouth to defend himself, but Abby’s hand tightened on his once more, this time almost to the point of pain. He took the hint, and let her handle her brother.
“That’s true, Patrick,” she replied. “I haven’t practiced couching my insults in
socially-acceptable terms to the extent you have. No doubt you and your boring conventional future mate congratulate yourselves daily on just how well you can feel superior to anyone outside of your own little world.”
“I see that degenerate city you’ve called your home for the past couple of years has gotten to you. Not that you weren’t well on the way to corruption already.” Patrick shifted his eyes from Abby to Darrick, and his stare was enough to throw knives. “And I know who to blame for that.”
How can he blame me for anything? Darrick thought. We all just met today!
“Patty,” Abby said, and Patrick looked even more sour at the diminutive name, “I would kindly ask you to exclude my intended from your prejudice. Mother and Father are reasonable people, so I know you have no excuse.” She smirked. “Or would you rather I insult your intended again?”
Patrick huffed and turned away, feigning an interest in his parents’ conversation. Abby’s hand relaxed and she turned to face Darrick again.
“He hates to be called ‘Pat’ or ‘Patty’ or anything of the sort, so I try to use it at least once for every time he calls me ‘Abigail’. Now, where was I . . .”
“Wait up for a second,” Darrick cut in. “What exactly is your brother blaming me for?” Darrick felt lost, despite his mother’s instructions, thrown into this culture at the deep end and left to swim alone. No, not alone anymore. I have someone to stick with me and hold me up as I flail around. The thought was still new to him, and still wonderful.
“My brother doesn’t consider me particularly ladylike,” she said, grimacing, “certainly not in the grand Atlantean tradition. I actually left the bosom of our little community and went out into the wide, bad world, all on my own no less. And the gods only know what I’ve been doing the whole time. Of course it’s your fault, seeing as how I’m bonded to you, the outsider boy.” She laid her head on his shoulder and whispered into his ear. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Darrick said by instinct, though he still wasn’t sure what he was being thanked for. And didn’t really care all that much, considering the result, which he was more than happy to take. “So where did you go?”
“San Francisco. I wanted to be an artist, to accomplish something before I got married.” Darrick tensed. Is that how she sees being married to me? “Not because I thought that being married to you was the end of all that,” she hastened to reassure him, “but because I wanted to find out who I was by myself first. As much as I am by myself, anyway.”
“So how did that work out?” Darrick asked, glad for the opportunity to learn more about the girl who had captured his heart. Or been given it.
“It takes longer than two years to make it as an artist in the city, especially a city like San Francisco. Still, I was making a little bit of headway; I don’t think I was embarrassing myself too much, anyway. Admittedly, I thought I would have some time longer, but the bond knows what’s best. And it wasn’t wasted time by any means. I needed to see something of the world outside of the remnants of Atlantis.” She chuckled sardonically. “Though sometimes I wondered just which world I was seeing.”
“I’m sure there are all sorts of worlds to be seen in San Francisco,” Darrick agreed with amusement.
“My brother was right about one thing, though in such a roundabout way that I never have to admit it to him. In a way, I did leave because of you. I wanted to see your world, be a part of it, learn enough to relate better to you. That wasn’t my entire reason, but it was part of it.” She paused, feeling the weight of the admission. “The opportunity to live as a starving artist in a miniscule apartment with two gay roommates was purely a bonus.” They both laughed. “Okay, so I may have missed it by just a little. So tell me about your world. Tell me about the life of a normal non-Atlantean.”
Darrick opened his mouth, but was not sure what to say. He ran his hand through his hair as he searched for a place to begin.
“I’m not really sure what you want to hear,” he said slowly. “I was born, went to school, made honor roll, went to college. It’s all so normal I don’t know what to describe in detail.”
“What are you studying?”
“History.”
“And what do you want to do with that?” Abby prompted.
“Probably grad school,” Darrick said, a bit sheepishly. It didn’t feel like much of an answer to him.
“Nice to know you have such definite plans for the future.” Normally Darrick would have taken umbrage at such a statement – certainly, he had heard it enough from his parents – but Abby’s tone made it obvious that she meant nothing critical by it.
“I’m only a sophomore,” Darrick said, hoping he didn’t sound defensive. “Plenty of my friends still haven’t declared a major, or have changed theirs several times. I figured I still had plenty of time to make up my mind.” He sighed, and for the first time he started to think through the ramifications of the decision he had made. He didn’t come close to regretting it, but he realized that one choice, however right, would preclude others. “I guess I’m going to have to hurry that up a bit.”
“Why?” Abby’s eyes were innocently wide.
“Well, it . . . it just doesn’t seem responsible, playing the perpetual student when I’ve got a family.” Did that sound bad? Do I sound like some chauvinist from the fifties, or is that what Atlanteans expect?
“Oh, Darrick, you don’t have to worry about that,” Abby said, her voice reassuring. “I don’t want you to give up anything to have me, and I certainly don’t want to pull you away from anything you want to do. Don’t leave school on my account.”
“But I don’t want to ask you to work just to put me through who knows how many more years of school.” Abby’s grin widened.
“You don’t have to,” she said. “When I left for San Fran, my parents weren’t all that happy about it, but they were understanding, and they wanted me to be comfortable. They gave me a weekly allowance that was more than generous. I wanted to make my own way, though, so I just stuck it in the bank and let it accumulate. Darrick, I’ve got enough saved up to keep both of us for years, if we live modestly.”
“Years?” Darrick’s eyes widened. “Just how rich is your family?” Abby reddened.
“You outsiders really are direct, aren’t you? Another benefit of my two years in the city: I have some idea of how to answer that question. I always knew we were rich, of course, but I didn’t realize just how much until I got away from it a bit. Lets just say that, while we may not be Bill Gates rich, I’d say we’re at least movie star rich; and unlike most movie stars, we know what to do with our money. I don’t want for us to live on that forever; I want us to have our own life. But I don’t see anything wrong with using it to get us started.”
Darrick wasn’t sure how he felt about that idea; he was marrying Abby, but he still didn’t think he wanted much to do with anything else Atlantean. And that meant not relying on anything that could tie them to it.
“But we don’t have to talk about all that right now,” Abby said. “This is our Presentation night! Let’s leave the future to the future. We’re together. Right now, that’s all that matters.”
Darrick couldn’t agree more.
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