Separating Riches

by Mairsile Leabhair

  “All right then. By virtue of the authority—”

  “May I say a word?” Norma asked, stepping forward.

  “Yes, ma’am, if you can make it quick, please,” the commissioner replied.

  Norma nodded and looked over at us, taking both our hands in hers. “Children, I want you to remember, especially after the euphoria wears off, that marriage is about love, trust, and understanding. It’s about accepting and listening to one another. You are merging your two lives into one, and will be responsible for each other. It’s not about being who you think your spouse wants you to be. It’s about being true to yourself, so that you can be true to your wife.”

  Norma looked at Melinda, but I knew her advice was for me also. I took it to heart.

  “Well said, Norma!” Mom shouted over the phone, and I laughed.

  Norma stepped back and I hugged her, tears welling up in my eyes. The commissioner handed me a tissue.

  “By virtue of the authority vested in me as deputy commissioner of civil marriages, for the city of San Francisco and the state of California, I am pleased to announce that you are spouses now. Love has bound you together, and may you defy anyone who comes between you. You may kiss your bride.”

  Melinda and I turned to each other, and as she so tenderly wiped a joyful tear from my eye, the commissioner threw confetti over us as our friends applauded and shouted “Congratulations.” We kissed, soft at first, but then hard and hungrily. She’s my wife!

  We hurried down the steps, hand in hand, stopping at the bottom to kiss again.

  “Oh, my God, we’re legally married!” I shouted.

  “Yep. You’re my old lady now. My ball and chain. My tax write off.”

  I pinched her on the butt. “Yes, I think I get the picture, thank you.”

  Charlotte, who had followed after us, handed me the cellphone.

  “Honey? Honey, can you hear me?” my mother asked, sticking her nose up to the phone.

  “Yes, Mom. But lean back please, I can’t see you,” I instructed.

  Mom leaned back. “Honey, I’m so happy for you both. It was a wonderful ceremony.”

  “Congratulations, you two,” my father said.

  I could see the tears in my mother’s eyes and I began to cry again. “Thanks. I just wish you both could have been here.”

  Melinda nuzzled the area just under my ear, and it made my pulse quicken.

  “I do too, honey,” Mom said. “But as Melinda suggested, I made notes for the formal wedding.”

  “Mom, I love you!” I laughed. Melinda nipped at my neck and I inhaled sharply. “Um, Mom. I need to go. I’ll call you later, okay?”

  “Of course, sweetheart. Your father and I send you and Melinda all our love.”

  “We love you both so much,” I replied.

  “Yeah, tell my new mother-in-law that I can’t wait to start driving her crazy,” Melinda kidded.

  “Honey, I heard that, and you can tell my new daughter-in-law that she’s too late,” Mom joked. At least I’m pretty sure it was a joke.

  “All right, you two, I’m hanging up now,” I said. “Love you, Mom.”

  Laughing, Mom replied, “Love you, too, honey.”

  Rainbow Honeymoon — Melinda Blackstone-Livingston and Chris Blackstone-Livingston

  I was tempted to put off our reason for coming to San Francisco to begin with and fly my bride to Switzerland for our honeymoon. A temptation that I decided to ignore for now. As much as I wanted to be selfish, I remembered that I had responsibilities now, to my wife. My wife. The two most magical words I have ever said.

  “She’s my wife!” I shouted to every person we walked past.

  We stopped just a little ways from the steps to wait on the others to catch up. Chris wrapped her arms around my midsection and laid her head on my shoulder. I could feel her heart beating against my chest, and my heart skipped a beat, and then our hearts beat as one. The world stopped spinning on its axis, and the air stood still. All so that I could feel my bride meld into me. So that I could feel her loving me from the inside out. It was miraculous. No, it was so much more than that, but I didn’t know the words to describe it. Love was indescribable.

  “Chris, what do you want to do next?” I asked, not sure how to proceed with everything else we had going on.

  “Why don’t we all go get something to eat, and then, if I can keep from ravishing you on the restaurant table, maybe we could find a hotel room and consummate our marriage.”

  “Oh, baby. Absolutely. And to save time, we’ll dine at the hotel.”

  “I love the way you think, sweetheart,” Chris said.

  “All right then. If you’ll tell the others, I’ll make the arrangements. Ask everyone to meet us back at the SUV, and we’ll go there together.”

  Chris kissed me on the cheek and walked back up the steps. I jumped on the phone and called my father. I could have called the hotel myself, but since one call from him would take care of everything I needed, I decided to let him do my leg work for me. My only concern was how mad he would be when I told him why I needed this favor. My father, a strong, stubborn businessman who only understood money, and how to make more of it, would be angry. Not because he had missed the wedding, but because he wouldn’t be able to use it to make more money. I took a deep breath, promising myself that I would stay calm no matter how mad he got, and clicked on his number.

  “Hey, Father. It’s Blackie, and I need a favor. What? No, I’m not drunk and I’m not in jail. I just got married, and—”

  “You? Married? Who in the hell did you marry and how much did you pay him?” he asked condescendingly.

  One, two, three… “I married Chris today, Father, and I was hoping you’d call your hotel, the Blackstone Hotel here in San Francisco, and arrange a wedding feast for my wife and our guests? Oh and we’d like to honeymoon in the presidential suite, if you can swing that, too?”

  “Of course I can swing that, but I’m not going to.”

  “Why the fuck not, Father?” I lasted all of two minutes, a new record for me.

  “You didn’t bother to invite your mother and me to the wedding, why should I bother to help you now?”

  “It was a spur of the moment decision. You probably haven’t heard yet, but the Supreme Court ruled on the marriage equality case and now it’s legal for me to marry my sweetheart.”

  “Yes, I am aware, but I never thought that you’d rush out and get married," he said, contemptuously.

  “If it’s any consolation, Chris’ parents weren’t there either. Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call you, but we plan to have a formal wedding later, and you and mother will definitely be invited.”

  “Well,” he sighed, “if I’m not too busy, I’ll try to make it.”

  My father didn’t know this, but his guilt trip never worked on me. I had to smother a laugh before I played my last card, which was to use the same ploy.

  “Father, regardless of whether you help me or not, Chris and I would very much like for Mother and you to join us at our wedding dinner. There’s a three-star restaurant right across the street from City Hall, and—”

  “No. You know my sensitive stomach can’t handle a second-rate restaurant,” he snarked. “I’ll make some calls and we’ll go to my hotel,” he said like it had been his idea all along. “Give me an hour and we’ll meet you there.”

  “Thanks, Father. I appreciate you doing this for us.”

  “Well… all right. I’ll see you in a little bit,” he said, and hung up.

  Excellent! Chris and I will stay overnight in the rainbow city by the bay, and celebrate our love for each other. I wonder if she’ll agree to christening the living room, bathroom, reading room and dining room of the hotel suite.

  Wedding Dinner — Chris Blackstone-Livingston, Melinda Blackstone-Livingston, Robert & Elizabeth Blackstone, Norma Shelby, George Kirk, and Staff

  We were led into a grandiose, oblong ballroom, large enough to accommodate more than five hundred people. There w
as a large round table on the left side of the room, beside several buffet tables, lined up, four in a row. The dining table was the prettiest that I had ever seen with blue and white silk tablecloths, royal blue satin napkins, silver utensils, silver plates, and crystal wine glasses. In the center of the table was an ice sculpture with two women kissing. As George would say, “Divine.”

  On the opposite side of the room was a dance floor with a mirror ball sparkling overhead. Against the wall was a large stage with huge speakers and band instruments ready to play. There was an open bar along the wall down from the stage. How on earth did they pull all this together so fast?

  The food was vast and delicious. Each table had an unbelievable entrée that I knew from mother’s fundraising dinners were incredibly expensive. One table had red meat like Kobe beef from Japan and bone-in American Wagyu ribeye steaks, another table had Red King Crab, Coffin Bay King Oysters from Australia and King Salmon from Alaska. The third buffet table had butternut squash lasagna, roast aubergine with goat's cheese and toasted flatbread, La Bonnotte potatoes, Almas Caviar, and Kopi Luwak coffee. But it was when I saw the dessert table with the Godiva chocolate raspberry truffle ice cream that I truly began to salivate.

  I remembered when I was a kid that my mother would let me have some truffles while she prepared for her fundraiser dinners. Growing up in Collierville, Tennessee, before my father made his millions, we ate what every other hard-working family ate, grocery store food. And after we became rich, Mother still insisted on normal foods on porcelain plates unless it was a holiday, or we had guests. Then the expensive foods that I couldn’t pronounce were served on our expensive dinnerware.

  Melinda’s parents entered the room fashionably late and fashionably dressed. I looked down at my blue jeans and wished that I could sneak out and go shopping. Melinda and I walked over to greet them, and Elizabeth hugged me as Robert shook Melinda’s hand. Every time I saw Melinda with her father, I felt sorry for her. They were so formal, so divided that it was hard for me to see the love between them. I knew Robert loved his daughter, he just didn’t know how to show it, which left him looking cold and aloof.

  “I understand that you married my daughter today,” he said, shaking my hand with a firm grip.

  Always on the defensive with him, I wondered if he was baiting me. I fretted at how easily I allowed him to intimidate me.

  “Yes, isn’t it wonderful?”

  “Indeed. Melinda,” he said, quickly letting my hand go, and looking at his daughter. “Did you have our lawyer look at the prenup before you signed it?”

  “Huh? No, Father. There was no prenup,” Melinda said.

  I took a step back, knowing that the first argument of the evening was about to begin.

  “This is unacceptable,” he scoffed. “I’ll have my attorney draw up an ironclad post-nuptial agreement and have it sent to you first thing in the morning.”

  I watched as Melinda’s face flushed red with anger, and her hands balled up into fists. This is not going to end well.

  “And I’ll have my pen ready to sign it,” I said pompously. “At the same time, however, my father will have his attorney draw up an ironclad postnup, and I’m sure Melinda will be happy to sign it as well.” I’ve never liked confrontations, in fact I loathed them. But Mr. Blackstone was a forceful man and the only way to speak his language was to talk money.

  “Damn straight I’ll sign it,” Melinda said, never taking her eyes off her father’s granite face. “But I won’t sign yours, Father. Chris is my wife now. For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer. Nothing you do will infringe on my love for her.”

  “And you’re prepared to lose everything for her?” he asked.

  “Yes. I’ve done it before, and I can do it again,” Melinda said proudly. “I know now that the most important thing in my life is the love we have for one another. Everything else, including money, will always be secondary to that love.”

  He shook his head. I could tell that he didn’t understand what Melinda had so beautifully said, and that he wasn’t ready to let it go.

  “Robert,” Elizabeth said, touching his arm lightly, “remember when we wanted to get married and my father said no?”

  “Elizabeth, it’s not the same thing,” Robert said.

  “It’s exactly the same thing, dear. He was afraid, just as you are now. But you loved me enough to fight for me. Remember? You were even willing to walk away from it all, just as our daughter is willing to do now.”

  Robert averted his stare, and then looked over at his wife. He shook his head again, searching for a rebuttal. Elizabeth’s eyes were pleading with him, and finally he nodded.

  “She will have to legally take your last name, just as I took your mother’s name.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said, looking at Melinda to explain.

  “Mother was an only child, and like me, the last in line to inherit the empire. Her father would not let her marry him unless he accepted the Blackstone family name. He had it legally changed.”

  “Yes, and I also agreed to sign the prenuptial,” he said, crossing his arms.

  “I’m so sorry, Chris. I probably should have told you about that before we got married, but it was the furthest thing from my mind at that moment,” Melinda said, turning to face me. “It’s the only way for my family name to be carried on, but I’m not asking you to change your last name. I’m asking you to love me in spite of it.”

  “Damn it, Melinda!” Robert shouted.

  This was so unfair. I had no time to think, to come up with the right answer that would satisfy everyone. I had my own parents to think of. Hell, I had myself to think of. I know it's traditional for the wife to take the husband’s last name, but was it typical for the wife to take her wife’s last name? Who’s to say which name that will be? I guess it would be decided by the both of them. But what if they both want to keep their family name?

  “I am also an only child and have a legacy to carry on. I will happily take your last name, darling…”

  “Thank God,” Robert sighed.

  “But?” Melinda knew I had more to say.

  “But I will also keep my parents’ name, and any children that I bear will have a hyphenated last name, combining both families.”

  I could see Robert’s face turn red and his lips disappear, but just as he was about to release the fury, Elizabeth intervened.

  “And whose last name will go first in your hyphenated marriage?” she asked without contempt.

  “Melinda’s,” I said.

  “Chris’ name,” Melinda stated at the same time.

  I looked at my handsome, strong-willed, beautiful wife, and prideful tears welled up inside. I wanted her name to go first and not because her father was demanding it. In my prepubescent years, I dreamed of my wedding day, and of marrying my true love and taking her name. If Robert had left it alone, I would have gladly taken my wife’s name, but he tarnished the moment, and now I will stubbornly cleave to my right to keep my maiden name.

  “Melinda, I’m okay with your name going first. I like the sound of Blackstone-Livingston, it has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

  “Sure, but are you really all right with it?” she asked.

  “Yes, sweetheart. I am,” I said, pulling her closer so that I could kiss her. My eyes moved from hers, down to her lips, and I kissed her lovingly, possessively, demandingly. The heat radiating from her lips made the heat between my thighs sizzle, and I shifted to relieve the pressure. God, I need you so bad.

  Robert cleared his throat and we reluctantly separated.

  “So, do we have a consensus then?” he asked.

  “We do indeed, Father. Now can we please go eat? I’d like to get this honeymoon started already,” Melinda said, and I could feel her relax, even as her body responded to my touch. I love the way her body speaks to me.

  Unfortunately, we didn’t get far before the next argument sprung up.

  “Charles?” Robert noticed Charles sco
oting the chair in for Norma.

  Wedding Dinner — Melinda Blackstone-Livingston, Chris Blackstone-Livingston, Robert & Elizabeth Blackstone, Norma Shelby, George Kirk, and Staff

  What’s that old saying? Make a deal with the devil and you wake up in hell. Welcome to my hell. When will I learn that asking my father for a favor always comes with a price? I wish I could get Chris alone to find out if he ruined this perfect day for her. I know he did for me. Why couldn’t he have waited until next week to throw his little tantrum about the prenup? We were already married, so why bring it up now? Simple answer, he had to be in control, even of my marriage. Well, I’m not going to let him scare Chris off like he did my first fiancée. I admit I was drunk when I proposed to her, and relieved when she left, but it should have been me who called it off, not my father.

  Now he’s after Charles. Poor, innocent Charles, who did me a huge favor that allowed Norma to keep her dignity, something I regret was even necessary. But unlike my father, I will not allow Charles to be put through hell because of that favor. Damn it, this was supposed to be a celebration.

  “Charles, what on earth are you doing here?” my father asked.

  Charles stood as if he were at attention. “My apologies, sir.”

  “Father,” I said, stepping in front of Charles. “Charles is here as Norma’s date, and my guest. He is not on duty tonight.”

  “Of course, Melinda,” Mother interceded. “He is welcome. It is your wedding dinner after all.”

  “Good. Then can we get back to it, please?” Not waiting for an answer, I grabbed Chris’ hand and led her over to the buffet table. I had seen her eyeing the truffles earlier, so I scooped up one of the ice cream balls and put it to her lips. The slow, sensual way she wrapped her lips around it, staring softly up at me with her celadon green eyes, left me breathless. I watched, panting, as her tongue moved the ice cream inside her mouth until it melted enough that she could swallow what remained. God, that was incredibly sexy.

  “You know, if you’re not very hungry,” I gasped, “we can skip dinner and—”