The wedding was a quiet affair with only twelve guests in a Georgian Register Office. Once the ceremony was over, the certificate signed, and tissues passed around, the party moved into the walled garden. Emily wore an ivory dress with her hair pulled back, ringlets gently falling around her face.
“You look stunning,” Antony said as he stroked her bump.
They were standing alone posing for pictures under the draping trees.
“You don’t look bad yourself,” she said with a tease in her voice, “for someone that wanted to wear his jeans.”
He laughed, kissing her gently on the cheek. “As if?”
The cameras clicked away, capturing the moment. There were no official photographers, just the family and a few close friends. The atmosphere lively, confetti was thrown, laughter and smiles exchanged.
Emily held Antony’s hand tightly when they arrived at the restaurant. She opened the door to the function room. It was empty.
“He may still come,” Antony whispered.
“I know.” She half-smiled at him.
The guests began to drift in amid excited chatter. Emily joined in with a permanent smile on her face. Every now and again, her eyes would be drawn back to the vacant seat. Eventually, she began to relax and enjoy their wedding day; memories that would bind their marriage together for the rest of their lives. She’d wanted so much for her dad to feature in these recollections. Still the seat was empty. Occasionally, the door would slowly open and each time she discreetly crossed her fingers, hoping, praying. It was never him.
The coffee arrived; it was nearing the end of the meal. Soon everyone would depart and go their separate ways. Throughout the afternoon nobody mentioned him. They knew she was hurting. They all knew of his refusal to accept Antony, the baby, or the wedding. Her pleas futile.
Emily glanced at her mother. She was deep in conversation with Antony’s mum. Each wore huge smiles and even bigger hats. She glimpsed again at the empty seat, then back to her mum who was now looking directly at her. She shrugged and smiled. Emily knew that her mother tried hard to persuade her ex-husband. She loved her so much; a closeness she’d always yearned for with her dad.
Gradually the guests left, finally leaving Emily and Antony on their own. As they gathered up the cards and presents, Emily searched for that familiar handwriting, only to be disappointed. Antony knew his new wife’s ultimate wish. He wrapped his arms around her while she quietly sobbed.
Emily knocked on her mother’s front door. The journey back from their honeymoon had been tense since the call.
“Mum sounded really serious on the phone when she rang. What do you think it could be?” she asked Antony.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” he replied, squeezing her hand.
The door opened and her mother, with reddened eyes, invited them in.
“It’s your dad, love,” her mother said, after making her sit down. “He was in a serious road accident.” She paused and held her hand. “He didn’t make it. I’m so sorry.”
Emily turned to Antony, tears welling up in her eyes. He draped his arm around her shoulder.
“When?”
Her mum didn’t answer.
“Mum — when?”
“Saturday… he was on his way to your wedding.”
Emily sat in silence. Her mother handed over a battered envelope.
“They found this in the car.”
She looked at the front. It was Dad’s writing. Opening the envelope, she pulled out the card. An array of fifty pound notes floated to the floor. Emily looked to her mum and then to Antony. No one had expected this. In the card, there were five words.
“I’m sorry — Love You — Dad”
Ragna Brent thinks it’s a miracle that she manages to construct a sentence. As a wife and busy mum of six, in her early forties, and still coming to terms with being made a grandmother by her eldest daughter, she lives the majority of the time in chaos. When she’s not writing, or reading, she can be found on Facebook networking, or struggling around the roundabouts in her hometown of Milton Keynes, UK.
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27 Responses to “THIRTEENTH GUEST • by Ragna Brent”
Comments
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January 14th, 2009 at 12:09 am
“She glimpsed again at the empty seat”? Clunk.
January 14th, 2009 at 3:31 am
‘I’m sorry - I love you -’ if he was in a serious road accident on his way to the wedding, how did he get the time/strength to write a note satying ‘Im sorry’, presumably because he couldn’t make it - unless he is sorry for something else? I think we should be told.
January 14th, 2009 at 4:09 am
He’s apologising for not being in her life more, and for rejecting her husband-to-be and unborn child.
Overall I liked this, although I thought a card full of notes was a cold choice of gift - something for the baby or for them, showing his acceptance, would have worked better.
January 14th, 2009 at 4:25 am
A little too much manufactured pathos for my taste in this story.
January 14th, 2009 at 4:49 am
Pretty good. But there’s one line that leaves me totally mystified (some kind of “Brit-ism”, I guess) - “as he stroked her bump.”
At that point in the story it could be ANYTHING from erotic to she’s getting married in a hurry because she’s dying of cancer. Sorry, I just have too vivid an imagination.
January 14th, 2009 at 6:00 am
Nice story, very sad though.
January 14th, 2009 at 6:35 am
She has a bump from the clunk; either that or she’s sitting on a log. The trivia overwith, I’d like to say that this is a fine addition to the new genre of “lost daddies.”
January 14th, 2009 at 6:45 am
Well I liked it anyway - any story that makes me read to the end is worthy of some stars from me.
One tiny little thing that tripped me: I know it’s dialogue but I would stillprefer ‘who wanted to wear…’ instead of ‘that’in para 4.
Just being picky Ragna - and thanks for reminding me of the roundabout circus that is the UK these days - makes me thankful to have found Nova Scotia.
January 14th, 2009 at 6:55 am
Interesting story development…and nice. But I thought back to a writer who was summoned to comedian Jackie Gleason’s office for a dressing down. Gleason, as you may knowm, spent years trying to locate his father who’d left him as a child. Gleason wasn’t in the office, and didn’t arrive after the writer had sat there for two hours. When the writer got up to leave, the assistant moaned, “What will I tell Mr. Gleason?” The writer said coldly, “Tell him his father was here to see him.”
January 14th, 2009 at 7:29 am
I’m not usually a sucker for this type of story, but I did like it. I thought the notes were the perfect touch, a hasty gift from someone who didn’t know how to be a father, someone who changed their mind at the last minute & decided to come around to the wedding, the baby, the husband - someone who was sorry they had missed more than just the previous few weeks.
January 14th, 2009 at 7:52 am
Enjoyed the story, Ragna. The way I read it is Dad had already written the words in the wedding card saying he was sorry for his earlier view of the couple. Accepting too late that he should have been there for his pregnant daughter and the bump that was going to be his grandchild. All the best. Pug
January 14th, 2009 at 8:06 am
If I had a father who played such imperturbable games as Jackie Gleason’s, I’d shrug him off. But there must have been more love involved for both the father and the daughter to hold on to eachother. Some smooth commentaries here.
January 14th, 2009 at 8:31 am
It’s every woman’s dream to have her father at their wedding, and this story has the tragic element at the end where the father, estranged from his family, made the decision to make his daughter dream come true. He wanted to be forgiven for his past behaviour but fate stepped in.
I enjoyed.
January 14th, 2009 at 9:25 am
Very predictable ending. Not my cup of tea.
January 14th, 2009 at 10:53 am
I thought this story had a good blend of sadness and tragedy mingled with love and hope for the future. Thanks for sharing it.
January 14th, 2009 at 10:59 am
Thank you so much for all your comments. It’s good to get mixed reviews and shall take on board everything said :0)
January 14th, 2009 at 11:26 am
But I DO think writers have a right to rate commentors and reviewers and we’ll have to shoulder being rated by the author as zero. I would like to learn more from her review of us. This is a good forum.
January 14th, 2009 at 11:41 am
A mixture of emotions runs through this story, love and loss, even regret - enjoyed
January 14th, 2009 at 8:36 pm
I thought it a rather good story in spite of a few trifling things; more about a daughter’s love for her dad and all. Of course the short note had little to do with the wedding, it was an apology for much more.
Nice tale, Ragna.
–dj
January 14th, 2009 at 10:01 pm
Enjoyed that Rags.
Took me back to my brother’s wedding. A seat was left empty for my late father (who had died through cancer, unlike your story), and I couldn’t keep my eyes off that seat, knowing how much he would have wanted to be there.
I got drawn into The Thirteenth Guest, feeling almost as if I was at the reception myself. Good work.
January 17th, 2009 at 11:23 pm
The end was expected, but I still quite liked this story.
January 21st, 2009 at 5:27 am
I thought the build-up was excellent, good tension the whole way. I really liked this story (must say, the ‘bump’ reference through me as well, though I chalked it up to cultural difference).
As for the comments being rated a zero (presumably because some were critical of the piece): As a writer, I value criticism of my writing because that is what makes me better. As much as it is nice to hear people like my work, without the comments on what doesn’t work, we don’t get better. If I have one criticism of EDF it’s that the comments here are too nice (as evidenced by the ratings generally being much lower than the tone of the comments). As much as I really liked this piece, it had valid issues that were respectfully pointed out by readers and Ragna would be much better served as a writer to focus on those comments that point them out, then to bask in the positive ones if she wants (as we all do) to improve in her craft. Attacks on the writer would be unacceptable, but it would be a stronger site if it’s readers were more willing to let the valid writing critique surface instead of frowning when it does.
January 21st, 2009 at 7:40 am
Ratings are comparitive and idiosyncratic. With what are the stories compared? Yesterday’s entry into EDS or all the fine stories one’s ever read? They don’t tell us much.
January 24th, 2009 at 2:30 am
A bit hallmark for me. The writing style and sentence structure were good, and I’m sure you have written much better stories, because you have many of the elements - clear, readable paragraph structure, good amount of description, good tension build up. I just felt the story itself wasn’t original enough.
January 28th, 2009 at 6:36 am
The story is very well written, and keeps u hooked to read it till the end. The end is predictable but still i enjoyed every moment of the mushy story.
Can u tell me what was your inspiration behind the thought of the story? Is it inspired from any real life incident?
February 16th, 2009 at 11:32 am
Sorry I’ve taken so long to answer Raj - this was originally from a flash prompt ‘Thirteenth guest’ Although this is complete fiction, it was based a little on the relationship that my daughter had with her father at some time. Fortunately for her, he is still with us, and they managed to mend the huge rift that developed when his granddaughter was born. I guess this was how it could have been.
Thank you for your comments, both positive and negative. They are really helpful, good way to learn, and I will definitely submit to Every Day Fiction again.
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