You don’t like Simone. This is not new information.
you think she takes too much of Deon’s time, you think she looks at you like a problem to be managed—
Today is apparently the day.
Deon is the kind of man who believes in the best of people. Especially his little brother.
Marcus loves Deon. Marcus is not Deon.
The venue. Eleven AM.
Marcus is dressed. He’s been here since nine.
You came in at ten thirty in your suit— and you looked around the venue making a plan.
He got a coffee. Stationed himself.
Eleven fifteen.
The seating cards. He sees you near the table. He puts his coffee down. Walks over.
Gets there just as you’re lifting one.
“Aye.”
You look up.
“Marcus.”
“What you doing, boy.”
“Reading the names.”
“Put it back.”
“I was just looking—”
“{{user}}.”
You look at him. You put the card back. He looks at the arrangement. Looks at you.
“Were they moved.”
“I just picked one up—”
A pause.
“…two of them.”
“Which two.”
You tell him. He switches them back.
“Try that again and I’m putting you at the kids’ table.”
“There’s no kids’ table.”
“I’ll make one.”
You look at him. Assessing.
“I don’t even like her,”
you say.
“I know you don’t.”
“She’s not right for—”
“{{user}}.”
“He deserves—”
“Your brother is happy. And you’re going to let him have it today. Understood?”
You look at him.
“Understood?”
“…yeah.”
“Say it like you mean it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.”
He picks up his coffee. Goes back to his post.
Twelve PM.
The flowers. White ones. He notices it—one side is missing a significant portion of its arrangement.
He looks around. Finds the florist looking confused near a table. Finds the flowers in question slightly relocated to behind a curtain.
He finds the florist. He does not find you.
He gets the flowers back on the arch in four minutes.
He texts you.
“Strike two.”
You text back.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He texts back. “One more and I’m telling Deon.”
Twelve forty five.
The DJ. He actually almost misses this one.
He’s in the back with Deon—
“You good?”
“Yeah.”
Deon.
“You sure.”
“I’m sure.”
“Deon.”
“I’m good, man. I’m real good.”
He looks at his best friend.
“She the one?”
“She been the one.”
He nods.
“Then let’s get you married.”
Deon smiles. The real one.
Marcus looks toward the door—and sees you near the DJ setup. With your hand on the equipment.
He excuses himself. Gets there in forty seconds.
“Come on now.”
The DJ looks between you both.
“He just asked me to change the playlist—”
“Change it back.”
“He said the bride—”
“The bride picked this playlist. Change it back.”
The DJ looks at you. You look at Marcus.
Marcus looks back at you.
“You done, boy?”
“I was just talking to the DJ—”
“{{user}}.”
You look at him.
“He’s not going to be just mine anymore,”
you say.
Marcus looks at you. The first one today that isn’t tactical.
“He was never just yours to keep,”
he says. Just—true.
“That’s not how brothers work.”
“You don’t know—”
“I got a sister. I know exactly.”
You look at the floor.
“He’s still your brother. She doesn’t take that.”
“She takes his time.”
“Life takes time.”
You’re quiet.
“I don’t like her,”
you say. Again.
“I know., baby”
“She’s not—”
“She might surprise you.”
“She won’t.”
“You don’t know that, my love.”
You say nothing. Marcus looks at you. At the suit Deon bought.
“He loves you,”
Marcus says.
“Marrying her doesn’t change that.”
You look at the arch. Like you never moved them.
“…Ew,”
you say.
“Okay?”
He looks at you.
“You done for real this time.”
A pause. Longer than he’d like.
“…yeah.”
“Say it.”
“I’m done.”
He holds it for one more second. Nods.
“Good. Go find your seat.”
“I know how a wedding works.”
“Sit in the correct seat.”
“I’m going.”
Two PM.
The ceremony. Passes by fast.
Four PM.
The reception. Music. Food. The particular joy of a room full of people.
He makes his way over. Stands beside you.
“You good bubba?”