The People We Hate at the Wedding by Grant Ginder

Author:Grant Ginder
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Flatiron Books

Paul

July 4

Paul fumbles in his pocket for a cigarette, but quickly remembers that he’s with Mark, who hates it when he smokes. Instead, he locates a lone piece of gum and pops it in his mouth.

“It’s just so bouncy, is the thing. Even in this humidity it’s just so bouncy.”

“It didn’t look that bouncy to me,” Mark says.

“Her hair’s always been like that, though. Even when we were kids. She must get it from her dad. He must have bouncy hair. Because, I mean, look at Alice. Look at me. It practically looks like someone crowned us both with mops.”

“I think you have very nice hair.”

Mark’s not paying attention. Instead, he’s looking up and down Shaftsbury Avenue for a taxi, of which there are none. Less than none, it seems. In fact, Paul thinks, the street’s crammed with so many people and so few cars that he suspects they’d have better luck finding a rickshaw, or hitching a ride on some strapping Londoner’s back, than hailing a cab. And yet, still Mark appears determined—he’s got his hand shoved into the air like a hitchhiker—so Paul indulges him; he stands by his side and chews his gum.

“I wonder if we should have stayed,” he says, suddenly thinking about the end of dinner. Eloise snatched up the bill and invited them all over to her flat for coffee and scotch. Alice and his mother had agreed to go—but then, Donna’s also staying there, and Alice has the unfortunate duty of being a bridesmaid. Before Paul could even weigh the option, though, Mark had declined on behalf of both of them.

“We’ve got plans to meet a friend of ours,” he’d said, matter-of-factly.

Eloise had stared at Paul, and the only thing he could think of was how the restaurant’s low lighting, coupled with the spectacular volume of her hair, created the impression that her head was exploding.

On Shaftsbury Avenue, Mark pauses from his taxi hunt to turn and gawk at Paul.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“She’s just trying so hard,” Paul says, a little astonished by how quickly he’s leaping to his half sister’s defense. “If having a glass of expensive scotch in her palatial apartment makes her happy, it seems like it’s the least we could do.”

“She’s an awful snob.”

“Oh, come on.” Paul smiles and kisses Mark’s cheek. “You’re only saying that because she managed to out-snob you.”

Mark pulls away. “No, I’m saying it because she’s insufferable.” He straightens the lapels on his blazer. “Besides, my God, Paul. She practically assaulted you. I’m surprised she didn’t draw blood when she grabbed your arm.”

Paul rubs his wrist. The little crescents still remain. “She was just excited,” he says. “I mean, like I said, she’s trying so hard.”

“Are you listening to yourself right now? She abuses you, Paul. She bosses you around, and she abuses you. Sometimes I think you actually like being pushed around. Christ, look at how Goulding treated you.”

Paul’s puzzled. “I threw a mannequin at his head. I broke his nose.”

“Only after he treated you like a halfwit pack mule, no doubt.

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