Face It, You're Old

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I still couldn't quite grasp the idea of my little brother getting married. Every time I looked at Michael, all I could see was that little boy who hated wearing diapers. The boy who would rather fling his food at his siblings than eat it. He was the little boy I had watch go from diapers to walking and, finally, to getting married.

"It seems like just yesterday he was toddling around," I huffed.

Paul lifted an eyebrow, "How can you remember that? You were two."

"I happen to have an excellent memory, Paul."

"You barely remember what you had for breakfast, let alone what happened when you were two."

I pointed at him, "Alright, you cheeky shit."

Paul laughed and slung an arm around my shoulders. The two of us were in the hall of the church, waiting for the bride and groom. Paul was Michael's best man while I was simply a bridesmaid. Vera was the flower girl, and she looked absolutely adorable in her lilac dress. What made it even better was how many times she had taken it off and cried whenever I put it back on. She might not be blood related to me, but you would never know based on her actions. She was a drummer at heart, a rebel skin-deep, and a all-around insomniac. 

"The point is, Mikey's gettin' married," I sighed, "And we're gettin' old."

Paul shook his head, "You're one to talk. I'm older than the lot of you."

"I'm old but you're ancient."

"That just makes me wiser."

I rolled my eyes, making him laugh. A few moments later, Michael stepped out. His black suit was perfectly ironed, not a single wrinkle was in sight. A pink flower stuck out of his buttonhole. Despite his perfect suit, his tie was a wreck. It was stuck out in all directions and tied crookedly. Even his hair was combed in the opposite direction than it should be.

"Christ, Mikey, did Da not teach you how to tie a tie?" Paul asked.

He stepped forward and began to fiddle with Michael's tie. Michael wrung his hands together, "I'm too nervous to tie it right."

"You were alright a few minutes ago," I commented, "What got you strung up now?"

Michael gulped, "I'm getting married in fifteen minutes."

"You're just now realizing this?"

"Lia, not helping," Paul replied, "Mikey, gettin' married is nothin' to be afraid of. It's going to be brilliant, you know."

Michael frowned, "What if I trip? What if I stutter? What if this is all a mistake?"

"It's not a mistake," I argued, "You love her, don'tcha?"

"Course."

"Then, it's not a mistake."

"As for you," Paul continued, "You never trip over your words, Mikey. You'll be the greatest groom in all of Liverpool."

"You're obligated to say that," Michael replied.

Paul smiled, "Am I?"

"You're my brother and my best man, course you are."

"Well, I'm neither, and I say you are the greatest, Mikey, you'll do great," I patted his shoulder.

He glanced at me, "You're my sister, you're-"

"Bloody hell, will you take the compliment?"

Michael shut his mouth and nodded. Paul laughed, grabbing Michael's shoulders, "Mikey, listen. What's got you tied up is not the getting married part, it's the wedding. It's like stage anxiety, you know? Just gotta picture the audience in their knickers and you'll be alright."

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