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Maybe a littletoomuch time.
After the ceremonial walk that feels more like a dance, my limbs loosen up and I fall into step beside Pavel. A carpeted step catches beneath my heel and I clutch Pavel’s arm, praying hard that I won’t make a bigger embarrassment of myself than I already have.
Get it together, Liya.
Pavel squeezes my upper arm to steady me as we return to our original places. A small smile from him puts me in a better mood, relaxing some of the seriousness of the procedure. Something about that small reassurance makes it easier to run through the rest of the motions.
It shouldn’t help, but it does. And I’m not about to argue with it.
As we’re being blessed by the priest, I hear my brother speaking loudly in the third pew. I close my eyes while whispering, “Please, not now.”
“That’s my—hrk—sister up there.”
Pavel turns around. “Kostya.”
I grab Pavel’s bicep. “Please don’t throw him out. Please.”
He lifts my veil and searches my eyes for a moment while my brother continues making a fool of himself in the background. God, it sounds like a brewery joined the vodka factory in his body. And as much as I want to flip out, I don’t.
Because Pavel is holding my face.
“All right,” he says to me. To Kostya, he says, “Don’t kick him out. Just get him sober.”
Swamped with relief, I turn back to the priest to have my crown removed. He’s going through another series of repetitive motions when I recognize that I’m actually getting married right now.
It almost feels real.
I shake my head slightly after the crown is gone, feeling a strange impression left in its absence.
None of this is real. It’s just for show.
The reality of that thought slices right through me. But there’s no time to process it while a man in the front pew stands and points at us, shouting,
“This is absurd!”
Pavel doesn’t even look at the man when he responds, “Sit down, Kiril Vladimirovich.”
“Is anyone else going to point out the obvious? Or does it have to be me?”
“We’ll never get through this if people keep interrupting,” Pavel complains. The priest stares blankly at him. He shrugs and whispers, “Sorry, Father.”
“You’ve gone back on your father’s will.”
Pavel sighs. The sound seems more out of annoyance than anything else. “Here we go again.”
“My daughter should be up there right now. Not that Bernadettislut.”
“Keep talking,” my almost-husband states. His jaw clenches with irritation. “See what happens if you keeptalking, Kiryusha.”
Kiril fumes as he shuffles past shocked guests to get to the aisle. He stands in the path leading to the altar while pointing repeatedly at us. “Is this what you want? A man who goes back on the word of his father?”
Pavel looks furious. “Kostya?”
The brigadier leans obediently toward Pavel. “Yes, Pakhan?”
“Remove him.”
Kostya nods and walks purposefully to Kiril, who raises his fists. The two seem like they’re going to brawl it out right there until a few more brigadiers hop into action. As Kiril is carted off, Pavel stares blankly, appearing bored and listless while the drama continues right outside the door.
