Nadav Spiegelman

The Weddings

Alexander Chee
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But this was the sort of guessing he was used to doing with his parents, who had emigrated in the 1960s, and were more committed to assimilation than later generations. They tended to treat their Korean heritage like they were in the witness protection program and could never speak of their country of origin, at least not in any detail to anyone who didn’t already know about it. Their children included. This had meant he felt uncomfortable even asking questions about Korean culture, and the resulting silence was something he still didn’t know how to break, for the way that it had grown up around him.
Back at their table they had been joined by a mother and daughter sitting together, oddly identical, like versions of each other at different ages.
This wedding had quickly revealed itself as the most bizarre episode of his adult emotional life to date, and so he tried to take it all in as he studied his reflection.
Jen was one of those people who, as she drank, seemed to melt by faint degrees. You didn’t notice it unless you got up and came back, as Jack did, and then you saw it. She had transformed into a slower and angrier version of herself. The earlier veneer of cheer had slid off like a paper coaster that ends up on the floor of the bar.
The color scheme for the wedding was teal and green, and so the groomsmen wore teal vests with spearmint-green ties, like actors in a school play performing the role of some sad and terrible garden that had come alive.