Off the Beaten Track

The wedding ceremony had been long and tedious. There had been lots of talk of honour and commitment from the middle aged, greying priest, most of which had gone unheard over the ever growing frequent shuffling and awkward coughs leaking from those sat in the pews. Observing the whispering children and the men staring impatiently at their watches, Jonathan concluded that he was going to have to make more of an effort if he wanted to go noted as the most bored and disinterested guest the wedding had to offer. He sighed, hoping that maybe if he sighed deeply enough the dull, droning priest would be blown away by the gust, ending the whole sorry affair. The dark haired man sunk deeper down in his seat, pushing his thick rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. He considered for a moment the implications of his childish desire to destroy his older brothers’ special day then proceeded to quickly shrug off the thought with a slight shake of the head. He didn't really want to damage the proceedings of the day; after all, he was quite sure that a large chunk of his inheritance had been invested into it. He just desired to create a mild annoyance. Perhaps it was a subconscious way of seeking revenge after not being offered what should be the unquestioned role for any man at a brother’s wedding- best man. Or maybe it stemmed from the undeniable fact that he just fucking hated him. It was this feeling that he was sure would indubitably land him in hell, after all, the bible instructs to ‘love thy neighbour’, but surely the lord is merciful enough to include a clause for if you have an ass-hole brother. Jonathan and Peter had never had anything other than mild contempt for each other. Throughout their childhood Peter had been the tell-tale, goody two shoes which no child should have to contend with. From their infancy to their teenage years “Mommy, Jonathan is colouring in Jesus purple again!” evolved into “Dad, I saw Jon smoking behind the church with the rough boys”, and the younger brothers retaliations changed from hiding toys to drawing phallic objects on school books and bibles. Yeah, he was definitely going to hell. The man was suddenly snapped out of his reminiscence by the church coming alive with cheers and camera flashes. The bride and groom had kissed, the ceremony was over. Maybe God loved him after all.

He stood up and began to exit the room with the rest of the guests, trying to avoid the eyes of anybody who may to talk to him, especially his father. Instead of following the crowd into the lobby, where drinks (non-alcoholic of course) would be served until the time of the meal, he headed off down a side corridor until he reached a door which read in golden letters ‘gentleman’. He proceeded to enter, hoping that this tactic would aid him in avoiding social activity . As he opened the door he was hit by the smell of smoke. Panicking slightly he looked anxiously around the corner, was there a fire? Not seeing an immediate threat, he continued forward, heading towards the urinal, when the smell got even stronger, infesting in his nose and making his eyes water. It smelt like... cigarettes? A gust of wind suddenly shot through the open windows, blowing open the three cubicle doors which Jonathan had his back towards. He turned around sharply, and then startled backwards, taken by surprise at the sight. Another man was sat fully clothed on the toilet lid in the cubicle, a lit cigarette in one hand, a book in the other. He startled slightly as well, dropping his book on the floor and meeting Jon's eyes. They stayed like that for a few moments, both staring at each other with mouths aghast. Eventually the other man broke the shocked silence, laughing slightly as he bent over to pick his book up off the floor. He had blonde dishevelled hair which almost covered his eyes, which were green and twinkling with amusement. He had various freckles on his face, mostly around his nose, which Jonathan noticed was pierced with a single stood. Despite his rugged appearance, the man was dressed formally in a black suite, leading Jon to believe that he must be a guest, rather than a vagabond off the street.

“Don’t mind me” the man chuckled, startling Jon once more “You go ahead a piss I won’t look, I promise”. He took another drag of his cigarette, flicking ash onto the floor whilst looking down at his book as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. Jon stirred, coming to his senses. “You can’t smoke in here!” he exclaimed, purposely walking over to the ‘no smoking’ sticker on the wall and pointing at it furiously, “it’s against the law!”
The man looked up, grinning widely, purposefully taking a long drag out of his cigarette. “Ah yes, but if a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?"
“What?” he replied, even more bewildered by the strange exchange than he had been before. This man was genuinely insane.
“If nobody is any the wiser to the odd looking gentleman having a cigarette in the toilet, is it really a crime?” the man answered casually, turning back to his book.
“That’s ridiculous!” his confused counterpart proclaimed “By your logic, if I killed you right now it wouldn't be a crime as there are no witnesses to testify”.
The blonde haired man looked thoughtful for a moment. “Touché’” he eventually concluded, putting his book into a black backpack which sat beside him. He stood up, revealing how tall and spindly his limbs were. He took one final drag of his cigarette and then dropped it into the toilet; something which Jon was sure would cause draining problems in the future. Straightening out his suite he stepped out of the cubical and extended a hand towards the smaller man.
“I didn't introduce myself, how rude, I'm Harvey Edwards”.
“Jon Fisher” the bemused man responded, accepting the handshake. To him Harvey Edwards appeared to be some kind of character from a cartoon, a sort of ironic parody, or an inside joke which he just didn't understand. He wasn't sure if he should believe anything he said. “Urm, how did you manage to light a cigarette without setting the fire alarm off?”
“I took the batteries out” Edwards stated as though it was obvious, gesturing with his head towards the ceiling where the alarm sat, the lid had been taken off. Jon opened his mouth to scold the other man about the possible health and safety consequences, but decided otherwise. “Urm, are you at the wedding?”
“Yeah, I'm here with my brother”
“Brother?” Fisher questioned his hand feeling somewhat peculiar after the handshake.
“Yeah, he kind of looks like me but older with a more punchable face. He’s the best man”
“Stephen?” the name alone left a bitter taste in his mouth, he had only met the man on a few occasions but found him to be as bad as, if not worse, than Peter.
“Well I see you've been acquainted with him” Harvey smirked, observing the other man’s facial expression “I expect most people bare that facial expression while discussing him”
“Well, urm, my brother’s the groom” Jon blurted, feeling almost guilty
“Who, Peter?”
“Yeah… he’s a dick”
Harvey laughed, letting out an over exaggerated sigh of relief “Well I'm glad I didn't have to be the one to break it to you” they stood in a comfortable silence for a moment “It’s your brother’s wedding day, surely you should be out there doing something more productive than talking to a strange man in a restroom”
“I guess, it’s just that I don’t really like, urm” he made an general gesture with his hand, struggling for a word, “urm, people, I guess”
The other man snorted with amusement, and Jon felt a grin creeping onto his own face. What was wrong with him today? Had it really got to the stage where another human laughing at his joke made him feel so, well, ecstatic?
“I'm with you there; my brother brought me here to ‘broaden my connections’, but really I'm just here for the free food and alcohol”
“Urm, you know the drinks served are strictly non-alcoholic right?”
Harvey slapped both his hands to his face in mock horror “Wow, what is your brother, a communist?” Jon smirked, imaging his brother’s reaction to being called, even in jest; an ideology which he claimed was ‘anti American’.

He looked at his watch, and found himself considerably shocked at the amount of time he had spent talking to who was for all intents and purposes, an eccentric stranger. “The meal is supposedly going to be served in ten minutes” he informed Harvey, who was picking up his backpack from the floor. “We should probably make our way over. Do you know where you’re sitting?” The man shook his head, leaving his hair even more unkempt than before. “No, but my prediction is that it will be with middle aged, white, wealthy men”. Jon was willing to bet he was right.
“Well, I mean if you wanted” he started awkwardly “maybe I could, urm, pull some strings, and you could sit with me? I mean, on my table with other people, my family, mainly”.
Harvey’s face broke out into a smile which for an unexplainable reason warmed the others chest area. “Could you do that? That would be awesome”
“You would have to deal with my father though. He’s like Peter, apart from older, and less aware that racism isn't socially acceptable any more”
“Don’t worry, it will be fine” Harvey reassured, picking up on the others man’s apparent anxiety “I’ll be well behaved I promise, and we’ll have a giggle won’t we?”
“Yeah I guess” Jon returned
“Excellent, lead the way then, I'm fucking starving. Wait, this isn't a meat free meal is it? Because if it is, I'm afraid I'm going to have to resort to cannibalism”
“You’ll just have to wait and see” he teased, opening the door and allowing the other man to walk through first.
What am I doing? He though suddenly. You've just met this man, and now you’re inviting him to sit at a table with your family? He stomach churned excitedly at the prospect of spending hours with Harvey. You’re just fascinated with him he told himself firmly you just think he’s funny, you’re not…you’re not like that anymore. But as Harvey turned and beamed at him, he could swear he could feel his heart flutter. Shit.