“Don’t you think it’s weird that your brother’s getting married?” Kyle drops the green linguine into the oversized pot.
“I think it’s weird that someone’s willing to marry him,” is my reply.
“Don’t you think you should do that over a plate?” he asks, calling me out on grating the cheese directly onto the counter.
“The counter’s clean. I wiped it myself,” I say, making a mental note to order take-out next time.
“No, I mean, isn’t it weird that he’s getting married first?”
I put the orange block down by the sink and gesture with the dairy-pierced grater, clogged cheese working its way out and onto the floor.
“As in, I’m older so I have to get married first, even though I’m not seeing anyone and I have no idea if I even want to get married, if I even subscribe to that institution? Modern day Taming of the Shrew, huh? Like I’m stuck holding the Old Maid card?”
“Hey, I was just asking. I didn’t mean anything bad by it. I just feel like if my little sister got married before I did, it might bother me.”
He looks down at the pasta and stirs for no reason.
“It bothers me that people think it should bother me,” I say, searching the spice rack for garlic powder.
“I just don’t understand,” he says, not at full volume, “why you’re so angry all the time.”