The Attendance Invoice

The wedding itself was lovely, which is what made the envelope so surreal. Thick cream paper, calligraphy address — I assumed thank-you card. Inside was an invoice.

Itemised. My name at the top like a client. 'Catering (plate): $95. Chair & linen rental (share): $22. Venue ambience contribution: $38. Favor (candle): $11. Administration: $8.' Total: $174, payable within thirty days 'to the account below', with — I have read it two hundred times and it never stops being there — a late-payment clause of five percent monthly.

The group chat detonated within the hour. Everyone had one. Amounts varied by some algorithm we eventually decoded: people who had brought plus-ones were billed double, the vegetarians were charged four dollars less, and her college roommate, who had caught the bouquet, had a line item reading 'bouquet (kept): $60.'

Her new husband, we later learned, knew nothing. He found out when his own grandmother called him about her invoice, which included a discount described as 'family rate.'