Evening, everyone. I'm Ravi. I'm the bride's big brother, which makes me the only best man in this room who got a vote on whether the groom was allowed in the family, and I want it noted that I lost.
Here is the strange thing about being best man for the bloke marrying your sister. I did not pick Tom. He arrived. Eight years ago Carys brought him to Sunday lunch, and he turned up with a bottle of wine and a haircut he was clearly nervous about, and my dad shook his hand for slightly too long, the way he does when he's deciding something.
Tom did not grow up with me. He had to learn this family from the outside, like a man reading the safety card on a plane that is already on fire. And he was so keen. That first year he laughed at every single one of my dad's jokes, including the ones that are not jokes, including the long story about the conservatory that has no ending. I watched him nod through forty minutes of guttering. I knew then he was either in love or unwell.
Then came the Christmas he ruined for all of us. My mum has cooked the Christmas roast for thirty years. It is hers. It is not up for discussion. And Tom, two years in, still basically a guest, asked very gently if he could maybe do the potatoes. My mum said yes the way you say yes to a toddler holding scissors. He made these potatoes. I am not going to describe them, because we are in a church hall and I have some dignity. They were the best thing anyone has eaten in that house. My mum has never recovered. She asks for him by name now. I am her son and she asks for him by name.
That is the man my sister found. He shows up, he tries too hard, and then he is quietly better at the thing than you were. When I split up with someone a few years back, Tom drove over without being asked and sat with me in the garage and did not say one wise thing, which was exactly right. He just brought crisps and let me be miserable. He is family now in the way that counts, which is that he has seen me at my worst and stayed anyway.
Carys, you watched this man memorise our chaos on purpose because it came attached to you. You laughed at him the whole time. The first proper date, he told me later, you took him to the worst pub in town as a test, and he passed by not complaining about the carpet. You are calmer with him. You used to text me when things went wrong. You don't as much now, and I have made my peace with being slowly made redundant by a man who can roast a potato.
Tom. I did not choose you. My sister did, and she is sharper than me, so I trust it. You spent eight years earning a seat at our table. Today you get the table.
Everyone, on your feet. To Carys and Tom. May he keep being too good at things that were never his job. And may my mum, one day, let me back in the kitchen.
To Carys and Tom.
Spoken by Ravi, 34, an electrician and the bride's older brother, best man for the man marrying his little sister. 563 words.