Page 58 of New River Gorge(ous)
Bubbles fizz through my body like a carbonated drink as I look around the room for my phone. There it is, lying face-down across the room from where I threw it earlier.
With a spring in my step, I bound off the bed to tell Paige the good news. I’m not so bad of a friend that I’ll call her, but I will text her ‘You were right about being patient’ and a kissy face emoji. She’ll call and talk this through with me when she gets a chance.
When I flip my phone over to start composing the text, I stop and drop it back to the floor.
I have 397 texts.
I have 48 missed calls, all from my mother.
Someone died.
Without hesitation, and with my heart in my throat, I call my mom. She answers on the first ring.
“Brooke!” Mom yells into the phone.
“Mom? What’s wrong?” I stutter.
“How could you NOT tell me?”
“How could I not tell you what?” I ask, scratching my head, because it doesn’t sound like someone died.
“That you’re getting married! How could you do this to me! You can’t just go off and get married in West Virginia to any old guy you meet! And another thing, young lady, he never asked your father for his permission, and I don’t know what’s gotten into you. OH NO. Brooke, are you in trouble?” She pauses for a breath, but my jaw is on the floor, and I can’t quite formulate a response to everything she just said.
She thinks I’m getting married?
She thinks I’m in trouble?
“You truly thought that letting me find out through Mom’s Facebook was going to be enough communication? Where is the wedding? Is it IN West Virginia? Wouldn’t you have it up here at our church?”
I shake my head to try to clear the barrage of questions away. If I’m nicknamed ‘the general,’ she should be nicknamed ‘the artillery,’ because this is a rapid-fire assault.
One phrase she says lands deep in my chest.
“Mom?” I say, fighting down the urge to scream and keeping my voice as collected as I can. She stops speaking for a moment. “What do you mean you found out through your mom’s Facebook?”
“My mom posted an update about an hour ago, where she said she needed to book a church for a wedding because one of her grandbabies was finally getting married.”
My eyes widen. “Meemaw said that?”
“Yes.”
“On the internet?”
“Yes.”
My happiness shrivels up faster than a grape turns into a raisin in the West Virginia sun.
“I don’t understand … she doesn’t know yet…”
“BROOKE BELLE BASTION, YOU TELL ME RIGHT NOW WHAT SHE DOESN’T KNOW.”
I pull the phone away from my ear at the absurd decibel she’s managed to achieve.
“I … I don’t know why she said that. On the internet. I hadn’t even told her that I have a boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” Mom questions, at a more reasonable decibel.
“Yeah. I just. It just happened. Like an hour ago … oh no. She saw us kiss … and she assumed … and now…”
