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“That’s my Mommies right there. The one in the red shirt told me my daddy was a baseball player. My friends said I was making it up, but I wasn’t.”
“No, little slugger, you sure weren’t.”
“Popa B said I shouldn’t goat, but I sure do wanna tell them all they were the ones wrong.”
“Gloat,” Whit whispers, correcting her, and I can’t help but chuckle.
The next few pictures are of baby Nora.
“That’s me!” She claps.
“It sure is.” Whit sniffs.
I look over at her, and she nods to the screen just as a picture of Mom appears, holding Nora, and there are several.
“That’s my mom holding you when you were a baby. She’s your grandma.”
“And she’s in heaven with my other mommy, right?”
“She sure is.”
I smile at Whit and Nora, and my focus isn’t on the slideshow until I hear a laugh that I haven’t heard in far too long. As I turn to look at the screen, I feel Whit’s hand lightly grip my wrist, and her thumb begins rubbing circles against my skin.
“Would you let me fix my wig, for crying out loud?” Mom laughs as whoever is holding the phone and recording sets it up so it’s facing her.
“You look fine, B. Now, let’s get through your little speech without tears this time.”
“Nancy.” I smile when I recognize the voice.
Then, Mom comes into focus, wearing her favorite wig and a Syracuse Mets hat.
“I hope this doesn’t make them feel uncomfortable,” she tells Nan.
“Of course it won’t—unless you’re wrong.”
“I’m not wrong. I know what a Paul man looks like when he’s in love.” She looks at the screen. “Johnathon Gregory Paul, you are the greatest light in my light.”
“Fuck,” Danny mumbles from beside me and then sniffs.
“And I’m not going to sit here, feeling sorry for myself that I am missing the day you pick the woman who you will marry and love forever because I’m sure I’ve had the pleasure of loving her like a daughter already.”
“Hold it together, B,” Nan says from wherever she’s sitting.
Mom waves her off. “Whitley, my son?—”
“What if it’s not Whit?” Nan whispers.
“Then, he’s marrying the wrong one.” Mom wipes away tears, but they’re joyful ones.
I hear Nan sniff. “Dang it, B. Now, we have to start over again.”
“Leave it be, Nan.” Mom shoos her away and looks at the screen. “He’s going to love you so hard, and sometimes, it’s going to be suffocating. The reason? He’s just like his father, and there will be times he’s away, so when he gets home, nothing else will matter but you and whatever children you two have. There will be times you two will drive each other crazy. I’ve already watched it happen, and you always work through it—don’t ever stop doing that. Danny and Marks will be there to make sure you don’t. Pastor and Mrs. B should be the people you seek advice from when you need guidance. Love deep and take care of each other. Love hard and support each other’s dreams. Love forever, like I know you will. Johnathon and Whitley, Dad and I will be sitting in the bleachers in heaven, cheering you both on.” She blows a kiss. “I love you, my boy, and I love you, Whitley.”
Pictures of the proposal light up the screen as Pastor B calls to us, “Whitley, Johnathon, and Nora, could you join me and Mildred up here, please, to exchange your vows?”
As we stand, Pastor B tells the congregation, “This week has been one for the books. Both Whitley and John Paul have come to me separately from the other about this union we are all going to be a part of. The one thing they each requested separately were traditional vows.”
I give Mrs. B a hug, and she pulls Nora beside her as I take Whitley’s hands.
