Under the Cypress Moon (13 page)

"I'm glad, Son.  I was afraid you might not feel that way, but hey, like you said, for some, it's never too late.  I love you, too, Son.  Well, I'm gonna go back home.  Everything I do nowadays takes a heavy toll on me.  I need to get some rest, and I'm sure you do, too.  I'll be back tomorrow, most likely.  Be decidin' who's gonna come pick you up, ok?  If you want, I'll do it.  I'll get Mary back at the house again and have her fix up your room really nice for you."  With these words finished and nothing left to say, Thomas stood, but unlike at other times, instead of merely walking away from his son, he walked over to him and threw his arms around him, squeezing Mark so tightly that Mark gasped.

"Goodbye, Dad.  I love you.  You get some rest now.  I mean it."

"I love you, too, Son, and I will.  I promise.  Seems that's about all I do anyway.  You take care of yourself, and I'm so proud of you.  I heard from Dan Brady what got you here in the first place.  You did the right thing, standin' up to that college trash, defendin' your lady.  Like I said, you got your mama in you, Son, though I think I would've done the exact same thing."

Thomas left his son there in his bed, re-thinking everything that had been said that day.  It was all a lot for Mark to take in, given his delicate situation.  Unbeknownst to Mark, however, Shylah had thrown a fit as she and her family were exiting the hospital, demanding that they go without her.  She wanted to stay, wanted to wait until Thomas had left Mark's room and sneak back in.  Shylah wanted to remain until Mark was released, even if that meant a lack of food, lack of sleep, even a lack of sanity.  Shylah felt immeasurably responsible for what had happened, not to mention that she realized, once and for all, that every feeling she had felt was true, that Mark was all that she wanted.  His defense of her not only garnered pity but an insurmountable sense of debt and hope for the future.  If Mark would give Shylah the one last chance that she so severely desired, she would do all in her power to make it worthwhile, to cement their relationship and bring it to heights never before imagined.

T.L. persisted in convincing his sister that she should go home, get rest, and leave Mark to do the same.  Shylah finally relented, but the ride home would prove tumultuous at best.  Shylah, mostly delving into her own quietude, could scarcely be roused from this state or be expected to comply with her family's wishes.  She refused to accompany them to a restaurant, refused their comforting words, even refused still her father's further apologies.  Darius tried several times during the brief drive to get past the wall that Shylah had built in her mind, but to no avail at all.  Shylah could not be reasoned with, even spoken to at all. 

Darius, his wife, and their son now all wondered if something were not dreadfully wrong in Shylah's head.  They thought that she may have, after all, "snapped."  It worried them ever so, made them contemplate urging Shylah to seek professional help, but that would be for another day, and T.L., at least, thought that his sister would probably be back to normal soon, maybe even listen to her father once and for all, perhaps, even be tremendously happy and
be the girl that everyone once knew once Mark was back home.

Everyone felt listless the rest of the day, Mark included.  No one really knew what to do, and the King family, especially, had no idea what to say to one another.  There existed a great tension in the air that could not be easily killed. 
T.L. and his parents spent much of their time quietly discussing Shylah's present state, as well as how things might be when Mark was home from the hospital.  None of them really wanted to speak about Shylah behind her back, but there were no other options.  Her family was incredibly worried, worried that she might not return from whatever place she had suddenly gone, worried that things might never be able to be as good as they once were, worried that there might be an unfixable rift in the family. 

Shylah, much to the disappointment of all others in the house, locked herself in her bedroom and refused to speak or even to eat.  She didn't want to be angry with her father any longer and felt as though maybe she didn't need to be.  He had apologized and tried to make things right, yet Shylah just could not face anyone.  She knew that everyone meant well, but she had no idea what she could possibly say to anyone and knew that she must be the topic of discussion.  She felt it better to leave it all alone, to leave herself to solitude than to wander directly into a conversation all about her and probably feel an overwhelming need to confront everyone.

Inside, Shylah was in utter turmoil.  She could not fully cope with what she had done, allowing Mark to end up in the hospital, knowing that it was because of her.  She hadn't been able to turn herself away from Mark, yet she hadn't been able to give herself to him.  All the while, she had felt as if listening to her father was the wrong choice to make.  She never wanted to hurt Mark in any way.  He was far too sweet of a man, far too caring, and far too desirable.  Shylah knew that she wanted Mark, but how she could make things work she did not know.

It was then and there, sitting on her bed, with her knees pressed nearly to her chin, that Shylah decided that enough was enough.  She had delayed too long, toyed with Mark far more than she ever should have or ever wanted to do.  No matter what, no matter who got involved or what they said, Shylah would give every fiber of her being to Mark.  No one would stand in her way, not even her father, the seemingly almighty Darius King.

Unbeknownst to Shylah, however, Darius had already decided that he had gotten far too involved and that neither Mark nor his own daughter deserved any of it.  It was their life together, their lives separately, whatever they wanted.  From now on, Darius told himself, not only would he not stand in the way, but if it came to it, he would either step completely aside or hopefully, if he could allow himself to, encourage the relationship wholeheartedly.

Shylah remained in this state for the entirety of the rest of the day, not emerging from her room for much of anything.  Though her family was severely worried for her sake, Shylah could not muster the courage to face any of them.  It was a terrible curse that had stricken her, but it was hers to deal with, hers to find some way with which to cope and come to terms.

When Shylah finally opened her eyes the next morning, she felt a torturous dread overtake her.  She had no idea what it was or why she would feel it, but it was there all the same.  Instead of attending church with her family, as she always did on Sundays, Shylah awoke early and headed straight to the hospital and into Mark's room.  Mark barely showed signs of consciousness the entire morning or even well into the afternoon, right up to the point at which his father strode into the room.  Thomas did not act as though he owned the place, despite Shylah's feelings to the contrary.  The man had an arrogant way to him, an overwhelming sense of superiority that he seemed to display at all times to many.

Shylah quickly excused herself and left the hospital to go home and face her family once more.  They would surely have gotten back from church by that time, and Shylah hated the thought of encountering the wandering, questioning , and perhaps, accusatory eyes of all of them.  Shylah had not eaten in more than a day, and though famished, could not yet spend time with the other members of the household, no matter their urgent protests to change Shylah's mind.  This day would be spent exactly as the previous, in utter seclusion and pondering penitence. 

When the big day came, the moment of Mark's expulsion, his triumphant immersion into the outside world, Shylah finally felt a little bit of peace.  Though it was by far one of the most difficult things that she had ever had to do, Shylah immediately called Mr. Crady to ask if he would mind passing the torch, so to speak, allowing Shylah to be the one to bring Mark home.  Though Thomas had planned on retrieving his son, the offer made things easier on him, meaning that, in his greatly sickened state, the man would not have to chance his own disabilities at getting out of the house or driving.  He had already had to plead with a neighbor for a ride to the hospital the previous day, and this was something he did not want to do again.  He felt a dire change within him in days of late, yet he was still the same proud, stubborn man that he had always been.

It would be a day of celebration
and rejoicing for Shylah, the anticipated day of being able to spill her heart to Mark, she hoped.  Perhaps, it would be a day of reconciliation and progress.  Shylah's heart longed for this; her mind told her to go for it.  Even if all Shylah could do was nurse Mark like a mother bird, so be it.

Chapter 7

No sooner than Thomas gave Shylah permission to pick Mark up from the hospital, she raced to her car and jumped in before her mother could say a word.  Darius and T.L. were already at work, and Mrs. King hoped for some help cleaning the house and the yard, things that she could not easily do herself in her declining health, having been largely crippled with arthritis and stomach disorders.

Mrs. King tried, desperately, over and over to call her daughter back to the house, but all to no avail and much to her grave dissatisfaction.  Mrs. King knew that Mark was coming home after two long days away and that Shylah desperately wanted to see him, but why Mark's father could not attend to the matter seemed beyond understanding.

"I swear that girl is as bad as her daddy sometimes," Mrs. King mumbled to herself, shutting the screen door and turning back into the kitchen.  Quite upset with her daughter, she knew that there was nothing at all that she could do to change Shylah's mind once it was made up.

Shylah sped toward the hospital, traveling so fast around curves and narrow roads that it seemed a miracle not to get into an accident herself and end up in the same state as Mark or, perhaps, worse.  Shylah ignored the sign in front of the hospital that read, "THIS IS A PICKUP ZONE ONLY

                                    FOR IMMEDIATE PICKUP

                                             OF PATIENTS"

Though Shylah could hear someone shouting for her to move her car, she ignored the person with a quick wave of her hand and an emphatic, "No time!"  She knew that she was taking a huge risk and hoped desperately that her car would not be towed by the time she got outside, but this was an emergency, so she thought, and she was not violating the hospital's policy, no matter what they said.

As Shylah raced into Mark's room, almost knocking a few people over from her hurried excitement, she felt a renewed and strange fear fill her entirety as she neared the door.  Taking a deep breath, Shylah entered to find that Mark's things had already been gathered and that he was dressing himself.  Shylah did not mind seeing Mark barren of shirt or even more, and it wasn't like she hadn't seen much more a few times.  Knowing that it was true, that Mark really was going to be allowed to go home, began to remove the dread in Shylah's heart bit by bit.  Mark, however, had not even noticed Shylah's entrance, nor did Shylah really want to let Mark know that she was there.  The sight of Mark's half-naked body took some of the burden of the situation away.

As Mark turned around, he was so startled by Shylah's presence that, even though it was a great sight for him, he nearly fell backward into the heart monitor and i.v. stand.  "What are you doin' here," Mark exclaimed joyously, feeling no real malice toward Shylah for what had happened, though there was still a little bit of that for Shylah's having treated Mark so poorly for weeks.

"I'm here to take you home, Silly!"

"What," Mark questioned, furling his brow.

"I called your dad and asked if I could pick you up instead of him.  Surprise!"

"You?  You called MY DAD?!"  Taking a long pause from bewilderment, Mark continued on, "I'm shocked that you had that kind of courage.  I'm hardly able to talk to the man, and he's my dad.  You and your family never liked him."

"Maybe not, but you know we love you, Mark.  It's a price you gotta pay to do somethin' for someone you care about.  If it means I gotta talk to him to see you get better, I'll do it, and I'll do a million things more.  I owe you."

"You love me, or you LOOOVE me," Mark asked, jokingly, but with a slight amount of seriousness.

Shylah could only shake her head, unsure of how she was supposed to answer the question.  She knew that she had feelings for Mark.  That was undeniable.  Expressing them so profoundly at that exact moment, however, even though she wanted to, seemed difficult.  "You know how I feel, Mark.  I care about you.  I always have.  So, ok, maybe I care about you a lot more than a little and a little more than a lot.  So, maybe you're on my min
d like almost twenty-four/seven, and maybe, just maybe, I feel horrible about EVERYTHING that's happened lately and wish I could take it all away.  Maybe I want to make up for every little bit of it.  Maybe," Shylah continued, a little embarrassed and hardly able to hide it, "Maybe I want so much more with you than I let us have before.  To hell with what my dad says or anybody else.  If you'll give me another chance, I'll prove to you exactly how I feel."

"Well," Mark replied, "as long as there's that," grinning from ear to ear, smiling so big that his mouth looked like it would soon swallow the rest of his face.   "At least I know how little you care, but I guess I can live with it."  Mark now let out a body-shaking laugh, and underneath it all, he was very happy that he had been hurt in the bar fight.  Without the incident, he might not ever have found himself again in Shylah's good graces and in her heart.  There would have been a lifetime of awkwardness with the entire King family.