Under the Cypress Moon (40 page)

"Baby, you there," Shylah asked, quite worried about Mark's mental state.

"Yuh... yeah.  I'm... I'm  here."

"Baby, I'm so sorry.  I really am.  We knew it was gonna happen.  I know you can never prepare yourself for somethin' like this, but it can't really surprise you."

"I know," Mark choked out, unable to say anything more.

"Are you gonna be ok, Baby?  You know I'm here for you, no matter what.  Do you want me to come get you?  It's no problem, Baby.  You probably shouldn't be drivin' right now."

"Ye... yeah.  If you want, you can.  I think I'll be ok, but you can come here if you want."

"Baby," Shylah slowly and a little shakily muttered, "I... I just don't want anything to happen to you.  I'm scared for you.  If you drive home, just be very very careful, please!  I'd rather you let me come get you."
 

"Ok.  I guess we can leave my truck here for a while.  Come get me if it makes you feel better.  Shy... Shylah?"

"Yes, Baby?"

"I... I love you.  Just know that."
  Mark's hand trembled so much that he had to grab his right wrist with his left hand to steady it.

"I know you do, Baby, and I love you, too.  I love you so much it hurts.  We'll get through this, Baby. I promise.  God gives us nothing that we can't get through if we turn to Him.  It's hard, but He's always there for us."

Before he could even set his phone down, Mark fell over, his face resting on the carpet of his office floor just below his desk.  Slowly moving upward, Mark came to his knees, praying harder than he ever had at any other moment in his life, begging for cessation of his grief and his worries, for acceptance of his father into whatever lay beyond the Earthly world, and for his father to find peace and always know that his son loved him and would always miss him in his own way.

Mark did not cease from praying until he heard the door of his office fly open and hit the wall behind it.  "Baby," Mark could hear coming from the other side of the room.  "Baby?"

"Here," Mark replied, still leaning toward the floor in supplication to the Almighty.

"What are you doin' down there, Baby," Shylah concernedly asked.

"I was praying, Baby.  Just give me a second."  Before Shylah could move, thinking that she might have a little bit of time to kill, Mark muttered a soft, "Amen."

Shylah hurried to Mark's side and offered her hand to help raise him from the floor.  Mark eagerly accepted the offer, and rising, threw his arms around Shylah, hugging her so tightly that she felt as if her back might break.  Mark would not pull away.  He would not relinquish.  He could not hold back his tears any longer.

Sobbing like a baby on Shylah's neck, Mark let loose every emotion that had been buried within him.  Shylah did all that she could to comfort the man, rubbing the back of his head over and over again, though she still felt far too much pressure being applied to her own body.  "Baby... Baby, you... you got... you gotta let up!"

Mark pulled away, staring deeply into Shylah's eyes.  "What?  Did I hurt you?"

"Yeah, sorry, Baby.  I love it when you come to me like that, but you can't squeeze me so hard.  I'm a lot weaker than you are."

"You wanna get goin' then, Babe," Mark asked, his eyes so red that Shylah had to fight her own tears at seeing the heartbreaking sight.

"Yeah.  Shawntel left since there was nothin' she could do, so I don't really know what we should do, to tell you the truth, but I don't really wanna stay here."

"So, he's just layin' there in his bed then," Mark posited, the idea of it seeming strange.

"No.  Shawntel called 911 right before I called you.  The ambulance was already nearby, and they came and got him.  I didn't wanna call you til I was sure he was gone.  I'll be honest.  I hoped we were wrong, but the emt guys said that he was dead.  There was nothin' anybody could do, Baby.  But if they hadn't come and got him yet, I'd still be there.  I wouldn't just leave him there.  This whole thing is just so weird.  I never saw a dead body before, not when the person just passed.  The only ones I ever saw were in caskets.  There is nothin' like seein' a person right after they're gone.  You're lucky you didn't see what I saw, and I won't even tell you how bad it really was.  I'd suggest burnin' the bed, or at least, the mattress."

"So you were right there when it happened," Mark asked, looking as though his tears had only stopped for a brief period, as if they would begin to pour out once more in an uncontrollable and soaking torrent of soul cleansing.

Shylah hesitated for a moment, not wanting to answer but knowing that she would have to, she affirmed, "Yes, I was.  It's not pretty.  Believe me, but yeah."  Shylah felt a deep lump swelling her throat as she watched Mark, waiting for a reaction.

"I'm glad somebody was," Mark stated, sadly.  "I should've been.  I really should've.  You know what the last thing I said to him was?"

"What's that?"

"Nothin' really.  I think I said somethin' about how difficult he was bein', not to his face, though, so I guess the last thing I said to him was just 'ok' when he asked for a glass of water.  That's the last thing I'll remember, me sayin' 'ok' and then talkin' bad about him when I left the room."

"Baby," Shylah said, grabbing Mark by the shoulders and staring with burning fire into his glassy eyes, "Don't beat yourself up!  You were a great son to that man!  You did way more than most would've or could've!  You did right by your dad!  He's with God now.  You have nothing to feel bad about.  Just be glad he'll never have to suffer again."

"I guess."

"C'mon, Baby.  Let's go.  We'll go get somethin' to eat, and then, we can do whatever you want.  We can go for a drive or go home or whatever."

Mark immediately stammered, "I... I don't wanna eat.  I'm not hungry."

"Baby, you have to eat, and I'm hungry.  I can't go without food.  I can't do that to the baby."

"The baby," Mark shot back.

"Yeah.  You know I'm kinda pregnant."

"No.  I know that.  I mean, I just thought about it.  We never once told my dad he was gonna be a grandpa.  Why didn't I tell him?!  Dammit!"  Mark muttered, under his breath, "stupid!  stupid!  stupid!"

"He knows.  Trust me.  He knows now.  It's ok, Baby.  You've had so much goin' on, and there's no way he would've understood.  His mind wasn't right for the last couple of weeks.  He thought he was livin' years ago with your mama and your brother still around.  If he couldn't even recognize you, how would he understand that he was gonna be a grandpa?  It wouldn't do any good to tell him.  Just know he's way better off now and that you did all that could be expected of you.  Let's go get some food, and YOU ARE GONNA EAT, MISTER!"

"Yes, Boss," Mark replied, laughing lightly as he did.

"Yes.  Yes, I am, and I'm glad you're able to laugh some."

Though it took a considerable amount of effort, Shylah finally coaxed Mark from his office and out to the car.  After a brief stop by one of the local fast food restaurants, the couple returned home, to Mark's general disappointment.  Somehow, it all felt wrong.  It felt as though there were a great specter of unfinished life in the house, haunting and hanging on, watching and wishing, perhaps, there to torment, even if that were not its intent.  Mark wondered how he could live in that place a day longer.  Though it was  his ancestral home and very dear to him in some ways, it could never again feel like home, he thought.

The only consolation for Shylah that night was that she convinced Mark to take a trip to their spot underneath the cypress trees.  Mark did not feel like attending their nightly rendezvous, but he knew that Shylah was his only real source of centering in the world that now made so little sense to him.  Perhaps, he persuaded himself, going would bring solace and relief, maybe some bit of hope and happy vision of clarity to the spectacle of things.

As Mark reclined on the blanket, under the night sky and the canopy of treetops, he mused that it was funny how he and Shylah had taken up the habits of his parents, using the spot as a sort of vacationing and
place for habitual romantic interludes.  Letting his mind finally wander aloud, Mark begged the question that weight heavily, "Baby, if I asked you to marry me, would you say yes?"

"That seems an odd way to ask a girl to be your wife.  I think maybe the grief is bearin' down on you, Honey.  You might wanna rethink it all.  Wait until you know you're ready and not when you're in such pain.  Just lay back, and enjoy the night," Shylah urged, patting Mark on the chest.

"No.  I mean it.  I've thought about it a lot, before any of this happened."

"You're serious," Shylah asked, her mouth unable to join together out of sheer awe at the remark.

"Yes.  I'm dead serious.  If I asked, would you say yes?"

Taken aback but both flattered and excited by the notion, Shylah said exactly what found its way to her mouth without any thought to hold it back, "Baby, if you ask me, I'll say yes.  I'll say yes a thousand times a day.  I'll spend every second of every day tryin' to be the best wife you could ever imagine.  I just want a good life, a happy life, a life with a man that truly loves me and is a good daddy and wants the things I want.  I know you want all those things.  I know you're a great man.  I love you, and I will love you for all of time.  So, if this is your way of askin' me, the answer is yes, definitely yes.  You're all I want from now til forever!"

"Well, I'm not really askin' right now," Mark said, cringing, thinking that he had just given Shylah false hope.  "Don't take it the wrong way, Baby. I want to.  I really want to.  I just wanted to put some feelers out.  I plan to do it.  I have to wait til the time is right, but believe me, it's gonna happen.  I promise you that."

"That's not very nice, Mark Crady, askin' me without askin' me, givin' me that kinda hope and then takin' it away!"

"No, Baby!  It's not like that!  I've been plannin' on it for a while actually.  I just wanted to make sure is all.  Maybe I shouldn't have said a word.  Now, you know that I'm gonna ask you.  I wanna surprise you, but yes, I'm gonna ask.  Dammit!  Me and my big damn mouth!"

"Shut up," Shylah ordered, taking Mark's face in her hand in a gentle caress.  "Put that big mouth of yours to work, and forget it.  You ask when you're ready.  You know I'm not gonna say no.  But right now, let's just enjoy this moment.  Bring those lips to me, Baby.  I'll show you what your big damn mouth is for!"

Mark held no intentions of letting things carry away as they had on night past, to the point of making passionate and unending love to one another.  If it happened, it happened, but Mark was unsure of doing any such thing.  On one hand, he knew that he would enjoy every bit of it, yet, on the other hand, it seemed unnecessary and maybe even a strange attempt at forgetting his father and his still hard to accept fatality.

The two kissed for so long and with such undeniable passion that Mark had absolutely no doubts that they could make everything between them work and could live a very happy life together; however, as Shylah's hands began to move down Mark's body, groping, grabbing, and rubbing, mixed with her own deep moans of anticipated pleasure, Mark quickly grabbed her and pushed her away. 

"Honey, not right now, please," Mark informed his expectant lover.

"Why not?  You don't want me," Shylah hurtfully replied, slinking away.

"No!  No, Baby!  It's not that!  I know you'd never think a man would turn down a beautiful woman, especially one that loves him, but I got so much in my head right now eatin' away at me.  I wouldn't be any good right now anyway.  I'm sorry, Baby.  I swear it has nothin' at all to do with you!  It's all me!"  Mark desperately tried to reassure Shylah that he desired her as much as ever he had, but it all seemed to be of no use, only bringing to fruition Shylah's own doubts about herself.

"Yeah.  I hope you're tellin' me the truth."

"Baby, I am.  You know I am.  Have you ever seen me once not interested in doin' that with you?  I mean, c'mon."  Mark pulled Shylah back on top of him, but she quickly rolled herself away, lying on her side, facing away from Mark as he rubbed her shoulder.

"You aren't interested in me right now, so yeah," Shylah whimpered.

Mark gulped in fear of how he had just made Shylah feel.  He knew that something must be done.  What he really wished was that he had just gone with it all and not turned Shylah down when she attempted to get him involved in loving and lustful adventure.

"It's ok," Shylah accepted as she turned over, coming eye to eye with Mark.  "Hey.  Way off subject, but since we're not gonna do anything, we might as well talk about somethin'.   Isn't your birthday in less than a month?"

"Yeah, but we'll worry about that later."

"I just wanted to know what you wanna do for it."

"Don't worry about it now.  Later, Baby.  I have somethin' way more important I wanna ask you.  It's got me a little scared."  Mark moved himself to hover above Shylah as she fully spread herself out on the blanket under him.

"What's that, Babe," Shylah asked, still hurt by Mark's refusal but slowly coming to comprehend it.

"Well," Mark began, taking a drawn out pause, sighing before he could muster his next words.  "Now that my dad is gone, and you don't have to stay anymore, are you gonna go back to your parents' house?"