Under the Cypress Moon (61 page)

Dan hoped that he could speak to Mark directly to tell him the good news, but Shylah told him that he simply could not, that Mark was sleeping and needed all of the rest that he could get.  She would have Mark call back when he was awake and ready. 
Dan stated that he understood but to have Mark call him some time that evening, as he would not be awake until then for his coming shift.

Shylah felt so bored with no one to talk to and nothing to do.  Mark slept until well into the afternoon and felt too sluggish and in too much pain to do much of anything when he awoke.  He did not feel like having to wander around the house in a wheelchair for too long, but seeing Shylah's dissatisfied face, he managed to pull himself from bed, with Shylah's assistance, and wheel himself into the kitchen for coffee and cigarettes.  He begged Shylah to cook something for him to eat, which Shylah looked forward to doing.  She was hungry once again, being exactly seven weeks pregnant, and wanted to take care of Mark in every way possible.

While she cooked, however, Shylah had a dreaded thought cross her mind.  She had already postponed her most recent and necessary doctor's appointment due to Mark's hospitalization, but now, she would have to keep the rescheduled appointment and do so without Mark by her side.  Hopefully, she thought, she might convince her mother to go with her just so that she could have someone there with her to keep her company. 

Shylah almost immediately relayed to Mark everything that she heard from Officer Brady.  Mark seemed unbothered by the news in any way.  He did not smile.  He did not laugh.  He did not curse Sara or speak any word of her or what had happened.  Shylah didn't know if Mark was happy, sad, confused, or completely apathetic about it all. 

"Oh," Shylah broke through the silence as Mark sat at the table, contemplating everything that he had just been told, "I called Don yesterday to tell him you were home.  I forgot to tell you this, but he said he's gonna come by sometime soon to see you and that he wanted you to know everything at the plant is goin' great.  The repairs are all done.  The new edition is about halfway or more done.  All of the old furnaces got replaced.  That cat thing is done."

"You mean the CATOX?"

"Yeah, that thing.  It's done.  Everything is lookin' really good, he said.  He thinks the plant could be ready to open, with the new part of the building and everything in maybe another month.  He said the construction guys are workin' really hard at it and gettin' done ahead of schedule, but he offered 'em more money to get it done so fast.  He said there's been way too much trouble for everybody and that the plant needs to get makin' money again soon and to get everybody back to work a.s.a.p."

"I agree.  It's worth extra money if it gets it goin'.  I was hopin' for at least about the beginning of next year.  If we can get it goin' again a couple of months earlier, that's amazing.  I'm all for it.  Well, anyway, I don't really wanna think about work right now, though."  Mark seemed despondent as he said this, looking down at his wheelchair in near disbelief of his current state.

"What do you wanna talk about then, Baby," Shylah asked, not turning from her cooking.

"I don't know.  You got a smoke on ya?  I need one."

"Oh.  I thought you had some on you," Shylah laughed as she tossed Mark a cigarette from the pack that had been in her pocket.

"I left 'em in the bedroom.  Stupid me.  I can't think straight."

"You're not stupid, Mark.  You got so much goin' on.  I feel so bad, Baby.  I just wanna take it all away from you, but I can't, and it kills me inside.  Just sit there, and relax.  Your food will be ready in a few."  Shylah stole a few seconds to run to Mark and kiss him all over his head, his cheek, and then his mouth before rushing back to the stove.  "I love you," she shouted as she picked up her spatula.

For the first time since they got together, Mark did not say "I love you" back to Shylah.  He hardly heard a word that was said to him from that moment on, focusing so much on his harried state.  Shylah let it go, knowing that Mark had to endure so much, far more than anyone should ever be expected to endure. 

The rest of the week passed in much the same fashion, Shylah speaking but getting little to no response, except when in bed.  Mark was frustrated due to his condition, frustrated because of not being able to do much of anything, frustrated from so many people pitying him, and largely, frustrated because he could not make love to Shylah.  Though they tried to figure out a way that it could be done, nothing seemed to work.  Shylah did all that she could to please Mark and to please herself in absence of ability to perform their normal sexual duties to one another.

On Friday, both Shylah and Mark had doctor's appointments, Shylah with her OBGYN and Mark with his neurologist.  Mark snappily said that he did not want to go to his appointment, that he would reschedule it because it would be a physical strain on him and especially, a physical strain on Shylah to have to lift his wheelchair in and out of the car.  Shylah solved the problems of both appointments by calling her mother and getting her to agree to take her daughter to the OBGYN in her own car while T.L. would take Mark to his appointment in Shylah's car, much easier for Mark to get in and out of and still spacious enough for the wheelchair.

All that Mark found out from his neurologist was that his cyst had grown from the size of a pinhead to nearly the diameter of a dime, yet it caused no real threats, as it had not ruptured.  It was definitely growing but of no concern if it did not present obvious effects.  In Mark's condition, he could not be loaded into the MRI.  Instead, the scans from the night of the shooting more than a week and a half prior were used.  Mark was deeply angered that he had to be mustered from his home and put through so much rigorous ordeal just to find out what he deemed to be useless information. 

Shylah on the other hand, was all aflutter with the news that she received about the baby.  She learned that her baby had doubled in size in only a week, now a half of an inch long, that it had begun to develop hands and feet, its brain was developing well, and that its liver should be functioning well and distributing red blood cells throughout the body until its bone marrow could take over that job.  It was all new to Shylah but too exciting for words.  She felt as though she had been somehow pulled into the air to float around and watch everything from above.  It all seemed a tremendous miracle and the most wonderful things that she had ever heard, save that Mark would be alright after the incident with Sara.

The entire way home, Shylah wondered if Mark would be just as excited or if he would continue to ignore her.  She hoped that he would find the same joy in it all as she had.  Surely, he could not remain calm and uncaring about the development of his first and possibly only child he would ever have, Shylah told herself.  When she got home and relayed it all to Mark, he displayed his first real excitement since coming home from the hospital but quickly interrupted the joyous occasion to tell of his own appointment and to complain about it all.

Shylah was beside herself.  She loved Mark so much that it felt as though it hurt, as if she could not possibly love him more.  She wanted to be with him for all of time and eternity, but she wanted that to be with Mark showing as much happiness and affection as she showed for him.  She reminded herself over and over that Mark was not the type to act as he had been, that his behavior was all the result of his predicament and that he should be shown complete sympathy.

Shylah attempted to take her mind off of Mark's general disdain by making plans for both Mark's birthday and their wedding.  There were now only five days until Mark's birthday, October eighth, and only roughly two and a half months until Shylah hoped they would exchange vows.  Shylah decided that she would take Mark's advice after all and finally hire a wedding planner.  It would make things so much easier with so much going on and with the resultant stress that all of the badness in their lives kept bringing for both of them.   

Shylah thought that, perhaps, her mother's involvement in the planning of both big events would not only help things come along more smoothly but that they would keep herself even busier and more apt to keep from snapping at Mark.  Shylah began to wish that Mark had the ability to go to the plant, at least, a few days per week.  It would give them time away from one another and hopefully, make Mark more appreciative of his home life.  Ironically, Mark had been thinking much the same.
  He realized, on occasion, that he was not treating Shylah as he should or as he wanted to, but every time that he realized this, Shylah was nowhere near him or he immediately went back to thinking about how horrible his physical wellbeing truly was.

Unable to take the thought of staying home all the time any longer, Mark worked it out with T.L. that they should begin going to the plant together, every other day, to check on things and to start planning new manufacturing areas, how many new employees to hire, who to make foremen/forewomen, if hours should be increased and for how long in order to catch up on missed production and to reestablish business connections. Don Birchum was supposed to be on top of some of these things, but Mark had a good feeling that not much of anything had been done yet.  He desperately wanted to see everything that Don mentioned, the repairs, the new edition, new machinery, etc. 

As parts of the new planning committee that Mark had so often talked about, Darius and T.L. would be required to make regular appearances to discuss the urgent matters at hand, but with Mark being the wreck that he was, it would require all three of them to go by way of Shylah's car, or at least, Mark and T.L. to do so.  T.L. quickly relayed to his father that from then until either the reopening of the plant or until Mark said otherwise, that they would have regular meetings, every other day, beginning at ten a.m., for which all employees involved would be offered supervisory positions over production and would be paid a supervisor's wages during the planning period, on top of the pay they already received while off of work. 

It all sounded like magic to Darius' ears. He could not wait to have work.  With weeks of sitting around the house, spending most of his time with his wife, he began to feel stir crazy, sometimes, looking for any way and any place to escape so that he could scream.  Work was all that he had ever known to do during the weekdays.  Darius King had rarely ever so much as taken a sick day from work, partly so as to not be stuck with his wife and partly in order to save up his sick days and other excused days to cash in for extra pay when money was tight.  He was, by far, one of the most dependable and loyal employees that Crady Steelworks, LLC had ever had.

By the end of the weekend, Shylah got ahold of the nearest wedding planner that she could find but had to offer the woman a considerable amount of extra money to take on a new client with so many other weddings being planned and for her trouble of being bothered on a non-workday.  Selma Simmons was a stout woman in her mid-fifties that had specialized in wedding planning for nearly twenty years.  Shylah found that the woman came highly recommended by many, a great relief to her.  She was afraid of hiring someone that she did not know and about whom she had no idea of the quality of their work. 

Shylah told Mark about hiring the woman, but he was reluctant to discuss wedding plans and simply told Shylah that she could have whatever she wanted for the big day and hire whoever she wanted, no matter the expense.  Mark knew that he still very much wanted to marry Shylah, but he was not in the slightest of moods, given his situation, to talk about the smallest or the biggest of details.  Shylah knew that she would have to get him to at least discuss a honeymoon, where to go, when, how, and how to plan and arrange it.  With the aid of a travel agent, Shylah was certain, they could plan such a thing fairly easily.  Getting Mark to the agent in his wheelchair and getting him in the mood to deal with it, however, was another matter entirely, one that would require copious coaxing and pleading. 

Mark's excuse to push the wedding issue away was always, "Yeah.  Ok, Baby.  Whatever."  It began to drive Shylah insane with worry and stress.  All that she wanted, aside from Mark's recovery and the general good health of their child, was for Mark to take some kind of interest in the wedding.  Nothing seemed to faze him in the least.

On Monday, Shylah met with Selma Simmons as soon as she was up and ready in her most basic form, leaving the house by a little after eight a.m., arriving at Ms. Simmons' office by eight-thirty.  Shylah was quite anxious to get things underway and ensure that the big day would go off without any hitch.  Mark still cared very little and was far more focused on getting himself out of the house to go to the plant and get some real work done.  All that he could think about, when he wasn't thinking about his health and misfortune, was getting the plant running again, getting everyone back to work, and starting to turn a profit for the first time in months.  It would be
two months that the plant had been closed by the time of it reopening.

While T.L. came to Mark's house to pick up both Shylah's car and Mark, Darius went ahead in his own truck to the plant to wait for the others.  Shylah was given permission, by Mark, to use his truck all that she needed so that there would be no overlapping vehicular worries.  Shylah had never driven Mark's truck before and thought it a far step above those of her brother and her father.  Mark's truck was much newer, more expensive, and in far better shape.  It was the newest and nicest vehicle she ever had the pleasure of being behind the wheel of or even being in, for that matter.

When Mark and T.L. arrived at the plant, they quickly found that Don Birchum was not there.  It was so unlike Don.  He always seemed to be right on top of things at all times and completely dedicated to everything.  Mark wheeled himself inside and inquired of Don's whereabouts from the construction crew.  The plant was to be locked whenever there was no management present, which would not even allow for the construction crew to enter the premises.  Mark learned that Don had given a key to the foreman of the crew and that he rarely showed up at the place before ten or eleven a.m.  It was the final straw for Mark.  He couldn't take another piece of bad news from anyone and screamed in uncontrollable fits of rage, alarming all around him and causing quite a few to murmur amongst themselves.