Under the Cypress Moon (64 page)

"Then you have to accept Dawn.  I even know the story of why they named you that, so ha.  Your brother and your parents tell me EVERYTHING!  I know more stuff about you than you think.  I've been your brother's best friend since we were three!"  Mark choked a little, feeling a great lump in his throat, believing that he may have gone a little too far.  He was afraid of what Shylah might do now, but he knew that she really couldn't do much to him in his bad health.

"Oh, you do not!  They never told you about my middle name.  You might know what it is, but you don't know the story."

"What's the story then?"

"I'm not tellin' you!  If you know the story, you tell me."

"Fine.  I will.  You were born late at night, about two somethin', almost three in the morning.  Your parents couldn't decide on your whole name, but when the sun started comin' up, your mama said that it was the most beautiful dawn she'd ever seen in her life, like it was a sign.  She said they should name you Dawn because of it.  See.  I do know."

"I'm gonna kill my brother," Shylah yelled.  "I can't believe him and his big mouth.  And you, you're gonna get it!"

"What am I gonna get, Baby?  You gonna beat me up?  You gonna give me my birthday spankin'?  We can't do anything, so it'd be a waste."

"I don't know, but if you don't kiss me again, right now, I'm not gonna forgive you.  It's your birthday, and I own you!  If you weren't messed up, these clothes we're wearin' would be over there on the floor!"  Shylah grabbed Mark by the shoulder and pulled herself over to him, placing her lips hard enough on his to almost hurt. 

"Oh," Mark exclaimed as Shylah pulled away.

"Am I hurtin' you," Shylah begged in great worry.

"A little, but it's more that you put your leg on me, and I think maybe you pushed on my bladder.  I gotta pee so bad I can't take it anymore."

"Hurry up, Sexy.  You're mine!"

"I would, Baby, but you know, once I'm out of bed, I'm up for good.  It's too much work and too painful to get back in."

"Yeah.  I guess you're right.  Well then, my love, I'm gonna go fix us some coffee and some food.  What do you want?"

"Anything'll be fine, Babe.  Just make some of it sweet," Mark ordered as he turned to pull himself out of bed.

"So, you want me then, huh?"

"You have NO idea, Baby!  If you're on the menu, I'd stay home and eat forever, but I can't.  If there was a way, though, but I really gotta go to the bathroom."

"Go," Shylah demanded.  "Ain't nobody stoppin' you!"

Mark entered the kitchen to find Shylah busy at work, cooking breakfast.  He thought how amazingly lucky he was to have a woman that was not only extraordinarily beautiful but one who would cook for him, be there whenever he needed a shoulder to lean on, be his best friend in so many ways that T.L. could not be, and be so loving and giving so often when she would probably rather not be.  He thought to himself that he must have the most perfect woman that had ever walked the Earth.  She was his everything, his reason for waking in the morning and his reason to continue breathing.  When many other men would have already given up all hope and all will to try, Mark found plenty of reasons to continue, and most of them were, in way or another, because of Shylah.

"Well, I guess you are NOT on the menu, huh," Mark commented as he rolled his wheelchair up behind Shylah. 

Shylah quickly turned, startled by the sudden noise, and nearly hit Mark in the face with her greasy spatula.  "Oh.  I'm sorry, Baby!  I didn't realize you were there at first.  You startled me."

"It's ok.  Kiss."

"Kiss to you, too."

"No, Goofy.  I want a kiss.  Lean that pretty face down here, and kiss the birthday boy."

"Oh," Shylah replied, leaning down, nearly falling onto Mark as she did.  The kiss, though short, was electrical.  Both of them knew, in that moment, that as long as they maintained that electricity, they would be golden, so to speak.  As Shylah pulled away, she remarked, "You are pretty old now.  You are what... fifty?"

"Somethin' like that.  Twenty-seven, fifty, all the same."

"Yep, fifty, like I said.  I guess I'm not too good at math.  I guess I must be like forty-somethin', huh?"  Shylah began to laugh so hard at her own joke that it caused Mark to start laughing in return.

As Mark laughed harder and harder, he could feel the pressure pulling at his stomach.  He hoped that the doctor had stapled the wound together very well, but he wasn't sure.  "Aww, Baby, please don't make me laugh like that.  It hurts."

"Be careful with that.  Will that cause problems or somethin'?"

"I guess the staples could come loose.  I don't know.  I don't even know how I'm held together inside, just on the outside.  I imagine we'd have to rush to the E.R. again or call 911.  I don't know."

"Let's not have that, please, especially not on your birthday.  We don't need that."

"You think?  I woke up this mornin', thinkin' 'Hey.  How can I make sure I have to spend my birthday in the hospital?'"

"Ok, Smartass.  Go sit down, and have some coffee and a smoke.  Breakfast will be done in a while."

"I can't really carry a cup of coffee in this chair.  I hate to bother you while you're busy, but could you help poor wittle ol' me?  I'm kinda pathetic like that, I know."

"You're not pathetic, Baby.  You're just a helpless little man child.  Shylah to the rescue once again!  I better get somethin' good out of all this work, though.  I'm thinkin' a new car.  Yeah, a new car.  That sounds good!"  Shylah turned the burners down on the stove and hurriedly fixed Mark a cup of coffee.  "You can do all the fixin'.  I'm just bringin' you your cup.  Do it how you want."

Shylah set the cup on the table before Mark and turned to walk back to the stove but was quickly pulled downward for another kiss.  "You taste way better than any food I ever had," Mark commented, slapping Shylah hard on her backside.

"And you can't back up that slap, but I'm glad you think that, Baby.  I try.  I'm just that sweet for you."

"Oh, so your other boyfriends don't like kissin' you so much?  I see."

"Most of 'em, no.  A few of 'em like the way I taste, but I'm sure your other girlfriends feel the same about you."

"Cindy likes how I taste, but that's all I know," Mark said, feeling cocky enough to mention such a name.

"Back to Cindy?  You can cook your own damn breakfast!"

"No, Baby.  I was kidding.  Don't take it so seriously.  You know I love you and only you.  You're the only girl I ever want!"  Mark wrapped his arms around Shylah's legs and squeezed, hoping that she would feel the sincerity in his touch.

"You better be.  Birthday boy or not, I'll whoop that ass!"

"Promises, promises," Mark jokingly sounded.

"Uh huh.  Ok.  I gotta get back to the food before it burns."

After breakfast, Shylah convinced Mark to attempt to wheel himself out of the house and out to the cypress grove.  It seemed a fitting place for them at the moment, a place where they had not been for some time, a place that brought them closer together, a place that was so beloved by both. 
Mark found that it was not as difficult as he had thought.  He made it easily out the back door of the house and had only a very minor difference in level between the concrete of the veranda and the grass beyond it.  The only part of the journey that seemed to create any sort of problem was going down a slight incline in the yard, a four foot section of ground that sloped fairly drastically.

Mark felt himself becoming strangely dizzy, something that seemed gravely impossible given that he was seated at the time.  As he descended the incline, he thought that he might lose control of his wheelchair and tumble over, possibly spilling from the chair violently, and opening his stomach wound.  It was a birthday gift that he did not want to have given to him. 

It was odd to Mark that he had to spend his time at the grove seated in a wheelchair when he should be walking, maybe even chasing after Shylah as he had done at their first meeting at the place.  He wanted so badly to get up from the chair and chase her, to play with her lovingly, running his hands through her hair, kiss her in the rain, if only it would actually rain for once, and whatever else came to mind.  On this day, however, it was nothing as it had been at previous times, nothing at all like the very first time, that wonderful, tremendously overjoyed serendipitous moment of pure, unadulterated love and giving, a time so benevolent in its bestowing of eternal gifts that it would be cherished forever.  This morning rendezvous was somehow different, not only because of the change of physical state for Mark, but for other reasons.  It just didn't feel the same.  Mark loved that he could be there with the only woman that he ever truly loved, but it seemed nearly pointless at the same time. 

"You don't seem happy, Baby," Shylah remarked as they were both situated, Mark in his chair, she sitting on the ground beside him.  "It's a beautiful day!  It's your birthday!  We're together, in this place that we love!  What's to be unhappy about, Baby?  You're usually such a happy guy. Be happy!  Don
't worry... about a thing... cuz... every little thing.... gonna be alright."

"Who is that," Mark asked.  "I don't think I know that song."

"Bob Marley.  I know.  You only listen to country.  That's ok.  I still love you, but you need to check out some other music.  There's a lot of good stuff that wasn't done by a country singer.  Just picture you and me on a beach somewhere, you not in that wheelchair, us just dancing under the swaying palm trees to some steel drum reggae band while the cool ocean breeze blows in and has my hair flyin' all around!  I can just picture it, Baby.  It's almost like I'm there.  I'm thinkin' maybe... honeymoon in Jamaica or somewhere.  What do you think?  We do have to get that goin'."

"It all sounds amazing, Baby.  I'll go anywhere with you.  I don't care where I am, as long as you're there."  Mark tried so hard but could not safely lean over the side of his chair to kiss Shylah.  The really bad part was that everything Shylah said only reminded Mark of his day in Tampa and of the woman that he spent his time with when it should have been spent with Shylah.  Though he didn't cheat on Shylah, Mark still felt terrible about coming close to it.

It was ironic, Mark thought, that he should think of such things, as the next thing that he knew, Shylah spoke of exactly that, his having gone to Florida and having become too friendly with a woman there.  "Just don't think of that girl when you're holdin' me out on the beach!"

"Like I told you a hundred times, Baby, I am so sorry about all that. She meant nothing, and nothing happened.  Well, nothing more than that short kiss that I stopped.  I feel horrible about it.  You're the only one for me, and I'll do anything to show you that."

"Huh.  You better, Mark Crady.  You better.  And you only told me sorry once, well, twice now.  You have yet to see the truly bad side of Shylah Dawn King, and don't you say a thing about me usin' my middle name.  I can do it.  You can't, even after we're married!  It's mine, all mine, as much as I hate it.  Now, kiss me!"

"Get your butt up here then, Beautiful.  You know, you're just makin' me wanna stay home from work." 

Shylah felt more special at that moment than she had for some time.  It was wonderful to have Mark back to his old self, as much as he could be so, given his state of affairs.  The couple kissed so passionately and so violently that Mark's chair began to go backwards, nearly taking off, except for Shylah's sudden jerk reaction to grab it by its handle.

"That was close," Shylah huffed.  "I thought you were about to roll away.  You might not have stopped til you were in Florida, but you would've liked that.  You could go see whatever her name is."

"Enough of that shit," Mark screamed.  "Damn.  I said I was sorry.  I never meant for that to happen, and I can only say sorry so many times!"

"Geesh," Shylah exclaimed, taken aback and a little angry.  "I was just jok
in'!  Damn!  Take a damn joke once in a while!  Isn't that what you always tell me?!"

"Ok.  Sorry.  Sorry.  Please, Baby, let's not fight.  Let's just drop the other girl thing.  I really am sorry, so sorry.  You have no idea how sorry, but it is my birthday, and we're supposed to be enjoying this time here.  Of course, in just a little bit, I'm gonna have to go inside and try to take a shower.  I'm gonna need your help, though."  Mark looked sad as he said this.  He felt so helpless and so lost, not knowing why he had been degraded to such a seemingly worthless condition.

Shylah knew where her duties lie but felt too overwhelmed with sexual grief over the idea of seeing Mark nude and not being able to act on the feelings that the sight would inspire.  "You know I will, Baby, but that's just a tease!  We can't even do anything!  I wanna cry.  I really wanna cry!  No sex in so long.  Hell, I don't even know how long it's been!  I'm goin' just as crazy as you are!  I need it!  I really need it!  When you get all better, you better be plannin' on draggin' me into the bedroom, ripping my clothes all off, and turnin' me into your sex slave for about a week!"

"You know I will.  Like I could actually turn you down!  I'd have an easier time growin' wings and flyin' away!  You're the one that better be ready cuz you can't even imagine all the stuff I'm gonna do to you!  I'd give you an idea right now, but you seem like you're horny enough the way it is."  Mark burst out laughing harder than he had earlier that morning, holding his stomach the entire time out of fear of what it might do to his stapled wound.  He lived in constant, unbearable, and disheartening fear of the wound springing open like a child's jack-in-the-box.  If it did, Mark would surely be back in the hospital, and that was the last thing that he could allow to happen, for a laundry list of reasons.