Till Death Do Us Part

by Lurlene McDaniel

“Well, I think Mark deals with it by not giving up. And by making plans and acting on them.”

  “And you?” Rosa asked. “How do you deal with it?”

  April knew that Mark's family was aware of her medical problems. She replied, “One day at a time. Mark taught me that.”

  “You're a lovely girl, April, but you've lived a very privileged life. Mark hasn't.”

  April was taken aback. “Privilege doesn't make a difference when you get sick, Mrs. Gianni. Or when you get diagnosed with a brain tumor. And all the money in the world can't make either thing go away. So Mark and I are more alike than we are different.”

  Rosa was about to reply, but the kitchen door swung open and a group of relatives entered, chattering and carrying plates and leftover food. April never knew what Mark's mother might have said, but she did get the impression that it wouldn't have been approving. And she wondered why, after all these months, his mother seemed against April being with her only son.

  What were you and my mother talking about in the kitchen?” Mark fumbled with the key to his apartment, his arms heaped with birthday gifts. “I stuck my head into the kitchen and saw that she had you cornered.”

  April unlocked the door for him. “Girl talk. Nothing important.”

  “That's hard to believe. She was trying to make you pressure me to give up racing, wasn't she?” He switched on a table lamp, and soft light filled the room.

  “It's no secret that she'd rather you didn't race. What's that?” She pointed to an enormous box perched in the middle of the sofa.

  “Why don't you check it out?”

  She read the tag. “It's for me. And it's from you.” He grinned mischievously. “Why would I get a present? It's your birthday.”

  “Haven't you heard? It's better to give than to receive.”

  “What are you up to, Mark Gianni?”

  “Guess you'll have to open it to find out.”

  She bounced onto the sofa and studied the box. “Your box for me is bigger than my box for you. Did you get me a racing suit too?” She tore off the outer wrapping, opened the flaps of the box, and discovered—another wrapped box. “What's this?”

  He shrugged. “I guess you'll have to keep unwrapping.”

  Intrigued, she tore off the next box's layer of paper. Inside she found another box. “You're driving me crazy! Is that what you want? A crazy girl on your hands?”

  He laughed. “Boy, you get cranky over the smallest details.”

  She tossed a wad of wrapping paper at him and ripped open the next box. Inside it was another. And inside that, another still. She unwrapped ten boxes in all, until one very small one lay in the palm of her hand. “I know,” she sighed. “It's an Elvis postage stamp, isn't it?”

  “Only one way to find out,” he replied.

  She ripped off the paper and discovered a small black velvet box. But there the game ended. Inside this box, nesded in folds of white satin, lay a gold antique-looking ring with a diamond in its center. She gasped and, wordlessly, turned toward him. Mark had sunk to one knee beside the sofa. He took her hand, and his brown eyes stared direcdy into hers. “Marry me, April. I love you, and more than anything in the world, I want you to be my wife.”

  She began to cry.

  “I was hoping for a different reaction,” he said, looking crestfallen.

  A million emotions tumbled through her—love, excitement, awe, joy … fear. “Mark, I don't know what to say.”

  “‘Yes’ would be nice. I love you, April. I thought you loved me too.”

  She cupped his face in her hands. “Of course I love you. And, yes, I will marry you.”

  His face broke into a grin, and his eyes sparkled. He slid the ring on her finger. The diamond caught the lamplight and twinkled brilliandy. “I know the stone's small, but it once belonged to my grandmother. She left it to me in her will because she always believed that somewhere God had picked out one special girl for me. And she was right.”

  April blinked back tears. “It's perfect. And I'm honored to wear it.”

  “I wish she could have known you. She would have loved you too.”

  April couldn't take her eyes from the glittering stone on her hand. Engaged! She was engaged to Mark Gianni.

  “When can we get married?” he asked.

  “I don't know. There's so much to think about … so much to do,” she said, still fascinated with the diamond. But in the back of her mind, she knew her parents might not be enthusiastic about her acceptance of Mark's proposal. They would say she was young. That she had four years of college ahead of her. She realized she had a brain tumor that might begin growing once more.

  Mark smoothed her hair. “Now that I know you'll marry me, I don't want to wait.” He kissed her, long and sweet. Her heart hammered, and she clung to him while visions of herself in a long white wedding gown danced through her head.

  The dream ended abruptly die next morning when she told her parents about Mark's proposal. Her mother's face went pale, her father's livid. “You can't be serious!” he said.

  April had known they would object. Still, she was determined to marry Mark. “I am serious. What's wrong with us getting married?”

  “You're not even eighteen,” her father railed. “You're still a child.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Please. Mom was nineteen when you married her.”

  “That was different.”

  Her mother jumped in. “April, how can you think about marrying a man like Mark, who may die at any time?” Her voice was quiet, but it cut through April like a knife.

  “Anyone can die at any time,” she answered coolly.

  “His odds are higher than most and you know it.”

  “My odds aren't the greatest either,” she said. “Or have you forgotten?”

  “You're in remission,” her father insisted. “And you may remain so forever. And what of your other plans? You just enrolled in college.”

  “I can be married and still go to college.”

  “How will he provide for you? He works in a print shop, for heaven's sake. And he plays with cars on the side. Do you know how expensive it is to live in New York? Have you any idea—?”

  “Stop it!” She put her hands over her ears. “I won't listen to you tear down Mark another minute.” She whirled and ran up the stairs. She threw herself on the bed and seethed. This was supposed to be a happy day. Instead, her parents had turned it into a fight. Why couldn't they be happy for her?

  She ignored the soft knock on the door, but her mother came into the room anyway. “I should have locked it,” she whispered through clenched teeth. “Go away.”

  Her mother sat on the bed. “I came to talk, not argue.” Her voice was soft, and she sounded weary. “April, I know you think we're being unreasonable, but we honestly have your best interests at heart.”

  “How can you? I love Mark and you hate him.”

  “That's simply not true. We like Mark. We just think you're too young to make this kind of commitment. In spite of what you see in bride magazines, once the wedding day is over a couple has to live in reality.”

  “You're arguing. You told me you wouldn't.”

  Her mother sighed. “Then let me cut to the chase. Marriage is hard enough without any obstacles. You and Mark have considerable obstacles. Cystic fibrosis is a bad disease and its victims need plenty of care.”

  “I know what Mark needs.” April cut her off. “He needs special medications. He needs therapy. I plan to learn how to do his back and chest thumps. I can handle it.”

  “It isn't some little thing, like brushing your teeth at night or washing your face every morning. It's serious, life-sustaining business. It means that no matter how tired you are, no matter if you've had a fight and the two of you are angry with each other, no matter what, you have to perform this procedure.”

  “I can handle it,” April said stubbornly. But she knew her mother was right. The responsibility was weighty. “Besides, I'm sure his respiratory therapist won't dro
p out of Mark's life entirely. He'll still be in the picture.”

  “There are other things about boys with CF—”

  “I don't want to hear about it!”

  “Maybe you should talk to his mother. I have.”

  April jumped off the bed. “You whafi You've gone to Mark's family behind our backs? I don't believe it! How could you?” Suddenly Rosa's attitude toward April after the birthday party made perfect sense. April's mother had gone to see her. Who knew what her mother may have said?

  “Because I love you!” her mother replied. “Because I don't want to see you get in over your head.”

  “Stop treating me like a baby! I'm old enough to get married if I want to.”

  “Not without our permission, you're not.” Her mother was standing too, and they'd squared off, facing each other.

  “I'm going to marry Mark,” April said in clipped words. “Whether you and Dad approve or not. I love him and he loves me. We'll get by. I'd rather have your blessing, but I'll do it without if I have to. And if we have to run away to do it, we will. That's a promise.”

  “Engaged!” Kelli squealed over the phone. April had called Kelli in Oregon as soon as, her mother had left the bedroom. “That's so awesome!”

  “Tell that to my parents,” April said.

  “They're not glad about it?”

  “It's like a war zone around here, although there's a temporary truce right now because they hate upsetting me.” April made a face. “I think they're giving me time to ‘come to my senses.’ But I'm not going to change my mind. Which is one reason I'm calling. If we work this out, will you be my maid of honor?”

  Kelli squealed again. “You bet!”

  Her enthusiasm warmed April's heart. “So, how's college life?”

  “The classes are harder than high school. The campus is huge. And it rains every day.”

  “But you like it?”

  “It's okay. Lots of cute guys around.”

  April felt a pang of longing. For what? she asked herself. Her life was different now; her plans a hundred and eighty degrees from what they'd been even six months before. By the same time a year from now, she'd hopefully be married. No, it wasn't what she—or her parents—had once planned for her. But the new direction pleased her.

  “They'll come around,” Kelli said across the miles, as if reading April's thoughts. “Your parents will do anything for you, so don't get too bent out of shape. I'm telling you, they'll do this for you too.”

  I'm sorry this is causing problems between you and your parents. I never meant for that to happen,” Mark said.

  Late-afternoon sun sparkled on the lake in Central Park, where April and Mark had met after her class at NYU. They sat on a bench, watching geese swim through the sunlit water; the air felt crisp and smelled of autumn. The sky was a brilliant shade of icy blue, and the trees were already tinged with gold and red.

  “Kelli thinks they'll come around,” April said. She held Mark's hand. “I think she's right. I just wish they'd hurry up about it. I bought one of those bridal books, and there's so much to do before the ceremony. The book says you should start up to a year in advance to plan your wedding.”

  “A year? I don't want to wait a whole year.”

  “Neither do I. So I skipped those pages. We can do it in six months, but we need to start now.”

  “Is it that important to you? I mean, that we have a big wedding?”

  “I don't know. I—I just wish Mom and I were planning it together. It would be so much easier. And a whole lot more fun.” Weeks after April had announced her intention to marry Mark, her parents still hadn't warmed to the idea. It hurt her to have them act indifferent about it. Her mother had gone off on a fall buying tour for the antique store and her father was busy with a rash of new clients. April couldn't have discussed it with them even if she'd wanted to. A gust of cool wind chilled her, and she edged closer to Mark. “How about your family? How do they really feel about it?” His parents had seemed excited about the news, but she didn't know what they might be saying to Mark behind her back.

  “Actually, they're okay about it. Ma's already been to talk to the priest, and as long as we get married in the church, there won't be any problems. But then, the groom's family doesn't have much to do anyway, it's the bride's show.”

  “There's the rehearsal dinner,” she reminded him.

  “No problem. Ma's already looking for a place to have it, but you'll have to tell her how many people to plan for.”

  “See, that's what I mean. There are so many details. I can't even come up with a guest list without my mother's help.” Out on the lake the geese rose into the sky, honking and flapping gray and black wings. “Did you know my mother went to talk to yours a few weeks back?”

  “Ma told me the other day.”

  “I can't believe her! She makes me so angry.”

  “She's just concerned about you.”

  “Why are you taking her side?”

  “I'm not. It's just that I understand. I have CF, April. It's a big deal and she has a right to be concerned.”

  “I'm tired of everybody's concern,” she said peevishly. “I can think and act for myself. I have to learn how to take care of you, you know. I have to learn how to do your thumps.”

  Mark sighed, rested his forearms on his knees, and stared at the ground. “I know. But it scares me.”

  “Are you afraid I'll be incompetent?”

  “No. I'm afraid you'll be grossed out.”

  Her irritability vanished, and her heart went out to him. She slid her arm around his waist and rested her cheek against his hunched shoulder. “You could never gross me out. I love you.”

  He straightened and drew her into his arms. In spite of their heavy jackets, she felt the warmth of his body. “Come home with me tonight. After dinner, Ma will show you what you'll need to know.”

  “I could learn from Randy,” she ventured.

  “He'll instruct you too. But we'll start with my mother. She's done it all my life, so she'll be the best teacher.”

  April nodded. She couldn't admit she was scared, but she was. Gould she learn to do his thumps correctly? What if she messed up? She pushed aside her fears. Mark needed her. She wasn't going to let him down. She was going to be his wife.

  Overhead, the geese circled in V-formation, honking goodbye forlornly.

  That night, April watched Mark's mother pound his chest and then his back with cupped hands and a steady rhythm. Mark coughed and gagged and spit up phlegm. April steeled herself, telling herself that this was a way of life for him and once they were married, it would become her responsibility.

  “Now you try it,” Rosa directed April.

  April cupped her hands and slapped Mark's back.

  “Harder,” Mark said. “You have to hit harder.”

  Rosa explained, “You can only hurt him if you don't get the phlegm good and loose. It's got to be broken up and expectorated.”

  By the time the session was over, perspiration poured off April. Her palms stung and her shoulders ached from leaning over Mark. He straightened, breathing hard, his voice raspy. “That's enough.” He went into the bathroom, and April heard him brushing his teeth.

  “Are you going to be all right?” Rosa asked.

  April reddened. “Sure. Don't worry. I'll get the hang of it.”

  “It was difficult for me at first too. He was two when he was diagnosed and I had to pound him so hard on the back I was afraid I'd hurt him. At first his father had to hold him down. But he soon got with the program. In a few months, he simply lay down on the pillows for me. He doesn't ever remember another way of life, except to get thumped several times a day.” Rosa shook her head. “But when you love your child, you'll do anything for him.”

  “Was it hard for you when Mark moved out on his own?”

  “Very hard. I called him every night for weeks to make sure Randy was doing his job. Mark finally got sick of it and told me to stop. It was difficult, but I did it. C
hildren must grow up. Even sick ones.”

  April averted her gaze. Her parents loved her too, but they hadn't learned how to let go of her yet. “I wish my parents felt that way.”

  “They'll change their minds. That day your mother came to talk to me, I could see how much she loved you. She knows that your life with Mark won't be easy, and she doesn't want you to get in over your head.”

  “But it's my head,” April insisted. “I'm sorry if she bothered you.”

  “She didn't. She was only trying to figure out what you were up against if you married my son. I was honest with her. I told her it wasn't going to be easy, but that I thought you had what it took to deal with Mark's illness.”

  “You did?” Her compliment pleased April.

  “Of course. You're bright and mature. And you know what it is to live with medical uncertainty.”

  Truthfully, April hadn't thought much about her own problem since the day she'd rushed out of Dr. Sorenson's office. As long as her tumor was dormant, she saw no purpose in dwelling on it. And if it did start growing again, well … she figured she'd worry about it at that time. “I really love Mark,” she told his mother. “I know a lot of people think we shouldn't get married, but I honestly believe we can make a life for ourselves. Just as long as we're together.”

  Rosa smiled. “I always knew that it would take a very special girl to love Mark. When Mark was growing up I lit candles in church every Sunday and prayed that God would find such a girl for him.”

  April returned Rosa's smile. “I don't know if Mark told you, but my parents went through a lot to conceive me. Mom told me that she's always looked forward to having a grandchild to spoil.”

  Rosa stiffened, and her eyes grew guarded. “Y-You want children?”

  Mark's mother looked visibly upset. April couldn't understand her reaction. “Well … sure … I guess so.” Still, Rosa stared at her silently, and April began to feel unsure of herself. “Oh, not right away, of course. I—I mean, we'd wait awhile. Are you afraid we might pass on bad genes to our kids?”

  Before Rosa could answer, Mark walked into the room, and both women turned toward him. “What's wrong?” He glanced anxiously from his mother to April.