Till Death Do Us Part

by Lurlene McDaniel

  “April has just told me she might like to have a child,” Rosa said, reproach in her voice.

  Mark's face flushed crimson.

  “What's wrong?” April asked, suddenly feeling like a person who'd walked into the middle of a play without knowing her lines.

  “I …,” Mark began, stopped, then said, “We have to talk.”

  “Yes,” his mother said. “You have to talk. And shame on you, son, for waiting until now to talk to April about this.”

  “Please,” April pleaded. “Will someone please tell me what's going on?”

  Rosa said, “I'll leave the two of you alone,” and quickly left the room.

  With her heart pounding, April stepped closer to Mark, waiting for him to say something.

  When he looked at her, pain was etched into his face. “I can't give you babies, April. Not ever.”

  You don't want children?”

  “I didn't say I didn't want them. I said I couldn't have them.”

  April couldn't grasp what he was trying to tell her. “But why?”

  Mark's eyes clouded. “It's the CF. Guys who have CF are sterile. We can never father children.”

  April felt as if she'd been kicked in the stomach. How could it? she wondered. “I didn't know.”

  He held her eyes with his gaze. “Does it make a difference?”

  “I'm not sure,” April answered slowly. “Having babies isn't something I've thought a lot about. I mean, my friends and I used to talk about it. Once, one of my friends thought she might be pregnant. It turned out that she wasn't, but it really made me stop and think what it would be like to have a baby.”

  “Well, you'll never have to worry about an unwanted pregnancy with me. That's for sure.” Mark sounded bitter. “But please tell me if it's going to make a difference for us. If children are so important that you no longer want to marry me.”

  April chose her words carefully. “What bothers me most h that you didn't tell me.”

  “When would I have?”

  “When you gave me the ring?”

  He gave a short humorless laugh. “Sure. That would have made the night memorable: ‘Will you marry me, and oh, by the way, I can't ever have kids.’”

  “Mark, once I saw all your medicine bot-des, the oxygen tank, all that stuff—well, that might have been a perfect time to have had a heart-to-heart about CF. I asked you to let me learn how to do your thumps, and at first you said no. You've had plenty of chances to talk about it.”

  “I didn't want to lose you.”

  “Well, if that was going to break up our relationship, then we didn't have much going for us, did we?” she asked quietly.

  He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm, and when he looked at her, he looked ashamed. “I underestimated you, April.”

  “You've done that a lot.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  She felt tears sting her eyes. “I'm sorry too, Mark. I'm sorry you didn't trust me enough to be honest.”

  He squared his shoulders and hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. “I never wanted anything as much as I wanted you. The odds are pretty good that you'll outlive me, April.” He raised a hand to stop her protest. “No, hear me out. It's the truth and we both know it. I'm not afraid of dying, but there's a lot of living I want to do before death catches up with me. Ton are part ofthat living. I want you. I have from the first time I saw you. But if having children is a dream of yours, I can't give it to you, no matter how much I want to.”

  In that moment, April saw her life stretching in front of her without Mark. The image was so bleak, she shuddered. Losing him eventually was inevitable. Nothing could stop it from happening. But she couldn't let him go now, not under any circumstances. With a catch in her voice, she said, “The only thing that's important to me is loving you.”

  He closed the space between them with a long stride and took her in his arms. “I love you, April. I love you more than anything in this world.”

  When her mother returned from her trip, April decided she would have to discuss the wedding with her, whether her mother wanted to hear it or not. She wanted her mother's help. She needed her mother's help.

  So one bright October afternoon, April stopped at the antique store. She opened the door. A bell tinkled delicately and the scent of old furniture, lemon oil, and silver polish hung in the air. She loved the store. When she had been a litde girl, she used to go to work with her mother and play among the antique furniture. Tapestries hung on walls alongside gilded sconces. There were expensive Oriental carpets, armoires, richly carved chairs, and old-world furniture that turned the floor space into a wonderful maze. Overhead a series of crystal chandeliers, some more than a hundred years old, evoked images of elegant ballrooms and velvet gowns. Tables were draped with fine lace and crisp linen and held ornate silver bowls, fine English porcelain, and cut crystal vases filled with bouquets of freshly cut flowers.

  “April! How nice to see you,” Caroline, her mother's partner, called out. “How are you?”

  April embraced the slender brown-haired woman. “I'm fine. The shop looks wonderful.”

  “Thanks to your mother. She's found some positively fabulous Shaker-style furniture. She's in the back inventorying it right now. She tells me you're getting married. Congratulations.”

  April was surprised that Caroline announced the news so happily. “Thanks.”

  “I'm so pleased for you. You look around the shop and pick out a gift for yourself. Anything you want.” Caroline patted her arm.

  Caroline's offer stunned April. She hadn't expected her to be so enthusiastic, especially knowing the way her mother felt. “Thank you! I'll bring Mark some afternoon and we'll choose something together.”

  “April!” Her mother came out of the store's back room.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  Caroline said, “You two visit and I'll go work on the inventory.”

  Once they were alone, April's mother asked, “What brings you here?”

  “I was doing some wedding dress shopping and thought I'd stop by.” She hated that her tone sounded challenging, but she couldn't help it.

  “Have you found something you like?”

  “Actually, I have. Several, in fact. I need another opinion.”

  “Would you like mine?”

  April held her breath, hoping that she and her mother could come to terms. She didn't like being at odds with her parents. “Yes. I'd like yours very much.”

  Her mother walked to the back of the store and minutes later returned with her trench coat. “I told Caroline I wouldn't be back today.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Their gazes locked. “My only daughter is getting married soon. I can't let any opportunity go by to help with her wedding.” Her mother hugged April, then held her at arm's length. Her mother's eyes shimmered.

  A lump rose in April's throat. She realized how much it meant to her to have her mother's support—even a little. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “So do you have any particular dress you'd like to show me first?” Her mother opened the door, and the bell sounded its silvery notes.

  “There's one in a shop six blocks away.”

  “Let's go look at it. Shall I grab us a cab?” April smiled, looped her arm through her mother's, and said, “It's a beautiful day. Let's walk.”

  Together they headed down the crowded sidewalk, the crisp October afternoon fairly crackling around them.

  Her parents' unexpected support was a wonderful and welcome surprise. They threw themselves wholeheartedly into planning her wedding. “Can we stick to some kind of a budget?” April's father asked cautiously.

  April and her mother looked at each other and burst out laughing. “A budget!” her mother exclaimed. “Oh, really, Hugh, you're so funny. I wouldn't dream of sticking to a budget.”

  He groaned, and April winked at him, as if to say, If's okay y Daddy, I won't go crazy on you.

  April's and Mark's parents met to discuss plans and sort through
details. April and Mark decided to take them to their favorite restaurant early on the afternoon of Mark's final race for the season. “We'll eat, attack the wedding plans, then we'll all go to the track together,” Mark declared.

  “I know I can get my parents to go to the track,” April told him, “but can you persuade your mother?”

  “She's already agreed. She's not turning handsprings, mind you, but she wants to make a good impression on your parents. Refusing to go with the rest of us might be interpreted the wrong way.”

  So they all arrived at the track together. Mark's father was talkative and beaming; his mother looked nervous. April's parents were curious to see firsthand Mark's obsession with fast cars. Once they were setded in the grandstands, April went down on the infield, where Mark was climbing into his birthday coveralls. “You look just like a pro,” she said, checking him over from head to toe.

  “Thanks to you. At least the weather's cooled off. These things are hot.” He tucked his helmet under his arm.

  “I'm glad you're driving in the first heat. I don't think your mother can stand too much of this.”

  “Well, if I win, everyone still has to stick around for the finals.”

  “I'll make sure no one bolts.”

  He leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose. “You're one in a million.”

  “Just remember that when you discover I can't cook.”

  He untied her scarf and retied it around his arm. “For luck.”

  She smiled. “See you in the winner's circle.”

  Back in the stands, April had to shout to be heard above the roar of the cars as they looped the track, waiting for the green flag to drop. She felt a surge of pride as Mark's car nosed a path through the staggered string of starters.

  The flag dropped and the cars shot forward. April heard her father shout, “Go for it!”

  “It's awesome, huh?” she yelled above the roar of the engines as the cars rocketed around the track. “Keep your eye on Mark and watch how he snakes out the other drivers,” she yelled in her mother's ear. “He's really good at this.”

  She watched expectantly as Mark drafted behind the leader, knowing that in a split second he would floor the accelerator and zip past his opponent. She saw him make his move. But suddenly the lead car swerved. Its engine made a popping sound, and smoke billowed from beneath its hood. She heard Mark's father shout, “The guy's blown an engine!”

  She leaped up, watching in horror, as Mark's car clipped the other car's back fender. Mark's car spun out of control, slammed into the retaining wall, flipped, and caught fire.

  April paced the floor of the emergency room like a caged animal. She couldn't sit still or close her eyes because whenever she did, visions of the past few hours flooded her mind.

  She saw Mark's car in flames, men scrambling onto the track with fire extinguishers and then prying open the crumpled door of Mark's car, hauling out his limp body, and a fire-rescue truck speeding him away. Mark had been flown in a helicopter to the huge medical complex in the city, where they all now waited for word of his condition.

  With a start, April realized that she'd come full circle—back to the very hospital where Mark had first walked into her room months before and announced, “You're the girl I'm going to marry.” Silently she begged, Please, God, please let him be all right.

  April couldn't stand seeing Mark's mother, sitting ramrod straight in a chair, never moving, not even flinching. All her fears had been realized that night in front of her eyes. And nothing her husband could say brought her any peace. Anything Mr. Gianni said was greeted with a stony silence from Mark's mother that vyas as impenetrable as a wall. It broke April's heart.

  At some point, Mark's sisters arrived in a rush of tears and fell into their mother's arms. Her own parents were troupers, going for coffee and sodas, calling friends and family. “I'll get us a room at a nearby hotel,” April's father offered.

  April insisted that she wasn't going to leave the hospital, so he'd be wasting his money. And just when she didn't think she would be able to bear the suspense one more minute, a doctor appeared and husded them into a corner of the waiting room.

  “How is he?” Mark's father asked, taking his wife's hand.

  April braced herself for the worst.

  “He's doing remarkably well,” the doctor said, and April felt her knees go weak. “He has a broken foot, three cracked ribs, and; first-and second-degree burns on the side of his face and on his left hand. It's very fortunate that he was wearing that flame-retardant suit. It saved his life.”

  Mark's parents turned to her and she read gratitude in their eyes. Mark was alive! “Can we see him?” April asked.

  “I'm having him moved upstairs to a room. He's being sedated so he'll rest more comfortably. You can see him there.”

  “How soon before we can take him home?” Rosa asked.

  “That will be up to the endocrinologist, Dr. Bejar. He'll take over your son's case. Just because Mark's injuries weren't severe doesn't mean he won't need careful monitoring. The suit protected him from burns, but it did little to protect his lungs from smoke inhalation. He's not out of the woods yet.”

  It was well after midnight before Mark was settled into a room and April and both families could see him. The head of his bed had been raised so that he was semi-upright. The side of his face and his hand were wrapped in gauze and his foot, encased in a soft cast, rested on a pillow. His chest had been wrapped in tape to keep his torso rigid, and an oxygen mask was strapped across his mouth.

  His mother and sisters broke down crying. “I'm all right,” he told them. “Just banged up. Don't cry.” He appeared exhausted and his speaking was laborious, but his gaze kept falling on April.

  It seemed like forever before she was alone with him. With her parents waiting in the hall, she leaned over him, slid her arms around him, and rested her head on his shoulder. “I thought I'd lost you,” she whispered.

  “No … such … luck,” he said with difficulty.

  She wiped away the tears sliding down her cheeks. “You need to rest. Dad's forcing me to go to a hotel, but I'll be back first thing in the morning.”

  “Love you.”

  She kissed him tenderly. “I love you too. Now get some rest.”

  He was asleep before she left the room.

  By the next day, Mark's color had returned. The oxygen mask had been traded for small oxygen tubes clamped to his nostrils, which allowed him to talk more easily. Still, his voice sounded thick and scratchy to April.

  “You gave us all a real scare,” she told him after a hug and a kiss.

  “Please, I've already heard all about it from my mother.”

  Rosa had left the room to give Mark and April privacy, but April hadn't been surprised to learn that she'd spent the entire night in the chair by her son's bed. “Are you in any pain?”

  “My side's killing me, but don't let my mother know. I told her I feel pretty good. Actually I feel like I was dragged behind my car.”

  “It was so awfiil, Mark.” April shook her head. The memory still haunted her. “I can't get over the picture of your car overturning and going up in flames.”

  “Don't think about it. I've called the garage to see how much damage was done to the car. And to get estimates on repairs. It's more work than I can do by myself—”

  “You're not really going to race that thing again, are you?”

  “I sure am. But not until after we're married. I promise not to do anything to threaten our wedding again.” He grinned.

  Upset, she cried, “It's not our wedding I worry about, Mark. It's your life!”

  “I can't fight about this now.”

  He coughed deeply and harshly. The sound chilled her. She immediately backed away from her argument. “You're right, this isn't the time to go into this. Just put all your energy into getting well.”

  He took several labored breaths before he asked, “Have you found a dress yet?”

  She jumped at the chanc
e to change the subject. “I think so. It's beautiful, Mark. Kind of simple, but with a long train that's decorated with lace and seed pearls. The store's altering it for me.” He nodded and smiled, but she could tell he was weak and tired. “Listen, I'm going to run down to the cafeteria, but I'll be back soon.”

  He didn't protest, and she hurried into the hall, where she discovered Rosa huddled in a discussion with a dark-haired man in a white lab coat. Rosa introduced April to Dr. Bejar as Mark's fiancée, and the doctor greeted her cordially. “It's good to meet you. I'm sorry it has to be under these conditions.”

  “How's Mark? I mean how is he really?”

  Dr. Bejar glanced at Rosa, who gave him a silent nod of assent. Dr. Bejar said, “I'mi concerned about his CF. The smoke he inhaled is bad enough, but the broken ribs make it extremely difficult to maintain his daily therapy and break up the congestion.”

  April hadn't even considered that Mark's broken ribs could be a threat to his health. Suddenly frightened, she asked, “What are you going to do?”

  “That's what Mrs. Gianni and I were just discussing. I can insert a drainage tube through his chest and into his lung and increase his decongestant and inhalant medications. I want to keep pneumonia at bay, because frankly, it's a serious risk for him.”

  Pneumonia. April felt afraid. For Mark. For herself. For all their plans and dreams.

  “He's a good doctor,” Rosa said once Dr. Bejar had gone. “We trust him completely to do what's best for Mark.”

  “I just want him to get well.”

  Rosa touched her April's arm. “Me too, April. Me too.”

  The minor surgery to insert the drainage tube was performed without complications, and Mark was moved into intensive care. April stayed with him as much as the hospital rules allowed and was astounded at how many hospital personnel stopped by to see him once word spread that he was there. Rosa explained, “Mark's been a patient here off and on for many years. These people have come to know him and truly care about him.”

  Once news got around about Mark, he had a steady stream of visitors—nurses, health care professionals, friends he'd made in the hospital during his frequent stays over the years. April realized that to many of them, Mark was a CF patient who'd, so far, beaten the odds. She only hoped he could do it one more time.