"Whatever you say," Mark added, laughing until chunks of food began to spew from the corners of her mouth.
"But part of the reason you take so long is you talk while you eat. Plus, you show your food to people. That's not very nice or sanitary." Shylah turned her head in disgust, feeling almost sickened from what she had witnessed.
"Whatever. I don't show my food."
"Why don't you eat and stop talkin', at least until you finish that bite. I keep seein' it, and I saw some of it fall out of your mouth. Please swallow before you talk. It's disgusting not to."
"Why are you turned away, Babe? Can't you look at me," Mark asked, still chomping as he spoke.
"Because I can't watch you eat and talk. And just look at your shirt. You'll see lots of food on it and get my point. There's a piece, and there's a piece, and there's another piece," Shylah added, pointing at various places on Mark's shirt, feeling her stomach turn as she did.
Mark, upset with this treatment, got up and walked away, taking the rest of his food with him to the kitchen. Shylah remained seated on the couch, wondering what she had done wrong. She felt as though nothing that had been said was mean or going too far. She hated when her brother talked while eating, smacked his lips, or slurped his drinks. They were disgusting sound, sights, and even thoughts to behold.
A few minutes later, Shylah having never risen from her seat, Mark came back into the parlor, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "All gone now. Happy?"
"Sure," Shylah said.
"What now?"
"Nothin'."
"No. What is it?"
"You're gettin' mad at me just for tellin' you about somethin' that gets on my nerves. I didn't mean to piss you off. I just wanted you to know how much it bugs me. You could tell me if somethin' bugged you. And you walkin' in here, wipin' your mouth with your hand. That's kinda sickening, too, but it's a lot better than talking with your mouth full. I'm sorry if any of this gets on your nerves. It's just stuff I can't deal with. Please don't be mad at me, Baby." If it weren't for Shylah's sweet-looking face bestowing a sort of childlike innocence, Mark might have continued to be upset. However, he could not remain in such a state. He didn't have it in him to be mad at such a radiant countenance.
"It's ok. Lesson learned. I'll try not to do that stuff in front of you."
"Thank you, Baby. You know I love you. I just don't like seein' that stuff, ya know? Now, maybe we can get down to some us time. Why don't you come here and take that shirt off?! And maybe those pants, too. I think you need to be examined!"
"Whatever you say, Doctor! I don't know if I can do it all myself. I might need some helping hands!" Mark began to unbuckle his belt but happily accepted Shylah's hands groping, pulling, and unfastening everything.
"Yes. The doctor is in! You haven't had an appointment for some time, so I think this is gonna take a while!"
"Can we get a nurse to come help you?"
"Ok," Shylah snapped, flinging Mark's belt back toward him, removing her hands, and leaning back onto the couch. "That was exactly the wrong damn thing to say! You can just examine yourself! Or maybe just go find a nurse."
"Oh, c'mon, Babe. It was a joke! You're the only one I want checkin' me out! C'mon! Please! Go back to what you were doin'!"
"NO! You killed the mood! I don't wanna do this anymore. And now that I think about it, you haven't taken your pills today. I was supposed to remind you. Go take your antibiotic, please."
"Ok. We good?"
"Yeah, sure. We're good."
"Don't say it like that, Shylah. Please. C'mon, Baby. Don't be mad. It was just a stupid joke. I take it back! Please, can we let it go? Pweeze, Behby." Mark's sad-looking expression failed to cause any lasting effect on Shylah.
"That might work under different circumstances, Mark. Your little sad puppy dog look doesn't take back what you said. Just go take your pills. We can watch TV. or somethin' after that." Shylah sat with her arms crossed, still looking greatly annoyed.
"Ok. Be back in a minute. See what you can find on."
To Mark's great disappointment, the night continued much in this manner, Shylah annoyed with him and seldom responding, only gluing herself to the TV. screen. Mark attempted, again and again, to bring Shylah around, to make up for what he had said, but all to no avail at all. Finally, Mark gave up and went to bed, alone. There were no exchanges of "goodnight," no final kisses, nothing for the rest of the night. It seemed strange to both of them that they had had their first real fight already and especially that, for the first time, they went to bed mad. Neither of them wanted it to be that way. They both intended to always make up right away for any grievances, shortcomings, or irritations immediately. Now, both wondered if they could make things work.
When the sun began to peer through the window of Mark's bedroom, right into Shylah's eyes, she awoke to find that she was all alone in the bed. There was no light on in the bathroom, and the door was wide open. Perhaps, Mark was just in the kitchen, Shylah thought. A bit worried, she climbed out of bed, tired as she still was, and began to search throughout the house. She was unsure if she would talk to Mark if she found him, but in order to quell her worries and doubts, she knew that she had to find him.
Mark was in the kitchen, to Shylah's relief, sitting at the table, nursing a large cup of coffee. "Mornin'."
"Mornin'," Shylah replied, reaching into the cabinet for her own cup. "How long you been up?"
"An hour, hour and a half. Hell if I know."
"Someone's a bit snippy this morning," Shylah stated, all of the previous night's irritations flooding back.
"Sorry. I'm just tired. I woke up to Dad screaming. I thought he was callin' for help, but I guess he was havin' a nightmare. He was dead asleep when I went in. I decided to just stay up."
"You coulda come back to bed."
"Why? You hate me right now. Remember?"
"I never said I hate you! Damnit, Mark! I love you! Don't you see that?! What the hell is wrong with you?! I got mad because of what you said, but it doesn't mean I stopped caring about you! What you said was really hurtful. I know you said you were sorry, and maybe I should've let it go at that, but I was mad. I was willing to at least try to just put it behind us, but then you started snappin' and sayin' that I hate you. Get your head out of your ass, please. If not for me, for you. I don't want you to walk into walls and stuff and get it jammed up there even farther!"
"You know, I kinda wanna be mad at you for that comment, but it was pretty funny. Sometimes, I swear me and you are too much alike!" Mark could scarcely contain the laughter that he felt building within him. He had to let it out, bursting into an uncontrollable fit, so overcome that he had to wipe his right eye. "You got me almost in tears."
"How can you tell if your head is up your ass?"
"Ok. It's gettin' a little old now. It was funny for a while. Look." Mark jumped from his seat, taking Shylah's cup from her and setting it on the island counter. "Babe, let's not fight. I'm sorry for what I said last night, and I'm sorry if I snapped at you a little bit ago. Please, let's drop it all. We should be happy together, so no more fighting! If I have to crawl out of my ass and spank you..."
"So, you do admit that your head is up your ass?"
"Ok. Enough. I'm bein' serious. No more ass jokes. It's only really funny once. No more fighting. I'm not sayin' I'm up my own ass, but I'll admit that I've been an ass. There." Wiping his hands together as if to brush away the problems of late, Mark continued, "All done. We're good now, I hope."
"I am if you are."
"I am. Now, we should kiss. It has been decreed."
"Oh, has it? I didn't hear that." Shylah moved a little bit closer, her lips now coming within an inch of Mark's.
"Yep. It has. I decreed it, and of course, I am King in this house."
"Not really. You're more like the Prince, and if you're the Prince, then I'm the Princess."
"No. That'd make us brother and sister, and that would be wrong."
"
Oh, would it," Shylah asked, nearly laughing as hard as Mark had. "I doubt that stopped some people in your family."
"That is sick! That is really sick! And for your information, it was only Uncle Jimmy Ray and Aunt Sally. We don't talk about 'em much."
"Ewww. Now, I really know what they mean by down home lovin'!"
"I'll give you some down home lovin'... on the oven!"
"Mmmm. Well, we do have making up to do, don't we," Shylah rhetorically asked, leaning in to kiss Mark for the first time in many hours. Within seconds, however, a shout could be heard.
"Mama! Mama!" The shouts grew louder and louder, continuing several more times before Mark and Shylah stopped listening.
"Mama," Shylah asked.
"I guess I forgot to tell you about how he was actin' while you were gone last night. His mind is already slippin'. Duty calls."
"Go do what you gotta do, Baby," Shylah ordered, smacking Mark directly on his backside. "Just bring that sexy ass back here. I'll be waiting!"
"Yes, Ma'am!"
Shylah, somewhat relieved at having some caffeine to kick start her day, yet unhappy at having to send Mark away, prepared a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table, occupying her mind with a million things, slowly sipping away.
"Yes, Daddy," Mark asked as he entered Thomas' room once more.
"Where's Mama?"
"Whose mama, Daddy?"
"Mama! Where is Mama?!"
"Daddy, your mama's been dead for a number of years. Don't you remember us buryin' her? It's been more'n three years."
"I just saw her yesterday! Where is she?!"
"Want me to go find her, Daddy?"
"Yes, Michael. Go find your grandmama. I need to tell her somethin'."
"Ok, Daddy." Mark hesitated for a second, a part of him still wanting to clear up the matters at hand and get Thomas to see who he was and that there was no one to search for, but Mark reminded himself that it would do no good. Nothing could be done except to humor Thomas and leave him the way that he was. However, Mark suddenly thought that Thomas might not be getting enough nutrition strictly from his I.V.s. "Daddy, you want me to bring you somethin' to eat?"
"Just go find my mama, Michael!"
"Ok, Daddy. I'll see if I can find her. Yell if you need somethin' else."
"Always such a good boy, Michael. Good boy."
It pained Mark tremendously that his father both did not recognize him and that he could only think of Michael who had been gone for so long. Thomas doted so much on Michael while he was alive, showering far more time, energy, and attention onto the older son than onto the younger. Mark walked back into the kitchen, his head low, his eyes welling with tears.
"What's the matter, Baby," Shylah exclaimed upon seeing Mark's downtrodden face.
"Him."
"Your dad?"
"Yeah."
"What's goin' on now?"
With a great huff, Mark pulled himself together enough to reply, "He keeps thinkin' I'm Michael. He keeps callin' me Michael and talkin' about what a good boy Michael is. He hardly ever said a good word to or about me my whole life. I know his mind is gone, but he remembers my brother that's been dead for a long time and can't even remember the son that's here, takin' care of him!"
"That's how it happens sometimes, Honey. You gotta take the bad with the good. You know in his heart, he still knows who you are, and he loves you. He just can't remember much anymore. You're doin' what God wants you to do. You're honoring your father, just like it says in the Commandments."
"Well, why isn't there a part about honoring your son? I've done nothin' but try to please him my whole life. I just want him to at least kind of remember or show some appreciation, somethin'. What do I do here? I know what I'm supposed to do and what I have to do. I just wish there was an easier way. I'll be ok, I guess. Time for more coffee and a smoke. That always cheers me up."
"What'd he want anyway," Shylah sheepishly asked, hoping not to irritate Mark, though her curiosity was running wild.
"He wanted me to look for Grandma Agnes."
"Hasn't she been dead for like three or four years?!"
"Exactly."
"Well, just come sit here with me, Babe, and enjoy a nice, hot cup of coffee. I'll get it for you, if you want." Shylah had already gotten up from her chair before Mark could answer yes or no.
"Thank you, Baby."
"Not a problem," Shylah quickly assured, giving Mark a passionate and long-lasting kiss before proceeding to the counter with Mark's cup. "Anything for my man."
"I really am sorry about last night. I want you to know that, Shy."
"It's... ok, Baby. We've both said our sorries, but what's with the 'Shy?'"
"That's what your brother used to call you. I thought I'd try it out."
"I never liked it even when he did it. He did it cuz he knew it annoyed the hell out of me!"
"Oh yeah. Damnit. Sorry, Babe. I forgot. No more. Don't worry. How about just Baby?"
"That's fine. Baby is always fine," Shylah replied, smiling happily, heading back with Mark's nearly overflowing cup.
"Now, I guess I can't get T. to start callin' you that again. Hmmmm."
"You mention anything about 'Shy' to him, and I'll kill you. I'll kill you dead where you stand, Mark!"
"You would not."
"The hell I wouldn't. I'll kill you slowly. No cookin', no sexin', no nothin'!" Shylah grinned from ear to ear as she said this, bestowing a lingering smirk of amusement.
"Oh. I better watch myself then," Mark said, pulling Shylah onto his lap. "Hello there."
"Hi. You must like me in this position. We keep meeting like this."
"Well, if I had to pick a position for you to be in, I don't know. I could think of a lot of other ones." Mark leaned in before he got to his second sentence, his lips hovering just above Shylah's, their eyes fixated on one another.
"You have beautiful eyes, Baby," Shylah remarked.
"The better to see you with. And you see this tongue... the better to eat... nevermind."
"You start it, you finish it! The better to what now?"
"Nothin'."
"Fine. Be that way. Spoil the fun. So, my love, what do you want to do today? Whatever shall we do with our time?"
"Well, Babe, unfortunately, you're gonna have to stay here with my dad while I go to the plant and try to get a start on fixin' all the problems. Did I not tell you that?"
"No, you didn't. That's great. Have fun gettin' to leave. So, what do I do all day while you're gone? Your dad mostly sleeps. It's not gonna leave me with much."
"Watch TV."
"Ugh."
"Read a book."
"Maybe. What ya got?"
"You'll have to look around. I have a few in my room. There's some in the living room. Take your pick. They're mostly guy books, but you might find somethin'. If not, there's always the computer. There's one in the living room and my laptop in my bedroom. Do whatever you want. As long as you're here just in case my dad needs somethin', do anything else you want when he's asleep. And if he gives you trouble, like maybe calls you some bad words or somethin', just please ignore it. Just realize how bad his mind is right now." Mark knew this to be quite a possibility. In Thomas' state of returning to distant memories, there was a good chance that he would resort to his fondness for treating those he deemed inferior exactly as he saw them, which left Mark to wonder if he had truly had a transformation.
"You mean, like he might call me a you know what?"
"Sexy woman?"
"Haha. No. That's what you call me. I mean, like he might call me that word I hate so much that a lot of white people like to call my people. That one particular word."
"Oh, that. Yeah. There is probably a good chance of that, but please keep in mind he doesn't mean it if he does say it. I swear if he says it, he's not in the right state of mind. Know that it's not how he really feels now, and it's never how I felt, ever! I think that word is just as ugly as you do. It's wrong, and it's arou
nd so one group of people can keep another group down and keep them under their feet. It's wrong in every way. I know God has to hate that word. It's like some guy tried to think up the worst thing possible, somethin' so offensive that it would make God Himself turn up his nose at the sound of it. You got me, Baby, and I'll do anything and everything I can to always protect you, but unfortunately, I can't always be around to protect you every time somebody uses that word. Just tell yourself to do what Jesus would do and forgive and forget. Ok? It doesn't mean anything or say anything about you if he or anybody else says it. It just shows their own ignorance. I hope and pray that my dad has really changed, and I do think that he probably has. If he hasn't really changed, it's his problem when he goes before the Lord, not yours." As Mark landed a gentle kiss on Shylah's forehead, he added, "You are beautiful," and with another kiss, "You are amazing," with another, "You are sweet," and landing another kiss, "You are the best thing God ever brought into my life!"
The two locked lips so strongly that they could not be torn apart. Mark could not help but stare at Shylah as he kissed her, though Shylah's eyes remained closed. Mark was in utter awe of the beauty before him and so thankful for such a blessing. Oddly enough, Mark said a silent prayer to God, thanking Him for all that He had brought and bestowed, all the while, continuing to kiss Shylah.
"You love me that much, huh," Shylah asked, reaching for Mark's neck the best that she could.
"I've loved you too long to even begin to tell you. I love you more than there are stars in the sky. I love you more than I love coffee. What does that say?"
"That much, huh? But how can you love me so much if we've only been together a short while?"
"Because I can. I know what I want, and what I want is you, all of you, for all of time. You're it for me. You know, there was a time, well, more like lots of times, back in high school, when I used to think 'if only she wasn't T.L.'s little sister, and if only she wasn't so young.'"
"Well, I'm not too young now, am I?"
"Nope. And I guess T.L. has no problem with it, so we're all good, Baby. You're allowed to love me now. I knew that one day, you'd be unable to resist my charms. I knew you'd sit around thinkin' 'if only Mark would ask me out, my life would be complete.' It was somethin' like that, right?"
Under the Cypress Moon Page 21