Mark and Shylah waited in the doctor's exam room for what seemed an eternity. When the door finally creaked open, both could feel their hearts sinking with anticipation and worry yet skipping beats with excitement.
"Ms. King, glad you could make it. I take it this is the father. Oops. Sorry. I didn't mean to tell you like that. Excuse me. I'll try again. Ms. King, I have wonderful news for you." The doctor was a hard man to read. Mark did not know if the man had actually meant to spill the beans the way that he had or if it had truly been an accident.
"Wow," Shylah shouted, throwing her hands over her face. "Wow!"
Mark stepped ever so closely to Shylah's side, embracing her with both hands, smiling so hard that his face hurt. "I can't believe it! Wow is right, Baby! We're gonna have a little one! I'm gonna have me a son!"
"Well, Sir," the doctor butted in, "I wouldn't count my chickens too soon. There is no way to know this early in the pregnancy what the sex of the child is. It could just as easily be a daughter. There are even some rare cases where it's neither, but that's neither here nor there. That's so rare I won't even go into that. Just prepare yourselves for the possibility of either sex. If I were you, I'd only start buying things that are unisex, unless you just wanna spend a whole lotta money buyin' both boy stuff and girl stuff. It can get pretty dang expensive just goin' with one sex. Trust me. I've not only seen it from patients, but I have four of my own. Now, Ms. King, if you will just lie back for me. I'd like to do what is called a limited ultrasound just to verify that you are, indeed pregnant, that the fetus is developing properly, and that it is in fact, well within the uterus."
"Ok," Shylah nervously replied, leaning back all of the way onto the examining table.
Within only a few minutes, the doctor began to prod away at Shylah's belly. "Looks good, all of it. I don't see one single anomaly. The baby's heart rate is very good. It is in the uterus and looks completely healthy for a baby of this stage of development."
"How far along am I, Doctor? I just wanna make absolutely sure."
"Sure of what," Mark bellowed.
"Oh, calm down, Mark," Shylah snapped. "There is nothin' to worry about. You're the father. I told you that. You're the only guy that's touched me in a long time! I just wanna know where we are right now with this. Just sit back down and shut up!"
"If I had to give you a conception date, from all of what I'm seeing, I would say August twelfth, Ma'am," replied the doctor. "So, you are exactly seventeen days along."
"That was...," Mark thought aloud. "That was on a Tuesday. That was right after we got together. Wow! That happened fast!"
"I told you, Honey," Shylah replied, gripping Mark's hand. "I'm sorry I snapped, Baby. But yeah, it did happen fast. Are you upset we weren't more careful? I don't know about you, but I'm excited!"
"I am, too, Babe. Don't worry. It's just a shock. Looks like we got a lot to do, don't we?"
"We sure do, Baby. We sure do. We can do this! You're gonna be a great daddy! I just know it!" Shylah leaned over, her belly still smeared with the ultrasound jelly, to give Mark a passionate kiss, her hand bracing Mark's face, caressing it as she went.
Within only a few more minutes, a follow up visit had been arranged, and Mark and Shylah emerged from the clinic triumphantly, Shylah jumping in the air with joy. "We're gonna have to tell everybody soon, Baby, but for now, we need to celebrate!"
"Baby," Mark replied, "We kinda have the matter of Tim Bedoe's wake tonight. We don't really have a lot of time for anything else, and we haven't found anybody to watch my dad while we're gone or tomorrow for the funeral, for that matter."
"Call Patty," Shylah prompted, still skipping and jumping all the way to the truck.
"Who?"
"Your dad's nurse, Patty."
"Oh. Yeah, but she's not scheduled for today."
"She said if we needed anything to let her know. I bet if you offer her some money, she'll go for it."
"Can't I just hire a babysitter. I mean, he sleeps most of the time. I'm sure some high school girl would be happy if I paid her fifty or a hundred bucks."
"No, Mark, no. You need somebody that knows what they're doin'. Who better than his nurse? Call her. Offer her whatever you want. I'm sure if it's high enough, she'll bite. Just try."
"Ok, Babe. I'll call," Mark agreed, doubting that he would have any success in the matter.
Luckily for Mark, Patty accepted the offer. At first, she was very reluctant, not wanting to give up her Friday night and especially not pleased to possibly have to stay the night and not get home until the next afternoon. She refused Mark's initial offer of two hundred dollars and even his offer of five hundred dollars, but once Mark mentioned paying one thousand dollars, Patty answered affirmatively, giddy at the notion of making so much for less than a day's work.
Everything was well planned and going smoothly, though to Shylah's dissatisfaction, there would be no celebrating for a while. The Bedoe home was so packed when Mark and Shylah arrived that they could scarcely find parking. It was good, Mark told himself, that the property was substantial, allowing for so many vehicles and so many people. Cars and trucks lined the entirety of the long drive. As the couple walked toward the house, they saw an exorbitantly large crowd gathered outside, having spilled through the front door.
Mark and Shylah could barely fit through the door with so many others standing guard. Everywhere the two looked, there was food, so much glorious food, looking as if the world's largest buffet had been assembled inside the Bedoe home. With so much going on, the couple had not had time to make anything but only stopped by the local grocery store to pick up a few things to add to the culinary melee.
The saddest part of the affair was not that Tim Bedoe was gone. It was not the overwhelming grief of Tim's widow, Mary Jane. What seemed too difficult to bear was watching and listening to little six-year-old Henry bawl at the top of his lungs for his father. His mother set a small stool next to the casket for Henry to climb up and say goodbye to his father. As soon as he saw his father's face, however, he lost himself in immeasurable sorrow.
Mark could not stand to watch. Having already paid his respects and given his condolences to the family, Mark stepped out of the room, back into the kitchen, dragging Shylah with him. "Baby, I don't know how much more of this I can take!"
"What do you mean? You wanted to come here. Remember?"
"I know, but I can't watch that little boy. It's breaking my heart to see him like that. I know it's my fault."
Shylah could not contain herself upon hearing these words, screaming so loudly that it immediately caught the attention of all standing near. "It is not your fault, and don't you ever say that again! It's nobody's fault really, but if there is some sort of blame here, it's all cuz your dad wouldn't do what he should've and upgrade his equipment! You didn't do it! You're tryin' to fix everything that he caused! If I ever hear you say that again, that any of this is your fault, I can't even begin to tell you the trouble you're gonna have, Marcus Crady!"
"Yes, Ma'am," Mark sheepishly and slowly responded, hanging his head. Mark, at that moment, felt a want deep within him, a want that he might give heed to if not for Shylah and for the baby. That want was that he could slink off into some deep, dark hole and die.
"Do you feel like leavin', Baby," Shylah yelled over the loud clamor of people.
"Maybe we should. I don't know that it'll do any more good us stayin'. We said what we came to say and paid respects to Tim. I don't know. I don't want anybody to be mad if we leave, but I know I can't see little Henry like that again. I don't really know what to do, to be tell you the truth." Mark began to breathe uncontrollably, nearly hyperventilating. Shylah took immediate notice of his condition and had little idea what she could do to help, other than to make a simple suggestion.
"Babe, tell ya what," Shylah retorted, "you just go outside, and have yourself a smoke. Calm down, and breathe a little easier. Come back in when you feel better, and we'll figure out what to do then. Ok? Ju
st go take a breather. I'll be here when you get back."
"Ok. Good idea," Mark sighed, still trying to catch his breath.
Not long after Mark made it outside, a man that had been standing in the doorway of the kitchen, listening in, moved toward Shylah. "Hey, little lady. You know who I am?" The man, though wearing nice, fairly expensive-looking clothing, reeked of beer and stale smoke and had a greasy appearance to his hair.
"Not off of the top of my head. You look a little familiar. Not really sure, though."
"I'm your new boyfriend," chuckled the man.
"Is that so?"
"Yes, it is. I'm Delbert Ray Johnson, the man of your dreams. I know you been waitin' for me for a long time, so I thought I'd come answer your prayers. Here I am. What's your next two wishes?"
"My first wish is for you to go away, but I guess that ain't gonna work. Why don't you go find some other woman? I have a boyfriend, so I'd appreciate it if you would leave me be, Sir."
As Shylah attempted to walk away, Delbert grabbed her around the waist and pulled her closer to him. "Hey, I'm just bein' friendly. I think you're real pretty, and I'd like to get to know you."
"Well," Shylah replied, doing all that she could to pull away, "Like I said, I have a boyfriend, and if he sees you doin' this, he'll knock you on your ass. You might wanna let go of me."
Once again, Shylah was pulled backwards into the man. "I'm not doin' nothin' wrong here, and I won't take no for an answer. Why don't you come home with me, and we can have some fun. I'll make it worth your while. How much you want?"
"How much do I want for what?!"
"Don't be coy with me. You know what I mean. I know your kind."
"My kind?! What do you mean by that? A woman? A black woman? I'd strongly recommend you take your hands off of me."
Luckily, Lou Sanders witnessed some of the ordeal and ran out to tell Mark. Upon seeing Mark, cigarette in hand, Loud let loose a torrent. "Mark! Mark, I don't mean to bother you while you got you a cigarette, but there's a guy inside got his hands all over Shylah. I ain't real sure what's goin' on, but it looks bad. I don't know if she's flirtin' with him or not, but they are pretty cozy together. You might wanna head on in and see what's goin' on."
"Thanks, Lou," Mark replied, throwing his cigarette quickly to the ground and rushing up the stairs of the porch, followed by Lou.
When Mark saw what was happening, he, too, did not know if Shylah had taken part in it all or if everything was being done by Delbert. The scene was difficult to ascertain, Shylah backed up against the other man, his hands wrapped tightly still around Shylah's waist.
"Let go of her," Mark screamed at Delbert, pointing his finger at the man.
"This your woman?"
"Yep. She's my girlfriend, and if you don't take your hands off of her, we're gonna have a problem."
Seeing that Mark was there to save her, Shylah finally pulled away, only to be pulled back by the shoulder. Shylah quickly spun around and slapped the man. Turning back to face Mark, she vehemently protested the situation. "Mark, I swear, it wasn't me! He put his hands all over me, and I tried several times to get away. I told him I had a boyfriend. He wouldn't take no for an answer. I'm sorry, Baby! I'm so sorry, but it wasn't me!"
Mark wanted desperately to believe Shylah's words. Feeling that something must be done, Mark pulled Shylah by the hand closer to him as he stepped forward to confront the other man further. "I suggest, Del Johnson, you get your ass out of here before I kick it all over this property!"
"You know him," Shylah asked from behind Mark's back.
"Yeah, I know this piece of shit. He's Tim Bedoe's cousin, not one bit like Tim. Imagine the exact opposite. That's why he hardly ever shows his face in this town. Nobody likes him!"
"You callin' me names, Boy," Delbert snapped. "You think you can kick my ass? That's a laugh. I got at least three inches on you, Boy, plus I'm a hell of a lot bigger. You don't look like you could knock the warts off a toad. Why don't you just go in the other room with the rest of the women before you get hurt?"
"That's funny. First of all, I know I can whoop the shit out of you, but second, you might wanna look behind you." Mark laughed until he was red in the face, though it seemed to have no effect on Delbert.
"Behind me? What am I gonna see behind me? You think I'm gonna fall for that," Delbert finished asking at the very moment that he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning, he came face to face with T.L.
"You remember my friend, T.L., don't ya, Del? He's Shylah's brother, and I don't think he takes kindly to men puttin' their hands all over his sister. Do ya, T.?" Mark could not contain his laughter at the thought that not only did Delbert Johnson seem like he would be easy to fight but that he was now outnumbered.
"Nope," T.L. responded, "don't take kindly 'tall. Like my friend said, step away before you're the one gettin' hurt, Del."
"Hey," Del balked, "I don't fight niggers! Ya'all don't fight fair."
"You know, since you're just a dumb hillbilly who don't know better and since you're obviously drunk, I'll let that go," T.L. offered with a shrug. "But if you keep it up, I'll paint this floor red with your blood. And you're lucky you're Tim's cousin, and we're at his house."
Delbert, seeing that T.L. matched him in height and size and seemed very serious about his words, quickly marched off into the next room, far away from his would-be attackers.
"You two should get out of here before it gets worse," T.L. promptly suggested to his sister and his friend.
"I think so," Mark agreed, taking Shylah by the hand and stepping toward the front door. It was only the reasons stated by T.L., that Delbert Ray Johnson was a cousin of Tim Bedoe and that all involved were at Tim's house during Tim's wake that Mark held back. Otherwise, he would not have been as easily forgiving as T.L. Mark had no idea if the situation might still escalate into a fight between Del and T.L., but he and Shylah would not remain to find out for sure.
As they walked out together, Shylah tried again and again to convince Mark that she did not welcome or enjoy the encounter inside the house. "Baby, I swear I had nothin' to do with it! I would never do that to you, but even if I was that kinda girl, it would not be with a man like that! I swear it was him puttin' his hands on me! I tried to fight him, but I couldn't! Please believe me, Baby! I'll take a lie detector test, if you want! Please say somethin'!"
By this time, the couple was well into the yard, cutting across toward the long drive that led to the road, near which, Mark had parked his truck. Without saying a word, Mark turned to Shylah and wrapped his arms around her neck, pulling her in, kissing her so passionately that it took all of her breath away. "How's that," Mark asked. "Does that answer anything? I trust you, Baby, even though it did look bad when I walked in. I love you!"
Shylah, still taken aback and a bit breathless, pondered her entire mind for any words of response. Slowly coming around and steadying her wobbly body, Shylah choked out, "I... I love you, too! Glad you believe me. I would never hurt you like that! You're the father of my child! I don't wanna ever screw any of this up! I got somethin' most women never get to have, and I don't ever wanna lose that!"
"I know, Baby," Mark reassured her. "Speaking of which, we gotta figure some time to tell your parents."
"You prepared to marry me then? You know my dad is gonna expect it."
"If you think I'm not, you don't know me! You know I love you, and you're all I could ever want," Mark adamantly added to his already prevalent assurances as he pulled Shylah in once more for a monstrous, almost jaw-snapping kiss.
As they walked toward Mark's truck, Shylah grabbed Mark's hand and rubbed it between both of her own. "I should've kicked that guy in the balls. I wish I had now. I bet he would've dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes!"
"I bet he would've, Baby. I bet he would've."
Chapter 17
With the guarantee of not having to be home for Thomas, Mark and Shylah took the opportunity to use the rest of the night to finally have
time out of the house together. Neither had eaten anything at the wake, and they had not stayed long. The night was still young enough for them to enjoy a quiet dinner and each other's company.
After a romantic dinner, a long drive, and long and passionate love making, both fell quickly to sleep, basking in the glory of each other's presence, Shylah on Mark's chest, Mark's right arm outstretched over the side of the bed. The next morning would be one of great hustle and bustle, but the night was still theirs. When they awoke, unclothed, uncovered, and uninhibited in the brightness of the wonderful morning sun, they came back to a world that offered such promise and hope for their love and their ensuing start of a family.
Ten o'clock would come too soon, both thought. Though they wanted to show their support and love to the Bedoes, neither of them really wanted to have to climb out of bed. They welcomed and cherished the moment at hand but not the responsibilities now required. Patty, if following orders, should be taking good care of Thomas for the time being, they knew, but two hours to get ready, get to the packed funeral home, and find good seats was not enough time, especially with the wonders of love presenting themselves at every turn.
"Well, Baby," Shylah turned to say at a few minute past eight, "we'd better get up and get around before it's too late. I'll go make us some coffee, but first, give me a kiss, Sexy."
"mmmm," Mark muttered as Shylah's lips began to pull away from his, "Morning, Beautiful! We have to do that again!"
With another kiss and another, Shylah finally pulled herself to the side of the bed and mustered her strength to take a step, though Mark followed after her, grabbing and groping at her and offering gentle and loving remarks. After two cups of coffee each, a quick breakfast, and a shower that involved the lovers forcing themselves to resist all temptations, Mark sat in quiet solitude, smoking cigarette after cigarette on the front porch swing as Shylah readied herself, applying makeup and fixing her hair to her satisfaction. Mark knew that Shylah would require substantial time alone to do this. All that he hoped was that Shylah would not make the two of them late.
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