When Shylah saw Mark for the first time that day, he was changing from his hospital gown into his street clothes. Though he did not turn around and see Shylah standing in the doorway, exposing his bare chest, his very muscular back and rippling shoulders showed. Shylah watched in anxious excitement. She thought that she must be falling in love all over again, that, or she wanted Mark so badly, sexually, that the merest sight of his naked torso inspired unparalleled feelings of animal lust within her.
"Please," Shylah announced, startling Mark so much that he twisted, in nearly searing pain, though he did not make it known, "don't put that on on my account, Baby. If I had my way, you'd never wear clothes again!"
"I didn't even hear you come in," Mark hastily replied, almost embarrassed.
"Yeah. I couldn't help but watch you. It's been a while, you know."
"Been a while? You just saw me yesterday. What do you mean." Mark really was puzzled at Shylah's remark. He could not figure out what she mean for the life of him.
"You know what I mean, Silly. It's been... a while. I haven't seen you like THAT in some time. Do I need to spell it out for you? I got to see you, just now, half naked. If I had it my way, you'd be completely naked. I haven't got to see you in that way for so long I feel like I'm becomin' a born again virgin. Now, do you get it?"
"Oh, well, yeah. Now, I do. I guess I'm a bit slow today, Honey," Mark said, pulling his t-shirt the rest of the way down and painfully rising from the bed to fasten his jeans. "I'm glad you're here. I think I need help doin' this."
"That's the only reason you're glad I'm here, so I can button your pants for you? No 'good morning, Beautiful?' No 'How are you today, My Love?' Just 'Come here, and fasten my pants for me?' I see how you are, Mark." Shylah sauntered casually over to Mark to assist him, knowing that he would probably take her comments too literally and not see the humor in them.
"I'm sorry, Baby. Good morning, Beautiful. How was your night? Mine was wonderful with you by my side, and when I open my eyes and see your sweet face, it's a good morning, beautiful day. Is that good," Mark asked, smiling, holding his tongue out of his mouth.
"Yeah, sure," Shylah assured him. "I guess if you're gonna rob song lyrics, that's ok, except that it doesn't completely fit the situation. I'll take what I can get, though, I guess." Shylah added a deep sigh to emphasize her feigned frustration. In reality, she was happy not only that she got to see Mark and would get to bring him home soon but that they could resume their sarcastic intercessions.
"Oh, Baby," Mark chuckled loudly, "You know I got way more than that for ya. You come up here when you're done, and I got a big, sloppy, wet, droolin' kiss for ya! How's that sound?!"
"Like makin' out with a dog. If I wanted that, I'd just go back to my parents' house and kiss Biscuit. It'd be pretty much the same as kissin' you right now."
"Well, Biscuit is a damn handsome dog. I'll give him that. If you really want him instead of me, I could learn to live with it, I reckon. That is, unless you might still wanna try kissin' me and see how it goes. I'll try not to slobber." Mark stood there, wide-eyed and coy, causing Shylah to burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, losing grip on Mark's pants.
When Shylah finally regained her control and finished buttoning Mark's pants, she quickly rose to her feet and put her arms slowly around Mark's neck, pulling him in for a long morning kiss. "I love you, you know."
"I know, Baby, and I love you, too. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Probably hook up with a whole gaggle of other women. I know how you are, or at least, how you were. You better not be like that anymore."
"Well, not since last Thursday anyway," Mark stated, trying so hard not to laugh. "I cut 'em down to about three. That's pretty good from sixteen. Wouldn't ya say? But I really don't know what I'd do without you, seriously. You do take really good care of me, and I mean that. Sometimes, I swear I must be like a little kid cuz of all the stuff you do for me."
"Well, who else is gonna do it," Shylah asked, sighing once again as she stared into Mark's awe-inspiring greenish-blue eyes. "You might find you a lot of other women, but I doubt any of 'em are gonna take that good of care of ya. I guess you're lucky you have me. But you know what," Shylah asked, giving Mark an even bigger kiss than before, "I'm really lucky to have you, too."
The couple remained locked in place together for another twenty minutes until the doctor strolled in. "Mr. Crady. I have good news. All of your recent tests and scans are looking good. The swelling seems to be going down quite well. I think that there is less nerve damage than was anticipated. The only major concern is your intestines, but as long as you rest well and don't exert yourself, I believe that they, too, will start to heal well, and before you know it, you'll be almost good as new. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to call my office. If you start to experience excruciating pain or any seemingly abnormal symptoms or side effects of anything, call my office for those as well. Do you have any questions for me right now?"
"No, Sir," Mark politely replied.
"Ok then, Mr. Crady. I think that you are well enough to go home then. The nurse will bring you your paperwork and prescriptions and a wheelchair to take you out in. You can go by either a medical supply store to buy a wheelchair for home or go to the nearest VFW and borrow one from them. Just rest comfortably as much as you can and don't go anywhere without your wheelchair. Within a couple of weeks, I would say, you may be able to get around on either a walker or on crutches, whichever is more comfortable. Do not do anything to damage your stitches or put too much pressure on the abdomen. Your outside stitches are not water soluble, nor are your internal ones, but eventually, they will be replaced with water soluble stitches, which means that they will either dissolve on their own, or you can wash them until they dissolve. With each successive appointment, we will check your wounds to see how they are doing and determine if the stitches can be removed. Ok? Your first appointment is already scheduled, and the information is listed on your discharge paperwork. If you have no questions for me, I will leave you and your lovely fiancée here to leave. I think you have probably seen enough of this place for one month, huh? If I could give you a piece of sound medical advice, Sir, do not come back. Stop getting yourself hurt. Ok? You have a wonderful day." Dr. Teresita scurried from the room, leaving Mark and Shylah once again all alone. They happily resumed their reunion affections, unaware if anyone could see them or not. (VFW – Veterans of Foreign Wars, a veterans’ organization that provides services and charitable aid to veterans, families of veterans, and others in need)
"He knows we're engaged," Shylah asked, a bit puzzled by the doctor's words.
"Yeah. We got to talkin' here and there. Nice guy. He talked a lot about his wife and kids, and I told him about us. I hope that nurse gets here soon. I'm starved, and I can't wait to see my house again! This place is makin' me nuts!"
It was another half of an hour before the nurse entered with the paperwork and wheelchair, a burly, older woman with what Mark called "poodle hair," a large and very curly mop covering her head that reminded both Mark and Shylah of a school lunch lady. "Here you go, Mark. You're good to go. You can just wheel him out, Ma'am, and I don't know if the doctor told you or not, but you will want to go get a wheelchair for home right away. You can buy one at a medical supply store or go borrow one from any VFW or American Legion. Have a great day, you two."
Mark and Shylah left the room excited as could possibly be to get out and head home. In no time, they passed into the elevator and onto the ground floor, and out the front entrance, Mark left to wait while Shylah pulled the car up to the door. They left in a great hurry to get food and a wheelchair for Mark. Shylah decided, on the way, that despite having had such a large breakfast, she would eat again. She was already starting to experience the extremities of pregnancy hunger and felt no desire to ignore them.
The day was beautiful, sunny, and warm. Mark was finally out of the hospital, and he and Shylah were once again in each other's uni
nterrupted company. Sara was no longer a threat, so they hoped. Nothing could be better than the moment being shared in Shylah's car upon leaving. Surely, only great things were to come, both thought at the same time.
Chapter 27
No one was happier than Shylah to have Mark home. She called everyone that had visited Mark in the hospital, including two of Mark's cousins, Jimmy and Bobby Dean Merrick. Dan showed up at the house shortly after finishing his shift. The Kings were already there at Mark's house. Lou had already arrived for work. Though Jimmy had to work, his brother, Bobby Dean stopped by for an hour to see his favorite cousin. Shylah even called Don Birchum, just to inform him of Mark's arrival at home, though she knew that he could not leave the plant.
It was the happiest of occasions any of them could remember. It felt as if there were one giant, extended family in the Crady home, and it felt good. It felt right. It felt the way that Mark and Shylah thought God wanted things to be. They knew that they were loved by one and all around them. No joy could be greater, save the day of their wedding and the day that their child would be born.
The day progressed so well, so fast, so purely absent of the recent sickening debaucheries of mindless self-indulgence of others that the joyful couple could hardly believe it when they saw the clock on the kitchen wall strike six o'clock. The only guests that remained were T.L., Darius, and Pearlina. To Mark, it seemed the way that it should be. It reminded him of so many happy times when he and T.L. were younger, spending many wonderful evenings together with T.L.'s parents, only now, Mark had Shylah as so much more than just his best friend's little sister.
Soon enough, however, everyone was gone. Mark and Shylah were left to their own recognizance, and all that Shylah could think about was how badly she wanted to rip Mark's clothes from his body and make sweet love to him. They had not been together in a physical way in a week, though to both, it seemed an eternity had elapsed of blissful union removed from them. They went to bed quite early so that Mark could attempt to situate himself and see how easily he could get into bed and to let him begin his rest. Shylah lie in the bed, running her fingers slowly along Mark's bare stomach and chest, tracing the outlines of his muscles and gently tugging on the hairs of his chest. She knew that she could not have what she really wanted, but at least, she could be close to Mark, could smell him, could feel him, could love him in her own way, lacking of full physical embrace.
Mark was so soon asleep that Shylah felt both happy that he was resting and saddened that she could not have more time with him on his first day home. The next morning, Mark did not awaken by his normal time. Eight o'clock came with no response, then nine o'clock. Shylah finally decided that she needed to get up and start her day, to at least have some coffee and food. Before she could leave the room, however, Mark's phone began to ring on the nightstand. Shylah ran around the bed to pick it up but missed the call. Seeing that it was Dan Brady that had called, she thought it might be of urgent need to find out what it concerned.
Shylah returned the call to Dan and learned that Sara had been arrested the night before, that she had gone to Atlanta and enlisted the help of Mason Church to have her bullet wound tended and had been hidden in the Church home for nearly a week. Sara would have gone to her stepfather, the good doctor Kenner, but, as they were not speaking, she could not.
It seemed only logical that the man that had already protected one of Mark's assailants would now protect the other. Once Sara was turned in by a neighbor who saw a news report mentioning a reward for information leading to her arrest, there was nothing more that Mason Church could do for her. He could not stick his neck out for her as he had for his stepson. Sara would face trial and either substantial prison time or lengthy hospitalization. Shylah hoped more for prison to be the result, but either way, at least, Sara was off of the streets and no longer a harm to anyone. The funny yet bad parts about it all, according to Dan, were that Sara resisted arrest, which would result in another charge added to her already long list, and while doing so, she threatened to kill the police officers sent to arrest her, as well as threatening to kill Mark.
Dan hoped that he could speak to Mark directly to tell him the good news, but Shylah told him that he simply could not, that Mark was sleeping and needed all of the rest that he could get. She would have Mark call back when he was awake and ready. Dan stated that he understood but to have Mark call him some time that evening, as he would not be awake until then for his coming shift.
Shylah felt so bored with no one to talk to and nothing to do. Mark slept until well into the afternoon and felt too sluggish and in too much pain to do much of anything when he awoke. He did not feel like having to wander around the house in a wheelchair for too long, but seeing Shylah's dissatisfied face, he managed to pull himself from bed, with Shylah's assistance, and wheel himself into the kitchen for coffee and cigarettes. He begged Shylah to cook something for him to eat, which Shylah looked forward to doing. She was hungry once again, being exactly seven weeks pregnant, and wanted to take care of Mark in every way possible.
While she cooked, however, Shylah had a dreaded thought cross her mind. She had already postponed her most recent and necessary doctor's appointment due to Mark's hospitalization, but now, she would have to keep the rescheduled appointment and do so without Mark by her side. Hopefully, she thought, she might convince her mother to go with her just so that she could have someone there with her to keep her company.
Shylah almost immediately relayed to Mark everything that she heard from Officer Brady. Mark seemed unbothered by the news in any way. He did not smile. He did not laugh. He did not curse Sara or speak any word of her or what had happened. Shylah didn't know if Mark was happy, sad, confused, or completely apathetic about it all.
"Oh," Shylah broke through the silence as Mark sat at the table, contemplating everything that he had just been told, "I called Don yesterday to tell him you were home. I forgot to tell you this, but he said he's gonna come by sometime soon to see you and that he wanted you to know everything at the plant is goin' great. The repairs are all done. The new edition is about halfway or more done. All of the old furnaces got replaced. That cat thing is done."
"You mean the CATOX?"
"Yeah, that thing. It's done. Everything is lookin' really good, he said. He thinks the plant could be ready to open, with the new part of the building and everything in maybe another month. He said the construction guys are workin' really hard at it and gettin' done ahead of schedule, but he offered 'em more money to get it done so fast. He said there's been way too much trouble for everybody and that the plant needs to get makin' money again soon and to get everybody back to work a.s.a.p."
"I agree. It's worth extra money if it gets it goin'. I was hopin' for at least about the beginning of next year. If we can get it goin' again a couple of months earlier, that's amazing. I'm all for it. Well, anyway, I don't really wanna think about work right now, though." Mark seemed despondent as he said this, looking down at his wheelchair in near disbelief of his current state.
"What do you wanna talk about then, Baby," Shylah asked, not turning from her cooking.
"I don't know. You got a smoke on ya? I need one."
"Oh. I thought you had some on you," Shylah laughed as she tossed Mark a cigarette from the pack that had been in her pocket.
"I left 'em in the bedroom. Stupid me. I can't think straight."
"You're not stupid, Mark. You got so much goin' on. I feel so bad, Baby. I just wanna take it all away from you, but I can't, and it kills me inside. Just sit there, and relax. Your food will be ready in a few." Shylah stole a few seconds to run to Mark and kiss him all over his head, his cheek, and then his mouth before rushing back to the stove. "I love you," she shouted as she picked up her spatula.
For the first time since they got together, Mark did not say "I love you" back to Shylah. He hardly heard a word that was said to him from that moment on, focusing so much on his harried state. Shylah let it go, knowing that Mark had to endure so
much, far more than anyone should ever be expected to endure.
The rest of the week passed in much the same fashion, Shylah speaking but getting little to no response, except when in bed. Mark was frustrated due to his condition, frustrated because of not being able to do much of anything, frustrated from so many people pitying him, and largely, frustrated because he could not make love to Shylah. Though they tried to figure out a way that it could be done, nothing seemed to work. Shylah did all that she could to please Mark and to please herself in absence of ability to perform their normal sexual duties to one another.
On Friday, both Shylah and Mark had doctor's appointments, Shylah with her OBGYN and Mark with his neurologist. Mark snappily said that he did not want to go to his appointment, that he would reschedule it because it would be a physical strain on him and especially, a physical strain on Shylah to have to lift his wheelchair in and out of the car. Shylah solved the problems of both appointments by calling her mother and getting her to agree to take her daughter to the OBGYN in her own car while T.L. would take Mark to his appointment in Shylah's car, much easier for Mark to get in and out of and still spacious enough for the wheelchair.
All that Mark found out from his neurologist was that his cyst had grown from the size of a pinhead to nearly the diameter of a dime, yet it caused no real threats, as it had not ruptured. It was definitely growing but of no concern if it did not present obvious effects. In Mark's condition, he could not be loaded into the MRI. Instead, the scans from the night of the shooting more than a week and a half prior were used. Mark was deeply angered that he had to be mustered from his home and put through so much rigorous ordeal just to find out what he deemed to be useless information.
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