Under the Cypress Moon (2 page)

"Ok, man," Mark replied.  "I guess I'll give it a try, but how?"

"I don't know, to tell you the truth.  How about you come over tomorrow, and me and you and my old man can all go fishin'.  Maybe sometime after that, you can find a way.  You could use the time we're gone to think it all over.  You gotta do somethin'.  If I was you, I think I would've done somethin' a lot sooner."

Mark agreed that this was probably the best course of action for him to take, though he was scared witless.  He wanted Shylah so bad that he ached for her in every possible way, but he greatly feared how he would have to go about making his feelings and affections known to the woman of his desire.  Shylah was more than just a woman to Mark, more than just the object of his utmost desire and need.  She was his queen, his everything, his dream come true wrapped in a beautiful wrapping of deliciously brown skin.

All of the rest of the night, Mark was restless.  He tried endlessly to go to sleep, but all that he could think about was Shylah, about her beauty, about her wonder, about how much he had to have her.  When sleep finally came Mark's way, it was the very welcome boon that he had prayed for.  The next day could bring whatever it wanted, but sleep must be had at all costs.  There was something big to have to do, and without sleep, it might be impossible.

Mark hurried to T.L.'s house by late morning, ready to begin the day, ready to figure out some way of relaying everything to Shylah.  How would she react, he wondered.  What would she think?  Would it all be ok?  Would Shylah laugh at him, shrug it all off, yell, scream, or maybe, with luck, actually at least consider the notion of being with Mark?

Mark hoped that he would not have to see Shylah's face until he was ready to speak to her.  Anything sooner might throw him off, might make him lose his nerve.  Shylah had an incredible power over Mark.  She had for a long time, though she knew nothing about it.

T.L. and his father, Darius King, were not ready yet.  In fact, T.L. had forgotten to mention to Darius about going fishing with Mark.  When T.L. brought it up, Darius quickly stated that he didn't feel like going anywhere, that the two of them should go without him.  T.L. and Mark agreed and took off immediately, causing Mark to let out a very big sigh of relief.  He did not have to spend any time around Shylah yet.

As Mark and T.L. headed off to the pond only a few hundred yards away, the subject weighing on both of their minds was sure to surface.  "Mark, what ya got planned with my sister?  How you gonna tell her how you feel?"

"Hell if I know, man.  I don't have the faintest damn clue!  I wish I did.  Man, I can't stand this anymore!  I have to either convince her or get the hell out of this town for good.  I can't stand another minute not having her!"

"I'm tellin' you, do somethin' about this!  Do it today!  Pull Shylah aside and tell her everything you told me last night.  If she turns you down, she's crazy."  T.L. gulped a little, thinking of what he had just said, telling a man to put a move on his sister, though he fully trusted Mark.  He trusted Mark with his life.

For much of the time that the two fished, they sat in silence.  It gave Mark a lot of time to reflect further on what to do and why he needed to do it.  He knew of no other way than to just do it like T.L. said... take Shylah aside and confess his absolute, undying love for her.  If she rejected him, she would surely have a good reason for it, perhaps, not wanting to take the chance of ruining Mark's and T.L.'s friendship.

It was nearly an hour before anything more was said than something having to do with bait or the lack of fish.  T.L. thought of once more broaching the subject of Shylah, but he didn't want to upset Mark or worry him more than he already was. Assuming that Shylah would go for it and that she and Mark would last as a couple, it would be a great match.  Who better could there be for T.L.'s little sister than his best friend, the guy he trusted more than anyone else since childhood, a guy who could take better care of Shylah than anyone else?

Finally, at about three o'clock in the afternoon, Mark and T.L. decided that they would not catch more fish than the one each they had already caught.  Nearly three hours had netted very little.  They debated whether or not to even keep the fish, as they were so small that they would not make much of a meal.

Walking back, fish and gear in tow, T.L. bit his lip to keep from bringing up Shylah.  He wanted to bring the matter up as badly as Mark wanted to bring it up to Shylah.  T.L. did not know what to do, but he knew that his best friend had a much more delicate situation than he could even imagine.

Mark nearly burst through the door of the King house, so nervous that he was almost unaware of his actions.  No sooner than he got inside, he spotted Shylah, sitting at the kitchen table, reading a magazine.  Somehow, she looked even more beautiful than usual, with no make-up on, her hair not fixed.  In all her plain glory, she was the most amazing sight that Mark's eyes had ever beheld.  His heart pounding, his palms sweating, his eyes twitching, Mark felt as though he might pass out and collapse to the floor.

Smiling at Shylah awkwardly and unsure of how it looked, Mark rushed off to the bathroom where he would stay for a considerable time, contemplating what to do, afraid of the results.  He stood helplessly in front of the mirror for a long period, disheveled, scared, terrified really.  "Mark, you idiot, just do it!  Do it!  Do it!"  Mark kept repeating himself, as if doing so would get the point across.  He hoped that no one would hear him, wanting to shout at himself yet knowing that he couldn't.  It was more of a loud, yet somewhat muffled whisper.

"She's out there!  She's sitting there waiting, even if she doesn't know it!  She knows somethin's up!  Do it!  Do it!  Do it!"

Mark finally mustered all of his courage and slowly walked out of the bathroom, but when he did, he stumbled, nearly falling to the floor, catching himself on the wall.  As he caught himself, his fist hit the wall hard enough to knock a sizeable hole into it.  Now, he had two major problems and no ideas on how to deal with either.  The problem with Shylah would be resolved one way or another by simple talking, and with any luck, it might end up just the way that Mark hoped.  The other problem, however, would require some sincere apologies to everyone in the King family and paying what Mark was sure would be a pretty substantial amount of money.

Mark snuck around the other way in order to avoid Shylah.  Facing the north wall, her back toward the entrance into the living room, Shylah never noticed Mark at all.  He quickly lurked out of the house and found T.L. in the garage, cleaning the two fish that they had caught.

"Hey, man," started T.L. "You do it?"

"No.  I was too damn chicken.  And I got somethin' else I need to talk to you about."

"What is that," asked T.L., a little curious.

"I put a hole in the hallway wall."

"What?!"

"I didn't mean to."  Mark had a terrified look on his face, so afraid of
the reaction to what he had done, though, of course, an accident.

"So, how?  Why?"

"I was so worked up and worried that I couldn't hold myself up straight.  It was like I was drunk.  I felt like I was gonna pass out, man.  I caught myself on the wall, but my fist went through it."

"Damn, man," began T.L., shaking his head.  "Just do it already!  Ask my sister out!  Tell her what you told me last night, or I will!"

"I... I... I can't, man.  I can't do it!"

"Do it!  I'm tellin' you now if you don't do it, I will!  I'm serious.  I'll tell Shylah everything!"

"Ok.  Ok.," Mark replied, uneasy, scathed by it all, contemplating running away.  "I'll talk to her.  I think I need a beer or somethin' so I can get some courage."

"You need beer guts to talk to the woman you love?  Just be a man and do it already!"

"Whatever, and yeah, I do need some beer guts.  With anybody else, no.  With your sister, hell yeah!  I can't just talk to her so easily, man."

"You've been talking to her for years, Mark. What the hell does it matter now?"

Mark felt almost like slapping his best friend for putting him down and telling him what to do.  He didn't understand just how difficult it really was for Mark.  "You don't understand how hard this is for me, and for your information, anytime I talked to Shylah, it was always 'hi' or 'bye' or 'good morning' or asking her a simple question.  This is telling her how much I care about her and can't stand not having her in my life as more than a friend!"

T.L. had no idea what he could say at that point.  There wasn't much need to say anything.  There was no good that any words could bring.

Mark, almost in a huff, stormed out.  Maybe the near fight with T.L. was just what he needed.  He was a little mad, enough that very little else could bother him.  As he got closer to the house, however, this courage seemed to leave him more and more, seemingly absent once he reached for the handle of the door.

Mark trotted in slowly, twisting his body to gently shut the door, unaware of much of anything that he was doing.  When he turned back and saw Shylah again, his heart melted, his knees became completely weak, his palms started to sweat all over again, his eyes twitched, his neck, arms, and back itched severely.  Taking a very deep breath, Mark attempted to delve deep within himself and find the courage
that he felt a minute before.

"Shylah," Mark muttered, a little incoherently.

"Yeah?"

"Ummm... could I talk to you?"  Mark was shaking so badly that he once more felt like he might pass out.

"Sure, Mark.  Come sit down."

Mark stumbled his way toward the kitchen table, pulling out a chair and plopping down so hard that he almost missed entirely, catching himself on the edge and having to scoot to a seated position.

Mark tried to look Shylah in her eyes but couldn't.  His head down, fighting to lift it, Mark couldn't find words.

"What is it, Mark?  Why are you so nervous?  Come on.  Out with it," Shylah retorted, laughing.

"I... uh... I..."

"You?  You what?"

"I have something to tell you, to ask you, to... I don't even know."

Shylah, now very puzzled, cocked her head and cleared her throat as if to question Mark further.

"I... I guess I have to just let it all out.  I can't stand it one bit anymore.  It's killing me inside!"

Now, Mark had Shylah's complete and undying attention.

With another sigh, Mark opened his mouth again and tried to speak.  The words, however, were as fleeting as his courage.  "Shylah... ummm..."

"Mark, you know, you're kinda confusing me here and makin' me a little nervous.  I'm sorry, but you gotta get the words out.  You've known me pretty much all my life.  Why are you all of a sudden so shy?"

Mark knew that he couldn't leave yet, and he couldn't walk away.  He couldn't stop the conversation.  He couldn't change the subject.  It must be done.  He would have to find words or fall over dead.  Either one sounded pretty good to him.

"Ok.  Here goes," Mark began again. "Shylah, I'm crazy about you!  I can't stop thinking about you.  I think about you when I wake up in the morning and when I go to bed at night.  You're my every thought, my every hope.  I can't get one moment of peace from it all, except when I sleep, and that's if I don't dream about you."

"Wow," Shylah choked out.  She had never had any man be so incredibly sweet to her before.  She didn't know what to say.  She didn't want to hurt Mark, but she wasn't sure that she could be with him, for a number of reasons.

Shylah always thought that Mark was good looking, a sweet guy, a cool guy, smart, funny, and fun to be around, but she had rarely entertained any notions of anything more than friendship with Mark.

Shylah knew that she had to have some answers now, but she was so afraid that she would hurt Mark's feelings, would leave him broken, maybe even damage his friendship with T.L., though she was worried that if she said yes, and things didn't work out, that she would hurt their friendship far more than what she could simply from giving Mark a rejection.

"Mark, you know you mean a lot to me.  You always have.  You and my brother have been friends for so long.  My brother loves you.  My parents love you.  We all love you.  And I do love you, Mark.  I just don't love you the way you think you love me."  Shylah almost could not believe that she had just spoken these words.

Mark, holding his  head low, not knowing how to raise it or how to speak, found his one moment of strength and opportunity.  Jerking his head up high, staring intently into Shylah's beautiful brown eyes, he stammered out, "Think?  I don't think I love you, Shylah!  I know I do!  You are everything I've ever wanted.  I don't know why it took me so damn long to figure that out, but I want you in ways that you cannot even imagine!  I would give up absolutely everything I have just to have you for one day!"

"Really," Shylah asked.  "You'd give up everything for me?  You'd give up  your company, your big house, all your money, your fancy trucks and cars, everything?"

"YES!"

"Mark," Shylah came back.  "I... I don't know what to say, what you want me to say."

Mark knew the answer and felt defeated, utterly and completely defeated in every conceivable way.  He had tried, and he lost.  He poured out his heart, and it mattered not.  He did not hate Shylah, and he knew that he would still love her and desire her with every fiber of his being, but it could not be and could not matter to anyone but him.