Under the Cypress Moon (49 page)

Mark tried, over and over, to call Shylah, but she would not accept his calls.  Every time that her phone rang, Shylah quickly hit dismiss to end the call or let the phone ring until it went to voicemail.  Within a few hours, Shylah had fourteen unchecked voicemail messages and twelve unread text messages from Mark.  She did not care.  Nothing Mark could say would change anything.  Nothing would fix the brokenhearted feelings he had caused.  Nothing short of evicting Sara entirely from the house would bring Shylah around, she told herself.

Shylah eagerly relayed everything to her parents and to her brother.  All of them agreed that Mark was acting incredibly insensitive and uncaringly and that he should definitely get his supposed sister out of his house, especially since he had no real proof that she was, in fact, his sister, other than his attorney's word.  Shylah's mother, immediately after hearing all of the gritty details, noticed the large, extraordinarily-intricate ring on Shylah's finger. 

"Girl, are you two engaged," Pearlina King inquired of her daughter.  "You mean he finally popped the question?"

"What do you mean 'finally," Mama," Shylah asked.

"Well, with you bein' pregnant and all, it's only right that you two do what the Lord wants you to do and make this thing good in His sight.  I'm glad he stepped up and asked, but this other woman, I don't know, Baby.  I don't encourage no fightin' on any behalf, but I suppose I can't condemn what you did today.  That woman was out to provoke you from moment one.  I say she's got a stick so far up her bony ass it probably makes her walk funny!  And it sounds like she don't like black folks."

"Mama," Shylah exclaimed, "I have never once heard you say the word ass!  That is not like you at all!"

"Well, when someone hurts my baby, I can't be expected to watch my mouth.  I gotta stand by my children.  That woman is a mean, bitter person that exemplifies everything the Lord hates in this world, and yes, your mama knows some big words.  I do read, ya know."  Pearlina laughed with joyous contempt as she stood up from the kitchen table to head to the stove in tending to her boiling pots.

"I didn't say nothin', Mama.  It' not you usin' big words that's weird.  It's you usin' the word ass.  It's still got me."  Shylah smiled at her mother as she watched her cook.

"Ok, Child.  You stop sayin' that now.  I only said it once.  We don't need fillin' this house with such coarse language!  Darius, Tiberius, what do ya'all think of this mess?"

"A damn tragedy, Mama," T.L. laughingly answered.

"Now, Tiberius Lamar King, I just told your sister to watch her mouth, and now you go and add to it!  You know where the soap is!  Go wash out that filthy hole on your face," Mrs. King demanded, not turning from her kitchen duties, though only half serious about the order.

Darius quickly jumped from his seat, heading to the fridge for another beer.  Placing one before his son, he rang in with his own reply, "I say I have to agree with the boy.  It is a tragedy, Pearlina.  Mark is a good boy, got a real smart head on his shoulders and a real kind heart.  What he's done for the folks at the plant is beyond me, but him settin' there, takin' in all them words from this so-called sister of his like she's the Queen of England or somethin', it don't feel right, and it ain't right!  Now, he's up and hurt my baby girl.  I ain't sayin' I'm gonna go start no trouble with the boy.  I might go have a talk with him.  I ain't gonna fight him or nothin'.  I can't lose my job, and you know the boy is young and strong enough he might whoop me somethin' fierce!  I don't like it.  I don't like it a bit!  The boy's gotta get his head up outta his ass and see this girl for what she is and see what he done to Shylah!"

"Mama," T.L. interceded before anyone else could speak, "Ain't you gonna tell Daddy to go wash his mouth out, too?"

"Your daddy ain't my baby.  He does what he wants.  I can't make him wash his mouth, but I can keep his supper from him."

"Don't you even try it, Woman!  I ain't had much to eat today.  I ain't said but one bad word to these kids' three or four.  Now, let it all be done and over with.  No more of that bad language.  Anyhow, Baby," Darius continued, turning to his right side to look into his daughter's pain-stricken eyes, "You want me to go talk to the boy and straighten him out?"

"No,  Daddy.  Jes leave it well enough alone.  I want Mark to come around on his own.  If he can't see it, ain't no use of talkin' to him about it.  Look at this phone.  I'm up to twenty-one voicemails from him and twenty-six texts!  You think I'm answerin' a one of 'em?!"

"That's a lot, Shy," T.L. chimed in.  "Sounds like Mark already misses you, and maybe he's sorry."

"Don't stick up for your friend, Tiberius Lamar," Shylah angrily jolted back.  "And don't call me Shy!  I told you about that the other day!"

T.L., feeling just as jolted by his sister's comment, came full force back at her. 
"Yeah, well, he is my friend, my best friend.  He's been my best friend since before I can remember!  He's closer to me than a brother could ever be!  Sorry to say this to you, Sis, and you know I'd fight to the death to protect you, but Mark's closer to me in a lot of ways than you are.  I'd do the same thing for him.  I'd take a bullet for either one of you.  Mark is family to me.  Mark means as much to me as any of you.  I won't do nothin' to hurt any of you on purpose, nothin' bad, more than a joke every now and then, but I gotta stand by my friend, too!  Mark's a good man!  You know he is, and he loves you!  He really loves you!  I ain't ever seen him so in love with somebody as he is with you, and now, you're havin' his baby and engaged to him.  That don't sound like just a like or bein' friends to me.  That sounds like you feel exactly the same about him and like you'd sooner cut your heart outta your chest than give him up!  You think about that one, Sis.  The boy loves you.  I can promise you he'd give his life for you!  And I love you.  I don't wanna see either of you hurt!  That's my problem here with this.  I got my baby sister on one side and my best friend on the other, two people that mean everything to me.  You got a man that would treat you finer than any other guy on this planet, and you're throwin' him away cuz he's all excited about a sister he never knew he had that, yeah, she's a bi... sorry, a bad person, but that's what you're doin'.  Don't let him go.  Don't give up on him.  Anything I can do to help fix it, I'll try my best, but I can't let you let him go!"

"I'm not lettin' him go, T.!  It looks like he's lettin' me go!  If he comes around, if he comes to his senses, if he finally sees this bitch for what she is, I'll take him back in a heartbeat!  Sorry, Mama.  I know.  Don't even say it.  I said a bad word.  But you know, I'm goin' through a lot here!  That woman is a bitch!  I'll say it and say it again and again!  She's a bitch!  She's an ugly bitch!  She's a mean bitch!  She's a mean, ugly bitch!"  With a deep, welling sigh, Shylah got up from the table and marched off to her room.  She needed a moment to cool down and get over her brother's words.  Most of what T.L. said made perfect sense to Shylah.  She never wanted to lose Mark or to give up on their relationship.  Every bit of her hoped that Mark would come around.  Something drastic would have to be done.  Surely, no one would prove to Mark how conniving Sara was or that she was only conning him. 

The next day, Shylah found the strength, through prayer, to rise and file from bed and out among the living once again.  Everything in her told her to go to church.  She needed it.  The Lord would look after her.  These things echoed in her mind as she sat down at the table, awaiting her mother to serve breakfast to the family.

"Mornin', Baby," Pearlina said to her daughter, leaning down, spatula in hand, to place a nurturing kiss on her daughter's face.

"Mornin', Mama.  It all smells good.  Bacon?"

"Yessirree!  Bacon, eggs, grits, jes the way yo daddy likes it, hot, steamy, and on a plate, like me!"

"Mama, please tell me you're talkin' about the food and not how Daddy likes you."  The thought of it caused Shylah to start feeling queasy.

"Well, you know, Child, married folks still get down and dirty!  Mmmm!"

"Mama, it's Sunday, and you're talkin' to your daughter about what you do with her daddy!  I don't know that I can eat!"  Shylah attempted to rise from the table but was quickly nudged into her seat by her mother.

"Oh, don't you worry now!  Jes set there, and smell the fresh cookin'!  It's so good!  You goin' to church with us, right?"

"Plannin' on it, Mama."

After a hearty breakfast and a quick shower, Shylah was nearly ready to go, throwing on her clothes in a hurry and applying very little makeup for one of the first times ever in her life.  All she cared about was looking presentable but not breathtakingly beautiful.  The thought of looking particularly good for anyone, Mark included, just wasn't of any real concern for her.

When Shylah strode into the church with her family, she was quickly approached by Reverend Hill.  "Shylah, I see you are not with Mark today.  Is there somethin' wrong?  You two havin' troubles?  If it's of any help to you, I do offer counseling services for couples, and I'd be happy to lend a hand to ya.  You know, love is a powerful thing and a dangerous thing at the same time.  It has the power to transcend, the power to build up, and the power to take away.  It's a tightrope you have to walk to be able to see the beauty and the hazards, the mountains and the valleys.  I do believe, however, that you and Mark make a wonderful couple, a happy couple, a loving couple, a good, God-fearing couple!  I'd hate to see anything bad happen to your relationship with him.  If you need anything, you come to me.  You remember that the Lord is always, ALWAYS around for His children!  You just have to ask!"

"Thank you, Reverend.  I appreciate it.  I just don't know.  I can't really explain it all right now.  It's nothin' you might expect.  We were happy, very happy, maybe too happy."

"There is no such thing as too happy, Child.  There is only your perception of your happiness that can tear down that dream.  Don't ever sell yourself so short that you let yourself believe you do not deserve that powerful, everlasting, sustaining love!  If you love someone that much, and they love you just the same, you hold on!  You don't ever let anything or anyone stand in your way!  I have to get on up to the pulpit and get ready now, but if you'd like to discuss this more after the services, you come right on up to me.  Reverend Hill is just God's messenger, but I am never too busy to deliver the message, except when there is another I must deliver, such as now!"  Reverend Hill walked away, leaving Shylah to stand in the aisle, stricken with confounding thoughts.

Throughout the services, Shylah could hear little of what was spoken from the pulpit or sung by the choir.  She sat motionless, staring at Mark across the aisle and several pews ahead.  She wanted so badly to run to Mark even before the services let out, just to hold him, to lean on him, to tell him that everything would work itself out, and that it was silly of them to fight, but she knew that she couldn't.  She would likely not speak to him at all for some time.

As soon as church was over, Shylah darted from her pew, without saying a word to anyone, hoping to avoid all eyes and all inquisitions, including those of Reverend Hill.  As Shylah reached the bottom step outside, she felt a hand take hold of hers.  She quickly spun around to stare face to face with Mark.

"Baby, please talk to me," Mark begged.  "I can't take this.  Please talk to me!  I really wanna talk to you about somethin' important!"

"What, Mark?  I gotta go."

"Will you please just listen to me for five seconds," Mark bellowed, attempting to whisper but full of emotion as he was, he couldn't.

"I said what, so what is it," Shylah snapped, pulling away.

"I know you're mad, and you have the right to be.  How she treated you isn't right.  I talked to her about it.  I'm sorry.  I'm really sorry.  You're everything to me, Baby.  I swear that to you!  You're my world.  I was thinkin' maybe we could go away together for a while, just you and me, no family, no job stuff, just you and me go to the beach for a few days, celebrate my birthday early, just get out and have fun and no worries."

"Goodbye, Mark.  I gotta go."  Shylah turned to walk away. She was screaming inside to give Mark another chance and to consider his proposition, but she was still far too mad about what had happened, particularly, about Mark not standing up for her enough or getting rid of Sara.

"Baby," Mark pleaded, grabbing Shylah's arm.

"Let go of me," Shylah screamed, loudly enough that several people nearby took immediate assessment of the situation.

One of the men standing less than twenty feet away, a very burly man named Samuel Jenks, rushed to Shylah's aid, prying Mark away.  "I believe the lady said to let go of her!  Why don't you just leave her alone?  You don't manhandle a woman like that!"

"Sam," Mark replied, starting to fume, "Stay out of this, please, Man.  This ain't none of your concern!"

"Well, it is when I hear a woman tell a man no.  If she don't want ya, leave her be.  Maybe the sista ain't got time for you and your triflin' ways!  I ain't afraid to throw down in front of a church.  The Lord understands."

"Ok, Sam.  I don't want any trouble."  Mark choked to fight back his tears and the deep, suffocating lump in his throat.  "Think about what I said, Shylah, Baby.  Think about it.  You know we belong together.  I'll do whatever it takes.  Just know that."

As Mark stepped away from Shylah to head to his truck, Shylah shouted, "Get rid of you know who, and maybe we can talk!"