Under the Cypress Moon (69 page)

Mark still had bouts of deepening, numbing pain in his head, sometimes, completely crippling him, once in a while, even sending him flying to the ground or floor, always to Shylah's outrage over his deplorable condition.  Mark continued to take handfuls of migraine medicine, which worked only here and there but still, no worse than the expensive prescription medicine.  Mark decided that, no matter what, he would be at the barbecue the next day.  Even if his headaches were debilitating, they would not stop him.  He would sit in a chair the entire time and hold his head in his hands, if he had to, but he would not be kept from making his presence known.  The employees had to know who he was and that he cared about them, that their boss was not some monster but instead, was a kind, caring, and loving man who treated his employees as if they were family, even if they sometimes purposely caused him great stress, as Don Birchum had.  Even Don was an important and valuable asset to the company.

Mark sat in silence that afternoon on his front porch swing, with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, as a stage was erected in his very large front yard, not far from his and Shylah's beloved cypress grove, while Shylah attended to the last of the dress fittings for the wedding.  Mark wondered how the weather would hold out for the event.  There was no call for rain, but if there was, it would certainly not be the first time that the weatherman had gotten things wrong.  Before the stage was half-completed, a large truck pulled up in front of the house.  Shylah had ordered a large quantity of alcohol for the event, beer, whiskey, tequila, vodka, and a number of other things.  Case after case of liquor and beer were unloaded and placed in Mark's garage, stacked higher than the head of most men.  Stack after stack filled the garage so fully that one could scarcely step foot inside. 

Mark had already informed Don of all of the costs for the event and had him write every necessary check and place them into Shylah's hands to bring home.  Mark happily handed the check for more thousands of dollars than most could ever dream of spending for such a thing as alcohol to the driver of the truck.  As long as the bands and the caterer showed up on time the next day, everything would commence as it should.

The next morning, Mark rose from bed the most excited that Shylah had seen him in many weeks.  He was anxious to get everything underway and could not wait to see the excited smiles on so many faces of his employees.  Surely, everyone would be well pleased with the lengths gone to by their manager and recognize that their place was and should always be with Crady Steelworks, LLC.  T.L. showed up before ten o'clock, ready to help in any way that he could.  There wasn't much to have him or anyone else do but to bring the alcohol out of the garage and put as much beer as would fit into the many coolers and large metal tubs that were set next to the house.  By noon, Mark, T.L., and Shylah sat in wait, watching as the caterers set up their wares on the lawn and as the first of the two hired bands began to set up their equipment. 

"You feelin' ok today, Baby," Shylah asked, rubbing Mark's thigh as she swung back and forth on the porch swing, Mark beside her, T.L. sitting on the concrete not far away. 

"Yeah.  Better than I did.  It comes and goes, but nothin' severe today.  I took some pills for it.  I just have kind of a dull ache in the back of my head, kind of like somebody is pokin' me with an ink pen over and over, but other than that, I'm ok."

"Well, I guess that's good then," Shylah sheepishly offered.  "Could be a lot worse.  I wish I could take all of it away, though, Baby.  I just want you to be happy!"

"Hey," Mark said, taking Shylah by the chin, "I am happy.  I'm with you.  How could I be unhappy?"

The couple's noisy and obviously very wet kissing offended the eyes and ears of T.L. who had to sit, watch, and listen.  "Hey now!  I don't need to see that!  You two can stop now!"

"Oh, big brother," Shylah cried, her lips holding onto the corner of Mark's, "You just need you a woman.  You'll be like this some time.  By the way, whatever happened with Kerrie Mabley anyway?"

"I tried," T.L. insisted, "but she didn't take to me.  I guess Mark was right about her, but oh well.  I'll meet my girl one day."

"Yes, you will," Shylah assured him.  "You'll meet somebody great, and she'll be everything you'd ever want!  You're a great guy, even if you do get on my nerves sometimes.  Once a woman sees what an amazing guy you are, she's gonna grab hold of you and never let you go, like I did with Mark."

"Yeah.  I guess.  Anyway, if you guys wanna keep kissin' like that, at least, let me get away from you first."  T.L. quickly catapulted himself upward, really, a sizeable feat.

"Whatever," Shylah said, laughing as she did.  "Go find somethin' to do then.  I gotta talk to Mark."

"Yeah, talk to him.  You just wanna slobber on him."

"So?  Maybe I do.  I gotta show him how much I love him.  Maybe now that he's so much better, I'll take him inside before people get here and really show him what I think of him.  I haven't been able to show him that much for quite a while."

"Ok.  I'm out of here.  I don't wanna hear about ya'all's sex life.  Go do your thing, and leave me completely out of it!"  T.L. jumped from the porch, onto the rocks surrounding the manicured bushes in front, springing between two of the bushes and out toward the stage to see what the band was doing.

"Should we go inside, Baby," Shylah asked, her lips still nearly hanging onto his.

"It has been a while, huh?"

"Way, way too long!  The doctor said days ago that you were ok.  Let's go!"

Though Mark experienced difficulty walking, he was aided by Shylah toward the bedroom.  "You have to do it all, Baby," Mark pointed out as he lie back on the bed.

"Of course, Baby.  I plan to," Shylah replied, lifting her shirt over her head and throwing it onto the floor, followed by every other piece of her clothing.

It felt amazing, truly wonderful and unbelievable, that they could celebrate their love physically once again.  It seemed as if all of the mysteries of life were made clear in that moment, universal truth, understanding, and transcendence presence in the very touch, embrace, and kiss shared.
  More than two hours of loving and unbridled, lustful enjoyment were had, their bodies intertwined, entangled, and the point where one ended and the other began completely intangible.  When it was learned that it was nearing two-thirty, both hurried to throw their clothes back on and head outside.  The event was to begin at three o'clock, and quite possibly, they knew, many had already begun to arrive.

Nearly twenty cars and trucks already lined the yard on the other side of the long driveway, far more resembling the grass parking lot of a county fair than a private company event.  A great crowd had already assembled, all setting up lawn chairs that they brought with them, a multitude of seats being arranged in front of the large stage. 
The first of the bands, Midnight Ride, kept the crowd entertained, tuning up their instruments, the lead singer even belting out an acapella tune to test his microphone.  A somewhat throaty but quite pleasing, non-instrumental "A Country Boy Can Survive" bellowed through the innumerable and highly-stacked speakers on either side of the stage as more and more vehicles proceeded down the fairly narrow but paved lane and off into the grass beyond.

There were only minutes left until Mark was scheduled to climb onto the stage and make his planned announcements to his people.  He was the leader of a great and loyal army, eagerly awaiting his words of encouragement. 
Mark felt a deep nervousness build within him as he glared at his watch.  He began to feel an ache growing in his head once more, as well as in his stomach and in his legs.  He thought that his legs might not support him to make the journey up the steps, to the stage, as he had hardly walked at all in weeks, the nearing atrophy of the ordeal taking hold of all faculty of limb.

Soon enough, Mark saw that it was only three minutes until three.  He had to do what he did not want to have to do.  He did not mind having to speak to the employees and their families, but he did mind the climb and the pain that he might have to endure. 
Mark slowly sauntered toward the stage, unaided, ready to begin so that he and everyone else could start to enjoy themselves.  It seemed to take ages to ascend to the raised platform, high above the heads of all in attendance.  When Mark finally arrived in front of the microphone, he shakily grabbed ahold of it and began to speak, but in such a weak and raspy voice that no one could understand his words.

Shout after shout of "Speak up!" rang out from everywhere. 

"Hello," Mark began again, clearing his throat and then continuing, summoning all of the strength within him to raise his voice.  Finding his presence and composure, he amplified himself, "Hello, everybody!  Welcome to the Crady Steelworks Employee Barbecue!  I hope you're ready to have a good time!  We're just about to open the plant back up for the first time in almost two months!  I hope all ya'all are as excited as I am!  We're gonna do this!  We're gonna do it all together!  I want to personally welcome you to my house and to all of you who are longtime employees, to welcome you back!  If you are new, you are joining a family, a great family!  You'll come to see that everybody at the plant is exactly like a real family!  We look out for each other!  We protect each other!  You are all just as important to me as any of my own family!  Now, enough of all that.  We're gonna kick this shindig off right!  Help yourself to as much food as your stomach can hold!  Drink my booze!  Sit back and listen to two of the finest bands around, Midnight Ride and The Pistol Whippers!"

Mark left the stage, feeling triumphant.  He was the great general that had just enlivened his troops with the promises of great things to come.  He would lead them to a war that they were sure to win and use to make themselves far richer than before imagined. 
Mark struggled to make it down the steps, guiding himself slowly by aid of the metal frame of the stage and then the railing that he only hoped was sturdy enough for its necessary work. 

Mark could see Shylah's smiling and beautiful visage awaiting him at the bottom of the stairs, his redeemer back to a life of sanity and happiness. 
Before Mark could get to the ground below, Shylah rushed to him, presenting her arm for guidance.  "I'm proud of you," Shylah quickly let Mark know as he descended the last of the steps.

"For what?"

"You put yourself through a lot, just to make your employees happy and give them some hope.  You're good to them.  You go through pain just to make them happy, but I guess that's what you do with me, too, huh?  I'm just proud is all.  I wish you didn't have to go through all this, but I know it's gonna be better one day.  I just hope you're all better a month and a half from now."  Shylah quickly planted a kiss upon Mark's face, something that he would cherish for hours to come.

The event immediately took on a life of its own, everyone gathered in large groups, all consuming mass quantities of food and alcohol, greatly enjoying the sounds ringing out from the speakers in front of them.  Midnight Ride played a very memorable show, performing song after song that most knew, hits from so many famous rock bands such as Lynyrd Skynyrd, Molly Hatchet, the Georgia Satellites, and so many others, as well as country hit after  hit, more from the older singers, such as Hank Williams Jr., Merle Haggard, Waylon Jennings, George Jones, and many others, but mixing it up with the occasional newer song or at least, many songs from the 1990s.  Overall, the band was a success and left very big shoes to fill for those to take their place.

By the time that the second band began their show, close to half of all attending the event were drunk or at least, severely tipsy.  More than once, someone staggered into the chairs of others, while they were being used, falling into people's laps or knocking them over entirely.  Once, a rather large, long-bearded, scuzzy-looking man that no one seemed to recognize crashed into the speakers, nearly toppling them to the ground.  No one could figure out who the man was.  He seemed not to be attending with anyone and rarely spoke to anyone but took advantage of the free alcohol and took ample opportunity to hurl insults at the band as they played.

Mark contemplated having the man thrown out, but he didn't want to cause more of a scene and knew that he was in no shape to do it himself.  Shylah helped Mark to locate Kayla so that she could, hopefully, confirm that the man either was or was not a new employee.  Kayla admitted that she had no idea who the man was and that unless Sam Turner had hired him, he was definitely a party crasher.

Mark strode over to the man and calmly and politely questioned him as to who exactly he was.  The man confessed that he did not work for the plant but that he had overheard his cousin, who did work for the company, talking about the party, and decided to check it out.  Mark asked the man to please leave, as it was an event for employees and their immediate families only.  The man demanded to be left alone, stating that he was a family member of an employee and that he had every right to be there, according to Mark's own words.

Mark decided that he would let the matter go.  He did not want an altercation.  Under normal circumstances, he was sure, he could easily handle evicting the man all on his own, but in his recent and debilitating states of lack of physical prowess, he knew that he could do but little, more likely, nothing at all.  After the man crashed into one of the caterer's tables, however, and sent two large trays of food crashing to the ground, Mark had had enough and mercilessly screamed, "Will somebody please get this guy out of here?!  He's not even an employee!"