Under the Cypress Moon Read Free Page A

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