Read Online Under the Cypress Moon by Jason Wallace - Free Book Online

like this, I do get concerned for you.  You know I love you.  You are my only surviving son, and I want the best for you.  If she makes you happy, who am I to stand in your way?  But... if she is making you this unhappy, I don't know.  Maybe it's for the best that you two part ways."
    It was the first time in a long time that Thomas Crady spoke to his son in such a loving manner.  Mark was so used to the snappy, inconsiderate, and actually, downright mean comments from his father.  For Thomas to speak so casually and sincerely, Mark was shocked, blown away really.  He couldn't believe it.  What had come over his father, Mark wondered.
    "Yeah, well... Dad," Mark choked out, having trouble saying that word.  "I don't know what to do.  I think it's her dad doing this.  It's not her.  I was so happy I can't even tell you, but I guess her dad put some idea in her head.  She won't even speak to me now.  She won't answer the phone, won't answer the door.  I don't know what to do."
    "Give it time, Son," Thomas remarked, wanting to put similar ideas into Mark's head as to what Darius had put in Shylah's, but he didn't want to interfere so much, to try to change Mark's mind. 
    As of late, Thomas had thought over his life, his choices, his inclinations, and realized that he was possibly ruining his son's life.  Thomas knew that his life was slipping away, that, with his failing health, he may not be around too much longer.  In what time there was left, he needed to be there for Mark, to encourage him, to let him know exactly how much he meant to him, though he had rarely ever shown it.  Thomas had always been a horrible father to Mark.  He was, at least, a fairly good father to Michael but never to Mark.  Even when Mark was a child and did everything under the sun to try to please his father, it was never enough.  Thomas sorely regretted this now.
    Shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders, Mark had no more words to offer.  He felt the need to not only give up on talking but give up on his relationship and maybe even give up on life.  All he wanted to do now was go to his room and sleep, sleep at least until morning.  If not for having to run the factory for his father, Mark would sleep away the rest of his life.
    Thomas seemed to read Mark's mind and let him be, Mark taking begrudged baby steps to his room.  Shutting the door behind him, Mark flung himself down on his bed and buried his face in a pillow.  He wanted to cry, but nothing came.  He wanted to scream but did not want to have his father come to his room.  He really had no clue what he should do.  Desperately, Mark shut the blinds and covered his head with his blanket, trying hard to go to sleep, but sleep eluded him.  He refused to eat.  He refused to do anything at all.  His pain was worse than that of death.  If death would come for him, Mark would have sweet relief.  He would be with his mother and grandmothers.  He would be away from all of this torment and in a world that surely had to be so much better.
    Little did Mark know that T.L. was thinking, at that moment, of calling him and seeing how he was.  T.L. shook off this urge, however, knowing that Mark would probably not answer and not want to talk about it.  T.L. was right.  Mark did not want to talk to anyone, not even Shylah.  Nothing could be said that would make things better again.  Even if Shylah gave into temptation and called Mark, Darius would stand in their way and cause them nothing but trouble.
    The night would truly be a miserable one, full of anguish, despair, utter exasperation.  Mark tossed and turned endlessly, praying for sleep and for any semblance of peace.  In bitter agony, he cursed life, his life.  Nothing could relieve his pain but the finality of fatality. 
    Though the blinds were drawn, Mark could see as the sun finally faded into darkness, filling him with a sense of things being as they should, life giving what was demanded of it, the scenery