4:32pm
Today is Thanksgiving in the States.
Mark's family is here to celebrate. We're eating at a restaurant.
The situation couldn't be more worse.
"So..." Mark's mother stabs her chopsticks into her bowl of rice. "How are you?"
Mark shrivels under his mother's smothering gaze.
"I'm good." He answers curtly.
"Are you sure?" His mother's eyes pierce through him. She chews her food angrily.
Mark's hand shakes, his adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows nervously.
My hand slides to his thigh. I squeeze the soft flesh to calm him. He rests his hand on top of mine and squeezes it.
"I'm fine." Mark answers her again.
"Bullshit." Tammy slams her chopsticks onto the table.
"Tammy!" Mark's father shouts.
"It's bullshit! He's not fine!"
"I am fine." Mark retorts.
Tammy stands up and slams her hands down on the table. She gathers the other diners attention in the restaurant.
"You're not fine! You're dying!"
"I am." Mark closes his eyes.
"Act like you're dying! You act like everything is okay! Like you're fine with what's happening to you. Cry! Be sad! I feel like we're hurting worse than you are!"
No.
No you aren't.
Mark is hurting more than any of us. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.
He's battling an illness that is killing him slowly. Just because you're scared of losing him, doesn't mean that you're hurting more than him.
"Act human! We're going to lose you, Mark! Act like this is the last time being with us!"
"No." Mark glares at his older sister. "You act like this is your last time being with me."
"I am!" Tammy shouts back.
The restaurant's managers come out to tell us that we are being disruptive and rude to the other guests. They give us an ultimatum of leaving or stopping our shouting.
"Sorry." Mark's mother laughs nervously. "We'll stop."
"I'll leave." Mark stands up and storms out of the restaurant.
"Mark!" Tammy stands from the table and runs after him. Instantly, I follow after the two.
Before I leave, I hear Mark's father asking for the check.
Tammy yells after Mark as he races to our car. She grabs his wrist as he reaches for the door.
"Stop it!" Mark screams frustratingly.
"Stop acting inhuman!"
"Stop treating me like this!" Mark begins to cry. "Stop making me feel inhuman!"
"Wha-" Tammy stammers.
"Do you see? I'm crying now!" Mark points to his teary face. "Are you happy now?"
"Mark..." His mother runs out of the restaurant. She holds her clasped hands against her chest.
"Don't 'Mark' me. Why are y'all doing this to me?" Mark looks at his family. The pain in his eyes...I've never seen him so hurt.
