By L. Rochelle
(c) 1999 L. Rochelle
lrochelle@zdnetonebox.com
This is my first attempt at writing of any kind, let alone a story. Please keep in mind that this is a work in progress and may be changed to reflect and enhance events that may occur as the story unfolds. I have decided to go ahead and post this story in an uncompleted form to Fiction Mania's Mailing list in the hopes of receiving some input and criticism. Also, I would like to point out that this story thus far contains no sex, but has a TG theme. So, if you are offended by such a story or are underage (-18), please deposit in the circular file.
At this point, I would like to thank several people for their patience and understanding. To ChilliTNG, thank you for editing this hack job and providing the instruction that I sorely needed to be able to write at all. To Janice Dreamer, for your kind words of praise for my developing writing abilities as well as a second editor. Thank you for taking the time to post this story to the list for me. And last of all I give special thanks to Wendy J for your encouragement and input. Your friendship and love has been an inspiration to me. I also thank you for believing in me and my abilities even when I wouldn't believe in myself. To all three of my dear friends I love you all and count myself lucky to consider you as the best of friends.
Sapphire has exclusive rights to archive this story at Sapphire's Place. All rights to "Making Lemonade" is mine alone.
Chapter Four
Mark walked into the house and was greeted by his mom. "Mark, who was that?"
"Who?" he asked innocently. "Oh, you mean Mrs. Fisher, Donna's mom?"
"Mark, I wish you would have introduced me to her. I think it's important that I know your friends' parents."
"Oh, sorry, Mom. I didn't think. She was in kind of a hurry, anyway."
"Well, do think next time. Parents are often a good indicator of what their children are like," noted Marianne. "What church do they go to?"
"I don't know. I don't think they go to church," replied Mark. He immediately regretted his words and tried to recover. "They're good people. I don't see where someone's religion makes them good or bad."
"Well, I don't like it. It's my responsibility to make sure that the children God has given me to care for are taught the Word of God. You're too young to understand, but I will do what I believe is the right thing and keep you from the influence of Satan," lectured his mother. At four foot eleven, she had to look up into Mark's eyes. It was difficult to not feel slightly intimidated by her five foot six son. Joe had already defied her authority with his superior strength and height. Although Mark was passive in comparison to Joe, she still worried about the same thing happening. But, she had to do what she thought was right. "I don't want you to associate with those kinds of people. Do you understand me?"
Mark had been preparing himself for this eventuality. He knew that his mother would try to prevent him from his new found friends, and he resigned himself to go against her wishes. "Mom, I know you mean well, but my friends are good people and I trust them a lot more than most of the kids at church. Kim, the pastor's daughter, is probably the worst example of a good person. She teases almost anybody she thinks is below her and she sleeps around. Is that the kind of person you want me to be friends with? Is that the kind of person you want me to be?"
"God will guide her. She's just rebelling and being tempted by Satan. And I'm sure you're exaggerating. She will return to the Lord," she excused. "You will be the person God wants you to be."
"Somehow, I just knew you'd say that," he replied. "Who are you to decide how God wants me to be? That's between me and God, no one else!"
"But, until you grow up, I'm responsible to God. He has placed you in my care and I can only do what I think is right."
"I know what you believe is right. I just don't agree."
"Mark, I have to do what I believe God wants and I believe that he wants me to insulate you from bad influences. I believe he wants me to make sure that you are influenced by saved Christians."
"To be honest with you, if those are the kind of people who will go to Heaven, I'd rather go to Hell. That's the biggest reason I don't believe like you. According to you and the church, trying to be the best person you can be doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is to ask God to forgive you so you get into Heaven. Some of the worst people I know are so-called Christians and go to your church."
"Mark, it breaks my heart to hear you talk like that! I know you're having problems. If you let God guide you, He will give you the strength to deal with life's tribulations. I'm just trying to teach you that you don't have to be alone," she said unhappily. "God has promised me that all my children will be in Heaven with me. I believe that with all my heart. I'm just trying to save you a lot of pain and suffering. The joy that God will give you won't stop the things you're going through, but it will allow you to handle them easier."
"I know, Mom. But I just don't believe. It's impossible for me to believe in a God who would give me a body like this and make me live in a world that doesn't accept anything different. You think that my brain is a gift from God, but I think it's a curse," explained Mark. Just at that moment, there was a knock at the door, which gave him an excuse to end the religious debate. Jay was at the door and Mark ran outside without saying another word to his mother.
"What was your mom getting down on you about? Did she hear about school today?" asked Jay as they wandered to Jay's back yard.
"Nah. She saw Donna's mom drop me off and then she started preaching again," replied Mark. "You know, same old story."
"Man, I'm glad I don't have your mother. I'd probably run away. Hey, guess what? Dad says we can build a fort or club house between the garages and back fence. There's a bunch of old wood in one of the garages we can use."
"Cool. It'd be nice to have a place to go to get away from Mom. Let's go take a look."
The space between the garages and the back fence was about five feet wide and close to forty feet long. The fence was actually a cinder-block wall at a height of six feet. Mark and Jay were able to attach the roof of the club house to the garages, but they had to build supports on the fence side. They used about two-thirds of the length and split the structure into two rooms. Using two single mattresses they found in one of the garages and a few pallets, the club house began to take shape. It took them most of Saturday to complete the place and the boys decided that the place could be used to camp out on the weekends. Mark loved the idea of a place he could go and not have to deal with his mom or brothers, although Joe would probably have to be admitted.
"This place turned out pretty cool," commented Jay. "Why don't we see if we can sleep out here tonight? By the way, what did you have planned for tonight?"
"Nothin' much. Why?" inquired Mark.
"Duh. It's Halloween."
"Oh, yeah," Mark responded dejectedly. "I think I'll just hang out here. Halloween kinda sucks."
"Come on. Let's go out and get some candy, maybe egg a few houses," suggested Jay. "After yesterday, you need to have some fun this time."
"Nah. I think I'll pass. There's enough shit going on. I don't need to get into trouble. With my luck, anything I do, I'll get caught doing. I don't need any more crap from Mom."
"Awww, man. Sometimes you're such a stick in the mud," Jay replied. "Well, I'm going to go have a little fun."
"When you get done, come get me and we'll come out here. If Mom says it's okay, that is."
"Let's go ask right now. That way we can make some plans and get things set up. Let's see... we need some snacks, a radio, maybe some CDs...oh yeah, a flashlight and some candles."
Mark ran into the house followed by Jay. "Mom! Mom!" yelled Mark.
"I'm in here," she responded from her bedroom. "Stop yelling."
"Mom. Can I sleep out in the club house tonight?" he asked as he entered her room.
"Not tonight, dear. We have to go to the church for the Halloween party."
"Oh, Mommm!" Mark whined. "I don't want to go to a Halloween party. Can't I just stay home?"
"No. You can't stay home. It's a church function that is supposed to keep you kids off the streets and out of trouble. All of you kids are going and that's that!" insisted his mother.
"Well, I can't go. I don't have a costume," he said proudly.
"I'll think of something. Hummmm... Billy's going as a robot, and it's a little late to make another costume. Joe's going to be a pirate. That should be simple enough. How about a pirate?"
"No, Mom. I can't go as a pirate. Joe won't like it," he replied.
"Okay. Don't worry. I'll think of something."
"Come on, Mom. If I have to go, can't I just go like normal. I mean, I don't need a costume."
"You have to have a costume. You don't want to stand out from the other kids, do you?" she said.
Mark stomped out of the room mumbling. He looked at Jay sadly and said, "I have to go to a stupid party at the church."
"How 'bout after? We could still spend the night out there," Jay suggested.
"I don't know. I didn't ask," he replied. "Mom, can I sleep outside after the party?"
"We'll see," she responded from her room.
Jay and Mark gathered the things they needed for the camp out and stored them in the club house. Shortly thereafter, Mark returned to his house for dinner. "Mark, I've come up with a costume for you," said his mother. "How about an old lady?"
Joe and Billy started laughing. Billy was caught by surprise and began blowing milk out of his nose.
As Joe's laughter wound down, he asked, "How about Snow White?" He began to laugh even harder.
Mark glared at him. "Don't you dare."
"Quiet down, you two," she demanded. "Mark, there isn't too much choice. It's either that or a pirate."
"No way! He can't be a pirate. We can't wear the same costume," complained Joe.
"If you would've planned for it, you could've had what you wanted. Now, it's too late," she said.
"Planned? I don't even want to go," replied Mark.
"Well, you don't have a choice. You're going and you're going as an old lady," she ordered.
Mark brooded the rest of the way through dinner. Joe and Billy kept silent, but shot Mark snickering glances throughout. "Why is everybody trying to make me a girl?" thought Mark.
The costume his mother put together for him wasn't as bad as he anticipated. At least, not as bad as the Snow White costume. He had to wear a long, gray, wool skirt, knee high nylons with clunky squared-toed shoes and a white blouse with frilly laced sleeves and high collar under a matching gray wool jacket. The only consolation was that he was able to wear a tee shirt, his boxers and a pair of shorts under the costume. Mark's hair was put up into a tight bun and powdered with something to make it white -- he wasn't sure what it was. The worst of it was the makeup. It was caked on so thick he thought it would crack if he moved his face. He thought he looked like a clown with the bright rosy cheeks, dark red lips and gaudy eye shadow.
The party was a disaster for Mark. It took about five minutes for everyone to hear about the day before. The teasing started shortly thereafter and Mark had to find a place to hide. He found a clump of tall bushes at one end of the parking lot and sat down out of the view of everyone. He removed the skirt, jacket and blouse and let his hair down. He didn't want to go barefoot, so he took off the nylons and wore only the shoes. The tears were rolling down his cheeks and he wished he had something to wipe off the makeup, but he wasn't about to show his face again that night.
Meanwhile, Joe heard all the rumors and snide remarks and began to feel guilty about teasing Mark. He really did love his brother. He thought it was unfair that all these supposedly good people had to be so mean. They were just a bunch of hypocrites in his opinion. He looked around but couldn't find Mark anywhere. Finding his mother, he asked, "Mom, have you seen Mark? I can't find him anywhere."
"No. I haven't. I've been looking for him, too," she replied.
"Mom, I'm worried. All the kids are being really mean to him."
"I don't think they're really being mean, just a little harmless teasing," she said.
"God, Mom. He's your son. How can you stick up for these hypocrites?"
"Don't take the Lord's name in vain..."
"Fuck the Lord! And fuck your church and all the people in it! I hope he ran away and never comes back! He's better off!" screamed Joe. Everyone within twenty feet was now staring at Joe. "God damnit! How can you take their side over Mark's?"
Marianne O'Connell was extremely angry with Joe. How could he talk to her like that in front of all her friends? Unfortunately, she knew she couldn't do anything about it and began to cry. "I've tried the best I could to raise you properly. Where did I go wrong? I'm a terrible mother."
"Oh, fuck you, Mom. I'm not falling for that one again," Joe retorted. "You can't make me feel guilty, 'cause I know your little tricks. So give it up."
Several of the other mothers took Marianne into the church, leaving Joe to the men. Joe didn't wait for someone to grab him and stalked off across the parking lot. As he rounded the corner of the lot he heard muffled sobs from a clump of bushes near the sidewalk and stopped to listen. "Mark? Is that you?" he asked after he was sure of what he'd heard.
"Go away," replied Mark between sobs.
Joe made his way into the bushes and saw Mark sitting there with his head between his knees. The costume was sitting next to him, neatly folded. "Mark? Are you okay? Oh, come on. Fuck these people. They don't deserve to lick your shoes."
Mark looked up through the tears and said, "You were just as bad."
"Look, Mark. I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have teased you," apologized Joe. "You're my brother and I shouldn't make fun of you. I should kick anybody's ass who does."
Joe looked at Mark's tear stained face, covered in runny makeup. "Why don't you wipe your face off and then let's go home."
"I can't. I don't have anything to wipe it off with."
"Here, use this," said Joe, grabbing the folded blouse.
"That's one of Mom's good blouses. I can't use that."
"Fuck Mom," he said angrily. He smeared the blouse into Mark's face. "There. It's dirty. Not your fault, it's mine. Now, clean up."
Mark couldn't argue with Joe's logic. He wiped his face the best he could and refolded the blouse. His lips were still red and his eyes were ringed in black, but, all in all, he removed the majority.
Mark and Joe walked home in silence. They had to break in through Joe's bedroom window, but they were able to do so without damage. Once inside, Mark went into his mother's room and removed the shoes and placed the clothing on her dresser. He washed his face and brushed out the powder in his hair. His image was both intriguing and disgusting. Even without the makeup, he found it difficult to see the boy that appeared in his mind's eye. He studied his small, petite nose from every angle that he could. "Maybe, if I could break it a few times..." he thought. "Maybe, a big ugly scar across my cheek...." The idea of all that pain stopped his musings.
He didn't think he could face his mother, so he went out to the club house to spend the night. Jay wasn't there yet. Mark lit a candle and laid back on one of the beds. The day had tired him out. He fell asleep almost instantly.
Mark's mother arrived home late with a very tired but happy Billy. Joe had made his way to bed and was fast asleep. Marianne looked in on Joe and decided to let him sleep. She was angry with him, but didn't feel up to a confrontation that evening. She looked in on Mark, only to discover that he wasn't there. She began to worry before remembering that he had wanted to sleep out in his new club house. That was probably where he was. He need time to think and she wanted to give him that time. She felt confident that her son would eventually come to the proper conclusions.
Jay showed up at the O'Connell's front door just before Marianne readied herself for bed. He was informed that Mark wasn't there, so he made his way back to the club house. Sure enough, Mark was there, breathing lightly in a steady rhythm. Jay couldn't help but notice the angelic quality of Mark's face, which didn't show the agony he suffered daily. The rise and fall of Mark's chest, coupled with beauty of his unworried face had a sensuous characteristic that Jay found unsettling. He tore himself away from the sleeping vision of loveliness and laid down in the other room. His thoughts bothered him some and he forced himself to remember that the person in the next room was his best friend and a boy.
Mark woke up early the next morning, but didn't get up. He knew his mother wouldn't make her way through the high weeds that overgrew the path leading to the club house. Joe came looking for him and informed him of his mother's demand to come home and get ready for church. Mark told Joe that he intended to never show his face again at church.
Joe was proud of his older brother and looked forward to relaying Mark's reply. Marianne listened to Mark's message and felt a mixture of anger and sadness, both with Mark's remarks and Joe's smugness. She had expected Mark's defiance, but hoped it would be some time yet to come, if ever. Unfortunately for her, she knew there was little she could do about it, except pray that God guide him.
Marianne decided not to pressure Mark after it became clear that anything she said served to drive him further away from the church. The conversations she had with the pastor of the church and many of the other mothers helped her own disposition, but, it seemed, there was nothing she could do to help Mark. She was told to give him time and to keep praying.
Mark's home life went downhill quickly. He couldn't say anything to his mother that didn't provoke an argument. He had turned his back completely on the church, saying he could no longer associate with a bunch of hypocrites. In his opinion, there were more redeeming qualities amongst the street gangs than in the churches. At least, in a street gang, one could count on the loyalty and support of the members. Of course, Mark had no intention of joining a street gang because he couldn't condone any sort of behavior that was based on hate.
His mood could best be described as blue. He even tried to avoid the girls, but they would have none of it. They continued their normal routine, hoping to bring him out of his depression. Donna, in particular, felt that his low disposition was partly her fault and she was going to do everything within her power to bring him out of it. They never lost patience with him no matter how hard he was to get along with. At times, their infectious happiness spilled over and lifted his spirits briefly.
Mark spent the Thanksgiving holiday with Donna and her family. He refused to spend any time with a family from the church that had invited his family to dinner. Mrs. Fisher welcomed Mark into her household with open arms. She wouldn't criticize Mark's mother openly, but she couldn't understand any mother who would take sides against her own child. She thought Mark deserved better.
Mark found he had little in common with Mr. Fisher or Donna's older brother, Charlie. They expected to be waited on hand and foot by the women. Mark's conscience wouldn't let him be served like a king, so he made himself as useful as possible. He ended up spending most of the day in the company of Donna, her mother, and Donna's little sister, Kelly.
"Mark, it's so nice to have you here," said Mrs. Fisher as she basted the turkey. "But, you don't have to help in the kitchen. Why don't you go out and watch the ball game with the guys?"
Mark hung his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get in the way," he mumbled. He set the head of lettuce he was rinsing in a bowl and left the kitchen.
The football game was boring, but he pretended to watch. Mr. Fisher was a fan of the Lions, having grown up in Michigan and Charlie was rooting for the Rams. Charlie was a long time fan and had been very disappointed when the team moved to St. Louis. They were so into the game that they hardly even noticed Mark.
Mark's boredom got the better of him and he wandered out into the back yard. The door from the den, where the guys were engrossed in the game, opened up to a small Japanese style garden complete with a little waterfall that poured into a tiny pond. The path through the garden led to a large brick patio with a kidney shaped swimming pool. The pool was covered, but looked as though it was maintained for year round use. There were several palm trees along the perimeter of the patio that added to the ambiance of the Spanish architecture of the house. The patio could be accessed through a sliding glass door from the kitchen or a set of French doors from the family room. The rest of the back yard was covered by extensive expanses of lawn dotted with large shade trees. The yard was rather large, even by Southern California standards.
Mark found the warmth of the sun inviting, so he reclined in one of the lounge chairs by the swimming pool. He was soon fast asleep.
Mrs. Fisher felt bad for running Mark off and went looking for him. She thought her self imposed sabbatical to raise her children had addled her brain. She decided that she wasn't going to let her twelve years of education fester and fall to the wayside. She looked in the den where the guys were watching the ball game. "Frank, have you seen Mark?"
"Huh, what? He was right...." Mr. Fisher trailed off when he briefly glanced over to the chair Mark had been sitting in. "I don't know," he said, shrugging and turning his attention back to the game.
Mrs. Fisher was disgusted with her husband's lack of concern for anything other than the football game he was watching. She left the room, shaking her head, and continued searching the house. Finally, as she reentered the kitchen, she glanced out the sliding glass door and saw Mark dozing in one of the lounge chairs by the pool. Her guilt resurfaced as she thought about this lonely boy she had sworn to never turn away; inadvertently, she had done just that.
She made her way out to the pool and looked down at the sleeping boy. His face was so peaceful, without a care in the world. Oh how she wished she could see that same face with open eyes, but she knew that, while awake, the face showed the pain of everyday existence. Somehow, she had to figure a way to ease his pain. Janine Fisher made a promise to herself that day to do everything she could to help Mark become a person who could look forward to life instead of dreading it.
Mrs. Fisher gently woke Mark up. At first he was slightly confused, until he remembered where he was. "Oh, hi. I'm sorry. I must have dozed off," he explained. "Dinner ready?"
"No, not yet. It'll be a couple of hours yet," replied Mrs. Fisher. "Mark, I must apologize to you. I didn't think. You were trying to help and I ran you off. I'm sorry. I wanted you to feel part of the family and I thought you'd enjoy yourself more with the guys."
"You don't need to apologize. It's just... I really don't like football. Kinda stupid, if you ask me."
"I should have guessed," thought Mrs. Fisher. "Nothing about this boy is typical boy."
"So, tell me. What would you like to do?" asked Mrs. Fisher.
"It's not important. I mean, I wouldn't feel right if everybody had to do what I wanted."
"Mark, what makes you think we wouldn't like to do something you'd like, too?"
"Well, most kids think the stuff I like is boring. I'm really not any good at sports. Mostly, I like books, movies, and some role playing games, but I'm not really any good at those. Like I said, stuff everybody finds boring."
"Did you know we have a pretty large selection of movies? Donna has a lot of books, but I don't think you'd care for her favorite kinds. She likes romances. But... I think she has a few sci-fi and mysteries. Besides, reading is usually something you do alone. Let's see... I think we have some board games. Oh yeah, do you like card games? We have a few of those, too."
"Sure, cards are okay. But... well... you see, I once read a book on counting cards and... well... I do it without thinking... so, card games are little one sided."
"When he gets older, I gotta take this kid to Vegas," thought Mrs. Fisher wryly.
"Okay... cards are out. But the point is, there's a lot to do around here. The girls and I don't like football, either. We usually watch movies while the guys are glued to the game. Come on, let's go find the girls."
Donna and Kelly were in the family room, going through the rather large collection of movies. There were movies for just about anyone's preferences. When Mrs. Fisher and Mark entered the room, Donna and Kelly were arguing about each others choices. Donna had chosen "It Could Happen to You" and Kelly wanted to watch Disney's "Aladdin". It was relegated to Mark to make the final choice. He wasn't into cartoons, unless it was Anime, so he chose "It Could Happen to You". Besides, he thought Bridget Fonda was pretty hot and Nicolas Cage was cool, too.
Mark did a very good job of hiding the single tear that started down his cheek at the end of the movie when the residents of NYC sent the hapless couple notes of encouragement and money. Donna and Kelly were too absorbed with the flick to notice, but it didn't escape the observations of Mrs. Fisher. His sensitivity and emotional responses contradicted his born identity. She resolved to understand the apparent complexities of the boy.
The dinner was great, and as with most Thanksgiving dinners, everybody over ate. After dinner the guys retired to the den to watch another game, while Mark helped Mrs. Fisher and the girls clean up. Donna and Mark spent the rest of the evening in several of the teen chat rooms on the Internet. Actually, Donna did most of the chatting while Mark just watched. He was amazed how easily Donna could converse with someone she had never met. She seemed to always have something to say and knew just what to say. Mark was usually blank unless he was asked a direct question. Even then, his answers were short and to the point.
As the evening drew to an end, Mrs. Fisher could sense the tension within Mark as he put his jacket on. "Mark, is something wrong?"
"Oh no, Mrs. Fisher. Nothing's wrong," Mark lied.
"Are you sure? I hope we haven't done anything to upset you."
"Oh God, no," came the quick reply. "I can't remember the last time I had this much fun on Thanksgiving. I can't thank you enough for inviting me."
"You're most welcome. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. But, there is something wrong. You're not very good at hiding your feelings, you know."
"Mommmm," interrupted Donna. "I'm sure he didn't want to hear that."
"Donna, it's okay," replied Mark. "I guess I'll have to work on it."
"Don't you dare!" Donna declared. "It's one of reasons I like you. Please, don't ever change?"
"Okay, Mark. Out with it. I know something's bothering you," prodded Mrs. Fisher.
"Well... it's just... look, it's my problem. It's nothing you've said or done. This has been one of the happiest days of my life. But, I'm smart enough to know - nothing lasts forever."
"You don't want to go home," stated Mrs. Fisher, rather than questioned.
"Well, sure I do," he lied.
"Mark, please don't lie to me. You're not very good at it and I don't allow it in my home."
"Yes, Mrs. Fisher. I'm sorry."
"Apology accepted. Now, let's try again. Why don't you want to go home?"
"Look, Mrs. Fisher. I don't mean to be rude, but my home life is my problem, not yours. I mean, you have your own family to worry about and I...."
"Mark, you listen to me," interrupted Mrs. Fisher. "I want to make something clear. I care about you. We care about you. I can't stand by and watch you being miserable when there might be something I could do to help. So, don't give me 'it's my problem'; I won't accept that. Do you understand?"
"I'm sorry. It's just... well... what do you want to hear?" Mark asked as the tears poured down his cheeks. "Do you want to hear how I'm such a bad person because I don't listen to my mother? Do you want to hear how much I hate myself but don't have the guts to kill myself? Or maybe, you want to hear how much I hate God for creating me in the first place."
Donna and her mother had tears streaming down their faces as well. It became obvious very quickly that Mrs. Fisher's suspicions were just the tip of the iceberg. Mark was not only shy and lacked confidence, but it seemed he truly hated himself. It had to be much more than the disgust for his body that he had once indicated.
Donna wrapped her arms around Mark and hugged him fiercely. Mrs. Fisher hugged them both as they stood in the foyer. After a few minutes Mrs. Fisher and her daughter led Mark to the adjacent living room. They sat down on the couch with Mark in the middle. He was still crying and his sobs had transformed into hiccups.
"Donna, sweetie, would you get Mark a glass of water?"
"Sure, Mom. Be right back."
The tears were still flowing steadily down Mark's face, so Mrs. Fisher took him into her comforting arms. She held him, rocking back and forth, and murmuring words of encouragement as though he were a small child. Donna returned with the water and sat down next to him. Mrs. Fisher indicated with her eyes that Donna should place the glass of water on the coffee table in front of them. Donna joined in the hug. Mr. Fisher walked into the room and began to say something, but Mrs. Fisher looked up and silently cut him off with an expression. He shrugged and immediately left the room.
After several minutes, Mark began to wind down, still hiccuping occasionally. Donna retrieved the glass of water and offered it to him. "Here, sweetie. Drink it slow and steady."
Mark downed the entire glass and took a deep breath. "Thank you, Donna," he said, handing her the empty glass. He bowed his head and continued, "I'm sorry. I never should have said what I did in the hall."
"Don't apologize, dear. I shouldn't have forced it out of you. But, at the same time, I'm not sorry I did. Sweetie, we need to talk about this," replied Mrs. Fisher.
"I... I can't," refused Mark. "Mrs. Fisher? Will you please take me home?"
"Mark, I really think we need to talk about the things you said, but I won't try and force you," she said reluctantly. "But, sweetie, I can see that you really don't want to go home just yet, so I'll tell you what. Why don't you stay here tonight, at least? You can stay in the guest room and tomorrow, we'll see if we can do something fun for the day. I'll call your mother and get things set, okay?"
Mark was feeling a mixture of relief and embarrassment and wasn't sure how to respond. On the one hand, he didn't want to go home and have to deal with his mother's preaching. Besides, Jay went to Arizona to spend the holidays with his older brother and wouldn't be back until Sunday evening. On the other hand, he was ashamed of himself for his uncontrolled outburst. The fact that interacting with his mother could make him angry and anger felt worse than embarrassment made his decision for him.
Mrs. O'Connell was reluctant to say the least. She didn't know the Fishers and was informed that they didn't attend church regularly. But during the conversation she realized Mrs. Fisher was a kind and gentle woman who cared deeply about her son. Marianne hesitantly agreed to let Mark spend the rest of the holiday weekend with the Fishers.
Mark was settled into the guest bedroom. He didn't have any pajamas or change of clothing for the morning, so Mrs. Fisher was going to take him home after breakfast to grab a few things he would need. Meanwhile, he was given a new toothbrush and Charlie loaned him one of his football jerseys which reached down to Mark's knees. Charlie was six foot six and a senior in high school. Donna wanted him to wear one of her nightgowns that was more like an extra long tee shirt, but Mark absolutely refused and Mrs. Fisher wouldn't let Donna pursue the matter. After Donna spent almost an hour brushing Mark's hair, he was so relaxed that he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.