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 Five
Mark awoke from one of the most restful nights of sleep he could remember. The combination of a comfortable bed and the smell of coffee and cooking bacon briefly confused his dream-filled mind. The memory of Donna brushing his hair just before he fell asleep served to remind him of where he was and why he was there. For the most part, he was happy to not be at home, but he was a little bit concerned about facing Mr. Fisher and Charlie. Fourteen year old boys -- well, almost fourteen -- shouldn't cry or, at least, shouldn't be SEEN crying....
Mark was reluctant to get up, savoring the luxury of a bed without lumps and squeaks. The aroma of potpourri filled the room, contributing to his dreamlike withdrawal from reality. The filtered sunlight from a window actually covered by curtains, and the silence afforded by a closed door, made Mark wish he could stay in this dream world forever. But, his daydreaming was interrupted by a tap at the door and, after several seconds, the door opened slightly.
"Mark, are you awake?" asked Mrs. Fisher.
"Mmmmmm.... Good morning, Mrs. Fisher."
"Good morning, sweetie. Sleep well?"
"Oh yeah. I think I could stay here forever."
"Well, dear, sleep as long as you like. I just wanted to let you know that breakfast is ready."
"Thank you, Mrs. Fisher. I'll be right there."
"Mark, may I come in for a minute?"
"Ummmm..." Mark replied as he made sure he was decent. He sat up against the headboard and continued, "Yeah, sure. Come on in."
Mrs. Fisher entered the room and sat on the edge of the bed. She reached up and stroked Mark's cheek with the back of her fingers. "Sweetie, about last night.... I don't want you to feel ashamed about what you said. Sometimes, it's good to get the things that make us hurt out into the open. I just want you to know that I am here for you and I will listen to anything that you've got to say without judgement."
"Thank you, Mrs. Fisher. It's just... well... look, I know you mean well, but...."
"Just think about what I said, okay? Sweetie, please promise me one thing. Promise you won't do anything drastic without talking to me first, okay?"
Mark looked down at his hands that were neatly folded in his lap. There was no denying the sincerity in her words and he wanted to truly believe them. But, he knew that his problems were so far from what he perceived as normal that he found it hard to believe that anyone could listen without judgement. One thing was for sure; Mrs. Fisher honestly cared about him and, if he decided to do himself in, it might be better to tell her why so she wouldn't grieve over him. "Mrs. Fisher, I can't make any promises, but I'll try."
Breakfast was wonderful. Mark was used to cold cereal, so the eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, and pancakes that Mrs. Fisher had prepared were a welcome change. After indulging himself, he again helped with the clean up. No matter how much he wanted to fit in, he couldn't understand the men's attitude concerning household chores. It just didn't seem fair to make the women do all the work, while the men indulged their pleasures. It seemed to him that he was always having to make choices between what he perceived men should do and what he thought was right, which were rarely the same. His conscience would allow only that which he thought was right.
After breakfast, Mr. Fisher and Charlie left for the gym to work out and Donna, Kelly, Mrs. Fisher, and Mark piled in the minivan. When they arrived at Mark's house, all four went inside. Mrs. Fisher and Kelly sat in the living room, chatting with Mark's mother, while Donna and Mark went to his room to gather the things Mark needed for the weekend. Donna had never been to his house and was curious about how he lived. It was difficult to hide her disappointment with the conditions in which he existed. She couldn't believe Mark could get any sleep on such an uncomfortable bed and she thought the room was so drafty. What upset her the most was his almost total lack of privacy. Joe had come in once and Billy had run in and out a couple of times.
By the time Mark had his things together and was ready to go, Mrs. O'Connell was somewhat relieved that Mrs. Fisher was a good person, showing a genuine concern for Mark's well-being. Learning that the Fishers didn't attend church regularly was still a worry for Mrs. O'Connell, but she felt assured that he was in good hands. And, truthfully, she did like Mrs. Fisher.
The four of them spent the rest of the morning at Redondo Harbor walking along the pier and sampling some of the seafood offered by fishermen who were selling the catch of the day. Mark loved the ocean, but rarely got to see it. The cool breeze coming off the water, coupled with the warmth of the sun, was like a sedative to his troubled soul. He promised himself that, when he got older, he would spend more time at the beach.
Donna and Kelly wanted to take advantage of the Thanksgiving sales and begged to go to the mall. Mrs. Fisher relented, mostly because they did have to buy new formal dresses for the company Christmas party given by Mr. Fisher's firm. The planned festivities included a dinner and dance and were for the entire family. Shopping for dresses was not something that Mark would've chosen, but the thought of seeing Donna dressed up had its appeal.
When they entered the mall, Donna noticed a long line of teenage girls leading into one of the shops. "Hey, Mom. I wonder what's going on."
Kelly ran to the shop the girls were going into then began jumping up and down with excitement. A few moments later she ran back to Donna and her mother. "Mom, Carol Jamison's Bridal Salon is taking applications for models to show their new junior's formal line. The sign said between the ages of twelve and eighteen. Can we try out, please? Please, Mom? Pretty please?"
"Oh, Mom! Can we?" asked Donna excitedly.
"Okay, girls," sighed Mrs. Fisher. "Kelly, go and get the applications." She turned to Mark. "Mark, do you mind? This may take a while. I know this isn't what you wanted to spend the afternoon doing."
"It's okay. I hate to spoil the fun for the girls," Mark responded. He didn't think it was a good idea to mention that it wasn't going to be too bad because of all the gorgeous girls to look at.
"Mark, you're such a sweetheart. Thank you," said Donna, kissing him on the cheek and making him blush. Just before she moved away she gently nudged him in the arm with her elbow and whispered, "At least the scenery isn't bad, eh?"
Kelly returned with the applications and handed one to Donna. The girls filled out the forms and Mrs. Fisher signed the parental consent section. Mrs. Fisher and Mark settled down for the long wait as the girls went to the end of the line. It took almost two hours for the girls to reach the front of the shop and Mark was enjoying every minute of it. It seemed like every beautiful teenage girl in Southern California was there, trying out for the modeling jobs.
When Donna and Kelly were just a couple of applicants away from the interview table set up at the back of the shop, Mrs. Fisher turned to Mark. "Sweetie, will you be okay here alone? I want to go and stand with the girls."
"Oh yeah. No problem."
A few minutes later, Mark felt an urgent need to empty his bladder, but didn't think it was a good idea to just wander off without telling Mrs. Fisher where he was going. So, he got up and went into the shop. He reached Mrs. Fisher just as the girls were handing in their forms. Mark was so intent on making as unobtrusive an entrance as possible that he failed to notice the photographer, who stopped the interview he was conducting and stared directly at Mark as a hint of a smile played across his face.
Mark tapped Mrs. Fisher on the shoulder and whispered, "I need to find a restroom. I just didn't want you to worry."
"Okay, sweetie. We'll be right here."
"Be right back," said Mark. He turned and made his way through the throngs of girls and out into the mall proper.
During this time, the photographer couldn't take his eyes off of him. He was enchanted with Mark's fluid grace as he wandered out of the shop. One of the photographer's assistants noticed his intense interest in the girl who just left and looked down at the applications that she was holding. "Ummm... Mrs. Fisher? Isn't your other daughter going to put in an application?"
Mrs. Fisher was left speechless; her mouth opened and closed several times as she tried to articulate. The huge smiles on Donna's and Kelly's faces betrayed their amusement. Actually, Kelly was having trouble holding in her laughter. Mrs. Fisher finally found her voice and replied, trying not to create any embarrassment for Mark, "That isn't my daughter."
"Oh. Does she plan on submitting an application?" persisted the assistant.
"I don't think so," Mrs. Fisher responded. She leaned over the table and lowered her voice. "Ummmm... that was my oldest daughter's boyfriend. I don't think he would be interested."
The assistant's eyes became as big as saucers. "Are you telling me that... that... that was a boy?" She looked over at the photographer and the slight smile on his face betrayed the thoughts going through his mind. "Oh, my God."
Mrs. Fisher could only nod in the affirmative. Donna was slightly amused, but thought that it was a good idea to keep Mark out of the shop. Kelly couldn't contain her laughter any longer and roared unrestrained. Mrs. Fisher's and Donna's warning glances reduced Kelly's laughter to muffled snorts.
Donna and Kelly went through abbreviated interviews, as well as the other twenty or so applicants who remained. The assistant conducting the interviews became more and more nervous as the preliminaries wound down. She knew the photographer had made his decision and soon the fireworks would begin.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Fisher and her daughters waited for Mark a little ways away from the gathering of hopefuls. When he returned, Kelly lost it again. She was laughing so hard, she fell out of her seat. Mark looked at Donna and asked, "What's her problem?"
Donna and her mother could only shrug. They looked at Kelly and silently warned her to settle down and be quiet. They figured everything would be all right if he never knew what happened.
After the interviews were completed, the photographer, his first assistant, the shop manager, and Carol Jamison, the owner of the company, gathered in the manager's office to pick the ten finalists. These finalists were to have a photo shoot which would aid in making the final decision.
When the door to the office closed, the assistant hesitantly looked at the photographer. "John, you can't. Please reconsider?"
Carol and the shop manager looked at John Carlton, the photographer, in confusion. "Oh, but I must have her. No one else'll do," John replied adamantly. "I've made my decision."
"But... but... John, please? You can't use that boy for this," she pleaded. Turning to the others she continued, "Please, tell him!"
Carol Jamison and the shop manager, Cindy Keller, were stunned by the revelation. Finally, Carol responded, "John, are you telling me that you have picked a boy as our star model for our new junior's formal line in the national campaign? It's not possible. What would everyone say? We'd be the laughing stock of the industry."
"I don't care. She's the one. I won't work with anyone else. If you refuse my choice, find yourself another photographer and I'll make her a superstar without you. You haven't seen her beauty, her magnetism, or her fluid grace. Susanne, you tell them. You've seen her."
"But, John, be reasonable. This is a boy we're talking about," Carol pointed out. "With all other considerations aside, how do you propose to get him to agree to this? Has he applied?"
"It doesn't matter. I WILL have her. She'll do it. I can persuade her."
"Okay, John. We'll try it your way. But, you have to promise me that you'll honor your contract if he refuses to cooperate. Okay?" relented Carol conditionally. "Now, we need to pick the other nine finalists. Don't forget, we need three others for the campaign."
John began to wave off the responsibility when a thought occurred to him. "Hand me the applications." He took the stack from his assistant and quickly leafed through them, pulling two out as he went. "I want these two, also. The others don't concern me in the least."
Donna and Kelly were starting to get a little antsy. They had been waiting over an hour and watching the other girls. Donna felt certain that their chances were slim to none, given the competition. "Mom, why don't we go shopping? I really think we're just wasting our time. Have you seen the other girls?"
"Are you sure? You and Kelly are every bit as beautiful as they are."
"Thanks, Mom. But... well, I'm probably too short and Kelly's too young. This may take hours and we're wasting valuable shopping time."
"No!" wailed Kelly. "Mom, I want to wait. Please? What if they do call us and we're not here?"
Mrs. Fisher was about to respond when the woman who conducted the interviews came out of the shop. She climbed up on the edge of one of the planters in the center of the mall. "May I have your attention please?" She paused to let everyone quiet down.
"First of all, I would like to thank all of you for coming out. You have made our decision difficult because all of you are beautiful young ladies. I'm sorry to say that we can only choose ten of you as finalists and out of those ten, only four will be selected for the campaign. The ten finalists will have to participate in a photo shoot, starting tomorrow morning. As your name is called, please go into the shop and go to the table where your interviews were conducted. There, you will be given a time to be here tomorrow for your photo shoot." She paused again to add suspense to her pending announcement.
"Okay. Our first finalist is Lisa Carson. Next, we have Sharon Cortez. Saundra Sanchez. Elizabeth MacCarthy. Cassandra Brown. Janice Cartwright. Belinda Tanaka. Donna Fisher. Kelly Fisher. And our last finalist is Gerraldine Beauchamp. A list of the finalists will be published in tomorrow's edition of the LA Times. Thank you all for coming out."
Donna and Kelly were so excited and began dancing around each other. Donna grabbed Mark and hugged him. "I can't believe we made it. God, I can't believe it. Oh, thank you Mark, for being so patient. Can you believe it? This is a dream come true."
"Oh, Donna, I'm so happy for you, but... I don't mean to be a downer, but... you still have to make the final cut. But, I'm sure you'll make it. After all, you are gorgeous."
"Oh, thank you, Mark, you're such a sweetheart. Well, I suppose we should go into the shop and find out what time we need to be back tomorrow. Oh no. Mom, I haven't got a thing to wear tomorrow."
Mrs. Fisher could only laugh at Donna's last comment. She was happy for her daughters, but was worried about the photographer's reaction earlier. "Mark, why don't you wait here while we go into the shop, okay?"
"Sure. That's a good idea."
Mrs. Fisher and her daughters made their way into the shop, leaving Mark to watch the rest of the girls slowly filter out of the area. They looked so sad. It was too bad they were only looking for four girls.
Mark had been so intently watching the girls that he didn't see Susanne come over to him. She waited for several seconds, taking deep, calming breaths. This was going to the hardest thing she had done since she began working for John Carlton.
"Excuse me," she began. "I'm Susanne Hemingway and my employer would like to have a chat with you in the Bridal Shop."
"Me? But I haven't done anything. If it was about coming in there earlier, I'm sorry. But I had to tell somebody where I'd be."
"Oh, no. It's nothing like that. He just wants to ask you a few questions, that's all," she lied.
"I suppose that will be okay. I mean, the people I'm with are in there anyway."
"Great. Follow me." She turned and headed off towards the shop with Mark in tow.
As they entered the shop, Mark couldn't see the Fishers anywhere. Susanne led him into the back of the shop and ushered him into the office. The Fishers were there, looking like the world had come to an end. Well, at least Donna and her mother looked that way. Kelly had a big smile on her face, kind of like the cat that ate the canary.
There were two women and a man in the office, too. The women's mouths were wide open with stunned looks on their faces. The man had a slightly sinister grin.
"Come in. Come in. Please, have a seat," the man said, pulling the chair out for Mark. "My name is John Carlton. I'm the photographer in charge of the national campaign for this company. And this is Carol Jamison, the owner," he said, gesturing toward the redheaded lady standing behind the desk.
"Nice to meet you, uhhh... Mark," Carol said, offering her hand.
Mark took her hand and shook it lightly as Mr. Carlton continued, "This is Cindy Keller, the shop's manager." The other woman offered her hand and Mark shook it, too. "And, you've met my assistant, Susanne Hemingway."
"Yeah. I met her outside," replied Mark nervously. "Can someone tell me what's going on? Why are Donna and Mrs. Fisher upset and what does any of this have to do with me?"
"Well, Mark. It's like this," began Mr. Carlton. "I want you to be my star attraction."
"What? I don't think I understand."
"It's very simple. I want you to be my star model for Carol Jamison's new line of junior's formalwear. You'll grace the pages of magazines nation wide."
Mark sat there, expressionless, unsure of the implications. Mrs. Fisher could only guess what was going through his mind.
"Your beauty will be the envy of every teenage girl in the country. By the time summer rolls around, yours will be one of the most famous faces on the planet," he continued.
Mrs. Fisher noticed the blood rising up Mark's neck. She wasn't sure if it was embarrassment or anger, but, whichever it was, Mark was not a happy camper. Within seconds, she, along with everyone else, found out what he was feeling.
"What? NO FUCKING WAY!!!" yelled Mark. "I am not going to put on a dress and be seen anywhere, let alone in a national magazine. Jesus fucking Christ. Why does this shit keep happening to me?"
During this outburst, Kelly's Cheshire cat grin fell as all her hopes and dreams were ripped from her. She clutched at her mother's arm as a solitary tear rolled slowly down her cheek.
"I'm sorry to hear you say that," Mr. Carlton returned. "I want your cooperation in this, but, no matter; you'll do it. Let me put it this way. You model for us or these two lovely little ladies don't make the cut. It's up to you."
"But that's not fair! You can't take away their chances just because of me!"
"Oh, but I can... and will. Who ever said life was fair? I mean to have you as my star model and I'll do what I need to do to get you."
"But, that's illegal, isn't it?" asked Mark. Then a thought occurred to him. "Besides, I know my mom would never let me do this, so you're just wasting your time. Please, don't take away their dream!"
"Their dream is up to you. Leave your mother to me," replied Mr. Carlton. "Now, I'm through talking. I need you here tomorrow at noon. Either all three of you or none of you. The choice is yours."
"But it's illegal! We'll sue!"
"Go ahead. It's your word against ours. Think about it. I'll see you tomorrow at noon."
Mark stood up and glared at the evil man. "Don't count on it," he warned. Then he turned and stalked out of the office. Mrs. Fisher and her daughters followed on his heels.
When John, Carol, Cindy, and Susanne were alone and the door was closed, Susanne looked at John in disgust. "I know this will probably cost me my job, but... never in my born days have I ever seen anyone stoop so low as you have just now! How could you be so vile, so devious, as to destroy a child's hopes and dreams to try and further your perverse artistic sense? Blackmail?! How could you?"
"Now, Susanne. Don't be so melodramatic. Blackmail is such an ugly word; I prefer extortion. I do have my standards. Besides, she'll do it. That one won't let her friends down and she'll be the better for it. You'll see."
"She? She? Have you taken leave of your senses? Why do you persist in calling him 'her'? You know he's a boy."
"That's because it doesn't matter what she was born as. She is and always will be a woman. She just doesn't know it yet."
"Look, John. I'm worried," said Carol. "What if they sue? I know it'll be their word against ours, but the publicity could ruin us."
"Don't worry. It'll never come to that. Wait and see. She'll be here tomorrow. Not very happy, but we can deal with that when the time comes."
"I hope you're right. Because, if my company is harmed by this, I will sue you for everything you have and anything that you'll ever make the rest of your life."
John Carlton gave Carol his greasiest smile. "Trust me," he said, his voice taking on the characteristic timbre of a sleazy used-car salesman.
No one was in the mood for shopping anymore, so Mark and the Fishers decided to go home. They rode the whole way in silent contemplation of opportunities realized and then viciously ripped away. It was remarkable how a great day could be ruined so quickly.
Mark went directly to the guest room as soon as they arrived at Donna's house. His silence told the girls that he needed some time alone and Mrs. Fisher insisted that he get it. He flopped on the bed and hugged the pillow like it was a life preserver. The gamut of thoughts and emotions that were running through his mind prevented any tears. "Oh, God. Why me? As if my life couldn't get any worse, now I have to choose between becoming a girl and hiding my face for the rest of my life or hurting someone I care a lot about. Oh, God. Why can't you let me die? That'd solve everybody's problems."
Mrs. Fisher left Donna and Kelly to their own thoughts. She was fairly certain that her daughters were good, caring people and that their wishes would take a backseat to Mark's needs. She knew they would never pressure him and might even try and talk him out of any decision to go through with it. Donna would get over it quickly, but Kelly would be devastated. Of course, she couldn't let the girls influence Mark. He had to decide for himself.
"But, 'snot fair," cried Kelly as she held onto Donna. She had been crying ever since they got home. Donna felt terrible as well, but she knew she had to be strong for her little sister. "Donna, why's that man so mean? S'jus'not fair."
"I know," consoled Donna, hugging her tight and petting her on the head. "He thinks Mark is beautiful and he doesn't care that he's a boy. He just wants his own way."
"But Mark is beautiful. He should have been a girl," she said as she looked up into Donna's eyes. "'Snot fair."
Donna took a tissue and put it up to her little sister's nose. "Here, blow."
Kelly blew as her big sister commanded. Donna remove the tissue and Kelly said again, "'Snot fair."
"I know. I know. But Mark's a boy and we can't let him do this for us. It wouldn't be fair to him."
"I know. But 'snot fair."
Donna released Kelly and stood up. Taking her sister by the hand, she said, "Come on. We haf'ta tell Mark he can't do it. Okay?"
"'Kaaaaay."
"Are you mad at me?"
"Noooo."
"You mad at Mark?"
"Noooo. But, 'snot fair."
"I know. I know. Come on, let's go."
Donna tapped on the door of the guest room and received no response. She opened the door and stuck her head in. "Mark, are you here?" She saw him lying on the bed in a fetal position and clutching a pillow. She threw the door open and ran to his side. He was breathing softly and his eyes were open, but he showed no other signs of life.
Kelly followed Donna into the room and when she saw Mark lying there, she broke down and started to cry again. She jumped onto the bed and hugged him across his back.
"What's wrong with him?" asked Kelly through her sobs.
"I don't know. Mark? Mark?" said Donna, shaking him by his shoulder. She started to cry as fear set in. "Kelly, go get Mom. Quick."
Kelly jumped off the bed and ran from the room screaming, "Mommmm! Mommmm! Mom, come quick!"
Mrs. Fisher was in the kitchen getting a snack for Mark and the girls when Kelly burst in. "Kel, stop yelling. I can't understand a word you're saying," said Mrs. Fisher. "Now, tell me what's wrong."
"It's Mark. Somethin's wrong," she said, still yelling.
"Oh, no," she thought. "I hope he didn't finally get the courage to kill himself."
Mrs. Fisher dropped what she was doing and ran to Mark's room. When she went into the room, Donna was stroking his hair and trying to get him to say something. He was holding a pillow between his chest and tucked up legs with his arms wrapped around them. The blank stare of his eyes alarmed her a little, but at least he was still breathing.
"Donna, you and Kelly wait outside," directed Mrs. Fisher.
"But Mommm!"
"Donna, please?"
"God, Mom. I've seen him like this before, but it was never this bad."
"Huh? He's been like this before?"
"Well, yeah. He zones out, kinda. But, all we had to do was say his name a few times and he came out of it. Oh, Mom. What are we going to do?"
"I'm not sure," replied Mrs. Fisher. She was stroking his hair, trying to comfort him. "Donna, do you know if it just happens or if he makes it happen?"
"I'm not sure. Both, I think. Mom, you remember. Halloween, in the van on the way to school?"
As they were talking, Mark's eyes began to blink, slowly at first. The tension in the rest of his body was draining away slowly, almost in sync with his blinking eyes. Mrs. Fisher noticed the change and looked down at the boy.
"Mark?" she inquired. Mark still didn't move, but his eyes began to survey his surroundings. "Oh, God. Mark, are you okay? Please, you have to let us know you're okay."
Mrs. Fisher saw a glassy glint forming in his eyes and knew that he understood her words. As a tear dropped out of the corner of his eye, he sat up and embraced her tightly. "Oh, Mrs. Fisher. What am I going to do?"
Relief flooded over Donna and Kelly. They jumped on the bed and hugged Mark.
Mr. Fisher and Charlie had just gotten home from a run on the beach and appeared at the door of the guest room. When Mrs. Fisher saw them, she put her index finger over her lips and then silently mouthed the words, "Tell you later." Mr. Fisher shrugged, acknowledging her request, and dragged Charlie away from the room.
It took several minutes for the four of them to cry themselves out. As they broke the group hug, Mark looked at Mrs. Fisher and then the girls. "God, I'm so sorry. I've messed up everything."
"Mark, it's not your fault," noted Donna.
"Yeah. It's that mean man. 'Snot fair," said Kelly.
"Mark, you listen to me. You're not going to do it. I won't let you," ordered Donna.
"Now, girls. You have to let Mark make his own decision. After all, he's the one who has to live with it," Mrs. Fisher instructed.
"But, Mom. I could never be happy if Mark has to be hurt to get what I want. It's not worth it."
"Yeah. Don't do it. 'Snot fair," added Kelly.
Mark opened his mouth to speak, but Mrs. Fisher put her finger over his lips. "Think about it. Don't decide now. It can wait until morning. Remember, whatever you decide, we are on your side, okay?" She stood up and looked down at him. "Sweetie, take all the time you need. Come on girls, let's give him some space." Mrs. Fisher turned and left the room. Donna kissed Mark on the cheek and followed her mother.
Kelly hugged Mark again and said, "I love you." And then she left him alone.
"Mom," said Donna as she caught up to her mother. "You can't let him do it."
"Sweetie, listen. Mark has to do what he thinks is right. As much as he may hate doing it, he might feel worse if he thought he had hurt you and Kelly. Why do you think your father and I trust him so much? It's because, to him, causing others pain is unacceptable. So let him make his own decision and support him in whatever that decision is, okay?"
"But, what if he goes through with it and it destroys him? I don't think I could live with that."
"Sweetie. Give him a little credit. He's smart. He'll decide on what he can live with. You've seen what he's had to live with so far. That boy is a survivor."
"I hope you're right. God, I hope you're right. I don't know if I can live without him. Mom, I love him so much."
"I know, sweetie. I do, too. Trust me, he'll make the right decision for himself."