Stepping Up
Drake sat on the arm of the faded red couch in the center of the bedroom he had shared with his step brother Josh for the past three years. His right foot tapped anxiously as he absent mindly ran his fingers over the smooth surface of his favorite Les Paul guitar. His slim gray cell phone lay silently on the table in front of him. The silence of the empty house echoed through his mind. His step-brother Josh was out with his irritating girlfriend, Mindy. Megan, their little sister was at oboe practice for another hour, and their parents were out of town for the weekend visiting family in Los Angeles. Drake tightened his grip on the neck of his guitar and crossed his feet, his left ankle rattled back and forth uncontrollably. It had been nearly an hour since his cell phone had chimed the opening cords of Live and Let Die by Paul McCartney, and that had been the last sound to reach Drake's ears, other than his own labored breathing and the rapid pounding of his heart.
Drake stared at the silent phone, and noticing a sudden tightness in his chest, he blew out a deep breath he didn't realize he had been holding. Quickly he sucked in another breath, but the relief went no further than his oxygen deprived lungs. Drake glanced at the clock on the nightstand beside Josh's bed, brushing hair out of his eyes, two o'clock. It had been ten after one when his phone had sounded. It had been Molly, the girl he had been dating for nearly three months, a personal record for Drake. A call from a pretty girl had never had this effect on Drake before, but something had been off in Molly's voice when she had asked him to meet her at The Premier at two-thirty that afternoon. Drake closed his eyes, his head dropping to his check, his shoulders rounding in a defeated posture. He liked Molly. She was by far the coolest girl he had dated in a long time, and he liked things how they were now, but Drake had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that whatever she wanted to talked to him about today would change the good thing that they had. Drake opened his eyes and glanced at the clock again. Two-fifteen. If he got in his car right now he could still make it in time, though no one had expected punctuality from him in years. Drake's eyes wondered back to his phone. He hated walking into any situation that he wasn't in control of, and he knew that he would not be dominating this conversation.
With a deep sigh Drake dragged himself of the arm of the couch, shoved his phone in his pocket and grabbed the keys to his beat up '66 Galaxy. Once in the car Drake turned the music up to a volume that nearly vibrated his windows, and began the fifteen mile drive to the movie theater where he had spent most of his free time since he was fifteen. Drake's mind wandered as he drove down the familiar streets towards the center of town, and he found himself thinking about a wonderful night he had spent with Molly a few weeks before.
The night was warm, but not uncomfortable, the full moon made the nearly invisible clouds shimmer with silver light. It was well after midnight, but Drake knew that no one would be looking for him. That night he had waited until he was sure that everyone was asleep before sneaking out of the house, silently rolling his car to the end of the driveway before starting it. Now he lay on the moonlit beach staring up at the iridescent cloud. One arm held Molly, who lay beside him wrapped in his favorite blue shirt. Drake pulled his eyes away from the sky and glanced down at her. He knew his reputation, he knew that nearly everyone, including his own brother, thought that he would sleep with any girl who gave him the chance, and for the most part that didn't bother him because he knew the truth. He had only been with two girls in his life, and the second one was currently curled up against him, her steady, shallow breathing telling him that she had fallen asleep.
Drake shook his head and looked around, surprised to find himself parked in his usual spot in the parking lot of The Premier. He leaned forward resting his forehead against the smooth wooden steering wheel, mentally preparing himself for whatever was to come. After several long minutes Drake blew out one last deep breath, and praying that this conversation would not involve tears, climbed out of the car. The theater was surprisingly empty for a Saturday afternoon and Drake found Molly easily. She sat alone at a table in the corner of the room, her curly brown hair shielding her face from view, but from her posture Drake could tell that she was staring down at the gray and pink Formica table top. Defiantly not a good sign. She did not look up when he sat down across from her, and for a split second Drake though he saw tears shimmering in the tips of her eyelashes. Drake fidgeted in the hard plastic seat, crossing his ankles and shifting the small salt shaker in front of him from hand to hand as he waited for her to speak. A minute crawled by in silence, then Molly looked up. Her pretty face was drawn. Pale purple smudges made her usually bright blue eyes seem almost washed out. Drake braced himself, unsure of what to expect.
She stared at him for a moment, her eyes roaming his face before she spoke.
"Drake," her voice quivered, "I'm pregnant." She said quietly, and then burst into tears.
Drake stared in shock, his previously pounding heart stood perfectly still in his chest and his breath caught in his throat for what seemed like an eternity before the world began spinning again. He stared, eyes glazed, at the sobbing girl before him, then silently lowered his head to the table. He didn't know how long they sat like that, Molly crying, Drake struggling to breathe, but after a while Drake noticed that the ragged breathing he had been listening to had slowed into deep, steady breaths. A hand timidly touched Drake's arm and he finally looked up.
Molly still sat in the chair across from him, her narrow fingers resting lightly on his arm. Her face red and blotchy from crying, but her eyes were now dry, as though she had simply run out of tears.
Drake cleared his throat, "You're sure?" His voice was raspy and weak, and it made him feel ashamed.
Molly nodded.
Drake couldn't bring himself to ask the second question that was plaguing his mind. He knew that it was only a fleeting thought, a wish perhaps, that he could blame this on someone else, but Drake knew that Molly was not the type of girl to run around, and he knew that he had been her first. Slowly sounds from the world around him began to seep in, two girls giggled as they walked by him, from the corner of his eye he could see Crazy Steven closely inspecting the imitation butter dispenser, in the distance a small child's cry echoed off the linoleum. Drake felt his chest tighten once again and fought to breathe as panic crept up on him. How could he tell his mother what he had done? He was barely seventeen, and three hours ago his biggest concern was the fact that the high E string on his guitar kept going flat. Now his world crashed down around him as he realized that before his eighteenth birthday Drake Parker would be a father.
Sweat ran in rivers down his back and Drake could feel the blood pounding in his temples, for a moment he was honestly afraid that he would pass out. He looked at Molly again, and saw his own fears echoed in her over-bright blue eyes, and that was all he could take. Panic over-road everything else and Drake jumped out of his seat. Molly did not move. She sat perfectly still staring up at him, waiting to see what he would do, what he would say.
"I have to go." Drake stuttered, "I have to… think." He finished weakly. He could feel himself ripping apart at the seams, and knew he had to get out of the theater before he fell apart in public. "I'll call you… tonight...I'll…." and as panic swallowed his last breath Drake turned and sprinted out of the theater and to the sanctuary of his own car.
Once he was safely out of the public eye he let the fear and panic swallow him whole. His body trembled as the tears he had been fighting back fell freely leaving small wet stains on the front of his shirt. He sat there until the trembling was nearly under control and the tears had stopped. Slowly Drake put his car in gear and backed out of the parking spot. He glanced at his watch and realized that he had been there for less than an hour and it was only three-thirty. His parents wouldn't be back for another day, Josh was probably still with Mindy and Megan would probably go to her friend Jenny's after oboe practice, so the house would still be empty, if he went home. Drake weighed his options, he really didn't want to go home, to sit in the empty house with nothing to distract him, but he didn't feel up to social interaction either. He needed a place where he wouldn't be alone, but wouldn't be required to actually talk to anyone. Drake idled at the stop sign at the end of the parking lot, if he turned left road would lead him towards home, but if he turned right it would take him straight out to Interstate -8. Drake blew out a breath, wiped his eyes one last time, and shifting into first gear turned right.
Less than an hour later Drake walked through the gates of SeaWorld, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, head down. He did not look at any one as he passed, and began to wander aimlessly around the park. After a while Drake realized that he had walked all the way to the far end of the park without even noticing where he had been going. A sudden noise caught his attention and Drake looked up. In front of him a picnic table sat on a small patch of grass beneath the shade of a large tree. A man was sitting on the table; his crisp tan pants hiked up slightly as a bounced a small child on his knee. The child giggled and clapped as Drake stared. Could he really do that? Could he step up and be the father he had never really had?
Drake knew very little about his father, he had a vague image of a tall man with shaggy brown hair, but Joe Parker had left their little family only a few weeks after Drake's mother has announced that she was pregnant with Megan. Drake had been five years old, and remembered trying to figure out why his daddy didn't love him anymore. After that it had just been Drake, his mom, and a few months later Megan. His father had shown up a few times over the years, but only once since Audrey had married Walter Nichols. It was then, watching this stranger bounce the giggling child and thinking about his own father, that Drake made his decision. Not only would he be this child's father, he would be the best father ever. Head up, eyes bright, Drake quickly made his way back across the park and out the gates into the parking lot. He located his car easily, climbed in, revved the engine once, and bolted out of the parking lot turning north on Interstate 8, back to his home, back to his family, and back to child he no longer feared.