Chapter 29

Imposters and Secrets

…Friday, Emme's chemotherapy day

The pictures were all over the king sized bed. Little faces with big wondrous eyes

excited to see the department store Santa Claus, trips to the amusement park where

you had to meet the height requirements to go on all the "neat rides". Warm days when

all that was needed was an orange popsicle and a green plastic wading pool. When

one could play all day with a miniature set of Hot Wheels cars complete with a looped

racing track and not once complain of "boredom". The scrapbook was originally

supposed to an eighteenth birthday present, but that was before that pain in the

shoulder turned out to be cancer. Drake wasn't one for sentimentalized fluff, but Audrey

pressed on and still worked on the scrapbook. When it was completed maybe she

could just sneak it into his dresser drawer without making a big deal out of it over cake.

Would he even want a party? Drake was one of those sorts who really didn't want a big

to-do put on. He'd rather go the Premiere and hang out with his friends. But that was

before his diagnosis and before he met the not-so-insufferable Emme Jessica

Watson.

She was organizing the pages by years, a few pages designated for each year until

the last page with pictures of his eighteenth birthday. Megan was helping find relevant

things-that-happened-on-your-birthday headlines to go inside the scrapbook. Audrey

couldn't help feeling left out her son tells her, especially her, to cut the apron strings and

then he goes and confides in his father.

"That book is coming along nicely." Walter kissed his wife on the cheek bringing in a

tray of lemon mint iced tea which Josh made a big pitcher of last night for the heck of it.

"I don't know if I'm going to give this to Drake. I might keep this just for myself and

maybe we can buy him that special signature Devon Malone guitar."

"What's wrong, honey?"

"Nothing."

Now she knew where her kids got their avoidance traits from.

"I know nothing means something."

The Nichols' never hid their feelings. They also lied badly and needed pretty big

sleeves for their hearts to rest on.

"Why can't you tell me, Walter?"

"Tell you, what?" He drank Josh's homemade iced-tea, he knew exactly what his wife

was referring to but he'd play dumb if he had to. But he wouldn't be able to lie if she

decided to go with the probing questions.

"What did Drake confide in you about?"

"Audrey, you of all people, know how long a road it's been to Drake accepting me as

his father. Didn't the promise I made to keep his secret mean anything to you?"

Audrey stood up as some of Drake's baby pictures fell off the bed.

"He's NOT shutting you out, Walter." When Parker's didn't want to talk about anything

they just stormed off and if they cried unless it was a matter of life or death, they did so

in private.

Another negative trait passed on.

When Emme Jessica Watson was nervous she used to constantly brush her long

blonde hair ala Marcia Brady in reruns of The Brady Bunch. She just got off the phone

with Drake. How sweet was he? He was going through his own physical discomfort

and pain due to his chemotherapy treatment yesterday and yet he called her to ask her

how she was doing?

Better after she got that phone call.

Drake was concerned how she was going to get to her chemotherapy session if her

mother was too drunk to notice. Mrs. Watson seemed well enough (i.e. she forced

herself not to drink) so she could drive her daughter to her appointment. She made

sure she was dressed and ready and without any words buckled herself into

passenger side of the Lexus.

Mrs. Watson looked harried and even though she wore a pink and black Chanel suit

she still looked unkempt like she needed a shower. It was never uncomfortable in the

car before. The radio wasn't on. The only sounds were of their breathing. Emme had to

try but it took her until they were almost at the hospital before she did.

"Mom, if I'm up to it do you think we could go to the Crown Room for tea afterwards?"

Mrs. Watson squeezed her hands on the nine and three o'clock positions on the

steering wheel.

"Whatever you want." She whispered through clenched teeth.

"No, you have to want it too."

"What a selfish brat you are. Isn't my driving you here enough? You want to go out for

tea on the other side of town? You ungrateful child."

"You have a problem, Mom."

There. She was just going to keep on saying it until her mother did something about it.

Mrs. Watson undid her seat belt after she parked the car and slapped her daughter

hard across the face.

"Get out!"

Emme was too numb to fight back. She didn't want to go in the hospital, but she knew

Drake would be very angry at her Miss Priss-atude if she purposely skipped her

chemotherapy treatment.

She covered her gasping mouth as her mother just drove away.

"Mommy."

Emme closed her eyes in the parking lot and took three deep breaths. She would

visualize her and Drake going on that long drive like he promised they would and he

would put his hands through her long blonde hair as they would ignore their picnic lunch

at their private destination and make love in the tall grass instead.

Later

Emme was never so embarrassed. She had to lie and say her mother wasn't feeling

well to all the staff. She didn't know if they believed her or not. If the chemo wasn't

doing her stomach in then it was her mother's drinking problem.

"Hello, are you Miss Emme?" asked a thirty-nine year old woman with dark hair pulled

back into a bun and brown eyes.

"Yes. Who are you?"

"I'm Mrs. Martinez, but you can call me Maria. I'll be taking you home now."

"If you excuse me, Maria, I have to use the bathroom."

"Of course, dear."

There was a wonderful bathroom just outside of what she and Drake referred to as

"cancer central" by the phone booth, which only contained one stall. She locked the

door. Her sobs interrupted by her need to throw up.

Her cell phone almost falling into her vomit, she caught it in time.

With shaky hands she called Drake's number.

"hey..e-emme?"

"Did I wake you, Drake? I'm sorry." She flushed the toilet.

He rubbed his eyes and concentrated on sitting up on the sofa in his room.

"What's wrong?"

"Everything—there's a strange woman named Mrs. Martinez who came to the hospital

to take me home."

"Where's your mother?"

"At home probably drunk up to her eyeballs. We had a fight in the car this morning. Just

because I asked her if we could go to the Crown Room for tea afterwards…she

slapped me across the face. Then she told me to get out of the car and drove off.

Thankfully, we were already at the hospital."

"Oh, Emme…I'm really sorry."

"Well, I don't want to keep Mrs. Martinez waiting. It's not her fault that my mother's a

bitch. Will you call me at seven?"

"Sure," Drake swallowed, "Emme---"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

I said it.

I meant it.

She closed her eyes as she put her head against the bathroom door and smiled. He

had no idea on what those words meant to her.

"Drake, I love you too."