The Purpose
…One year later
Drake let the hot water soothe his back in the shower. There were no visible signs that
he ever was a cancer patient. His hair had started to grow back properly since his
precautionary chemotherapy ended a few years ago. It was an almost un-Drake
thought that he missed his shaved and then stubbly head. It was the same late sixties
British rock cut. But he didn't really care about such things anymore. It was only hair.
There were times when he still wore his knit cap from Josh and not because he was
trying to be fashionable. Tonight was the night. No one expected this of him. Like an
underdog team that scores a touchdown in the last remaining seconds of a football
game to win the Super Bowl, it was unexpected and fulfilling. This was more important
than a sporting event.
Everything was based upon this night. He let his nose take in the scent of the honey-
almond shampoo and his only wish was that Emme could be in the shower with him to
assist with washing his hair. Drake had enough money saved up to finally have his own
apartment and was not surprised that he was staying in San Diego. His modest
place was only one and a half blocks away from Sharp Memorial Hospital. Drake
wiped his eyes with the white colored bath towel and grabbed his green sponge off the
shower caddy hook. He looked at the black leather band Piguet watch. He never took
it off.
When Mrs. Watson told Drake that Emme was buried with his watch and the ring he
bought her for their first and only Christmas the least he could do was keep the watch
on.
He poured the blackberry gel on the sponge noticing the how the deep the purple color
was; he could see the heart shaped amethyst that was the stone of her ring. Drake had
ten minutes to finish this calming shower before having to get dressed in the tuxedo
that Mrs. Watson ordered for him. He never should have casually mentioned that he
needed to stop by the Flamingo Tux Shop to pick out a rental. Those Watson women
liked to shop. He was impressed with the elaborate yet delicately pleated white shirt
that really didn't require a tie. He'd look good; he was Drake Parker after all. Yet, the
focus was not him. He just hoped he looked presentable enough. They were all going
to be there.
His personal guest list included his mom and dad who were very supportive once they
found out why he attended San Diego Community College. Josh and Mindy who
announced this past Thanksgiving that they were engaged and broke the news to the
parents that they were living together all this time. What could the parents do? Once
you are over eighteen you are your own person. Megan who told him last night over
celery sticks and peanut butter when he came over to the house last night that she was
glad that she had a brother like him, which would have been a sweet moment if she
didn't stick a celery stick to his cheek because he talked during the movie. It still was a
sweet moment in retrospect though.
Mrs. Watson was going to be there, but in a professional capacity. Just like him. Him.
Drake Parker, the once ordinary kid from San Diego, California. Who was an ordinary,
horny, rock and roll playing American teenager until he was diagnosed with cancer.
What was his purpose?
He wasn't quite sure until he met Emme. Once he tore down her wall, he believed the
purpose was their getting together and then she passed away not even a year after
they met. Then the only thing mattered was to make sure that no one forgot her, but that
wasn't quite the whole purpose. But it was the starting point. He turned off the shower
and put on his navy blue robe.
Tonight the good, the bad, and the ugly would be realized. The reason for it all would
be revealed. It was no coincidence that the Watson's were wealthy. Drake would have
loved Emme regardless of how much she was worth, but in the grand scheme of things
the money did matter. It was starting to be bigger than everyone's individual
involvement in this whole situation. Everything was a sum of its collective parts.
His cell phone rang that was on his unmade bed.
That could only be one person.
"Hi, Josh. I'm getting dressed now. Come upstairs. The key is under the welcome
mat."
"Drake, you shouldn't keep your extra key where crooks will be able to find it easily."
"You really have to learn how to relax. See you in a bit, man."
Drake joined Josh in the living room ten minutes later. Both were wearing tuxes, but
only one didn't look like a waiter.
"Your limo awaits."
Some of this seemed so unnecessary, but it was all part of the equation.
"What?Are we going on a date?" Drake snickered
"Ha ha. Are you nervous, bro?" Josh had to ask.
"Wouldn't you be? I'm not afraid to admit that I'm terrified."
There were other more important and superior educated people that had to get up and
speak, but it was his involvement and speech that most of the eyes in the Chadwick
Hotel were going to be on.
This was partly his idea after all.
"You're going to do great." Josh replied when they got to the porch.
"Tonight is not about me doing great." Drake didn't mean to be snippy, but it wasn't
about him doing great. He was only one small ingredient in the recipe but not the whole
stew.
"Okay." Josh didn't want to push it so he just tapped him on the shoulder as they got
into the limousine.
It was too ceremonial for Drake, although mildly amusing to see his Dad in a same
type of food-server tux as Josh. He was bringing Audrey a flute of champagne who
wore her floor length peach gown decorated with crystals on the waist (she actually
owned this) design. Drake hoped that Mrs. Watson wouldn't be tempted to touch the
stuff. But she planned this portion of the event so she had to be comfortable seeing
others be able to drink alcohol.
It still made him nervous though. He never saw Megan so formal before in a simple
appropriate length black velvet dress with a round neckline and satin pink sash belted
at the waist.
"Are you ready, honey?" Mrs. Watson asked, squeezing his hand.
She looked regal with hair swept up and in a simple burgundy colored gown.
"Yeah, I have to be."
He had all of the experience in the world gyrating around a rock and roll stage like a
modern Elvis Presley, but this was going to be the most difficult yet rewarding things
that Drake Parker had ever done. Drake had no memory from after the moment that
Mrs. Watson gave him encouragement to when some administrator whose name he
should have remembered but didn't to when he announced his name. He was used to
hearing his name 'Drake Parker' followed by applause. But this applause wasn't
cheering to be a hanger-on and wanting to touch his naughty places in the back of his
former drummer's van, this clapping was earnest and they actually wanted to hear the
words he wanted to say. He took his speech that Megan typed out for him on blue
index cards out of his inside tuxedo jacket pocket.
The lights were blinding as he placed his cards and his hands flat on the dark cherry
wood podium that had the name 'Chadwick Hotel' embossed on a large gold
nameplate.
"Hi, I'm Drake Parker. I had a speech prepared for tonight, but I'm not going to use it.
I'd rather just say what is on my mind as what was written on those cards were words
that I thought people would want to hear except that it wasn't written from the heart.
Guess what people? Cancer sucks. No one should have to be diagnosed with it. I
know it's more difficult for the elderly and the small children---but there's a group of
people that are in the middle and that is the teenager. I was seventeen years old when
I was diagnosed with osteosarcoma. When you are an adolescent you are just coming
to grips with who you are, your identity is very important. And mine was a typical all-
American rock and roll kid. This dressed up guy is not me either, I am much more at
home in a t-shirt and jeans. Rather than explain my life I'd rather just say the reason for
all of this was when I attended a Teen Cancer Support Group; I met sixteen-year-old
Emme Jessica Watson who again was just sixteen years old when she had to deal
with getting a hysterectomy because of developing ovarian cancer. She had a chip on
her shoulder the size of a city block; she didn't like anyone or anything. Especially me.
But you see it was all act. She was afraid of letting her mother down. I will let director
Beverly Watson whom I consider my second mother tell you more about those things.
We lost a great deal of time and by the time we finally got together as friends and as a
couple. Emme was taken away. We both had infections. I survived mine. Emme never
got that second chance. From the moment she died, I had this fear that she would be
forgotten. It was something that I wanted to rectify right from the start. No one should be
reduced to a footnote. All of this talking is not my style and I'd rather let Mom #2 and
the rest of the people who are more educated and worldy than me to speak more on
purpose for this night. But, I know wherever she is Emme wants me to continue on with
what I have to say. Mrs. Watson and I for our individual reasons as well as our together
ones don't want any teenager to suffer alone or feel that they have to keep up a brave
front. I didn't know how to make this happen all I had were some random, crude
sketches and Mrs. Watson had her own personal reasons as well as what we both had
a love for Emme to make sure her death was not in vain. I couldn't be a false person
and went to San Diego Community College to get my associate's degree in Graphic
Design. I'll let the more qualified people handle what they are best at, while I focus on
what I'm best at. Yeah, I design things, but I'm also here to lend an ear and to answer
any questions as well as be a part-time rock and roll musician who has no plans on
quitting his day job.
Sometimes our well-meaning families are not enough. I love you guys, but you weren't
going through it to know what it was truly one hundred percent like. Tonight, I am proud
to be a part of the opening of the first Emme Jessica's Place. A quiet haven open
seven days a week, twenty four hours a day, where teens suffering with cancer can go
and just relax and not worry about anything else but their recoveries. And while support
groups have their place, I'll share that after Emme and I got closer to each other we
kind of ditched the concept. If you are in the audience sorry, Mr. Smithers aka
Clipboard Ted, but when a couple is young and in love well that was just cutting into our
together time.
One of the things I disliked is when people whether another patient or someone in the
medical field who didn't know my history would ask, 'What are you?' and proceeded
by in my case, 'Localized Osteosarcoma'. We aren't 'what's' we are 'who's' who
shouldn't be wholly defined by our illnesses. We would have been having this
ceremony at the actual Emme Jessica's Place that is across the street from the
Premiere Galleria but there was an electrical problem that needed to be fixed before it
can open. You can thank the vastly talented Mrs. Watson for finding this hotel on such
short notice. I'm also proud to announce that from when me and Mrs. Watson worked
out the concept to this day forward all proceeds from my concerts and any other
merchandise will go to Emme Jessica's Place.
Emme Jessica Watson was not a postscript on the letter of life. She was the letter. I
love and miss you very much. And because of her life we can help other teenagers
who are battling cancer. Thank you very much—please hold the applause. I don't need
it. I'd like to introduce the Emme Jessica Place program director and Emme's mother,
Beverly Watson."
Drake did not know how he got through that. A round of chemotherapy would have
been easier than telling all the prying eyes about Emme Jessica's Place. How he got
through the more difficult portions of his speech without crying he wasn't sure. Maybe,
Emme was helping him get through it. Everyone ignored his request, especially his
family, and applauded anyway.
Mrs. Watson gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and a hug,
"You did excellent, Drake." She had to blink away her own tears. It wasn't just the talk
about her daughter and the speech that she too had to give, Drake Parker referred to
her as Mother. Mrs. Watson held his hand. "Another round of applause for a young
man that I love like a son, Drake Parker."
They did it.
They channeled their grief into something positive, something that would
help other adolescents who were suffering with cancer. Drake Parker had a purpose
that had nothing to do with skirt chasing after a heady rock and roll gig. Mrs. Watson
was not reaching for alcohol to get through her problems. They had each other.
If you asked Drake Parker at sixteen years old would he want two mothers? The
answer would have been something teenage boy predictable like. "Why? One is quite
enough."
But now he couldn't imagine it any other way.
Drake stood on the side of the stage listening to Mrs. Watson reveal more about
herself
in one minute than Drake did for the whole twenty minutes about his own self.
"My name is Beverly Watson and I'm an alcoholic…"
Each story led to the same conclusion that they both loved and missed Emme and how
her life was indeed one worth living and one that had a grander purpose in death for
her memory would be helping others.
Drake took a small wallet sized photo of Emme out his trouser pocket and smiled. The
dream was finally realized.
Emme Jessica Watson was always going to be remembered, but was Drake Parker
going to purposely let himself be forgotten in the process?