Gimme Shelter
…2 hours later
Drake couldn't let the dedication night go by without a visit to Emme Jessica's Place,
a simple two story office building that used to house a now-defunct magazine
subscription telemarketing office. The electrical work was completed just as the last
shrimp was eaten and the last toast raised. Drake changed into a much more
comfortable red t-shirt, blue jeans, and his gray hooded track jacket feeling much more
relaxed than being on display in a 'monkey suit'.
He told Mrs. Watson that he'd check on the place so she wouldn't have drive
downtown in the dark. She knew that to be a half-truth to garner himself some privacy
in the house that he was partly responsible for building. The décor was kept simple.
Drake thought of recreating her bedroom for the resting room but it really wasn't a
good idea. One, her room was infinitely feminine something the male cancer patients
may not like. And two, some details were just meant to stay private.
Drake spent many hours with his sketchpad and drawing pencils trying to come up
with something universal appealing to both genders. He loved oceanic themes. Drake
chose blue tones, as rich vibrant sapphire blues and cool turquoises was the palette
that he had confidence in Mrs. Watson able to decorate around. There were a few
military-esque style beds in the room each with its own brown end table with drawers
for medicine that any patient wanted to bring and each with pink tapered candle in a
silver chrome candlestick holder in the shape of a horse.
Drake's favorite room however was the thinking nook. He didn't like that name though
and thought it'd be a good idea to have a contest to get the kid's involved in deciding
the name. It wasn't easy to create a sunroom panel, as there was no outside to look at
just a tan concrete wall but one of Mrs. Watson's contacts who was an award winning
artist from a fancy-smancy school in Europe created the illusion of an outside that
looked like the greenest trees and the coolest, life quenching pond looked like it
could've been in their backyard. When Drake saw exceptional artwork like that, he
realized, he wasn't really meant to be a graphic artist either. He did better in small
areas like designing for posters and programs. It was just a professional credential he
needed so he couldn't justify belonging at Emme Jessica's Place. There was a round
table in the center of the room and the most comfortable sofas and chairs that felt like
marshmallows. There was a fireplace in his room. It was one of those electric ones that
used those gel filled logs. There was one picture of Emme on the mantle. It was one of
her and Drake taken on one of their brief dates together by Mrs. Martinez with Mrs.
Watson being too drunk to care back in those regrettable days.
The frame was polished black enamel and silver with the names Emme Jessica
Watson and Drake Parker, 2005 engraved on the bottom. The rest of the mantle piece
was kept bare for future pictures of the kid's who would be reaping the benefits of this
safe haven. There was a noise coming from one of the other rooms it almost made
him think that Emme's spirit was acknowledging his presence.
There was a girl who was picking up the small square shaped tin and the pencils that
fell out on to the floor.
"Hello." Drake asked
He did want to ask how she got in, but, with her hair wrapped up in a green headscarf
(although, not as tight as Miss Priss' knots) and her fearful face he knew she was
okay—she was in the club.
"Hi, Mr. Parker?" She saw his picture in the San Diego Union-Tribune, but was too lazy
to read the whole article. Because adults really didn't care about the welfare of kids,
they were just doing charitable things so they could pat themselves on the back later
on. This young girl was convinced of it.
Mr. Parker?
"Call me, Drake."
She stood up and could've been no more than thirteen years old if she was even that.
"I'm J.J.—I didn't break in. I saw the lights on and the door was open."
"It's alright, J.J."
"I just need to get away from the b-bullshit." She stopped herself from crying. Boy, did
he know that feeling. He really had no idea on how he was able to keep it all together
tonight. Drake was almost afraid of going home for fear he was either going to break
down in tears or shatter some glasses.
"Come here," He carefully put his around her shoulder, "This is the thinking nook. I don't
like that name, we're going to have a contest to see what you guys can come up with."
"I need a t-tissue." Drake took the box that was on the coffee table and handed it to this
thirteen-year-old female cancer patient named J.J.
"I was going to lock up, but I can stay for awhile."
"Will this place be open twenty four/seven?"
"Of course." Which was one of the many things that couldn't have been done without
the Watson money or the connections Emme's mom had to other financial sources.
"Thank you. It's so hard. I can't even take a nice relaxing bath, without my parents
needlessly worrying about every move I take. If I'm too fast, I'm going to get sick. If I'm
slow, I might die. And that's not counting Todd."
"Who's Todd?"
"An unbearable sort. I met him in the hospital. He's the rudest boy, I've ever come
across."
"Would you like something to drink?"
"A water, please."
"Coming up and one for me." Drake opened up the mini fridge that was in the back
corner.
"Thank you."
"No problem."
Drake looked at his watch, "Do your parents know that you are here?"
"No."
"Don't you think we should call them, J.J.?"
"I guess so. Am I bothering you?"
"Not at all. You just don't want them to worry."
"I suppose. Can you give me a ride home? I don't have any money."
Drake didn't want to lecture this kid, J.J., but she seemed not to be on the careless
side. Drake could just picture her being stabbed by someone who offered her a ride
home because it would 'cure' her of her cancer problems.
"Sure. You can come here anytime you want."
"I just want Todd to like me."
There it was. Drake would not be surprised if Todd wasn't the male version of Emme.
No one was an original in this. Disease put people in one of two camps. Those that
accepted it and those that were in denial about it.
"But he's pushing you away?"
"Yeah, but I know he doesn't mean it! I can see the hurt in his eyes!"
She was only thirteen years old. Wasn't that too young to be embarking on a
relationship? Was it something that he should 'endorse'? Of course, with any disease
you never knew if you were going to live for another day.
"I tell you what, J.J., I have to make sure the rest of the doors are locked. Why don't you
call your parents and tell them that I'll take you home. How is your appetite today?"
"I could eat some vanilla ice-cream."
That was hardly subtle. He smiled. Her will-to-live spark was there.
"I know IHOP is still open."
"Why are you doing this, Mr—I mean Drake?" She asked with the widest green eyes
that he had ever seen. You know that adults always had to have some ulterior motive
no matter how friendly they seemed with the younger generation even if one of them
was a cancer survivor. Drake couldn't just say he was here for the kids; he had to
prove it by his actions.
"You call your parents, J.J., and I'll tell you about a young woman I met named Emme
Jessica Watson and how she affected my life."
"Did you love her?" She accentuated the word 'love', because she didn't believe it was
a real emotion.
"Yes. And I still do," He stuck out his tongue half-surprised that he did that, "Call your
parents." Drake stood up
"Okay," She took her cell phone out of her jeans pocket, "You're awesome, Drake."
Maybe this guy and this place were really different?
"Yes, I know."
Drake threw his keys in the air and caught them with his hand. It felt good to be
needed, but it felt even better to give back and to make a real difference in the life of
others.
"Thank you, Emme," Drake whispered, "Thank you so much."
For everything.
I'll make you proud.
Author's Note: This story is finished. I just wanted to give you guys an idea on what
Drake would be like "on the job" so to speak. So, that's the reason for this chapter. A
few more loose ends will be tied up. I already have a few chapters written for the next
story.