The bedroom window is closed when Drake gets home. He stands in the driveway staring up at it, his mouth slightly open in surprise. The lights are off in their room, too. A quick glance at his watch tells him it's a few minutes before midnight, way too early for Josh to be asleep on a Friday night, which means he's closed the window on purpose, and probably locked it, too. Drake could climb up on the ledge and try to talk Josh into opening it again, which will probably turn into a major ruckus that will almost certainly get him caught, or he can use his key and take his chances trying to sneak by his parents' -- and trickier still, Megan's -- bedroom.
Fucking A. First his date had sucked, and now this. If he'd known Marissa was going to start with that tired old "I want us to be exclusive" crap, he'd have told her he was grounded and spent the night watching movies with Josh. Now he's got to figure out the easiest way to dump her, and on top of that if he gets caught sneaking in he'll be grounded for another two weeks.
He creeps up the stairs noiselessly, his boots in one hand so they don't clack against the hardwood. He's been sneaking around this house all his life, so he knows every inch. Seven steps from the top of the stairs, take a giant step over the squeaky floorboard. Four steps beyond that, move to the left and be careful of the floor lamp. He gets past Megan's room with no problem, and breathes a sigh of relief that catches in his throat when he turns the corner. A thin bar of light is spilling out from under his parents' bedroom door. Shit. They're still awake.
He freezes for a moment, unsure about what to do. He wishes he'd thought to stash a pair of PJs in the bathroom so he could just duck in there and pretend he's washing up for bed; he'll have to remember that for the future. For now, though, he's just going to have to take his chances. He takes a few tiny steps on tiptoe, barely daring to breathe. He can hear the sound of his mother's voice as he approaches, then Walter's deeper tones in response. As he draws level with the door, he hears the sound of his own name and it stops him dead in his tracks.
" -- tell Drake and Megan?" Walter is saying, his voice muffled by the door.
"No," Drake's mother replies. "And I don't want you to tell them, either."
"Don't you think they have a right to know?"
Drake wrinkles his brow. A right to know what?
"No," his mother says again, more firmly this time. "I don't want him to have any contact with them."
"Honey -- "
"Don't 'honey' me, Walter. He doesn't deserve to see them."
"But he's their father."
Drake feels a sliver of ice slip down his spine. His father? What the hell? He knows it's courting disaster, but he can't help himself as he presses closer to the door.
"He's their father in name only," his mother says. "He hasn't wanted anything to do with them since he ran off with that little bimbo of his, and now all of a sudden he's in LA and they're supposed to accept him back with open arms?"
Drake's mouth feels suddenly dry. His father. He hasn't thought about his father for a long, long time. He barely remembers him now, and everything he does remember makes him hurt.
"I know, but -- " Walter says, but Drake's mother cuts him off before he can finish.
"Not one cent in child support. Not one card on their birthdays or for Christmas. No phone calls. Nothing."
His mother's voice is thick with anger and pain, and it makes Drake think about all the times she cried after his dad left. She tried to hide it, would get up and walk into the kitchen or flee upstairs so he wouldn't see, but he'd been pretty good about sneaking around the house back in those days, too. The sound of her sobbing always scared him, always made him wonder what would happen to him and Megan if his mom left, too.
"I know, but --" Walter tries again, with no better success.
"And he cheated on me for years while we were married. One affair after the other. He couldn't keep it in his pants for more than twenty minutes at a time."
Drake's head starts to spin. He hadn't known this part. His mother never talked about his father, and he'd never bothered to ask. He'd only been six years old when his dad had left, and growing up it had never seemed important enough to ask about. Once the hurt had passed, indifference had taken its place.
But now he feels like he might be sick, right here in the hallway in front of his parents' bedroom door. His stomach clenches with a wave of nausea that makes his skin prickle. He remembers how he felt when he and Josh had thought Walter was cheating on his mom, how he'd tried to play it cool because he always played it cool around Josh, but how he walked around for days with his jaw aching because he couldn't stop grinding his teeth. He could have strangled Walter for what they'd suspected, and now he could happily string his father up by the balls and toast a few marshmallows while he screamed. How could he have been such a bastard?
"I know, but --"
"You know what really scares me, Walter?" Some of the anger has gone out of her voice now, but something new in her tone makes a knot of apprehension bloom in Drake's chest.
"What?"
"Drake reminds me of him so much."
The knot tightens, and for a moment it hurts too much to breathe.
"Audrey --"
"He does. All those girls he dates? He's never with any of them for more than a week or two. Ed was the exact same way. If I hadn't gotten pregnant --"
Drake can't listen any longer. He doesn't want to hear any more about what a miserable shit she thinks he -- no, not him, his father -- is. He lurches away from the door and down the hallway toward his bedroom, heedless of the noise he makes along the way. He feels like someone has scooped out his insides and stomped them into the ground, and for a moment he thinks he might cry.
He's not like that, dammit. He's not.
He's not.
