The creek stays the same

by angelaemcafee

Is it really Dawson? Joey flees, knowing that she now wears all her emotions on her sleeve. How come we do not feel time passing, but only the weight of the years gone by? Dawson makes way around those same old streets thinking that something has been missing all these years, wherever he was, no matter what he was doing, he was never complete. But luckily some things don't change.

The sun had been out for a couple of hours when her alarm went off. A single ring of a bell. She gets off the bed promptly and goes to the window. There are no curtains and she just stares out at the dark blue water of the creek while counting under her breath. There are 4 little boats, 3 big trees and only 1 other house to the right of her own home. The grass is overgrown on both back yards – there is no fence dividing the houses. The lawn ends up in a small strip of sandy shore and there's an old wooden pier stretching out for just a few feet. One lonely row boat is tied to it.

She puts the coffee machine on and starts to practice yoga in the Spartan and naked living room. Her breathing gets louder and the counting too.

She showers. She has coffee while checking emails on a computer. She's already dressed. She looks at herself in a mirror and puts a hat on that was hanging by it. Her exceptionally slender frame is clad in boyfriend jeans, cinched by a thick belt, a white shirt and a short blazer. She looks like Annie Hall, minus the tie. She gets out of the kitchen through the garage, and then hits the road on her bicycle. As she starts to pedal, a big movers truck drives past her and stops in front of the house next to hers. The only other house in her street. One truck, three movers. How many new neighbors?

While Joey chains her bike in front of the school, waves of kids are passing her by. She goes in by the front doors, just like all those years ago. It's the first day of school, her second year teaching there. She stops by the principal's office. The secretary looks at her and shines a big smile saying "Go right in, he's not here yet, but you can wait in his office Ms. Potter."

"Thank you, Pam! …not psychologically ready to fend off bad pick-up lines by Mr. Berger. First day of school is always challenging." Pam laughs coyly as if they were sharing a little secret. Joey studies her new class schedules and finds out she has freshman year as her first period in 10 minutes. Jack storms in.

"Hey, Joe, how are you? Don't be late to class on your first day, please. Are you wearing jeans? Please, Joey, read our dress code. Faculty meeting today after school finishes. Are you checking your class schedule now? Only now?"

"Jack, my jeans are cropped, they are formal slacks made of jeans… and you know I can recite the high school English program back to front if you wanted. I'm ready for those freshmen. On my way, Capitan." She salutes and gets out of his way. When she's leaving his office he shouts "The Annie Hall look is great on you!" She shouts back "Thank you, Jackers, er, Mr. MacPhee, sir!"

The class is full when she gets there. Most of the kids are standing up and chatting. She puts her books on the table silently and starts to write on the black board. The kids take notice and little by little the class is quiet.

"Welcome. This is English Literature. I know you all hate books, last thing you read was Dr. Seuss, and some of you will swear you can't read because you are starting to get dyslexia. Do we really need to read? Sorry to break it to you guys, we will read an immense list of books this year. We will prepare summaries for all of them and you will get tested on each and every one of them. And probably there will be collateral reading for each title. Get your heads around it. Accept and move on. Stop fighting, it will do you no good. " The kids are shocked and silent. "If you understand English, blink once." There's a light chortle in the class. "Okay, shall we start with something really fun? I need 3 big groups. Please don't tell me I need to divide you guys. This is high school, people." The kids start to talk amongst themselves and move rather noisily. "Find a way and move your desks very gently just enough for me to be able to understand the group division." The kids are finally divided and she starts passing book summary sheets around. "Group one: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Group two: Kon Tiki. Group three: The Time machine and other stories. Go ahead, start working. Now. The books are in those shelves at the back of the class." Once again there's noise. "Attention, everyone: I hate loud noises. I cannot stress this enough. There's no bell in this class. Which brings me to this next important announcement: someone has to remind me when we're 10 minutes out. Someone else will tell me when we're 5 minutes out. And someone will tell me when the class is over. If you think you can fool me, I'd like to see you try. I will subtract the number of minutes you try to steal from my class from your final grades. Shall we synchronize our watches? And let's all have a wonderful year together! Welcome to high school, kids."

In the afternoon, back home, the movers are still unloading and apparently unpacking everything: fancy. She finds binoculars and sits by the kitchen windows to spy on her new neighbors. The phone rings a couple of times startling her. She ignores the calls and sends texts instead.

Jack: I booked a table for us 5 at Circe's for your birthday celebrations! Andie is coming so you cannot cancel, ok, Joey? There are even gifts involved…

Joey: You know I hate celebrating my birthday. Tell Alexander to make me the special chocolate cake, he knows which. You better have a gift for me.

The next call upsets her. She just mutes her phone while it flashes "call from Pacey". She opens the oven and picks up a manila envelope with "Divorce papers" written on top.

She leaves her watch and climbs up to the second floor. There's 3 doors. They are all ajar and one is her bedroom, in a very light shade of green. One is a bathroom in a happy shade of dark pink. And the other is a library/home office with a dark warm blue and dark caramel wooden furniture. There's a very comfortable red sofa, a big yellow ottoman covered with a beautiful African tapestry, there's two big old sofa chairs for reading, covered in colored floral patterns with greens, yellows and oranges. There's different pillows thrown around in different fabrics. The books are all around in shelves that are all different but all wooden. In the back of the room there's a big desk with an art deco lamp that looks costly. Joey discards the divorce papers manila envelope and picks one from a small pile of 4 or 5 big brown folders. It's a draft from someone else's book, she gets a pen, puts her glasses on and starts reading. She still works in editing remotely while dividing her time with her teaching at Capeside High.

There's a cream convertible at a very small gas station, old style. The fuel hose is still latched on to the car's tank while its owner is probably inside paying. He comes out with a brown bag in one hand and a heavy plastic bag in the other. He's chewing on some candy and talking animatedly on the phone.

"It's temporary. I'll be back on my feet soon. I rented for 4 months and after that time my mind will be in order again. Tell everybody I needed time for myself, following my untimely divorce and my ex-wife sleeping with her tennis instructor… Phil, tell them whatever you prefer, I pay you to come up with better lies. There's a call waiting I gotta go."

"Hey big brother! So how far are you on your personal odyssey?"

"One day down, one more to go."

"you should've taken a plane."

"I wanted to bring my car over."

"You could've had it delivered…"

"Well, things have changed, Lily… Divorce, alimony… Don't get married, ok? Anyway, how's mom?"

"Pissed off."

"Still?"

"Yeah, you're the first child, you're supposed to be all responsible and perfect. You broke the mold. Not in a good way, though,"

Silence.

"You broke mom's heart, Dawson. She just wanted you to be happy, she would have backed you up unconditionally but you went all self-destructive and … you need to tell me the whole story. I'll be in Capeside soon. I don't know when but I'm gonna work something out here at the agency to come down and see you guys. Take care until then, reckless big brother."

He puts the phone down and starts the car when the owner of the gas station comes out of the office screaming. "The hose, the hose!"

Later that evening, in a motel somewhere, he's flipping the channels and there's a famous cooking show on. He lingers until Chef Witter's face comes up in full close up while he's tasting something. He presses the button to change channels a bit too hard and gulps down more from the bottle he's holding, still hidden in the brown bag, even if he's inside his room, completely alone.

Hangover rears its ugly head when the overwhelming light and heat filter through the motel windows. Dawson gets up, still dressed in last night's, and grabs a beer can from the little fridge of the motel room. He opens a little of the ugly curtains that are of no use against the light or the squalid view. He loses his gaze away in the parking lot and the cars and the highway. With a sigh and he puts the can back in the fridge, puts his shoes on and simply walks away.

The navigator in his car keeps telling him he's 5 minutes away from his destination when he decides to stop in a convenience store. He goes in, he's apparently the only one in there. He goes all the way to the back where the alcohol is.

The bell jingles at the entrance door for Joey as she goes in for her usual: milk, cereal, bread and either apples or bananas. And maybe ice-cream. As she's grabbing her groceries she turns one corner and spots him, turned back to her. Is it really Dawson? She lingers for just a heartbeat and hides behind the nearest shelf. Her hands get powerless. Her legs, like jelly. Her eyes fill up. This is the longest time she has ever been without taking a breath in her entire life. What now? The mix of excitement and fear is overwhelming. Years have passed, she knows her biggest change is that she now wears all her emotions on her sleeve. She carefully deposits the few items she had on the shelf in front of her and flees. Dawson, oblivious to all, soon pays for his groceries, made up mostly of bottles, gets in his car and leaves.

As Joey is making her way home, on her bicycle, his cars zooms past her, going in the same direction.

She gets home much later than the cream colored convertible that sits by the driveway next door. Even so, she feels the need to hide behind a tree while rummaging for the keys in her bag. 3 trees, 2 houses, 1 car, 1 new neighbor.

That night she developed a never seen before allergy to her bed sheets and decided to spend the night in her library. The company of old books, year books, and the few framed photos she had hanging soothed her. The problem, she thought, was the irony of not being able to feel time passing, but only the weight of the years gone by. She wrote it down. And she made a big entry in her journal. And she fell asleep eventually with the lights on, on a sofa chair by the window overlooking the neighbor's house.

Woken up by the overwhelming light, this time in the living room of his oversized new house, Dawson drinks up directly from the kitchen's tap. Even if you can see that all the cupboards are fully stocked with glasses, plates, cups, pans and pots are charmingly hanging above the kitchen's island and the appliances are top notch. The living room seems to have come out of a furniture shop's catalogue. Actually, you can see by all the art hanging from the walls that it all probably came straight from a catalogue. Without charm or creativity. And very impersonal. He walks barefoot out the veranda into the backyard and through to the pier. There's a row boat tied to it. He looks at it long until old memories start forming in his weary head.

"So this is what the Ice House became?" Dawson waits for his lunch and tries to extract some information from the young waitress, multiple face piercings and a bored look, who excuses herself saying she's been working there for less than a month. The place is very modern, with dark walls and Nordic style décor, minimalistic but cozy at the same time. Maybe he feels cozy there because of the historical value this restaurant has to him. In fact, he feels a slight joyful high being there – the first time in so long. Having found the place open for business still, feels like walking back into his childhood home. Unfortunately the latter isn't likely to happen very soon. A young guy interrupts his reverie.

"Dawson?! Do you know who I am?"

Dawson hates this question, his memory lately is full black holes. He looks up painfully and upon a quick examination he seems to recognize the boy that was born in his own living room, all those years ago.

"Alexander?"

"Yeah! It's not every day we have famous movie directors in here! Say, Dawson, what brings you to Capeside?"

"Oh… I needed some time. I'm trying to write a complicated script lately…I want to be able to dedicate myself fully to this new story…" Alex makes a face half way his explanation as if he knew he was making this all up. "Alex, have you been reading any tabloids lately?"

"Yeah!" He points at another waitress and smiles. "My girlfriend is big on Hollywood gossip. I heard about the big divorce and the movie set fiasco and …" Dawson raises a hand while he's speaking as if to say that's enough. "Is any of it true?"

"Not all of it, no… but there's always some truth to every gossip. Anyway, I'm here now, for a while. How long have you been working here? How long has this…"

"Gastro Pub"

"How long has it been open in Capeside? And what's up with the name Circe's?"

"Oh, the name, you'll have to ask aunt Joey, literary reference obviously. Circe's has been in business for the past 2 years. It's ours, I mean, it belongs to our family again, Pacey is still the conceptual chef and all. That means that he came with the menu and the look and feel of the place and all recipes are his. But I get to include some specials and 'menu du jour' items. I like it, I love cooking, like my dad and uncle Pacey. We also have our catering business, you know. Dad takes care of that mostly and I am here full time."

"Where's your mom? Where's Bessie?"

A frown sets on Alexander's face. His eyes become clouded.

"Mom died a little over a year ago. I thought you knew. Your mom came to the funeral…"

"I'm really sorry, Alex. I missed a lot of information in these last years. I'm really sorry."

Someone calls from the kitchen, something about burning flat breads. Alex shakes his hand with a firm and decisive hold. "Welcome back, man!"

He's had too many beers at lunch but he thinks he can drive. He's driven in worse conditions. He makes way around those same streets thinking that now they look like a movie set to him. It almost doesn't seem real. It feels limited. It feels like there's something missing. He knows something has been missing all these years, wherever he was, no matter what he was doing, he was never complete.

Suddenly he breaks for a blond teenager running across the street, recklessly. She's incredibly pretty. Fair skinned and pouty lips. Soon after her a very good looking silver haired tall man. In exceptionally good shape.

"Jack! Jack!"

He signals "sorry" with his hands and keeps on following the blond girl while carrying a bag and his jacket. Dawson finds a parking spot and stops the car. He hops out and joins the chase for the girl that is now running at full speed.

Jack gives up and Dawson thanks the divine providence, for he's shamefully out of shape. They are both panting while they hug.

"How long has it been? Almost 10 years! You missed all of the reunions!"

"I haven't been a good friend at all, I know. Capeside's prodigal son…"

"That girl there, the blond that escaped us, she's Amy Lindley. Can you believe it? How pretty is she?"

"And fast. And probably doing something wrong if she was so eager to escape… Like mother…"

"Yeah, yeah… boy, I have so much to tell you. She is really going through a difficult phase. She wants to drop out from high school. I'm the principal, you know. I don't know if she does that to get back at me, to hurt my authority… which she actually hurts more by being at school in fact. If she dropped out I'd have a better chance of a long career. You see all the white hair? It's Amy. Do you have time? Shall we go for a coffee?"

They find the nearest coffee shop and sit and Jack really lays it all down. He gives him all that's happened in the last 10 years in rich detail. They alternate between laughter and being serious, pensive at times, to undisguisable surprise.

"Joey is also divorcing. What a timing you two have. She decided to move back to Capeside around when Bessie died – did you know?"

"Oh, I was just filled in on that by none other than Alexander. I feel so stupid… But, what did you say about Joey …?"

"Oh, you know… I mean I don't know. You know Joey, right? She doesn't talk. I haven't seen Pacey in a while, all I know is what he told Doug and then Doug told me. And you'll have to ask Joey yourself. It's her story to tell. You know her, if she knows I told you this much already she'd be fuming angry with me. I'm organizing a birthday dinner for her tomorrow at Circe's. Around 7. You should join us! You should come! Andie will be here. She's coming from Boston. Thank god for that, she's the only one that can talk some sense into Amy's head."

Dawson shakes his head from the amount of information just gathered. "Joey has been living here in Capeside?"

"Dawson, haven't you heard anything I said? She teaches English at Capeside High. Well, see you tomorrow, 7pm at Circe's, ok? I gotta go."

"Thanks for the all this catching up on Capeside's gossip."

"You're most welcome. And Dawson, you look pale… are you ok? I read about the divorce and all on TMZ. Is all that true?"

"Well, Jack, we don't have enough time now to go into that…"

"Aunt Joey, guess who came for lunch at Circe's today?"

She knew the answer to that before he blurted it out.

"Dawson Leery is in town, he said he'll be here a while. He looked a bit on the sullen side, you know. He had no idea about mom…"

She stopped the conversation as soon as it started with a stupid excuse to put the phone down. Sitting in her arm chair strategically relocated to the side window of her library, she could see him driving up the road and parking next door. Instead of getting out he stayed in the car for a while. She couldn't see that well with her old foggy binoculars for her occasional bird watching. She saw parts of him: his hands, his hair, the bottom half of his face. She couldn't see the wrinkles but she knew they were there, around his mouth and eyes. Maybe white hair on his temples. Would he think the same if he saw her? Sooner or later she would have to come out from hiding. And finally it blooms within her the notion that the need to hide from him is wavering in the face of the desire to go talk to him. When he finally leaves the car, she sinks down in her chair, in the dark, afraid to get caught spying, not having any curtains to hide behind. The phone makes her jump.

"Hello Joey. I've got good news and bad news."

"Dawson's back in town."

"Who told you?"

"Alex."

"Well that's it then. I have nothing more to say."

"What about the good news?"

"That was my good news. Wait, why did you assume Dawson was bad news? The bad news is your birthday dinner came up and I invited him too." Dead silence from the other end of the line. "I've been meaning to ask you something completely out of topic. Did anything happen to the bell in your classroom?"

"Jack, I have to go, see you tomorrow!"

The heat that comes up from the depths of her guts is uncontainable. It's bad. Her face gets warm and she pulls her nose. She doesn't want to cry. But she knows she'll be wondering from now until dinner time tomorrow whether or not he'll show up. And she'll get allergic to her sheets again. And the framed photos on her library wall will stare at her pitilessly all night long.

She is in front of her mirror trying the last dress she has. Old flames and the possibility of seeing them after 10 years will do that to a girl. When she realizes that, she throws a little sweater over the girlie dress she has on and refuses to wear high heels. She stains her lips carelessly and goes. No, she comes back for a quick stroke of mascara. And then she leaves for good.

Circe's dinner goes by like a breeze. Every time someone gets in, everybody looks. It never is Dawson. He never shows up.

She gets a ride home from Jack earlier than anybody had expected but she had to cut the night shorter because she had the urge to get home and sit in her chair by the library window with her binoculars and watch for him.

As she walks up to her door though, she stops short. There's a bottle on the floor. It's champagne. And a card that says "Happy birthday, Jo." The little dinner she'd managed to eat starts turning in her stomach. With the bottle in her hands she starts to walk around the house to the back yard. She finds him sitting in the little pier, with his back turned to her house. She takes dubious steps, hesitantly approaching in fear and in curiosity. His hair is shorter, there's definitely some silver shiny strings. And at last he turns.

"If it isn't Joey in flesh and blood?! I like the short hair." Although she likes his shorter hair too, she chooses to keep it to herself. He's unmistakably drunk and blurring his speech.

Still standing up Joey looks at him with a mix of pity and worry. She waves the bottle she found at her doorstep and takes a seat at a good and safe distance.

"Dawson, looks like we don't even need to open the bottle you left for me… How did you find out?"

"The realtor lady. I called and said I had gotten a wonderful fruit basket as a house warming gift from my only neighbor – she couldn't believe it! She said you scared her!" he slurs his words and gives a chest laughter. "And I said I wanted to send a 'thank you' card. I still have some PA tricks up my sleeve."

"What made you think it was me next door?"

He points at the boat. And keeps on telling his story. "She asked me not to tell you she knew about my son, because she said you hate kids, you had even asked her not to rent the house out to a numerous family."

"You have a son?"

"Joey… you don't read any tabloids? Yeah… little Mitch Leery."

She stifles a grin and suddenly becomes worried again.

"Please, don't tell me this kid is home alone while you drink yourself silly here, with the creek as your witness…"

He chuckles and her worry grows as she furrows her brow.

"No, Mitch is back in LA, with his mom… lucky for you, I don't think he'll be coming here too often." HE looks sad for a moment, but then goes on. "And you, Jo, writer, editor, cultured human being… do you have a PHD?"

" Not yet."

"Anyways, Joey, what brings you back here? To this unglamorous pier? What happened?"

She sighs, thinks for a bit, opens her mouth a couple of times, before she finally speaks. "A barren marriage that had run its course and was going nowhere. A career that was stuck for my inability to edit and publish my own books… my sister's cancer…"

He straightens his face up and looks at her. His mouth forming an "o". He now stares directly through her.

"Nothing sobers you up more than the truth, right?"

They both look away. A few seconds go by before Dawson breaks a laughter.

"Out of all of us, I never thought we'd be back here having failed miserably and Pacey out there, wherever he is, having succeeded! I can't believe I failed and he succeeded! And you!" He looks at Joey and she's got a bit of shock and disgust on her face. "I'm sorry, I'm clearly speaking for myself, Jo… I threw away my career… I drank away my career. Maybe you are happy here, maybe that's all you ever wanted… to end up in Capeside, back in high school…"

"The eternal return. Nietzsche."

"Wasn't it Nietzsche's idea of hell?"

"How about you, moving next door to me?"

"It could be worse, it could be a numerous family with four kids all under 5. It's just me, Jo. Old me. As is in I'm old. Old and finished." He laughs and looks at her and she's all out of words.

"Joey Potter, lost for words. What happened to us Joey? We had an explanation to everything. We could barely keep our mouths shut… What happened to us?"

"Reality happened."

A silence stretches between them. At first, awkward. But then mellow and cozy like the breeze from the creek. She gets up. And starts walking back to her house. He wonders on the spot if he should follow and not seeing any other options, he gives in. When she gets to her deck she turns to face him.

"I'm definitely not opening this tonight, Dawson, and for future references, I don't like champagne."

He swivels his head trying to sober up a bit. She takes him in and he, her.

"Well, I have the left overs from my chocolate cake. You look like you could you use something heavy on sugar and butter to sober up a bit."

"I love chocolate cake."

"Some things don't change."

"No, they don't. Do they?"