How
many times do I have to say
To
get away—get gone
Flip
your shit past another lasses
Humble
dwelling
You
got your game, made your shot, and you got away
with
a lot, but I'm not turned-on
So
put away that meat you're selling
'Cause
I do know what's good for me-
And
I've done what I could for you
But
you're not benefiting, and yet I'm sitting
Singing
again, sing, sing again
How
can I deal with this, if he won't get with this
M'I
gonna heal from this; he won't admit to it
Nothing
to figure out; I gotta get him out
It's
time the truth was out that he don't give a
Shit
about me
'Cause
I do know what's good for me-
And
I've done what I could for you
But
you're not benefiting, and yet I'm sitting
Singing
again, sing, sing again
How
can I deal with this, if he won't get with this
M'I
gonna heal from this; he won't admit to it
Nothing
to figure out; I gotta get him out
It's
time the truth was out that he don't give a
Shit
about me
How
many times can it escalate
'Till
it elevates to a place I can't breathe?
And
I must decide, if you must deride
Then
I'm much obliged to up and go
I'll
idealize and realize that it's no
Sacrifice
because the price is paid, and
There's
nothing else to grieve
Fuckin'
go-
'Cause
I've done what I could for you, and I do know what's
Good
for me and I'm not benefiting, instead
I'm
sitting singing again, singing again, singing again,
Sing,
sing, sing again
How
can I deal with this, if he won't get with this
M'I
gonna heal from this; he won't admit to it
Nothing
to figure out; I gotta get him out
It's
time the truth goes out
That
he don't give a shit about me
How
can I deal with this, if you won't get with this
And
we're gonna heal from this
He
won't admit to it
Nothing
I figure out
I
gotta get him out
It's
time the truth goes out
That he don't give
a shit about me
-"Get Gone" by
Fiona Apple
Pacey
wasn't surprised when Joey informed him that she wanted to go to Capeside for a
while. He was even less surprised to notice the look of relief pass over her
troubled face when he declined her reluctant offer to go along. He knew she
wanted to be away from him for a while; and the only problem he had with her
leaving was that he would miss the girls. He wasn't sure if he really didn't
care that Joey was leaving, or if he was erecting his own emotional barrier to
prevent himself from caring. She had, after all, said she wanted a divorce.
Maybe he was just trying to limit his emotional fallout. With that in mind, he
knew that whenever he called Dawson's house, he would speak only to the girls,
and not to her.
He
stood on the front steps of their house, watching Joey leave with the girls.
When the SUV turned the corner, he continued to stand there for a moment,
before going inside. Not even realizing what he was doing, he went to the kids'
room, where L.J.'s things were packed in boxes, on the top shelf of the closet.
Pacey pulled one of the boxes down and stripped the tape off of the flaps.
Sadness
engulfed him when he saw the contents of the box. There was L.J.'s blue ball
and a few other toys. Pacey reached into the box and pulled out a little orange
plush basketball. It was the first toy Pacey ever bought him, the day he was
born.
On that
day, he had walked into Joey's hospital room, carrying a bouquet of flowers and
the basketball he'd bought in the gift shop his way back from making a few
phone calls in the lobby.
She'd
been watching the baby sleep in her arms, and looked up when Pacey entered.
Seeing her there, the sunlight spilling over her glowing face, the cuddly
infant in her arms, Pacey fell in love with her all over again. He'd approached
the bed quickly, tossing the flowers on the chair beside it, and kissing her
with so much ardor that she flushed red with desire and embarrassment.
"Wow,"
she breathed, gazing up at him with shining eyes. "What was that for?"
"For
making me complete." He said huskily. Joey gave him a lopsided smile and
lowered her eyes for a brief moment, her heart bursting with love for him.
Trying
to lighten the mood, she glanced up at him and raised her eyebrows. "Don't get
all Jerry Maguire on me now, Pacey."
He
scowled. "You weren't supposed to recognize the line and call me on it, Joey,"
he said with false annoyance. "You were supposed to say 'ooh, Pacey, I love you
so much. I'll do anything you want me to for the rest of our lives'." He said
in a too high falsetto.
She gave him a dubious look and said,
"Last time I checked, we're in real life, not your dreams, so you should've
known better than that."
Pacey
smiled and outsmarted, he changed the subject. "Did he grow any hair while I
was gone?" He asked jokingly.
Joey smiled and gently pushed the blue
cap off of her boy's head a little. "Nope," Joey said. "And he does have hair.
It's just really blond and wispy right now. But don't worry. He'll be tall,
dark, and handsome in no time. Just like his Daddy."
"Yeah."
Pacey agreed, watching his son slowly awake. He held out the orange ball. "And
he's going to be a star basketball player like me too."
Maybe
it was gas, but the baby chose that exact moment to scrunch his face into a
look so dubious that it wrung a laugh from both parents. "He's only about four
hours old and he already knows you suck!" Joey said cheekily.
"I do
not." Pacey complained. He pouted at the baby, put the ball on the nightstand,
and gently picked him up out of Joey's arms. "You're supposed to be on my
side, little man."
Again came the look. It was a pure 'Joey' look, and Pacey grinned. "We have a little version of you over here, Jo." Pacey said in amusement.
Joey craned her neck to see the baby's face. "What are you talking about, Pace? He looks exactly like all of those baby pictures of you."
Pacey shook his head. "Oh no. That was all you, Jo. His name is going to be Joseph. Little Joey."
"I thought we were going to name him after you."
"Nope. Pacey can be his middle name. Joseph Pacey Witter."
Joey smiled. "Whatever you want. But I still get to name the next one. You get the third, and I get the fourth, and—"
"Whoa there, sister," he interrupted, grinning. "If this little guy is anything like me when I was young, you won't want anymore kids for a while."
Joey took ahold of his shirt and tugged him closer, tilting her head up when he leaned down and kissing him. "I love you," she said tenderly. "And I'd love to have ten of you running around the house."
He kissed her again. "Believe me, honey, you wouldn't."
Pacey smiled a little at the memory and lifted the plush ball to his nose and inhaled. It smelled of chocolate chip cookies. L.J.'s favorite. Knowing he was torturing himself, Pacey tried to swallow the lump in his throat, remembering how L.J.'s face looked after he had freshly baked cookies. His face and hands would be covered in chocolate and crumbs, and he would be grinning from ear to ear.
L.J. wouldn't be able to eat any more cookies.
Pressing the orange ball to his face, Pacey cried.
Joey
slowly drove through the barely recognizable streets of Capeside. It wasn't
quite the boring small town anymore. She underestimated Dawson's description of
Capeside when he'd called her and Pacey a few months before, his voice filled
with a mixture of disbelief and disappointment, informing them that Long Island
was a lot quieter than Capeside, and he might as well buy a house there if he
wanted to get his family away from the city. Long Island was nowhere near in
the same population range as Manhattan, where Joey and Pacey lived, nor in
Queens, where Bessie and Bodie lived. Yet, Capeside was might as well have been
a farm in a town with two hundred people when compared to Long Island.
Joey
simply wrote Dawson's bewildered tirade off as an over-dramatization on his
part, as usual. After all, he did stay there. However, as she drove three miles
an hour in a traffic jam, she was beginning to come to terms that her own
theory of life was in effect, even in boring, tiny Capeside.
Everything changes, evolves.
Boring, tiny Capeside now
inhabited about three times the amount of people it held not eight years ago,
when she kissed the hellhole good-bye.
Dawson now lived a few
minutes from his old house, and Joey knew exactly where it was. Getting there
would have taken five minutes when she hit Main Street in the Capeside she once
knew, but in new, baby metropolis Capeside, fifteen minutes had passed and she
wasn't there yet. To say Joey was disappointed would be an understatement. In
fact, her disappointment was rapidly turning to an irrational anger. How dare
all these people just come in and clutter up her damn town! She wanted to know
what they built here to make all those people come, so she could destroy it.
Screw the fact that she left it without a backwards glance and vowed she
wouldn't return unless she absolutely had to, Joey wanted her quiet little town
back.
A sudden jolt awakened Casey
from her slumber. The sun's light hit her right in the face and she squeezed
her eyes tight and sat up. Something was missing. Aliya was sleeping in her car
seat, but . . . pretend L.J. wasn't there. Panicked, Casey quickly imagined him
sitting beside her, his head resting against Aliya's car seat, sleeping.
Feeling better, Casey looked
at her mother. She was grumbling to herself. Casey had no idea what she was
talking about, but the words town and stupid and idiots reached her ears.
"Mommy?" Casey asked hesitantly.
Her mother jumped a little,
and looked at her through the mirror. "Hey, Case," she said. "Have a nice rest?
Sleep long enough?"
"Uh huh." Casey looked
outside and was confused. "We went back home to Noo Yawk, Mommy? Are we in
Queens?"
"No, sweetie. This is Capeside."
"This is Capeside?"
Casey asked in astonishment. Her mother and father always told her that
Capeside was very, very quiet and small. They always said that it was quieter
and smaller than Long Island, where her Auntie Andie and Uncle Peter lived.
"It changed a lot, baby."
Her mom said. She sounded disappointed and mad.
"You're mad, Mommy?"
"Yes I am, sweetie."
"I thought you and Daddy
hated it here."
"Not in retrospect."
"What does that mean?"
"Now that I'm looking back,
I didn't hate it."
"You always said you did."
"As a matter of fact, yes I
did hate it, but I loved it too. I don't know about Daddy."
"Is Daddy coming to be with
us soon?"
"No."
"Why not?"
Her mother didn't say
anything.
"Why not, Mommy?"
"He's working."
"When did he go back to
work?"
"Are you sure you had enough
sleep, Casey?"
"Uh huh. Are—"
"Are you sure? You don't
want to go back to sleep?"
"No. Are we close to Uncle
Dawson's house?"
"Not really, no."
"How much longer?"
"I don't know. Maybe five
minutes. Maybe ten."
"Are we going to sleep
there?"
"I hadn't really thought
about that. He said we could as long as we want, but I haven't decided."
"Is Uncle Dawson nice?"
"Yes."
"Is his wife?"
"Disgustingly so."
"Do you like her?"
"Most of the time."
"Do you think she likes y—"
"Casey, baby, sit back and
go back to sleep, honey. I have to think right now."
Casey sat back, but she
didn't go to sleep. Instead, she looked at pretend L.J. He was awake and making
funny faces at her, and she tried not to laugh out loud.