Pacey woke up with a smile
on his face. The night before had been remarkable, and his smile widened as he
sleepily lifted his head to see if Joey was awake yet.
Joey was indeed awake. She
was so awake that she wasn't even there. Pacey wasn't alarmed, figuring she was
feeding the kids; but then he noticed the note. His heart began to thump in his
chest with apprehension as he reached out a shaky hand and lifted up the slip
of paper.
Pacey,
Look, the girls and I are at Bessie's. Please don't follow me. I hope you understand why. I'll call you. Promise.
Love, Joey
Pacey was shocked. And his
shock quickly gave way to fury. He couldn't believe that she left him. What the
hell happened?
No. It was ridiculous. There
was no way she would do this to him again. Not after last night. Not after he
finally heard her voice and seen her face and made love to her. They had to
talk. And he had to see his little girls.
Throwing back the covers, Pacey grabbed his discarded jeans and yanked them on. Grabbing a t-shirt out of his dresser and stepping into his sneakers, Pacey pulled the shirt over his head as he stormed out of the house.
Pacey arrived at Bessie's in twenty minutes, an amazing speed. Especially when it usually took about twice that long to get there when there was that much traffic. He parked a least a foot away from the curb and jumped out.
He took Bessie's steps two at a time and impatiently knocked on the door. Bessie opened it, looking annoyed. When she saw it was him, she tried to close the door; but Pacey shoved his foot into the doorway.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Pacey asked her angrily.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" Bessie retorted. "What's wrong with you? Don't force yourself into my house."
"I wouldn't if you didn't try to lock me out. God, you act like I'm trying to snatch them all up and spirit them off to the underworld." He said, bewildered, frustrated and angry.
"She's my sister, Pacey. And she said she didn't want to see you." Bessie said, nevertheless releasing the pressure she was putting on the door and opening it wide.
"And she's my wife, Bessie. We're married." Pacey said tightly, waiting for her to move aside now that she was no longer trying to keep him out.
Bessie sighed resignedly. "She isn't here."
Pacey barely had enough time to react to the information when Aliya shrieked, "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"
The three-year-old flew out from behind Bessie and threw herself at him. "Pick me up!" She demanded. Pacey swallowed his anger and picked her up and held her tight.
"I missed you, baby girl." He whispered, kissing her temple.
"I missed you, Daddy. My birt'day is in dwee days." She informed him, holding up three fingers.
"That's right, cutie," Pacey said, realizing that he'd completely forgotten about it. Casey's birthday was in another two months. Aliya was going to be four. Casey was going to be five. God, kids grow so fast. "What do you want me to get you?"
"I wan' chock-lit cake an' banilla ice cream. An' I want my bruddah to come to my birt'day pardy too."
Pacey's heart slammed into his ribs. He looked at Bessie, who closed her eyes and looked away. How could one explain to their three-year-old that their brother could never go to any more of her birthday parties? He'd thought that Aliya forgot about L.J., since she hadn't mentioned him in weeks; at least not to him.
"I'm sorry, baby. L.J. can't come," he said finally. "God really loves L.J. and wants him to stay in Heaven with Him."
Aliya frowned. "Tell God to let him go. I want him here with me. I don' want him in heaben."
"I can't tell God what to do, baby. Nobody can. But if you think about him sometimes, he'll never go away. Right, Bessie?" He asked his sister-in-law, looking at her for support.
"That's right." Bessie said thickly.
"I think about him lots an' he's gone now." Aliya pointed out.
Pacey almost wished his daughter wasn't so smart. "He is, but not his memory. His memory will be here forever." Pacey said, trying to ignore the pain. He knew that Aliya didn't fully understand what he was talking about, but she nodded. "What else do you want for your birthday?"
"A bike. A two-wheeler like Alex's bike."
"That's too big for you. How about I get you another tricycle? Or a bike with training wheels, would you like that?"
Aliya nodded. "Good." He said, starting to put her down but she tightened her arms and legs around him. "Where's your Mommy?" He asked, shifting her back into his arms, glancing at Bessie. Bessie glared at him.
"I dunno." Aliya said her eyes wide and innocent, lifting her shoulders in a shrug.
"Where's Casey?" He asked, figuring Casey would know.
"Inside." Aliya answered.
Pacey looked at Bessie. "Well, now that you've successfully impeded me from reconciling with my significant other, are you going to prevent me from seeing my other daughter too?" He asked, staring her down.
Bessie shook her head no. She felt bad for Pacey, but she also knew that Joey was in quite the agitated state when she knocked on her door early that morning, carrying shopping bags filled with school supplies and school clothes as well as bags of clothes. Without a word, she dumped the bags in Bessie's hallway, and ran back to the SUV to free Aliya from her car seat and Casey from her belt buckle.
When she rushed back, holding the girls by their hands, Bessie stopped her and demanded to know what was wrong. "I have to go to work," she said, chewing on her lower lip. "I'll be back later. If Pacey calls or comes over, tell him I'm not here. Don't tell him where I went, either. I gotta go."
And with that, Joey kissed the girls and left. And Bessie was left with the impression that Pacey had done something wrong. But she couldn't keep him from seeing his daughters.
"Casey's in the kitchen with Alex." She told him quietly, stepping aside.
"Thank you."
Carrying his other daughter and listening to her chatter on happily about 'Unca Dawson house', Pacey sought out his other kid. Casey was sitting at the kitchen, a pair of headphones enveloping her small ears. She had her hands over the speakers, holding it to her ears, and was bopping her head to the sound.
"What's up, Alex." Pacey said.
"Hey, Uncle Pacey." Alex greeted, lifting his hand in a salute. He was a good-looking kid, tall and mature for his age, and smart as a whip. He'd been skipped a grade and still found the work so easy that going to school would be boring if he wasn't such a popular kid. His skill at sports made him popular with the boys, and his light caramel complexion, big brown eyes and easy charm made preteen girls with emerging hormones hearts race.
"What's she listening to?" Pacey asked Alex, gesturing to his daughter.
Alex gave Pacey an impish grin. "Eminem."
Pacey grimaced. "DMX and Jay-Z I can take. But please don't let my young and already ill-behaved daughter listen to Eminem."
Alex smiled. "Would you rather she listen to Brittany Spears, the Backstreet Boys and the Spice Girls?"
Pacey pretended the gag as he set Aliya down. "Ugh, Eminem it is. For now." He walked over to Casey and kissed the top of her head. She whirled around and her face lit up like the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree.
"Daddy!" She screamed, tossing off the headphones, scrambling off of the chair and jumping into his arms. "I missed you. Did you miss us? We were at Unca Dawson's house. There was a boy there named Seven, an' he gave me a ring, an' Mommy was sick there, but she's better now. And Unca Dawson bought us some toys and some candy, and there was a Megaplex Multi Malls there, but I missed you a lots, and Unca Dawson's nice, but I missed you more. I like you better than Unca Dawson. Did you miss me? Did you know I'm gonna go to kimdergarbden? It's in Plublick School Nineney-Five like preschool. In three more days I'm gonna—" Casey stopped abruptly and took a deep breath.
Pacey laughed and hugged her close. "I really missed you a lot, Case." He said huskily, gently tugging on her ponytail. "Where's your Mommy?"
"I dunno. She just said to be good for Aunt Bessie."
Pacey sighed and pressed his forehead to his daughter's. All of his anger suddenly drained from him, filling him up with desolated defeat. Where was she? What happened?
"What's wrong, Daddy?" Casey whispered. "Are you okay?"
"I just miss your mom." Pacey said softly. He lifted his head and smiled at her, bending down to scoop up Aliya, who had attached herself to his leg. "So tell me about the Multiplex Mega Mall. You're tellin' me they built one in Capeside?"
"Yeah!" Aliya said in excitement.
"Uh huh," Casey nodded her head vigorously. "Mommy was real mad 'cause idiots made her town a city. An' she said that in bescroseck she didn't hate it anymore. Do you?"
Pacey stared at her, puzzled. "Huh?"
Troy Morgan stared blankly at the gallery when he walked in. The normally casual atmosphere of the airy space was gone. In its place was a nervous tension as the workers rushed about, doing whatever duties they had to do.
He walked into the office and noted in surprise that his secretary wasn't eating her breakfast and chatting on the phone like she usually was, she was actually busy doing work. He walked into the inner office that he and Joey shared and stopped short. Joey was standing in front of her desk, on the phone, yelling angrily and rapidly to someone in another language, coffee in hand, hastily writing something on a pad of paper. Troy knew Joey could speak Spanish and French fluently, and he knew she drank coffee, but it was the fact that she was yelling that threw him. He didn't think he'd ever seen her yell, and he definitely never had the benefit of seeing a true-blue Josephine Samantha Potter Witter fit of anger, and its velocity was astonishing.
She threw the pen down and said something slowly and threateningly in Spanish; her already intense hazel eyes were piercing like daggers. Troy knew enough to understand what the Spanish meant, and he balked and unconsciously brought his hands to his balls in a protective, defensive gesture.
She listened, and her face lost some of its tension. "Yeah, whatever." She said in English before slamming the phone down. She grumbled and wrote some more on the pad of paper. She took a swallow of coffee, and picked up the phone again.
"Good morning?" Troy said the greeting as if it were an inquiry and Joey rolled her eyes.
"I got Manuel Santiago to lower those absurd prices for the wax. He was trying to go back on our deal," Joey told Troy distractedly, dialing numbers. "Arrogant tyrannical little—May I please speak to Yancey Burnham? . . . This is Joey Witter from A Unique Array of Art . . . He isn't in any meeting. He's been in a meeting for a past month," Joey scoffed. "Please tell him that just because I haven't been after him for the past two weeks, does not mean I've forgotten about our little bargain. Tell him that if he doesn't speak to me immediately, I will be forced to undertake some very drastic measures concerning his internal organs, and I know he doesn't want me to go there . . . Thank you."
Joey lowered the phone to from her ear, looked up at Troy and glared at him. "And why didn't you tell me that Yancey Burnham didn't send us the money for the bulbs yet?" Joey demanded. "Jesus, Troy, we can't just let him get away with swindling us out of three thousand dollars."
"I know that, but I—"
"God, do I have to do everything around here?" she interrupted in exasperation. "It's a wonder that—Yancey? . . . Well, it's been quite a while . . . Uh-huh. Where's my money, Yancey?" She asked brusquely.
Troy took a seat as his desk and watched in admiration as Joey managed to get Yancey Burnham, parsimonious owner of a chain of well-known, high quality art supplies, vow to wire not three but five thousand dollars to them by three o'clock.
"Asshole." Joey muttered, slamming the phone down. Bringing the coffee to her lips and taking a sip, she consulted her Rolodex and began writing. She picked up the phone again.
"Joey, can we talk?" Troy asked her.
"Not now, Troy, I'm busy." She said absently, dialing the number and shooting him a glance.
"We were supposed to be talking about your exhibition today." Troy insisted.
Joey waved her hand dismissively at him. "We'll discuss that some other—Hello? Yes, this is Josephine Witter from A Unique Array of Art," she said crisply. "Is Lakeisha Price in?"
Troy sighed and left the office. At lunchtime, he cornered her and demanded she speak to him. She'd kept busy all morning, clearing her desk of the work that piled up over the last two weeks, making phone calls, rearranging files, ordering products, and transferring files to the computer. Joey was a quick and efficient worker, but this was ridiculous.
"I'm busy, Troy." Joey said, barely glancing up from the computer monitor.
Troy walked behind her and turned off the screen.
"Troy!" Joey protested in annoyance.
"Look," Troy said firmly. "What's wrong with you? Last night you were fine. You were excited and happy and fun. Now you're acting like if you don't get all of this boring work done before the day is over, you'll spontaneously combust or some shit."
Joey rolled her eyes at him and crossed her arms. "Let's not be so dramatic, Troy. Okay?"
"What happened?" He asked. Joey raised her eyebrows as well as her shoulders and said nothing. Troy rolled his chair over to her desk and leaned forward. "You're overworking yourself, Joey. Tell me what happened when I left last night that has you acting like this."
"Like what?" She asked defensively.
"Well," Troy said speculatively. "I would repeat it but you told me not to be dramatic."
Joey sighed and uncrossed her arms to tuck her hair behind her ears. After a long moment, she took a deep breath and quietly said, "Pacey."
Troy's almond-shaped, dark brown eyes narrowed warily. "What about Pacey?"
Hiding her mouth behind her cup of coffee, Joey told him, "Well, he came in last night and before we could really talk about what happened between us, we . . . kind of . . . fell into bed together."
Troy sucked in his breath and made a face. Joey nodded in agreement. "I know. It was the stupidest thing for us to do, but—we—I . . . we just couldn't—"
Troy held up a hand to stop her, nodding. "It's okay. I understand." He sighed and rubbed his face. "So what are you going to do?"
Joey shrugged and her head slowly shook from side to side. "I don't know." She paused and pressed her lips together. "I need some time . . . to think—to . . . I don't know, it was so sudden and it was so . . . incredible that . . . I guess it just threw me. I mean, I played our meeting again over and over in my head. I knew what Pacey would say, and I knew what I would say, but . . . never had I imagined that . . . what happened . . . would happen." She cringed a little and played with her fingers.
Troy licked his lips and crossed his arms. "Can I give you some advice?" He inquired.
"Please do."
"Don't think too long," he said simply. "Don't let another two weeks pass. It's okay for you to panic, but Joey, not always when something isn't planned out in minute detail means that it's going to be a complete disaster. You got me?" He asked. Joey nodded slowly as she absorbed this. "When you were at Dawson's," Troy continued, "you must have received some closure about what happened with your son, because you look a lot better. Did you?"
Joey nodded again, ignoring the pain in her heart when he said 'your son'. Troy went on, "See? That trip was spontaneous. Maybe it would take another spontaneous action to set things right with you and Pacey."
Joey looked down into her lap. Troy stood up and rolled his chair back over to his desk. "Think about it." He said quietly. He began to leave, but Joey called him back. He looked at her, his eyebrows raised.
"If Pacey calls . . ." Joey began, trailing off because she knew Troy knew she was going to ask him to tell Pacey she wasn't there. Troy nodded his understanding and left her sitting there.
And Joey did think about it. She sat there for an hour, doing nothing, weighing her options. Either she could just go see Pacey and begin talking and hope they don't ruin everything by arguing or sleeping together before they could work things out. Or, she could wait and carefully plan what she would say so that there would be no chance of them arguing or sleeping together before they worked things out.
After a long deliberation, she chose the latter. Not only would that give Pacey time to get over the anger she knew he was feeling about her leaving him that morning, it would lessen the chance of any mistakes. Quietly, she stood up and went to pick up the money that Yancey Burnham sent.
And after work, before she went back to Bessie's, she called to make sure he wasn't there. He wasn't. Joey breathed a sigh of relief and left.
Pacey let himself into the empty house. He was tired of walking into an empty house. He wanted to walk into the house and have it be filled with laughter and love, the way it used to be. Miserably, Pacey started up the stairs to the bedroom, but stopped. He couldn't make it up those stairs. He couldn't lie in the bed where he'd made love to Joey.
Depressed, he shuffled down to the den and sat by the phone. He sat there all night long, staring at the phone, waiting for Joey's call, which never came. He slept on the couch by the den, and called in sick at work the next day, not wanting to leave the house just in case Joey called.
After calling in sick two days in a row, Pacey had no other choice but to go back to work. He couldn't keep taking days off. His boss was horny, but not a pushover. On one of the rare occasions that the phone did ring, it was his boss, all but openly saying that if he didn't get his ass back to work, she would fire him; and he was damn lucky that she wanted to screw his brains out, or else she wouldn't have bothered to call. Otherwise he would've had to figure it out for himself when he decided to return to work and found all of his stuff was thrown out of the thirty-second floor window.
So reluctantly, Pacey got ready for work on the third morning after he and Joey had made love. Even more reluctantly, he went into their bedroom to get dressed. He avoided looking at the bed, and dressed quickly. As he was on his way out of the room, however, the phone began to ring. He froze, his heart slamming into his chest. He hesitated, and then picked up the phone with shaking hands, trying to squelch the flare of hope he felt.
The little spark of hope he'd been trying to smother ending up dying a long painful torturous death when the caller was from some kind of company trying to reach Joey about some kind of merchandise for the gallery. However hope came rushing back when he hung up the phone and tossed the pad where he'd written the message from the caller aside. The gallery.
Eagerly, he picked up the phone and began dialing. The hope he'd felt died even a more vile death than its predecessor when he was coolly informed that Joey hadn't been at work in weeks. He asked to speak to Troy Morgan, but was told he wasn't in yet.
Discouraged, Pacey slumped out of the house to his car, not knowing what he was going to do, deciding that it was too painful and too hard to figure out.
Casey absently played with the ring on her finger with her other hand. She was nervous about the first day of school. What if nobody liked her? What if she didn't make any friends at all?
She looked up at the five other people at the table with her, her mom, her sister, Aunt Bessie, Uncle Bodie, and Alex. All of the grown-ups and Alex were talking about something, and Aliya was sitting next to her, eating. Her sister looked pretty happy while she ate her cereal. Aliya wasn't nervous about going to preschool. Lucky her. Everybody would love her. They always did. She got a lot of presents at her birthday party yesterday.
Casey noticed her mother looking at her so she picked up the spoon she'd left in her cereal and lifted a heap of Lucky Charms into her mouth. Her mom went back to talking to Aunt Bessie so Casey dropped her spoon back into her cereal and sighed as she chewed.
She missed her daddy. He stopped by at Aliya's birthday party with a brand new tricycle for Aliya and a huge teddy bear for her. He couldn't stay long and Casey was upset to see him go and was surprised when her mom stayed in the kitchen the whole time he was there. If he was there now, he would tease her and tickle her and make her laugh so she wouldn't be nervous anymore. He would hold her hand tightly as they walked inside to school so she would feel protected because he was so big and strong and he would never let anything bad happen to her. Neither would her mom, but her daddy was bigger than her.
She felt her eyes tingle, they way they did whenever she was going to cry, and she blinked fast to stop it. She would be big and strong like her daddy. Well, not big, because she was little, but she would be strong like him. She wouldn't let anyone bother her or make fun of her. And if they did, boy they would get it.
"Are you finished eating, Case?" Her mom asked.
Casey nodded. "I'm too nerbis to eat." She admitted.
"Nervous?" her mother repeated. "Don't you worry, Casey, you're a good girl. You'll make lots of friends and have a lot of fun. Watch, when I come for you later, you won't want to leave." She was smiling at her, and Casey felt a little better.
"Okay." She said uncertainly.
"Can we go t'skoo now, Mommy?" Aliya asked.
"Yes," her mom said, nodding. "It's time to go."
Before she, her mom, and her sister left the house, Alex pulled her aside and squatted down. "Listen, if anyone bigger than you messes with you, promise me you'll get me. And I'll take care of their stupid asses." He told her.
Casey giggled. Alex always said bad words around her, and if she ever made a mistake and said one around him, he never told on her, he always laughed. She'd said a few around Seven if Aliya wasn't there, and he'd been amazed and asked her to teach them to him. And she did. "Okay. I promise, Alex."
"Good," he stood up and ran his fingers through one of her pigtails and tapped her cheek with his finger. "Good luck, shorty."
"Thank you."
Joey climbed back into the car and shot Bessie a wry look before wiping the tears from her eyes. Bessie watched her knowingly, commenting, "I know you didn't embarrass Casey by crying in front of her teacher and classmates."
Joey shook her head as she buckled her seatbelt. "Nope. I waited until she went inside."
"Did she cry?"
"Uh-uh," Joey said proudly, looking past Bessie to the elementary school where she'd left her daughters. "She marched in there without hesitation. She's a good kid."
"She's a great kid," Bessie corrected. "What about Aliya? Any trouble with her?"
"None. She barely paid me any attention. Even when I left to take Casey to her class." Joey said, a little hurt by that. She looked around before pulling away from the curb and starting down the block.
Bessie hesitated before saying, "Pacey would be very proud."
She watched as a somber look settled over Joey's face as she drove, her eyes unflinching, her gaze steady out of the windshield.
"He would be." Joey agreed finally.
"You can't keep doing this to him, Jo," Bessie sighed. "You have to call him. Didn't you promise you would?"
"Yes I did." Joey answered, her voice still soft. Bessie stared at her in concern, and touched her arm. Joey glanced at her.
"Call your husband, sis."
Your husband . . . Tenderly, as she slowed to a stop at a red light, Joey thought back to her wedding day. Dawson was Pacey's best man and Bessie was her maid of honor. Jen and Andie were bridesmaids and Bodie gave her away while Alex was the ring-bearer. It was a beautiful wedding, and their wedding night was unforgettable. God . . . Pacey . . . she loved him so much.
"I'm not going to call him . . ." Joey decided slowly. Bessie frowned and began to think of another way to reach her. Before she could speak however, Joey added, "I'm going to go home. Tonight. I'm going to talk to him face-to-face."
Bessie sighed in relief. "Good."
Joey smiled a little, nervously. "Yeah," she said quietly, more to herself. "Everything's going to be good."
The first part of her day was fun. Casey made a bunch of friends in her class and played and sang songs and learned a lot. But there was this one girl. She had straight yellow hair and green eyes and a Mickey Mouse watch. She was mean, and so were her two best friends. Casey didn't like her at all. Her name was Jessica Warner and she liked to talk about how many toys she had.
Casey tried to avoid her, but for some reason, Jessica Warner hated her, and bothered her all day long. She snatched a toy away from her, asked to borrow her brand-new crayons and broke three of them, spilled red finger-paint on her brand new khaki pants, crumpled up her math worksheet, tripped her on the lunch line, made fun of the color of her eyes and called her names.
After their nap, at snack-time, Casey was sitting with a group of her new friends at their table, eating the apple and cookies her mom had packed for her snack. She was reaching for her juice box when it was knocked over. Casey looked up and glared, knowing who the person was.
"Stop bothering me, shiteater!" Casey said, loud enough for only Jessica and her friends to hear. Her friends and Jessica gasped in shock.
"Ooh! I'm gonna tell on you, ." Jessica threatened.
Casey jumped out of her chair. She was sick of Jessica bothering her. "Do it an' I'll hit you," Casey told her tightly. "Go on and tell on me so I can hit you."
Everyone was quiet and staring at Casey and Jessica, and the teacher was helping someone at the other side of the classroom. Jessica hesitated, looking at her friends. Her friends were looking at Casey. Casey glared at Jessica.
"Miss Travis!" Jessica yelled, walking past Casey.
Furious, Casey grabbed her, whacked her across the face with her open fist as hard as she could and gave her leg a brutal kick. Jessica fell to the floor and began crying really loudly and everyone began babbling at once. "Casey!" The teacher shouted angrily, rushing over.
Casey burst into tears. "I want my daddy!" She wailed.
Ms. Travis sighed in exasperation as she regarded the two troublemakers. One pale and blond and green-eyed, her face red as she cried, especially where she'd gotten hit; the other olive-skinned with dark wavy hair and golden eyes that were shimmering with blue and green flecks as tears poured from them. Ms. Travis sighed again and squatted down to examine Jessica's face and leg, both of which were rapidly bruising.
"Stupid." Jessica bawled.
"Ugly bitch!" Casey cried back.
The teacher gasped in shock. "Casey Witter!"
Later, Casey ended up in the principal's office, waiting for her mother to pick her up, while Jessica was sent to the nurse. Jessica would be sent by later.
Casey tried to stop crying, but she really couldn't help it. She was going to get into big trouble and her daddy wasn't there to make her feel better. Casey felt miserable. And when her mother walked into the principal's office, looking very mad, Casey knew it was just going to get worse.