Chapter Nineteen
Casey woke up in the middle of the night with a stomachache. She rolled over on her back and grimaced, wishing the pain would go away. As she lay in the dark, she desperately missed her Mommy. She and Daddy weren't talking to each other, and it made her sad. She wished that whoever made the other angry would just say they were sorry.
Tears welled up in her eyes and she tried not to cry but she couldn't help it. She wished L.J. didn't have to go to Heaven. She wished God didn't want him. She missed him so much and things only got bad when he left.
"Daddy!" she sobbed. "Daddy!"
She looked to the hallway and saw a faint light come on from downstairs. A few moments later, she heard footsteps on the stairs and her Daddy came in and turned on the lamp on her nightstand.
"What's wrong, baby?" He asked, pulling her onto his lap and holding her close. Casey buried her face in his neck and felt a little better.
"My stomach hurts and I miss Mommy." She cried.
Her Daddy didn't say anything for a moment; he just stroked her hair. "I miss Mommy too," he whispered.
Casey sniffled and looked up at her Daddy. "I know you and Mommy are mad at each other," she brokenly. "But can't you just say sorry and make her come home?"
"I wish it was that simple, kiddo," Daddy said softly. "I really wish it was."
Casey sighed and pressed her face back on to his shoulder. "Is Mommy ever gonna come home?" she asked. "Are we all gonna live together like how we did before L.J. went to Heaven?"
Her Daddy began rocking her gently and he took a deep breath. "I honestly don't know, Casey," he told her. "But I want you to know that I love you baby. Never ever forget that, okay?"
That made her feel good inside and she nodded. But something was bothering her and she hesitated before asking, "And what about Mommy?"
"Of course Mommy loves you," he said, kissing the top of her head with a puzzled frown. "What makes you think she doesn't?"
Casey shook her head and clarified, "I know she does. But do you love Mommy too?"
Her Daddy was quiet for so long that she didn't think he was going to answer her. And he also stopped breathing. But before she could ask him again, he said quietly, "I'll always love your Mommy, no matter what. I will love her always and forever and ever."
Satisfied, Casey glanced over at Aliya. She was sleeping peacefully. If Aliya went to Heaven too, Casey didn't know what she would do. Deciding not to think about that, Casey thought about her Mommy and, listening to her Daddy's heartbeat, drifted back off to sleep.
Troy was so happy at work that he was literally singing when Joey came in. Stevie Wonder was playing over the speakers and when Joey walked into the office, Troy grabbed her and began dancing.
"Did you get laid last night or something?" Joey asked, allowing herself to be dipped.
"You bet," he said, pulling her back up and releasing her. "You, my lady, are the hottest new artist in town."
"I take it the exhibition went well." She supposed lightly, trying not to get too excited.
"Oh you bet your sweet ass it did." He crowed cheerily, sweeping a newspaper off of the stack on his desk and swatting her behind with it. "Take a look at that."
He tossed the newspaper on her desk. While Joey was looking through that, he went to his desk, picked up the stack and put them on her desk as well. "You were a success!"
Joey grinned, sank down in to her seat and began flipping through the newspapers to the places that Troy marked with yellow Post-Its. She read praise after praise after praise as Troy went to get her a cup of coffee, and she was positively beaming by the time he returned.
Accepting the cup, she looked at him in amazement. "Did it really go that well?"
"Of course!" Troy exclaimed. "Everyone was so caught up in your art that no one really noticed or minded that you skipped out early on us."
Joey smiled sheepishly. "Jen showed up. I hadn't seen her in a long time and we had a lot to talk about… She says hi."
"Jen's in town?" Troy asked, surprised. "I absolutely love that girl. Tell her that if she stops by to see me, I might not kick her ass for not at least saying hi to me herself before taking you away."
"All right," Joey chuckled. "…Are you really upset, though? Because I left?"
Waving a dismissive hand at her, Troy said, "Hell no. Not with that fortune you made us. To be honest, I'm just surprised that you left. Joey." He went to stand in front of her desk, braced his hands on the top, leaned forward and looked her in the eye. "They snatched up everything."
"Everything?" Joey repeated in disbelief.
"See for yourself," Troy offered. "Everything that you put up for sale is—Well you know how it's done. Go on and see."
After Joey took a look around and saw all of the frames marked by a discreet circular red sticker, the reality of the situation hit her. Pretty soon, she was giddier than Troy and singing herself. She forgot her worries about Pacey for the moment and allowed herself to bask in the satisfying glow of success. After years of uncertainty, after years of fear, she'd done it! She put herself out there and she was accepted! She was loved!
Unable to stand it, she called Bessie at work, and Bessie squealed like a pig when Joey told her. "I'm so proud of you, Joey!" She said.
"Thanks." Joey said, smiling gratefully.
"I just wish that you would've let me come." Bessie said wistfully.
"You can stop by later and see everything. Jen's in town; she's taking me to lunch at twelve. You can come along." Joey offered.
"Okay, I'd like that."
When they hung up, Joey heaved a sigh of satisfaction. After she settled things with Pacey, for better or for worse, at least her life was progressing. Although, Joey thought somberly, now that she had a tiny hope that Pacey didn't actually sleep with that girl, she was afraid of how she would feel if he admitted that he did. She hadn't given much thought to actually getting the divorce underway. She'd immersed herself in her work and shoved it to the dark recesses of her mind, where she stored thoughts of L.J.'s death. When he'd found out that they hadn't spoken to each other, her lawyer had urged her and Pacey to talk, to seek counseling, to do something other than continue with the rash divorce. Joey simply and coldly told him that all he needed to do was his job. Gently, he told her that he was doing his job, and he also didn't want to see her go something she regretted. She thanked him with only a hint of sarcasm and asked him if he'd regret losing her business. Still he persisted and Joey just told him she'd call him back and hung up on him.
She'd been cruel, throwing his kindness back into his face, but she was dying inside and trying not to show it. Maybe she would send him a Christmas or Hanukkah card. She'd have to find out if he was Jewish. His last name was Meyers, but that didn't always mean anything.
Troy interrupted her from the turn her mind had taken with a question about one of the artists on their file. Remembering that there was still a ton of work to do after an exhibition, hers or not, Joey focused on her job, which mercifully allowed the hours to fly by.
When Jen showed up for lunch, Joey had been surprised to see that it was noon already, and she hurried to finished up a product order form while Jen and Troy bantered and caught up with each other's lives. Bessie came in a few minutes after Joey was finished, excited to see her sister's work and bearing a huge brown bag full of heroes, bagels, cans of soda and iced tea, and several ninety-nine cent bags of chips. The foursome sat on the floor in the front of one of the ceiling-high windows that ran the length of the wall, and with Dave Matthews on the speakers above, they pigged out in the bright winter sunshine, talking and laughing. Joey hadn't had such a good time in a while, and she was disappointed when, after an hour and a half they parted, Bessie to rush back late, Jen to go shopping, and Joey and Troy back to work.
With reluctance Joey returned, but she was in such a light-hearted mood—with what she had to do after work pushed firmly in the back of her mind—that it was quitting time in no time at all. After she got out of the cab she was sharing with Troy at the garage, she was hit with apprehension. That apprehension grew as she got into her car and drove home in the perpetual Manhattan traffic that she'd gotten used to.
She took a deep breath when she pulled in front of the townhouse. The lights were on both up and downstairs and she looked at the clock on the dashboard. It was around eight-thirty and the girls would either be finishing up their dinner or in the bathtub if Pacey kept to their regular nighttime rituals.
Chewing absently on her lower lip, Joey tugged her quilted hat lower over her ears and wondered if she should've called first. Deciding that she was just procrastinating, Joey set her jaw, shut off the engine, stepped out of her car and marched up the steps. She faltered at the door, wondering if she should knock or just use her key. She was still teetering on the edge of indecision when the door was yanked open.
Seeing him was like a punch in the stomach. There was no way she could have prepared herself, even if she hadn't been so bent on not thinking about it to try, for the impact of seeing him again. Memories of the their last time together came crowding back and she was flustered, trying to push those painful recollections away as she simultaneously tried to silence her heart and body's yearning for him. She'd kept those feelings of lust and love so stubbornly and determinedly at bay, that they seized the opportunity to catch her off guard and assault her senses, screaming, demanding to know why they'd been kept quiet, demanding they be felt.
"Joey." He said flatly, his achingly familiar blue eyes raking over her with barely concealed contempt. Her heart cried out in protest. If he didn't do anything, a little voice in her head whined plaintively in shame, I did this to him. I made him hate me for no reason.
"Hi." She replied, recovering, fiercely reminding herself that the possibility of him not cheating on her was just that. A possibility. She mustn't let it rule her head. She mustn't let it forget that the idea that he actually did violate the sanctity of their marriage was an even bigger possibility.
"What?" He asked impatiently, ignoring her greeting, giving her no less courtesy than he would a traveling salesman who completely disregarded the joking, but deliberate metal sign beside their door that he bought and insisted on putting up. It read, "We shoot every third solicitor. And the second one just left". They had to take it down every Halloween because the poor kids who understood the sign were afraid to ring the bell. Joey had unconsciously slid her eyes to the sign and was staring blankly at it as she thought about last Halloween. The kids looked so cute in their costumes…
"Did you come to see the girls, Jo…ey?" He prompted, slipping. He'd called her 'Jo', Joey caught. The realization that he wasn't exactly as unaffected to see her as he'd like her as well as himself to think made her refocus and relax a little.
"Of course, but I really wanted to talk to you." She told him. He blinked and then nodded curtly and stepped aside.
"Where are they?" She asked him lightly.
"In the kitchen eating," he paused and then added, "I was going up to run their bath when I saw you through the window."
They walked into the kitchen and when Casey and Aliya saw her, they shrieked "Mommy!" and scrambled out of their chairs and threw themselves at her. Pacey left to finish running their baths while they reunited.
Ignoring the fact that his hands were shaking, Pacey twisted the knobs to let the water run and put the stopper in the drain. He poured in a capful of Mr. Bubble and sat back.
Joey. Joey was there. The night before, Melanie had been urging him to talk to her but he stubbornly refused. But now Joey came to him and he couldn't refuse her. But what was it she wanted? He couldn't forgive her for sleeping with Dawson, and surely she had to know that. He would always love her, he admitted it to himself when he was comforting Casey last night, but he couldn't forgive her. He knew that he wasn't the victim in this case; he knew he was at fault for driving Joey away, for locking her out and not being supportive after L.J. died and the guilt weighed heavily on his conscience, but she said she wanted to talk to him. What did she possibly have to say to him? Maybe, he told himself cynically, Dawson wouldn't divorce Andrea and she figured she might as well come back to him.
He sighed and rubbed his face with both hands. As he sat tensely on the edge of the tub, he thought back to that terrible morning. It was one of the worst days of his life; second only to the day L.J. died and the desolate days following his death. He never thought he could feel something remotely close to that pain, until he walked into that hotel room and all the hopes he harbored of reconciliation was savagely ripped apart, as was his heart.
Morosely, Pacey could see the wedding ring stashed under a cushion of the couch he slept on in his mind's eye. After he left the hotel room, he sat in his car, staring blindly out of the windshield, seeing nothing through his fury and pain and the shameful, angry tears that ran down his face. After a half hour, he'd attempted to drive away, but he couldn't. He couldn't leave.
Despising himself for his weakness, he'd slunk out of the car and searched the parking lot high and low, searching for the ring he had angrily jerked off and thrown. He knew it was pitiful, but he didn't care if Joey and Dawson happened to come out to see him. But they didn't, and he'd found the ring fifteen minutes later. He knelt on the asphalt, staring at the gold wedding band he held in his cupped hand, telling himself to throw it again, this time down the sewer, telling himself that he was less than a man, he was a dog, he was lower than a dog, he was weak, he was pitiful, his was disgraceful. But he didn't throw it again. He shoved it into his pocket, got back into the car, and took off.
Pacey didn't notice if Joey still wore her ring. He was so shocked to see her coming up the walk through the windows by the door, so shocked and so angry and so confused that he didn't think to look. Instead, he put up a barrier of coldness, and hoped that she couldn't see how shaken he was to see her.
When the bath was full of suds and water and he went back to the kitchen, he did look to see if the ring was still there. It was. It shone as brilliantly as it did on their wedding day, sitting comfortably on her ring finger as if it belonged there, as if everything was still okay. Unaware that he was scowling at the ring, Pacey suggested that Joey give the girls their baths while he stayed and made them coffee.
Neither of them wanted coffee, and they both knew that. Pacey just couldn't bear putting on a show of harmony and happiness for the girls and Joey understood. She felt the same way and was grateful for the extra time. She could spend more time with the girls as well as to adjust to being in his presence again. She slid out of her coat and extended her hands to the girls to lead them upstairs.
After her initial chattiness and happiness at having her home, Casey had lapsed into a thoughtful silence. Joey kept an eye on her while Aliya splashed and played and talked in the water. A few times she just stared searchingly into Joey's eyes with a frown, and when Joey asked her lightly what was wrong, she shook her head and lowered her gaze to the bubbles.
When they were clean, Joey wrapped the girls in big fluffy towels and they tromped to their room. After putting on their pajamas and getting into bed, Joey tucked them in and read them a story. Aliya fell asleep through the middle, and Casey was drifting off towards the end. Joey pressed a kiss to their brows, turned on the nightlight, said goodnight, and as she was leaving, Casey whispered, "Mommy?"
Joey paused in the doorway. "Yes?"
Casey hesitated, licking her pouty little lips and then biting on her lower one. "Maybe . . . maybe y'all should just say sorry an' have a do-over. Me and L.J. got into a really bad fight one time, and I wanted him to say sorry and he wanted me to say sorry, but I didn't want to and he didn't want to neither. So he said we should both just say sorry an' have a do-over."
As Joey stared at the five-year-old, love and pride, and sadness and shame filled her. She and Pacey could have done better to keep their marital problems from her. Nevertheless, it was too late now—she wasn't going to bother to pretend that she didn't know what Casey was talking about. There was no point in insulting her intelligence. Instead Joey smiled at her and said, "That's a great idea, honey. Maybe we'll try it."
The answer apparently satisfied Casey, because she nodded and closed her eyes, yawning. Joey pulled the door towards the frame until they nearly touched and took in a deep breath of air, gathering her strength. This was it.