Spoilers: None
Jen actually smiled as she and her mother rode in the limousine back home.
"Did you enjoy your brunch?" Helen asked as she looked at her reflection in her hand held mirror. Jen smiled, not really listening.
"Jennifer?"
"Huh?"
"Did you enjoy your brunch?"
"Um, yeah…I guess so…"
"Good."
After another block had passed, Jen spoke again.
"Mother…at one, a friend is picking me up for lunch, okay? I just wanted to let you know…to get your permission."
"Oh…" Helen said, slightly jaunted. "…well, yes, that's fine."
"Okay," Jen said quickly, in relief.
"How long will you be gone?"
"Not long…an hour or two at best."
"Oh, well, yes…that's fine. You don't need to ask permission to go out with a friend. You're a grown up…of course that's fine."
Jen stared at her mother in disbelief.
"Why would I mind if you went out with a friend?" When Jen didn't answer, Helen looked over at her. "Hmn?"
"N-no reason…"
Jen got home, and changed into more comfortable clothes. She glared at the long, floral dress her mother had made her wear to brunch earlier, and made a face. She kicked it into the back of her closet, then closed the closet door and sat down on her bed to slip on her shoes.
Jen was dressed more like a New Yorker now. Despite the warm weather, Jen was wearing a tight, pale colored long sleeved t-shirt, dark denim jeans, and she slid on her trademark leather clunky boots. It had been a while since she'd worn them…and it felt good to slip back into them.
She got up and went to her mirror.
Jen wiped off the disgusting pink lipstick her mother had wanted her to wear, then started to apply some chapstick. She stopped when she noticed there was a scab in the corner of her lips…another place her mother's nails had dug into her. She dropped the chapstick and looked for her darkest shade of red.
She pressed her lips together and stood back. Vampire colors were out, but this shade hid the scab, and that was all she was concerned about. She applied some more concealer to her cheeks and jaw line, then dusted on more powder. Mac make-up always covered…hid, so well.
She looked in the mirror.
God, she seemed different.
She twisted her hair into little pigtails and held them in place with rubberbands, before finally turning and leaving her mirror. She picked up her bag before leaving the room.
Pacey arrived right on time, wearing one of his Hawaiian shirts and khaki shorts that he was so well known around Capeside for. Jen almost laughed.
"You're going to stand out in that," She said.
"You're going to roast in that," He pointed at her outfit. "It's like, a million degrees out here!"
"I'm a New Yorker…I can take the heat,"
"Jennifer?""Oh great," Jen mumbled trying to shove Pacey out the door.
"Jennifer, I'd like to meet your friend,"
Helen came to the entryway, still in her expensive Chanel suit from the brunch, and carrying a martini glass. Her eyes lit up when she saw Pacey.
"And who is this attractive…yet oddly dressed, young man?" She asked. Jen looked mortified.
"This is Pacey Witter…from Capeside. Pacey, this is my mom."
"Nice to meet you," He said warmly.
"You as well," She said, taking a sip of her drink. "A Witter, huh? Are the Witter men still as debonair as I remember?"
Jen blushed. Pacey grinned.
"So you know of my clan, heh."
"I knew your father,"
"Well, mom…I'll be back in a couple of hours." Jen again shoved Pacey out the front door, and started to close it behind them.
"Are you driving?" Helen asked.
Pacey turned and smiled at her.
"Uh, yeah…I've got my friend's car."
"Oh, Jennifer…why don't you let Julio drive you…the limousine is so much more elegant."
"No thanks mom," Jen said bitterly. "We're fine,"
She slammed the door and rushed towards Jack's car, sitting at the end of the driveway.
"Jen…wait up," Pacey said.
"Let's just go," She said hurriedly, looking back as she watched her mother stare at them through the window.
"Sure." He said, a little baffled as he unlocked her door.
"I'm sorry," Jen said, rubbing her forehead as they pulled away.
"For what?" Pacey asked, smiling as he looked over at her.
"Just for my mother…she's…she's a bit of a…of a…I don't know."
"You don't need to apologize for your parents…are you forgetting who my father is?" He grinned at her then looked back to the road.
Of course…how could she forget…Jen smiled and eased back in the seat.
"So…what made you decide to stay here?"
The dreaded question.
Pacey and Jen sat across from eachother in a Mom 'n Pop kinda pizzeria where local kids hung out; eating pizza, playing skeeball, or battling it out on old arcade video games.
The table clothes were red and white checked, and the lights were set low. The waitresses all looked related, and called the cook "Pops". The food was good, and the atmosphere was noisy…just what Jen needed, compared to the high-class ritzy brunches and the boring afternoon teas she had been attending with her mother every day for the last couple of weeks. This was the first time she'd been able to get out alone. Well, not exactly alone, since Pacey was there.
She was glad he was there…
Pacey stared at her across the table. They sat in a booth with high backs for privacy, leaving them pretty much secluded in their corner.
Jen didn't want to answer him.
He asked again.
"Jen…what made you decide to stay with your mom in New York?"
She took a bite of pizza, and acted like her mouth was too full to answer. When she swallowed, she tried to change the subject.
"So, Jack was really messed up from last night,"
"Yes," Pacey said, smiling slightly, realizing what she was doing, and not about to let her off nearly that easily. "He was very messed up…but you didn't answer my question."
"Hmn?"
"About staying here?"
"Oh," Jen started to pick up another slice, but Pacey slapped her hand away. She looked at him, her mouth agape, as he leaned over the table towards her.
"Why don't you want to answer my question?"
"What? I don't—what do you mean?"
"Jen…you're avoiding it…why?"
"I'm not avoiding it!"
"Jen,"
He was smiling persuasively, and Jen knew she couldn't get away from those penetrating eyes of his. She sighed, sitting back against the seat and looked down at her food. Pacey's smile started to fade at her expression. She finally looked at him, and he, too, settled back in his seat.
But she still didn't speak.
"Come on, Jen…what's up?"
"Nothing!" She said, exasperated.
"It's obviously not 'nothing'," He said softly. "Come on…You know how much your Grams misses you. And Jack, and everybody…what made you stay?"
"It's—It's too hard to talk about..."
"It's not hard…tell me."
"Pacey—"
"Jen…"
"Pacey, don't make me—"
"Jen, I want to know! Now, come on…what's going on?"
She shook her head. He leaned forward, peering across the table at her. He didn't like this; her sudden secrecy. Jen was never one to hold things in. It had to be serious. Pacey started to grow worried.
"Why wont you tell me? We're friends, you now… You're supposed to be able to talk to me about this stuff."
She still sat silently.
"Fine." Pacey sat back in a huff. "I mean, if you don't trust me…"
"Pacey…" She finally said brusquely. "My father beats my mother."
"What?" Pacey snapped when the words finally registered.
"My dad…he…" Jen looked as if she were about to cry. She set her elbow on the table and rested her forehead against her hand. Pacey watched her.
"Jen? When?"
"Oh, God,"
She did start to cry then, though only a few tears came out. She quickly wiped them away. And Pacey, his face wrought with surprise, empathy, and concern, passed her a napkin.
"Thank you," She said as she took it. She wiped her eyes and nose, then took a deep breath. She tried to speak, but couldn't.
"I'm here…" Pacey said in a low voice as he reached across the table and took her hand. "I'm here for you. Whenever you're ready to talk, just start."
"I didn't want anybody to know," Jen sighed softly.
"Well…" Pacey started slowly. "What's your
mother going to do? I mean, she's going to leave him, right?"
Jen laughed inanely, shaking her head.
"No, Pace..."
"Well, she can't just stay with him,"
"That's exactly what she's going to do."
"But—"
"Pace, look. You don't understand. I…I shouldn't have even said anything."
"What do you mean," Pacey said, rising and moving around the edge of the table to sit beside her. "Of course you should've said something… You should have said something sooner."
"Pacey, really, it's none of your business. I shouldn't have said anything. Please just forget it…"
"I will not forget it!"
"It doesn't even matter!" Jen said adamantly, and shrugging her shoulders all too nervously. "My father…He's in Europe. After that, he's spending a few months in the Orient. It's not like he's going to be here. She'll be fine,"
"But what about when he comes back?"
"Well…I'll be here."
"Jen,"
"I'll be here, and I'll protect her."
"Jen…You can't protect your mother. If anything, she should be protecting you. Has your dad ever hit you? Has he??? If he did—" Pacey was starting to feel angry.
"No! God, no! Daddy…he never…he never hit me,"
"Well, what's to keep him from starting??? Abuse spreads…it spreads fast! I don't understand how a woman could just stay in an abusive relationship like that…especially with her teenaged daughter in the house,"
"It's…complicated,"
"It shouldn't be. I mean, what if he did start hitting you,"
"Pacey, please. I don't want to talk about it anymore."
"Well, I think you should! I think she should talk to somebody, too…a psychiatrist, or the police,"
"No, she wouldn't…she really doesn't need to,"
"She needs to do something! Eventually, she's going to have to face up to it and make a choice. I just hope…I hope it's not too late by then…"
"Pacey! I don't need to hear this!"
"He could kill her,"
"Pacey!"
"He could hurt you!"
"Pacey, please!"
"I just don't want you to get hurt, Jen. If there's anything I can do to stop that, I will… Don't think I'm going to let this go."
Jen's face fell as she slouched farther down into her seat. Pacey placed his arm around her protectively, and sighed heavily.
"Jen…I can't let you get hurt here."
"Pacey… Please let it drop…" She whispered. "Okay? It's okay… We'll be okay… I don't want to talk about this anymore…"
Pacey looked at her skeptically. He knew it wouldn't be okay if she kept thinking with this attitude…this denial.
Still, he didn't want to make her more uncomfortable than she already was. He realized it had taken a lot for her to even admit it…
And so, against his better judgment, he let it drop.
