November 23, 2002
Dawson could see Grams' car pull up to the house next door and Jen get out of it. He glanced down from the window to the 8 ½ by 11, brown envelope fat with paper. Then out again to follow her movements up the walk into her house. The envelope drew him, he knew that he couldn't put it off any further. He found his coat and slipped it on, not bothering with the buttons. He picked up the envelope, took a deep breath and closed the door behind him.
The walk over to Jen's house was too short. He wanted so badly to see her, just enjoy her company and be happy. Instead, he knew what he was about to do would make her nothing but upset, maybe angry. He'd told himself that he wouldn't need to ever let anyone read the script he'd written, but it ate away at him. He had to show her. Not showing her would be as bad as lying. So there it was, in black and white, the story that Jen had asked him not to tell.
The door burst open before he had a chance to knock.
"Dawson!!!" Jen wrapped her arms around him with no reservation. It took a moment before Dawson responded in kind. Wrapping his long arms all the way around her slim body he buried his face in the blond hair that spilled over her shoulder. When he released her, he kissed her cheek before stepping back.
"Jen," he smiled broadly, his mood brightened until he remembered the screenplay.
"Oh, Dawson. How have you been? You finish the paper you were bitching about last week? What was it, something about silent movies, right?"
"'The Relevance of Silent Films in Today's Media'. Yeah, it's done. How 'bout you? Midterms are now a distant memory, you get your grades?"
"Yeah, they were posted right after I talked to you last. So far so good, if it weren't for that insufferable Political Science class," she rolled her eyes for emphasis. "Anyway, come on in and help me unpack."
Dawson shifted the envelop from one hand to the other.
"What's in the envelope? You want me to review your logic about silent movies relating to current media?"
"Uh, no."
She could see the discomfort in his posture. The way he took a short breath and straightened his shoulders.
"Jen," he began. "I know that I promised I wouldn't, but I..." He trailed off, not knowing how to tell her.
"Wouldn't what, Dawson?" Her voice sounded bitter, she already knew what was in the envelope that he laid on one of the porch chairs.
"Just read it, Jen. I'll be waiting." He turned abruptly and left her staring at his back as he walked back across the lawn. It wasn't until he was inside his house that he let out the breath he had been holding.
***
Two days, Dawson thought. It's been two days since Jen got home.
He was miserable. He was losing patience. He was worried. Dawson couldn't seem to concentrate on anything for more than about twenty minutes. He desperately need to work on his Sociology paper, but it was hopeless. Over and over again he considered going to Jen, but he knew better. It was up to her. An ugly little voice in his head kept reminding him that she may never come. It seemed that all he could do was pace.
Jen, on the other hand, was throwing herself into a regular routine. Andie and Jack were coming tomorrow, so Jen was helping Grams clean and prepare for guests. They were making pies and preparing casseroles for Thanksgiving. Jen was catching up on her Brit Lit reading. Anytime her mind wandered to Dawson, she found something else to work on. The envelope remained unopened under a stack of school books.
She knew she should read it, if for no other reason, then out of respect for Dawson, but she couldn't bring herself to. She was just hoping to get through dinner tomorrow night at Leery's Fresh Fish with Jack, Andie, Joey, and Dawson with some semblance of normalcy. Jack would be there soon, maybe that would help.
***
November 25, 2002
"Jack," she shouted. Jen burst out of the front door rushing to greet him. He scooped her up in a hug and squeezed tight. "Oh, Jack. I'm so glad you're here!"
"Jen, what's up? You just saw me four days ago!" Jack smiled easily until he saw Jen's face. Something was wrong and he wanted to know what.
"Hello? Over here. Don't I get a welcome???"
"Oh, Andie. I'm sorry! It's been too long. How's Harvard treating you?" Jen gave Andie a brief hug before gathering her bags.
"Great, you wouldn't believe who my English history professor is..."
Andie rambled on as Jen helped them get settled.
"And then the guy says, get this, 'that's my toad, hands off'. Can you believe that!" When Jen just sighed in response, Andie realized something was wrong. "Um, I'm gonna hunt down Grams and say hello. Jack, want anything from the kitchen?"
"No, Andie. Thanks." He looked over at his sister with affection, glad that she realized he needed to find out what was up with Jen.
"Jen..."
"Jack..."
They laughed at each other for a minute.
"Jack, I'm really glad you're here." She smiled at him and some of the weight on her heart lifted. Jen walked down the hall to her own room, and Jack followed.
"Jen, what's wrong?" Jack moved across the room to sit at Jen's desk.
"It's about Dawson." She decided to go right to the heart of the matter. "He's done something that I asked him not to. Now I'm not sure how I should deal with it." She remained standing, hands on her bureau facing away from Jack.
"How to deal with Dawson? Or how to deal with what he did?"
"Both, I guess." She turned to face him. Her expression unreadable.
"Jen, you'll need to give me more specifics than that."
"Um, you know how close Dawson and I are, and how he knows some things about me that no one else does?" She moved toward Jack, taking a seat on the bed facing him.
"Yeah."
"Well, he wrote a screenplay based on that. On me."
Jack stood up suddenly. His hands involuntarily fisted at his sides.
"He had no right! That's your private life, he can't just market that to a studio or turn it in for a screen writing class!"
"Jack, calm down." Jen took one of his hands and pulled him back to his seat. "I'm sure that no one else has read it. He came over Saturday and gave me a copy, he seemed like a wreck. I don't know exactly why, but I'm sure that he hasn't shared it with anyone, he respects me more than that."
Jack looked at Jen silently for a moment. Cocked his head to the left.
"You haven't read it yet, have you?" He asked.
"No," she answered quietly.
"Jen," he chided. "You have to read it."
"I know."
"I'll be here for you if you need me."
Jack stood up and took a step forward to lay a hand on Jen's shoulder. She smiled up at him weakly.
"Thanks," she whispered.