Matchbox 20, "Back 2 Good" (A/N: I don't own the song or the lyrics; just borrowing them to set the tone...)
It's nothin', It's so normal
You just stand there I could say so much,
But I don't go there 'cuz I don't want to
I was thinkin' if you were lonely
Maybe we could leave here and no one would know
At least not to the point we would think so
And everyone here
Knows everyone here is thinking 'bout somebody else
Well, it's best if we all keep this under our heads
And I couldn't tell if anyone here was feelin' the way I do,
But I'm lonely now,
And I don't know how to get it back to good
This don't mean that, you own me, well
This ain't no good,
in fact it's phony as hell
Yeah, but things worked out just like you wanted too
If you see me out you don't know me,
Try to turn your head, try to give me some room
Ah, to figure out just what I'm gonna do
Cause everyone here
Hates everyone here for doing just like they do
And it's best if we all keep this quiet instead
And I couldn't tell
Why everyone here was doing me like they do
But I'm sorry now, and I don't know how
To get it back to good
Well everyone here
Is wondering what it's like to be with somebody else
And everyone here's to blame
And everyone here gets caught up in the pleasure of the pain
Yeah, well, everyone here hides shades of shame
Yeah, but looking inside we're the same, we're the same
And we're all grown now,
Yeah, but we don't know how
To get it back to good
Everyone here
Knows everyone here is thinking 'bout somebody else
And it's best if we all keep this
Under our heads, yeah, our heads
Yeah, see, I couldn't tell now,
If anyone here was feeling the way I do
But it's over now,
Yeah, I don't know how,
Guess it's over now,
There's no getting back to good
The pictures weren't in any kind of order, just haphazardly tossed into several shoeboxes under her bed, summer vacations coexisting peacefully if a little strangely with birthday parties, Christmases, first days of school, any occasion deemed worthy of capturing for posterity...and some not so worthy, but captured just the same. These days Amy always lost herself in the images when she was feeling down, not to soothe her nostalgia by looking back, but often to punish herself by reflecting on how far things had deteriorated. It was the least she deserved, to grieve over friendships she was more than partially responsible for destroying.
Here was a shot of her and Andrew when they were about eight years old, sitting in his rowboat, floating aimlessly in the middle of the creek. Laughing, as they always were back then. Here they were on her front porch the night of the sixth-grade dance, Andy looking miserable in his Sunday suit, Amy beaming in a plain black dress that she remembered had made her feel awfully grown-up and mature. Here was one of five-year-old Amy and Andy burying Doug in the sand at the beach, all of them smiling like they were having the time of their lives.
Amy stared at the next photo with a hollow feeling in her stomach. It was from last summer. It showed Ben, Amy, Andy, and Jessie sitting on the pier behind her house, their arms wrapped around each other, their bright eyes and easy smiles dazzling against summer tans and a sharp blue-skied backdrop. A year-old August breeze played in their hair and made the image seem so real and alive that the present-day Amy felt she could step right into it. That would solve her problems, wouldn't it? If she could just step into this photograph and be magically transported back to last summer, before Love had become a factor, before it was anything more tangible than a young girl's daydreams about Ben Chambers, before it had cast its spell on three of them and hopelessly tangled their lives and friendships into a mass of confusion and hurt feelings, misunderstandings and broken hearts.
Amy sighed. That was impossible. She tossed the picture back into the box and shoved the whole thing back under her bed. What was she supposed to do now? Her dad had just complicated an already complicated situation further by passing his unreasonable restriction on her seeing Ben. Maybe Joey could talk some sense into him. He listened to her where Amy was concerned, as he seemed to consider her the next best thing Amy had to a mother, the female role model and confidante that she had always turned to when neither one of her dads seemed sufficient.
Until he reconsidered, it was probably best to pretend that their earlier conversation hadn't taken place. If she argued now he would just be more resolved to follow through with the no-Ben rule. Quiet compliance was her best bet; they would be more apt to rethink the unfairness of it when Joey presented her argument.
The phone rang, and Amy flopped down on her bed to answer it.
"So, they didn't kill you, I see. Is everything all right?"
Speak of the devil. "Joey, I'm glad it's you. I need your help."
"Okay, let's hear it."
Amy explained in a breathless rush. "You've got to talk to Dad for me. He and Dougie have decided that I can't see Ben anymore. But last night I finally realized that he's the one I should be with, Joey, it's him, not Andy, and I can't mess it up with him again. I know you understand because you chose Pacey. I'm trying to choose my Pacey now, and it's hard enough to do this to Andy without worrying about my dads on top of everything else there is to think about. Do you see?"
There was a pause. "Aim, are you sure? This is huge."
"I know! You think I don't know that? I'm risking a hell of a lot if it doesn't work out, but I think it might be worth it. And if Andy really loves me like I think he does, he'll learn to accept it, right? He won't just bail on me completely; we've been friends too long."
"Sweetie, slow down."
"I can't! I have to do this soon. I have to tell Andy something before I lose my nerve. And what if my dad talks to Ben like he said he would and Ben stays away from me? I can't lose him over something this trivial. So if you'll just talk to--"
"What if Andy does bail on you?" Joey said, cutting into Amy's rant in a quiet but firm voice.
"What?"
"It could happen, Amy. He could decide that he can't handle losing you to Ben again and that it's easier to lose you altogether. Can you deal with that?"
Amy hesitated, taken aback that Joey didn't sound wholeheartedly supportive of her decision. "I...I don't think he will." Her tone was suddenly uncertain and weak.
"I just don't want you to rush into anything because you're caught up in the moment, Amy. I'm afraid you see too many parallels between what happened with me and Pacey and Dawson years ago and what you're going through now. It may sound like the same thing, honey, but it's not. You are three different people. It might not work out in the end for you the same way it did for me." She sighed. "Besides, a lifetime took place between high school and now, you know. I lost both of them for a while."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I don't want you to get hurt."
"You're the one who's always told me someone will end up getting hurt in this situation, that it's unavoidable. So what if it's me? I'd rather it be me than them."
"I'm not trying to sway you either way. I know this is ultimately your decision. But as someone who's been there, and as someone who cares about you very much, I'm just suggesting that you sleep on it for a day or two before you go rushing out to break up with Andy and spill your feelings all over Ben. Okay?"
Amy was silent for a few moments. "I've already made up my mind, Aunt Joey," she said finally. "Will you help me or not? Will you talk to Daddy?"
Another sigh. "I'll see what I can do. But I know how worried they've been about you lately, and they really think Ben is the culprit. I'm not sure if I can change their minds. Especially if they realize you're thinking of him as more than a friend."
"Don't tell them that part. But please just try," Amy said quietly. "It's very important."
"I know it is," Joey said. "Look, don't be upset with me, okay? I'm just worried about you. For you."
"Isn't everyone?" Amy said sarcastically. Then, relenting, "I'm sorry. I'm not upset. Just trust me when I say that this is what I want. I need your support."
"You've always got it. I'll let you know if I get anywhere with Jackers."
"Thanks." Amy hung up and lay back on her pillow. Joey would fix it; she had to. And she was just being paranoid. Andy wouldn't erase himself from her life that easily. He had always been there, and he would always be there. It was that simple.
"Keep telling yourself that, Lindley," she muttered under her breath.
-----------------------------------
Jack and Doug sat at the Icehouse bar, sipping beers and talking to each other and to Pacey, who took frequent breaks from table-to-table schmoozing with the customers to chat with them. The conversation eventually turned to Amy and the events of the last couple of days.
"You told her she can't see him anymore? Bad idea, guys. Very bad," Pacey said, leaning casually across the bar with a dishtowel slung carelessly over his shoulder.
"Yeah, well enlighten us, oh great one. What would you suggest?" Doug asked sarcastically. "Seeing as how your only kid is a toddler and encounters such complex dilemmas as deciding which Tonka truck to play with on a given afternoon."
"Touché, big brother. But seriously, don't you remember being sixteen? Do you remember when Mom and Dad tried to actually enforce rules?" Pacey shook his head at the memory, smiling slightly. "I don't know about you, but all that did was make me more determined than ever to break them. And I can't even imagine the repercussions of keeping a teenage girl away from her boyfriend. She's going to be devising plots to flee the country with him before you know it. You know, the temptation of forbidden fruit, and all that."
Jack took a gulp of beer, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and sighed. "You're probably right. I didn't want to take it this far, but she's given us little choice. She's scaring the hell out of me, to be quite honest."
"Yeah, she doesn't even seem like our Amy anymore. And you can just bet it's that delinquent's fault," Doug threw in.
"Ah, he's not that bad," Pacey said. "He's just a dumb kid. Some might have said the same about me at that age."
"You were dumb, Pacey, you weren't dangerous."
"You think Ben Chambers is dangerous? Come on, Dougie, I know you're gay, but when did you get to be such a sissy? Now you're afraid of your kid's little friend?" Pacey laughed and dodged Doug's fist as he aimed a not-so- light punch at his brother's arm.
"You know what I mean, little brother. He's dangerous to Amy, and I won't stand for it. She doesn't need friends like him."
"But is that your call to make?" Pacey asked.
"Don't you have asses to kiss?" Doug said irritably. "Please don't let us stop you. We'll stay and reflect on the depths of your wisdom."
Jack was silent for a while after Pacey left for another round of chatting up the clientele. Doug eyed him suspiciously.
"Stop it."
Jack snapped out of his reverie and looked at Doug, puzzled. "Huh?"
"Stop worrying. Since when do you take Pacey's views on anything to heart?"
"Since he voiced some of my concerns. I'm not sure we're going about this the right way, Doug. This really might backfire on us."
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Don't go borrowing trouble."
Jack smiled suddenly, his eyes twinkling. "Got any more of those nifty clichés to toss out?"
"Don't bite the hand that feeds you. How about that one?"
"Not bad. But, honey, you don't feed me."
"I do other things to satisfy your appetite," Doug said meaningfully.
Jack had to laugh. "Well, I could say the same, Sheriff Witter. Maybe more so."
Doug raised an eyebrow at him. "That's better," he said, noting Jack's characteristic smile that lit up his whole face. "And we'll put that to the test later, shall we? Right now, you're going to relax if it kills us both."
"Yes Sheriff." Jack's eyes sparkled, and he leaned over and kissed Doug on the cheek.
Pacey, walking by them, rolled his eyes jokingly. "Please, take the mushy stuff elsewhere. This is a family place."
This time, Doug's fist did connect with his brother's upper arm, and Pacey laughed as he moved on to the next table.
It's nothin', It's so normal
You just stand there I could say so much,
But I don't go there 'cuz I don't want to
I was thinkin' if you were lonely
Maybe we could leave here and no one would know
At least not to the point we would think so
And everyone here
Knows everyone here is thinking 'bout somebody else
Well, it's best if we all keep this under our heads
And I couldn't tell if anyone here was feelin' the way I do,
But I'm lonely now,
And I don't know how to get it back to good
This don't mean that, you own me, well
This ain't no good,
in fact it's phony as hell
Yeah, but things worked out just like you wanted too
If you see me out you don't know me,
Try to turn your head, try to give me some room
Ah, to figure out just what I'm gonna do
Cause everyone here
Hates everyone here for doing just like they do
And it's best if we all keep this quiet instead
And I couldn't tell
Why everyone here was doing me like they do
But I'm sorry now, and I don't know how
To get it back to good
Well everyone here
Is wondering what it's like to be with somebody else
And everyone here's to blame
And everyone here gets caught up in the pleasure of the pain
Yeah, well, everyone here hides shades of shame
Yeah, but looking inside we're the same, we're the same
And we're all grown now,
Yeah, but we don't know how
To get it back to good
Everyone here
Knows everyone here is thinking 'bout somebody else
And it's best if we all keep this
Under our heads, yeah, our heads
Yeah, see, I couldn't tell now,
If anyone here was feeling the way I do
But it's over now,
Yeah, I don't know how,
Guess it's over now,
There's no getting back to good
The pictures weren't in any kind of order, just haphazardly tossed into several shoeboxes under her bed, summer vacations coexisting peacefully if a little strangely with birthday parties, Christmases, first days of school, any occasion deemed worthy of capturing for posterity...and some not so worthy, but captured just the same. These days Amy always lost herself in the images when she was feeling down, not to soothe her nostalgia by looking back, but often to punish herself by reflecting on how far things had deteriorated. It was the least she deserved, to grieve over friendships she was more than partially responsible for destroying.
Here was a shot of her and Andrew when they were about eight years old, sitting in his rowboat, floating aimlessly in the middle of the creek. Laughing, as they always were back then. Here they were on her front porch the night of the sixth-grade dance, Andy looking miserable in his Sunday suit, Amy beaming in a plain black dress that she remembered had made her feel awfully grown-up and mature. Here was one of five-year-old Amy and Andy burying Doug in the sand at the beach, all of them smiling like they were having the time of their lives.
Amy stared at the next photo with a hollow feeling in her stomach. It was from last summer. It showed Ben, Amy, Andy, and Jessie sitting on the pier behind her house, their arms wrapped around each other, their bright eyes and easy smiles dazzling against summer tans and a sharp blue-skied backdrop. A year-old August breeze played in their hair and made the image seem so real and alive that the present-day Amy felt she could step right into it. That would solve her problems, wouldn't it? If she could just step into this photograph and be magically transported back to last summer, before Love had become a factor, before it was anything more tangible than a young girl's daydreams about Ben Chambers, before it had cast its spell on three of them and hopelessly tangled their lives and friendships into a mass of confusion and hurt feelings, misunderstandings and broken hearts.
Amy sighed. That was impossible. She tossed the picture back into the box and shoved the whole thing back under her bed. What was she supposed to do now? Her dad had just complicated an already complicated situation further by passing his unreasonable restriction on her seeing Ben. Maybe Joey could talk some sense into him. He listened to her where Amy was concerned, as he seemed to consider her the next best thing Amy had to a mother, the female role model and confidante that she had always turned to when neither one of her dads seemed sufficient.
Until he reconsidered, it was probably best to pretend that their earlier conversation hadn't taken place. If she argued now he would just be more resolved to follow through with the no-Ben rule. Quiet compliance was her best bet; they would be more apt to rethink the unfairness of it when Joey presented her argument.
The phone rang, and Amy flopped down on her bed to answer it.
"So, they didn't kill you, I see. Is everything all right?"
Speak of the devil. "Joey, I'm glad it's you. I need your help."
"Okay, let's hear it."
Amy explained in a breathless rush. "You've got to talk to Dad for me. He and Dougie have decided that I can't see Ben anymore. But last night I finally realized that he's the one I should be with, Joey, it's him, not Andy, and I can't mess it up with him again. I know you understand because you chose Pacey. I'm trying to choose my Pacey now, and it's hard enough to do this to Andy without worrying about my dads on top of everything else there is to think about. Do you see?"
There was a pause. "Aim, are you sure? This is huge."
"I know! You think I don't know that? I'm risking a hell of a lot if it doesn't work out, but I think it might be worth it. And if Andy really loves me like I think he does, he'll learn to accept it, right? He won't just bail on me completely; we've been friends too long."
"Sweetie, slow down."
"I can't! I have to do this soon. I have to tell Andy something before I lose my nerve. And what if my dad talks to Ben like he said he would and Ben stays away from me? I can't lose him over something this trivial. So if you'll just talk to--"
"What if Andy does bail on you?" Joey said, cutting into Amy's rant in a quiet but firm voice.
"What?"
"It could happen, Amy. He could decide that he can't handle losing you to Ben again and that it's easier to lose you altogether. Can you deal with that?"
Amy hesitated, taken aback that Joey didn't sound wholeheartedly supportive of her decision. "I...I don't think he will." Her tone was suddenly uncertain and weak.
"I just don't want you to rush into anything because you're caught up in the moment, Amy. I'm afraid you see too many parallels between what happened with me and Pacey and Dawson years ago and what you're going through now. It may sound like the same thing, honey, but it's not. You are three different people. It might not work out in the end for you the same way it did for me." She sighed. "Besides, a lifetime took place between high school and now, you know. I lost both of them for a while."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I don't want you to get hurt."
"You're the one who's always told me someone will end up getting hurt in this situation, that it's unavoidable. So what if it's me? I'd rather it be me than them."
"I'm not trying to sway you either way. I know this is ultimately your decision. But as someone who's been there, and as someone who cares about you very much, I'm just suggesting that you sleep on it for a day or two before you go rushing out to break up with Andy and spill your feelings all over Ben. Okay?"
Amy was silent for a few moments. "I've already made up my mind, Aunt Joey," she said finally. "Will you help me or not? Will you talk to Daddy?"
Another sigh. "I'll see what I can do. But I know how worried they've been about you lately, and they really think Ben is the culprit. I'm not sure if I can change their minds. Especially if they realize you're thinking of him as more than a friend."
"Don't tell them that part. But please just try," Amy said quietly. "It's very important."
"I know it is," Joey said. "Look, don't be upset with me, okay? I'm just worried about you. For you."
"Isn't everyone?" Amy said sarcastically. Then, relenting, "I'm sorry. I'm not upset. Just trust me when I say that this is what I want. I need your support."
"You've always got it. I'll let you know if I get anywhere with Jackers."
"Thanks." Amy hung up and lay back on her pillow. Joey would fix it; she had to. And she was just being paranoid. Andy wouldn't erase himself from her life that easily. He had always been there, and he would always be there. It was that simple.
"Keep telling yourself that, Lindley," she muttered under her breath.
-----------------------------------
Jack and Doug sat at the Icehouse bar, sipping beers and talking to each other and to Pacey, who took frequent breaks from table-to-table schmoozing with the customers to chat with them. The conversation eventually turned to Amy and the events of the last couple of days.
"You told her she can't see him anymore? Bad idea, guys. Very bad," Pacey said, leaning casually across the bar with a dishtowel slung carelessly over his shoulder.
"Yeah, well enlighten us, oh great one. What would you suggest?" Doug asked sarcastically. "Seeing as how your only kid is a toddler and encounters such complex dilemmas as deciding which Tonka truck to play with on a given afternoon."
"Touché, big brother. But seriously, don't you remember being sixteen? Do you remember when Mom and Dad tried to actually enforce rules?" Pacey shook his head at the memory, smiling slightly. "I don't know about you, but all that did was make me more determined than ever to break them. And I can't even imagine the repercussions of keeping a teenage girl away from her boyfriend. She's going to be devising plots to flee the country with him before you know it. You know, the temptation of forbidden fruit, and all that."
Jack took a gulp of beer, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and sighed. "You're probably right. I didn't want to take it this far, but she's given us little choice. She's scaring the hell out of me, to be quite honest."
"Yeah, she doesn't even seem like our Amy anymore. And you can just bet it's that delinquent's fault," Doug threw in.
"Ah, he's not that bad," Pacey said. "He's just a dumb kid. Some might have said the same about me at that age."
"You were dumb, Pacey, you weren't dangerous."
"You think Ben Chambers is dangerous? Come on, Dougie, I know you're gay, but when did you get to be such a sissy? Now you're afraid of your kid's little friend?" Pacey laughed and dodged Doug's fist as he aimed a not-so- light punch at his brother's arm.
"You know what I mean, little brother. He's dangerous to Amy, and I won't stand for it. She doesn't need friends like him."
"But is that your call to make?" Pacey asked.
"Don't you have asses to kiss?" Doug said irritably. "Please don't let us stop you. We'll stay and reflect on the depths of your wisdom."
Jack was silent for a while after Pacey left for another round of chatting up the clientele. Doug eyed him suspiciously.
"Stop it."
Jack snapped out of his reverie and looked at Doug, puzzled. "Huh?"
"Stop worrying. Since when do you take Pacey's views on anything to heart?"
"Since he voiced some of my concerns. I'm not sure we're going about this the right way, Doug. This really might backfire on us."
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Don't go borrowing trouble."
Jack smiled suddenly, his eyes twinkling. "Got any more of those nifty clichés to toss out?"
"Don't bite the hand that feeds you. How about that one?"
"Not bad. But, honey, you don't feed me."
"I do other things to satisfy your appetite," Doug said meaningfully.
Jack had to laugh. "Well, I could say the same, Sheriff Witter. Maybe more so."
Doug raised an eyebrow at him. "That's better," he said, noting Jack's characteristic smile that lit up his whole face. "And we'll put that to the test later, shall we? Right now, you're going to relax if it kills us both."
"Yes Sheriff." Jack's eyes sparkled, and he leaned over and kissed Doug on the cheek.
Pacey, walking by them, rolled his eyes jokingly. "Please, take the mushy stuff elsewhere. This is a family place."
This time, Doug's fist did connect with his brother's upper arm, and Pacey laughed as he moved on to the next table.