A/N: warning - this chapter contains a brief occurrence of offensive language
January 8. It was almost six o'clock when Pacey and Joey arrived at the Witter family home. Getting out of the truck, he noticed Gretchen's car and Dawson's SUV in the driveway along with the rental car his sister and brother-in-law had gotten when they came up for Christmas. Had Amy and Steve not gone home last week like they planned? They walked around to the back of the house and made for the porch. Everything appeared dark, except for the large outdoor string lights that always hung from the house and through the oaks all the way down to and along the creek at the edge of their property, illuminating the backyard and the dock.
"I have to say, Pace," Joey spoke quietly. "I always liked this house."
"You're kidding, right?" He pulled a face.
"I just mean… it's pretty. I think it's one of the prettiest houses on the creek. And let's face it, your place is big and really nice. It's bigger than the Leery's. And look at it back here. Your yard could be in Better Homes & Gardens magazine."
"It's the best 120K-a-year can buy."
Her brows knitted. "Huh?"
"My dad's sheriff's salary," he said as they reached the brick steps. Sighing, he looked up at the house. "Just because it looks nice on the outside doesn't mean there were nice things happening on the inside."
"I know." Joey held his hand with both of hers and leaned against him as they walked up the steps and onto the porch.
Chest tight with anxiety and stomach in knots, Pacey approached the door. "Time to put on my poker face and act surprised," he whispered.
Joey opened the door and led him inside. The rooms were dark, and the only thing visible were the lights in the backyard outside the windows. Might as well make it believable, he thought. "What happened," Pacey said lazily. "Did someone forget to pay the electric bill, or did they just run out of light bulbs?"
The moment the words were out of his mouth, the lights in the room were suddenly flashed on, illuminating a group of laughing and smiling people in the living room.
"Surprise!" they shouted in unison. "Surprise! Surprise! Happy birthday!"
Stunned, Pacey froze. He'd half expected to walk in to find his family had forgotten what time they were coming over and had spoiled their own party. Next to him, Joey placed an arm around his waist, and all he could do was stare wordlessly while every person in the room sang the "Happy Birthday" song.
It took a moment for it all to sink in, and when it did, a self-conscious warmth spread over his face and burned his cheeks. He saw his parents, his sisters, including Amy, Doug, Dawson, Jack, and Will Krudski. His three nieces and two nephews bounced on their toes excitedly in front of them, singing the loudest.
Pacey's mouth had gone dry. Swallowing, he turned to Joey with wide eyes of surprise. There was no way his family could've pulled this off all by themselves. It had to have been her doing. She blinked back tears and appeared too choked up to utter a sound. She smiled and mouthed the words I love you.
The second the song was over, Joey nudged him into the room, and he was immediately surrounded by a crush of family and friends, each greeting him with a hug or a kiss on the cheek. Doug clapped his shoulder affectionately before walking into the kitchen to ask their mother when they were going to eat. "Happy birthday, Pacey," Dawson then said with a one-armed hug, before stepping back and laughing as Pacey's nephews jumped on him and started pulling on his hand.
Unable to help it, the suspicious feelings were still there, in the pit of his stomach and the back of his mind. "Thanks, Dawson," he replied with a weak smile, and then watched the boys drag his friend through the living room.
"Jordan! Michael!" Amy shouted. "What did I tell you about rough-housing indoors? Don't you go breaking anything of your grandmother's!" Then she turned to her youngest brother and smiled. "Happy birthday, Pace."
"I thought you were going back to Wilmington. And where's Steve?" he asked her.
"Oh, he went back last Monday—had to report to the coast guard base on Tuesday. I stayed to be here at your party, sweetie."
"Uh, well, thanks, Amy." He still felt a little flabbergasted at the seemingly genuine interactions he was having with his family.
Will Krudski came forward and shook his hand. "Glad to be here, man. Happy birthday."
Pacey let out a breathy laugh. "I can't believe you're here."
"Joey called and invited me. I can't stay too long, though. I gotta catch the nine o'clock train back to New Raleigh. As much as I'd love to skip tomorrow, I'm pretty sure my ass would be in hot water if the boarding school caught me missing on a weeknight."
"Well, it's good to see you. I'm happy you came." He watched Will move away and into the living room.
Joey took his coat and hung it with hers on the rack by the door. Then they went and sat on the living room couch beside Carrie and Will. There were balloons and streamers hanging from the corners in the ceiling. The coffee table was adorned with snacks, and Will and Carrie sat hunched over, partaking of the pretzels and chips. Doug walked into the room and took the chair next to the couch, Gretchen following and seating herself in another. "Dinner should be ready soon," his older brother announced.
Pacey took a deep breath. The aroma in the air finally registered. "Mom's making sauce?"
"Yep," Doug said, smiling. "Spaghetti and meatballs—your favorite."
He blinked. "You're telling me Mom actually remembered my favorite meal?" He glanced between his three siblings, staring at them with arched brows of disbelief.
Gretchen and Doug exchanged a look. "Well… she had to be reminded," his sister said. "She was planning on making chipped beef on toast, but Doug here told her she could make his favorite, you know, later… when his birthday rolled around."
Pacey looked at his brother, feeling surprised, not knowing why everyone was going out of their way to be so nice to him. There had to be a catch somewhere. "Um, thanks, Dougie."
"No problem," his brother said with a smile. "Still believe in that birthday curse, don't ya?"
"And with good reason."
Will Krudski's brows furrowed. "Birthday curse?"
Carrie laughed. "Don't get him started."
"Well, things are going well so far, aren't they?" Joey said optimistically as Dawson and Jack came in and sat down on the floor with the kids hanging all over them.
Pacey turned and gazed at her. "We haven't even been here twenty minutes. The other shoe is bound to drop at some point."
It was that moment when John Witter proceeded to leave the den, where he'd been watching a hockey game, and carry the bowl of Chex Mix into the room. "No wonder your husband left you, Carrie. You're becoming a cow," he remarked while setting the bowl down on the coffee table.
Pacey's jaw clenched while his eldest sister sat back against the couch and crossed her arms angrily.
"You know, on my eighteenth birthday I was trudging through the jungle in Da Nang," his father commented. "A machine gun on my shoulder, fifty pounds of ammo on my back. I saw a lot of tragedy that day, but I celebrated that night with a gorgeous thirty-year-old Vietnamese beauty. Several times, I might add." He chuckled and started moving back towards the den.
What horseshit. "I thought you had to be eighteen to join the army, Pop."
John Witter pulled the lever on his recliner, putting his feet up. "You calling me a liar, son?"
Amy walked into the room. With her pretty face, bright green eyes, and long, dirty blond hair covering her shoulders, she could have alighted from a prom queen's throne. If only she'd been into that kind of thing. She'd spurned her upper-middle-class upbringing as a teenager in the 80's and had been a stoner in high school. "Dad, weren't you first deployed with the marines to Vietnam in the summer of '65?"
"Yes, hun, you are correct. Glad someone around here appreciates their old man's history of fighting for this country."
"But weren't you nineteen in 1965, Dad?" Amy asked, fixing a hard stare into the den.
Pacey snorted.
"At least I served my country, young lady, and I know what it takes to be a real man."
Amy met Pacey's gaze and they shared a look, rolling their eyes. Then she winked at him and went back to the kitchen. His mouth curved into a slight smile as he watched her go, feeling grateful for his sister's support, unsure where it had come from. They'd never been close, but maybe that was just because of their age difference and geographical distance.
Mrs. Witter walked into the room carrying a tray of pigs in a blanket. "Now, John, just because Pacey's not out there defending his country doesn't mean he's not a man today," she said, transferring the bite-sized snacks onto a plate on the coffee table. "And I know if there were a war on—assuming they'd take him—he'd enlist tomorrow. Wouldn't you, honey?"
He forced a smile. "Sure thing, Ma."
Joey frowned at Mrs. Witter and then turned to meet his gaze. "You wouldn't really join the military, right?" she whispered.
"Of course not. Unlike that shining example over there stretched out in the La-Z-Boy, I have no desire to strap an assault weapon to my back and commit war crimes."
"Joanna, why don't you come set the table for dinner?" Susan Witter asked, walking back out of the room.
Her frown deepened. "Seriously? Still?" she muttered under her breath as she got off the couch.
"Her name's Joey, Ma," Pacey corrected.
"That's what I said," Mrs. Witter snapped.
"Of course, you did." He looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head.
Jack got up off the floor and took Joey's spot on the couch before reaching for the Chex Mix bowl.
John Witter looked over at him. "Who the hell are you?"
"Me? I'm Jack, sir. Jack McPhee. We met a while back on a fishing trip."
"Don't remember."
"Shocker," Pacey breathed.
Dawson tried to shrug off the boys who were still climbing all over him as well as their cousin, Piper, who'd joined in the fun. "It's the father-son trip we took two years ago, Mr. Witter. Jack came along with us. Pacey won the tournament trophy, remember?"
John Witter chuckled. "Oh, that's right. A proud moment. I sure hope you enjoyed it, Pacey, because it was probably the last trophy you'll ever get." He laughed some more and took a swig of beer. "So, Dawson, have you heard back from any colleges yet?"
"Uh, yeah, a couple. I got into Boston University, but I'm holding out for NYU or USC."
"Well, Dawson, I have no doubt with your brains and your commitment to excellence, you'll get exactly what you want."
Pacey locked eyes with Gretchen. "Kill me now," he mumbled, before holding his head in his hands, dejected. Feeling desperate to escape, he moved off the couch and headed for the back door. He grabbed his coat from the rack and walked out onto the porch.
Unable to suppress them anymore, thoughts of the rejection letters came forward. He'd known he wasn't college material, and had even accepted that fact, but that hadn't stopped him from foolishly holding a glimmer of hope inside himself. It was true he'd applied to several other schools, and maybe it was possible he would be accepted to one of them. But none of them were in Boston, and he knew that's where Joey wanted to be.
A few of those colleges weren't too far from the city, and would be an easy commute. Yet there was a chance he wouldn't be accepted to those either. What if he wasn't accepted to any school? What if he was only accepted to the ones that made living in Boston impractical? And what if he went? There was no way he could compete with Worthington. It would take up her time, her attention, her energy. The city and her classes would take over her life. He supposed the same would be true for him at whatever destination he ended up.
They could make promises, plans to see each other every weekend. And then weekends would turn into every other weekend. And then it would turn into one weekend a month. And then every couple of months. And then it would be over. Like a plant without sunlight or water, their relationship would wilt and die. The thought alone broke his heart. His eyes burned with tears.
He refused to let that happen. There was no way he would pick college over being with Joey. He couldn't live without her. She came first. Their relationship came first. Everything else came second.
Yet if he did skip college and moved with her to Boston, got a job in the city and rented a room somewhere close, would he be able to compete with Worthington even then? Her classmates, dormmates, professors—everything new and exciting in the intellectual life she was going to immerse herself in? He'd be the disappointment, the embarrassment, the loser townie boyfriend who worked a job where he had to wear a uniform and a nametag. How long before she realized she wanted more—deserved more—than he could ever give her?
I'm going to lose her.
No matter what he did, no matter what choice he made, at some point he was going to lose Joey. The revelation shattered him, and he dropped down to sit on the brick steps, his strength depleted. There was an emptiness now growing within him, the ache of failure and the pain of heartbreak.
Suddenly he heard the voice of his father, yelling inside the house and getting louder. "Hey, when is dinner gonna be ready? I could eat the south side of a horse goin' north!"
Then he heard the door close and the sound of his dad's voice faded. Pacey listened as his girlfriend came up behind him.
Joey bent over him and put her hands on his shoulders. "You know, it's not that bad," she told him, before pulling her coat tighter around her body and sitting down next to him. It was obvious he was feeling glum. Her arm slid around him and she kissed his forehead. "Well, we've been here for forty-five minutes without a major crisis, and only two hours to go. At the most, three. So, legally, you can't be mad at me for throwing this thing."
"I'm not mad at ya."
"I know your dad is being an ass, and I'm sorry, but other than that, I think it's gone surprisingly well so far. They're not perfect, granted, but I think most everyone else in your family is really making an effort to put on a good party for you, Pace. You could make a little bit of an effort, too."
He turned his head and stared down at his feet. "It doesn't matter what kind of effort I make. No matter what I do, I'm still gonna fail."
Her brows knitted as she looked at him, trying to get him to meet her eye. "Fail? Fail at what? Pace, what are you talking about?"
He sighed. How could he even begin this conversation? "Nothing."
"No, it's not nothing. What's wrong? Why are you so upset?"
"Um… well… I'm upset because… because I didn't…" He couldn't even look at her. "I just… uh…"
"You didn't what?" He'd seemed fine earlier. Nothing had happened at school, as far as she knew. If this wasn't about the party, then… what?
Pacey turned from her and stared at the back door. The last thing he needed was his family interrupting their private conversation and witnessing his despair. He finally looked at her, meeting her gaze. "Can we not talk about this right here?" He started to stand up. "Can we just take a walk?"
He grabbed her hand and started taking her away from the porch, his intention to go out on the dock. The creek seemed an appropriate place. They didn't get very far when the back door opened. "Sneaking off to smoke some marijuana?"
Pacey turned and pulled a face. "What?"
After taking a swig of his beer, John Witter chuckled. "I'm just kidding. Come sit on the couch. I wanna talk to Joey."
Well, this was bound to be terrible, Pacey thought. Joey's eyes went wide. What could his dad want to talk to her about? Standing there holding the door open, the sheriff obviously wasn't going to take no for an answer. They begrudgingly walked back inside the house. Pacey joined Jack and Carrie on the couch, and Joey took the seat next to him.
Reaching into his back pocket, John Witter handed her a folded piece of paper before sitting down in the chair next to them. "I suppose I have you to thank for that," he told her.
Feeling nervous, not knowing what this could possibly be about, Joey slowly unfolded the paper. In the top right corner was the official stamp of Capeside High School, complete with address, phone number, and the principal's name beneath it. The top left corner had Pacey's name, his student number, his grade level—"junior/senior"—and his assigned Homeroom. Her eyes then fell to the table in the middle of the paper.
It was Pacey's report card. Her eyes scanned over his grades. Her heart swelled, full to bursting. She turned to him, smiling, and held the paper out to him. "Five A's and two B's."
He couldn't believe it, but he searched her face and saw nothing but pure joy. His hand grasped the paper and he looked for himself. It was true. He laughed with surprise. He'd never seen so many A's in his life.
"Now, Joey, were you doing Pacey's homework for him?" his dad asked, smirking.
"No, Mr. Witter. Pacey worked really hard, and I can't take all the credit for that. I mean, I certainly didn't take his midterm exams for him, and look at the grades he got. He should be proud of his hard work, and you should, too."
Pacey looked below his final grades for the semester and saw the midterm exam results—three A minuses, an A plus in the Spanish midterm, and three B pluses. He actually got a B plus on the trig exam. How in the world…?
"Yeah, yeah, of course, Joey." He took a sip from his beer.
"See, Mr. Witter? Maybe my youthful optimism was right after all. Pacey is gonna do great in college. Just you wait."
"Well, that remains to be seen."
His guts twisting, Pacey tossed his report card down on the coffee table. Then his mother walked in the room. "Oh, John!" she scolded. "What did I tell you? Just because Pacey here flunked some classes, it doesn't mean he's always gonna flunk." She turned to her youngest. "Right, sweetie? I have faith in you. So, no matter how many times you let us down, honey, my faith is always there to pick you right back up."
"Your faith and my bank account," Mr. Witter grumbled. "Do you know how much it's gonna cost me to put another kid through college?"
"Honey, stop. After so many years, it's nice to see my faith in Pacey has finally paid off. Just look at that report card. John, we should frame it and put it on the fridge."
"All I'm saying, Susan, is that he should reach for something attainable. College? What in the world would he study? Now, trade school is more up Pacey's alley. You know, automotive technician training. He could be a mechanic, or a plumber or electrician—good, stable work that will make him useful to the people in this community. Trade school offers education that wouldn't require too much of his brains or my cash."
Pacey sat there, letting his parents' words wash over him, trying to shut his ears and drown them out, trying to fight off the feelings of worthlessness threatening to overwhelm him. Beside him, Joey felt horrified. Was that Mr. and Mrs. Witter's idea of being supportive?
"Oh, speaking of college, sweetie," Susan Witter said to him. "I just remembered I have something for you. Remind me later to get it." Then she walked back out of the room.
Not knowing—not wanting to know—what that was, Pacey got up off the couch and went into the kitchen. With the fridge door open, he scanned the shelves for something to drink. He quickly laid his eyes on a can of root beer and removed it from the fridge. After closing the door, he saw Gretchen standing there in front of him.
"I'm sorry Dad is being such a jerk, and Mom… isn't much better. How are you coping?"
"I don't want to talk about them. I don't want to think about them. In fact, I'd like to pretend they aren't even here, 'cause frankly, I got bigger problems on my mind."
"Which are?"
He opened his root beer. "A conversation that I am supposed to have with Joey that will impact the rest of our relationship. Not to mention, explain why I've been in such a state of utter despair today."
"Pacey, what are you talking about?"
"You know what my advice to you would be, Gretchen? Stick to your own problems because I'm sure they're far more entertaining and not nearly as life-altering."
He turned away from her and his sister hissed his name, calling him back. He just kept walking.
Joey found Pacey standing by himself in the hallway quietly observing the party—his dad still watching hockey in the den while Dawson, Jack, Will, Gretchen, and the kids played Monopoly in the living room. "What's wrong with you, ref?" Mr. Witter shouted at the TV.
She came up behind her boyfriend and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Don't believe them, Pace. You are gonna go to college and do amazing, you know that? And there's nothing they can say about it. You're gonna shock them all. You're gonna make them eat their words. I know you are." She kissed his cheek.
"Well, what if I don't? What if they are one hundred percent right about me, and I am simply too stupid to do anything worthwhile with my life?"
Her heart constricting, Joey moved around to look at him. "What are you talking about?" How could he possibly think he was stupid after that report card he'd just gotten? Think he'd never get into college? Of course, he was going to. She searched his face. He almost looked… heartbroken. Something was very wrong. "Pace, what's going on? This can't just be about your birthday."
"No, it's not about my birthday." He held her hand. "Let's take this to the basement, huh?"
As he started to move them towards the basement door, his mother suddenly called out, "Dinner's ready! Wash your hands and get to the table!"
With a heavy sigh, he turned around and they made for the dining room. Pacey took the empty chair next to Will Krudski and Joey sat down beside him. While his nieces and nephews were relegated to the table in the kitchen, everyone else took seats around the large dining table.
"Okay, everybody," Mrs. Witter announced as she walked into the room carrying a large pot and setting it down on the table. "In honor of Pacey's birthday, I made his favorite: spaghetti and meatballs."
"Wow, Ma. Thanks for actually remembering."
"As if I could ever forget, honey."
Fighting hard not to roll his eyes, Pacey exchanged unamused looks with Gretchen across the table. To his surprise, the rest of dinner went by without much drama, everyone eating and conversing in relative peace. When everyone had eaten, his mother rushed them away from the dining table and into the living room. It was then that the doorbell rang. Jen had arrived, joined by her community service partner, Tobey. Susan Witter welcomed them inside.
Pacey sat on the floor while he watched his mother and sisters pile up wrapped gifts all around him. While his mother sat in the chair on the opposite side of the room, camera in hand, and looking like she was completely enjoying herself, he didn't know how to feel, what to make of her enthusiasm. He didn't think he'd ever understand her.
One by one, he began opening his gifts. He'd been expecting the worst, but it honestly wasn't too terrible. His mom had gotten him some new clothes—jeans, shirts, hoodies, socks. Will Krudski got him a gift certificate to Best Buy. Pacey then opened a box that was a joint gift from Jen and Jack, revealing a New England Patriots No. 18 football jersey with "WITTER" personalized on the back. Joey got him a large, white ceramic coffee mug that read, "Being My Boyfriend Is Really The Only Gift You Need" in black letters with a smaller "—I Love You—" at the bottom. He chuckled to himself as he carefully placed it back inside the box, and grinned up at her while she leaned down from her chair and gave him a quick kiss.
Then Dawson handed him over a long, skinny envelope. Pacey tore it open and pulled out two tickets to an upcoming Boston Bruins game. "You got me hockey tickets?"
"Yeah. The New York Rangers are gonna be in town this Saturday. Should be a good game."
Pacey studied the tickets with wide eyes. "These are… really good seats, Dawson."
He shrugged. "I figured it'd be a good date night with Joey. Get out Capeside for an evening. Or, well… I could go with you, if you wanted to go together for a guys' night out, but I'm sure you'd rather take Joey."
More red flags started waving inside his mind and the ball of ice returned. Behind Pacey, his girlfriend nudged him with her foot, and he forced a smile. "Uh, yeah, sure. I'd love to go to the Bruins game with you. Should be fun. Thank you."
"That was very generous of you, Dawson," Joey praised.
Yeah, a little too generous, Pacey thought miserably.
Joey met Dawson's gaze, and she returned his smile. Nothing made her happier at the moment than to see her two oldest friends making amends. It felt like things were finally going back to normal, that the three of them got over the worst of it, and their friendships could remain intact. It was all she'd ever wanted.
"Thanks for stealing the tickets idea, Dawson," Gretchen teased.
"I stole nothing."
Pacey's older brother then handed over another white envelope. On the front was written, "For Pacey. From Carrie, Amy, Doug, and Gretchen. We love you. Happy 18th Birthday!" He opened the envelope, and sure enough there were two tickets inside. His mouth fell open as he pulled them out. "You guys got me Aerosmith tickets?!" He read them again. "Third row center seats?! This must've cost..."
"We split it between the four of us," Doug said.
"Well, the three of us, technically…"
Carrie glared. "Shut up, Amy!"
"They're gonna be at the Tweeter Center at the end of June," Gretchen told him, ignoring her sisters. "Think of it as a combined birthday and graduation present."
"Wow. Thank you." His siblings reached forward and all patted him on the shoulders or back. Gretchen tousled his hair.
Then a large wrapped gift was handed over. "That one's from me," John Witter said with a smile.
Tentatively, Pacey reached for it. All four of his siblings had gotten a car from their father on their eighteenth birthdays. Even Amy, who swung by the house three weeks after she got married to pick it up. The cars weren't anything fancy, or even new, but dependable used cars that were perfect for a teenage driver's first vehicle. Gretchen was still driving hers.
Pacey looked down at the wrapped box. There definitely wasn't a car inside. He tore away the wrapping paper. "Fireworks."
Several oohs and aahs rent the air, and he set the box on the coffee table. "It's just what I've always wanted. Thanks, Pop." He then looked around the room at his family and friends. "Thanks for all the gifts. Really. I wasn't expecting any of this…" Joey laid her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Thank you."
Once more, everyone wished him a happy birthday. His mother then leaned back in her chair, a look of total contentment on her face. "You know, I, uh, recently read an article in Ladies' Home Journal that said a fun way to bond with your kids on their birthday was to recall a favorite memory from their childhood."
Please no. Pacey's guts instantly twisted into knots. "Oh, joy."
"I guess I'll go first," Susan Witter began. "And, uh, my memory would have to be when Pacey was a baby. It was such a relief to finally have a late bloomer. Never bothered anybody. Used to fall asleep in cardboard boxes."
Yay, like a cat. Pacey immediately wanted to run from the room and this shit had only just started.
"That's right," Doug laughed.
"If I recall, Mother, Pacey would fall asleep in cardboard boxes because that's where you'd put him after one too many afternoon gin and tonics rendered you incapable of taking him up the stairs to the nursery," Amy said scathingly. "I'd find him there after school and have to take him up myself."
"Yes, thank you for sharing, Amy," Mrs. Witter snapped angrily.
Joey's eyes went wide, her face burning with secondhand embarrassment, and she stared at the floor, while Pacey looked at his older sister, once again surprised and touched at her coming to his defense.
"And there was the time that you guys almost left him at Baskin-Robbins," Carrie said to their mother accusingly.
"I remember that, yeah," Doug said with a frown. "You were practically driving away when this lady flagged you down with Pacey wailing in her arms. I swear, you and Dad would've driven home before you even realized he was gone. He had nightmares for weeks after that. Kept dreaming that he was going to be left somewhere and would never see us again."
"Thanks for that one, Doug," Pacey muttered, remembering. He'd been four years old at the time, and it truly had been traumatizing. The image was burned in his brain still, of watching his family drive away from him. It was one of the few hazy memories he had of his early childhood.
"Yeah, I remember," Amy said. "He'd wake up in the middle of the night, crying, and he'd open up all the bedroom doors to see if we were still there. Then he'd come to mine and Carrie's room and get in bed with me because Mom and Dad wouldn't let him in their room."
Mrs. Witter huffed. "These are supposed to be happy memories. Not let's-blame-Mom-and-Dad-for-everything memories!"
Gretchen, seeing Pacey's discomfort, then spoke up. "You know my favorite Pacey memory? When I was in sixth grade, there was this bully named Max Brody, and he was the meanest kid you'd ever wanna meet. And one day, he pushed me off the swing set. Hard. I, um, I split my lip open. And Pacey, who was in second grade at the time, was sitting over in the sand box. And when he saw Max push me, I've never seen anybody run so fast. And he just started punching and kicking him, screaming, 'Stay away from my sister!' But that's Pacey. The bravest guy I know."
Pacey shot her a weak but grateful smile.
"Brave and foolish," John Witter said. "As I recall, Pacey came home crying because that bully beat the pulp out of him."
"I remember that," his wife concurred.
Of course, that was the part they remembered, Pacey thought, frowning.
"All right. I have a Pacey story," his dad remarked.
"I'm all a tingle," Pacey deadpanned. He could only imagine what kind of story they were all about to be regaled with.
John Witter's eyes narrowed briefly before speaking. "On his tenth birthday, I got him fireworks, and he thought it was the best gift he'd ever gotten. We set 'em off in the backyard, down by the creek, and he was just so happy. And so was I. That was a good day. And that was really a good gift I got for him."
Pacey stared at his father. His Pacey story sounded more like a Sheriff Witter story about that one other time he bought fireworks. Leave it to his parents to make everything about themselves. He also had lots of Sheriff Witter stories, but none he could tell in a room full of people. He said nothing, hoping that this storytelling session had finally come to an end.
Dawson cleared his throat. "Uh, I have a Pacey memory." Everyone turned to look at him. "It was the summer after fourth grade, and I'd gotten sick with the chicken pox. My mom wouldn't let me leave the house for weeks, and she wouldn't let anyone come in the house either. I hated it. I was missing out on my summer vacation. I missed seeing my two best friends. So, one day, Pacey sneaks over to the house and climbs the ladder up to my room." Dawson started laughing.
The memory clicked, and Pacey remembered, too. He smiled to himself.
"And he's covered himself, head to toe, in Saran wrap," Dawson continued. "Just to come over and keep me company. It was so hot up in my room, and he was dying inside that plastic wrap, but he didn't leave for hours. And that's Pacey. Always going out of his way to be there for the people he cares about."
Why was Dawson being so nice to him? Pacey hated that it only made him even more suspicious, but he couldn't help it. Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe he was being paranoid. Still, his gut told him otherwise.
"You're lucky you didn't get the chicken pox, Pacey," his mother scolded. "Plastic wrap, my word. I never heard of such a thing."
"Foolish," his dad agreed.
"I'd already had the chicken pox, Ma. In third grade."
Mrs. Witter was quiet for a moment, thinking. "Hmm… that does sound familiar."
Pacey rolled his eyes.
"I've got a Pacey story from third grade," Will Krudski then spoke up. "Probably the Pacey story of my childhood—the one that made us friends. Uh, well, more than once I came to school with a black eye, and I'd tell everyone it was because of a fight I got into, and I'd always tell a story that sounded like the other guy was hurt a lot worse; everybody'd just listen and pretend they didn't know any better. Not Pacey, though.
"One day, I showed up to school looking real bad, and I was hiding in the bathroom. Well, Pacey found me in there and he… knew. He knew I wasn't getting into any fights with other kids around town, and I certainly wasn't winning these fights. I told him that I didn't think people were gonna believe me anymore if things kept going the way they were, and he offered to help me. So, he started picking these fake fights with me on the playground in front of everyone, running around calling me 'Will Kruddy.' And there we'd be, rolling around in the dirt, kicking and throwing punches, but not too hard, and Pacey would let me win."
Eyes wide, Pacey's mouth fell open. "Hey, man! We swore we'd take that to our graves."
Will shrugged and gave him a lazy smile. "I'm not getting black eyes anymore. I think we can let the truth be known."
Joey reached down and squeezed Pacey's shoulder. Gretchen was right: he did have inherent goodness. And her own mother had been right: he'd been the sweetest and kindest child. She then started speaking. "I have a Pacey memory from childhood."
She suddenly blushed now that everyone's eyes were on her, uncomfortable as always being the center of attention. "I have a lot, actually, but, um… It was the summer of 1994. My mom was sick and in the hospital. Without her, my dad was having to work days and nights at the Ice House. The chain on my bike kept slipping, and it was scratching up my legs real bad. My dad didn't have time to fix it, and my parents couldn't afford to get me a new bike."
Pacey's eyes went wide, not expecting this particular memory. He'd never said a word about her bike to anyone, and the Potters had never said anything to him about it.
"One day I was running around with Pacey and Dawson, and… um, it was a very hot summer. I was drenched in sweat, and because my legs were so badly scratched up, it was really painful. I remember crying because it stung so bad, and Dawson made me jump in the creek to relieve the pain, which helped a little. Anyway, Pacey came over to my house when no one was around and fixed my bike. Nobody asked him to, and he didn't tell anyone that he'd fixed it. Pacey's kindness is one of his most endearing qualities."
Several awws went around the room, and Susan Witter smiled. "That's a really sweet story, Joanna." Joey frowned while Pacey snorted, shaking his head in annoyance. His mom then stood up and clapped her hands. "Okay, who's ready for birthday cake?"
"Me! Me! Me!" the kids all shouted excitedly.
Joey and Gretchen followed her into the kitchen. After lighting the birthday candles, Joey carried the chocolate-frosted cake into the living room, Gretchen and Mrs. Witter walking behind her with an armful of plates and a fistful of forks. Pacey stood up off the floor, grinning at her. His family and friends gathered around. "Happy birthday," Gretchen began to sing and everyone joined in, with Doug's voice booming over everyone else's.
Pacey gazed at Joey and she silently mouthed I love you as the singing came to a stop. "Make a wish and blow out the candles," she said.
He wished he'd been accepted to a school in Boston. He stared at the sparkling cake while the wax sizzled from the candles. He wished he and Joey were on the same path that led to the same future. He wished Gretchen would figure out what she wanted instead of wasting her time hanging around Capeside. He wished Doug would stop caring so much about their dad's opinion and just come out and live a happy life. He wished Carrie would pull herself out of her depression. He wished Amy would come home more often. He wished his parents weren't assholes. He wished Dawson…
Pacey sighed. He honestly had no idea what to wish about Dawson. Maybe he wished Dawson would let Joey go and then he could just have his best friend back, no strings attached and no motives to question. Maybe he didn't want that friendship back and just wished Dawson would move on and leave him alone. He didn't know.
"Help him blow them out, Joanna," Mrs. Witter said.
"What are you waiting for?" John Witter spat. "Your next birthday?"
Joey watched her boyfriend's brows furrow, his mouth curve into a frown, the sadness in his eyes. "Pacey," she whispered, her voice full of concern.
"Nothing I wish for will come true," he whispered back. "It's pointless."
Her eyes filled with sympathy, again hoping he would tell her what was bothering him. "You don't know that."
Pacey took a deep breath and then wished for something he knew deep down in his core would never, ever come true. Closing his eyes, he wished the True Love would come back to him. Then he opened his eyes and blew out all the candles with one breath.
As they sat around eating birthday cake and ice cream, suddenly Carrie spoke up. "Oh, Mom, you said you wanted me to remind you about Pacey and the college thing."
Susan Witter's eyes widened. "Oh, that's right."
Stomach full of nerves, Pacey watched his mother get up from the chair. He had no idea what this could possibly be, and he had no desire for it to unfold right there in the living room in front of everyone. After a moment, his mother returned from the kitchen carrying a sealed, white envelope. She was smiling, clearly excited, and then handed it over to him.
Oh, no.
His heart sinking within him, he reached for the envelope, aware that everyone's eyes had been suddenly drawn to him. His guts twisting into knots so tight he thought he might be sick, he stared down at the envelope. His name was on it, but with his parents' address printed beneath. How? All the schools he'd applied to, he'd written his own address on Bridge Street.
"Who sent it to you?" Joey asked.
Pacey gazed at the officially-stamped logo in the upper left corner. He knew for a fact he hadn't applied to this school. "Massachusetts College of Liberal Arts."
His eyes flickered to Gretchen's, and his sister looked impressed. "MCLA is a pretty good school."
"I think the acceptance rate is high," Dawson commented. "Well, compared to other liberal arts schools, like Worthington and Williams."
"So is the tuition," Jack added. "If I recall from my many meetings with Ms. Watson, that school is in the 20K-a-year range after financial aid."
"Where is it located?" Pacey asked. He still hadn't opened the envelope. It dawned on him that Ms. Watson might have applied on his behalf.
"North of Pittsfield," Doug answered. "It's near the northwest corner of the state, close to the Vermont and New York borders."
Pacey sighed. That was a three-hour drive from Boston, if one had a car. If not, you were looking at an eight-hour bus ride. Why even bother reading the letter? He wanted to throw the envelope away, but he just kept staring at it.
"Come on, Pace."
"Yeah, open it already."
"The suspense is killing me over here."
"Just open it!"
With everyone's eyes on him, he tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter. Unfolding it, he began to read. Surprise washed over him and he immediately looked up at Joey.
She smiled excitedly. "It's an acceptance letter, isn't it?"
"Read it to us, sweetie!" Mrs. Witter requested.
He returned to the letter, and began to read aloud. "'Dear Pacey: It is my pleasure to inform you that the Admissions Committee has granted you provisional acceptance to the Massachusetts College of Liberal Arts for the Fall 2001 semester. Your final acceptance will be contingent upon your high school graduation and final transcripts. We know that you can bring something original and extraordinary to our inaugural Culinary Arts program as well as to life on campus, and we look forward to having you join the MCLA community.'"
Pacey stopped after the first paragraph, again aware that he was the center of everyone's undivided attention and that he probably should've stopped reading sooner. He was afraid to look in his father's direction.
"Inaugural?" Carrie said.
"Means it's a brand new program, just starting," Gretchen answered her, before turning to her younger brother. "That's great, Pacey."
"Congratulations, Pace," Dawson said.
"Good for you, little brother," Doug praised.
"We're really happy for you, Pacey," Jen added, and Jack nodded. "All your hard work is paying off," he said.
Joey's heart swelled with pride. "That's amazing, Pacey. See? What did I tell you? You should feel so proud."
His friends and his siblings were all smiles, but all Pacey could feel was despair.
John Witter cleared his throat and set his fifth or sixth—Pacey had lost count—can of beer down on the coffee table. "Culinary Arts, huh?" His cold, menacing tone was so at odds with the cheerful atmosphere that everyone went quiet and the air in the room changed instantly. "Just a fancy name for cooking classes."
Pacey braced himself. He'd known this was coming. Slowly, he looked up to meet his father's gaze. What he saw there wasn't comforting. It rarely was.
"If you think I'm gonna shell out thousands of dollars of my hard-earned money to send you to fancy cooking classes, you've got another thing comin', Pacey." Red in the face, he got up from the chair. "A kitchen is no place for a man to be. It's a hell of a job for a man to spend his time chopping vegetables and baking cakes! Between your brother's artsy-fartsy hobbies and you wearing an apron for a living, how do you think that makes me look? I can't have the people in this town saying the sheriff has fags for sons!"
Several gasps filled the room. Scoffing with disgust, Jack walked out, making for the kitchen, Jen's friend Tobey following him. But Pacey wasn't worried about them at the moment. Horrified, and unable to help it, he turned sharply to throw a worried glance at Doug, whose stony face was staring at the floor, his posture rigid. Righteous indignation welled up inside Pacey. Anger flooded his gut like hot acid. He stood up and faced his father.
"You really are an ignorant, heartless bastard, aren't you?"
"Pacey!" his mother hissed.
"You've got some gall speaking to me that way, boy!"
"What are you gonna do about it, Pop? Hit me? Go on, hit me. See what happens." His left hand clenched into a fist.
Joey's gaze darted between Pacey and his father, fear sitting in her stomach like lead. She didn't know what to do or say. She locked eyes with Dawson and he seemed equally uncomfortable and uncertain. His mouth had fallen open and he shook his head helplessly at her. Everyone else in the room had also been stunned into frightened silence. Everyone except Will Krudski, who looked tense and alert, on the edge of his seat, positioned as if ready to throw himself in front of Mr. Witter to protect Pacey if he had to. Joey had no doubt that he would.
John Witter's eyes narrowed, his mouth forming a hard line of barely-concealed hatred. "What am I gonna do about it? Well, I'm not paying for your college, I know that. You've embarrassed me enough to last a lifetime, Pacey. You don't know or care what it means to be a Witter in this community. Well, you're gonna learn how to make a living like a real man! Do you think I'm gonna give twenty grand a year to some hoity-toity college to teach my son a woman's job? Over my dead body! You can kiss your nancy boy college dreams goodbye!"
"Well, your wallet can breathe easy, Pop, because I don't need your stinking money!" Pacey shouted back. "And even if I did, I wouldn't take money from you if I was starving in the street! I've got my own money!"
"Pacey," Gretchen uttered in a low voice of warning.
But he was too enraged to see or hear anyone in the room other than his father, who was now sneering at him as if what he'd just claimed was a joke. "You think I'm kidding?!"
"Pacey, don't."
Gretchen's second warning also fell on deaf ears. "I've got twelve grand in the bank, you son of a bitch! It'll be fifteen by the time I graduate, and even more by the end of the summer! Money I've been scrimping and saving for almost four years so I can get the hell away from you and this town forever! And I'll do whatever the hell I want with that money! I can certainly pay for college myself!"
John Witter stared, speechless.
Then Pacey's throat tightened with emotion, misery welling up inside. "But you know what? I'm not going to culinary school, even if I wanted to, because I found out today that the only school in Boston that I thought would take me, rejected me, and Boston is where I'm gonna be with Joey. So, I'm not going to college, and I'm sorry if that disappoints certain people in this room, but we all gotta make our own choices in life. So, I guess, at the end of the day, you'll get what you want, Pop. I'm going to end up exactly like you thought I would: a complete and utter failure."
He started to walk out of the silent room, several hands reaching out to stop him, including his mother's, but he pushed past them and out of the house. It wasn't long before he was behind the steering wheel in the truck, pulling the visor down to get the keys, and driving away. Pacey had no idea where he was going, he just knew he needed to get away.
While in her peripheral she registered Dawson hurrying from the living room towards the front of the house, Joey had run after Pacey and out onto the back porch, but he had disappeared into the darkness. She walked back inside and removed both their coats from the rack beside the door, turning to step back outside, and then suddenly Dawson was there, putting on his coat, too. She was pretty sure Pacey wouldn't find their friend a welcome sight right now.
"Dawson, I think I can handle this on my own."
"Uh, you don't have a car. Pacey took your truck. Come on, let me drive you."
"Fine."
They were soon on the road, heading away from the creek and towards downtown. It only took about fifteen minutes to reach Pacey and Gretchen's weathered beach house on Bridge Street. The truck wasn't there.
"Where would he go if he didn't go home?" Dawson asked. "Where would he want to be? Well, unless he's just aimlessly driving around, trying to clear his head."
Where would Pacey want to be right now, Joey thought to herself. There was only one real answer. He'd want to be on his boat. After raw emotion rose within her as thoughts of the True Love filled her mind, she was in tears. She turned away from Dawson and stared out the window, her chin quivering and tears sliding down her face.
"Joey?"
"This is all my fault," she choked, covering her eyes. "And he'd been trying to tell me all evening that something was wrong."
"What? Joey, it's not your fault Pacey's dad is a jerk, and it's not your fault Pacey didn't get into a college in Boston."
"I know, but it's my fault he thinks he disappointed me. Maybe I was wrong to push him. I pushed him to take the SATs, and that went over like a ton of bricks. I pushed him to seriously think about college, when he'd been saying for over a year that he doesn't think that's a place he belongs. But…"
He let out a breathy laugh. "Typical Joey Potter behavior. You tend to believe in people more than they believe in themselves. It's a real character flaw."
She finally met Dawson's gaze. "The thing is, deep down I think he really does want it. He'd been so enthusiastic about doing a culinary program, and look! He was accepted to MCLA, something that should've made him happy and proud and excited, and because of me he's…"
"He's not gonna go."
"How can I sit by and selfishly let him pass that up, Dawson?"
"It's Pacey's life, Joey. He has to make his own decisions about what's best for him."
"That's the thing, Dawson. I'm worried that…" Emotion choked her again. She couldn't speak it aloud. "I need to talk to Pacey."
Dawson sighed heavily and glanced around. "Well, he hasn't shown up back here yet."
Sniffling, Joey wiped her tears and shook her head. "Capeside Marina Docks. He's there."
He blinked, staring for a moment, before he shrugged and threw the gear into drive. "Well, okay, then."
When they arrived at the marina, instant relief flooded Joey's insides at the sight of her truck parked in the lot. She almost jumped out of Dawson's car before it came to a complete stop. "You want me to wait for you in case you need a ride?" he asked her.
She stood there, holding the door with one hand and her boyfriend's coat in the other. "No, I'm okay. Pacey's here. Thanks, Dawson. I really appreciate this."
"You know I'd do anything for you, right, Joey?" His face softened as his eyes gazed at her intensely.
"Uh, yeah… of course, Dawson." She was in a hurry to get to Pacey and didn't want to stand there in the parking lot much longer. "Goodnight. See you in school tomorrow."
After Dawson said goodbye, Joey shut the door and walked away, quickly heading for the docks. She hurried along moored boats, her eyes scanning her surroundings as she went past. Then she rounded a corner and saw him. Pacey was sitting on a crate down at the far end of a dock. With a deep sigh, she moved forward.
"Hey, Pace," she said as she reached him.
He turned around, not surprised at all that she'd found him out there. "Hey."
She noticed he was hugging himself to keep warm in the cold night air. Joey sat on the crate in the empty space next to him and he scooted over. She handed him his coat. "You forgot this."
"Thanks." He shrugged on his coat and buttoned it up, before shoving his hands in the pockets.
"I'm sorry I threw you such a bad party."
"The party honestly wasn't that terrible, Jo, I admit. And what happened there at the end… well, that wasn't your fault. It's the curse."
She snaked her arm through his and snuggled close. "I know how you must be feeling. You don't have to feel that way. I'm not disappointed, Pacey. One rejection is definitely not the end of the world, and it's certainly not something that would ever make me disappointed in you. If anything, after tonight, I'm prouder than ever."
He shook his head. Did she not fully understand the implications of him not getting into a school in Boston? "It's not really about the rejection itself. That just makes it real. You and I are just on opposite paths, Jo. And when high school is over, those paths are going to lead us farther and farther away from each other."
She looked at him, surprised. Did he truly believe that? "I don't think so. I think both roads lead to the same place. Right here. You and me, Pace. That's the one thing that will never change. Not if we don't let it."
"After graduation, things are just gonna get harder and harder, Jo."
"Well, then we'll try harder." She sucked in her bottom lip and chewed, thinking. Uneasy feelings of fear and doubt floated disturbingly around the edges of her mind, and she pushed them back, refusing to allow them to come into focus. "Are you seriously going to forgo your chance at culinary school to be in Boston with me? Are you sure that's what you want, Pacey? Really and truly?"
"We promised each other," he said simply.
"Promised each other what?"
He turned to look at her, their eyes meeting, and he reached over to hold her hand. "That first week of school back in September? You told me that you weren't going anywhere without me. And then that night after Jen's unbirthday party? I told you I was gonna be wherever you are. I have no intention of breaking my promise."
Tears pricked her eyes again. "Allowing you to pass up an amazing opportunity just for the sake of us never having to be apart is probably the most selfish thing that I'll ever do." She had a sneaking suspicion that she'd only wind up hating herself for it, but again she shoved those feelings away, not wanting to acknowledge them.
He looked away and shrugged, not wanting to think about culinary school. He'd made his decision. That door was closed. "My dad is probably right, anyway. I'd just flunk out, and what kind of loser flunks out of a program that doesn't even require you to take the SAT to get in?"
Raw emotion welled up inside her once again. Anger and indignation reddened her face. "Pacey, he is wrong. Your parents are wrong about you. Those voices in your head that sound like your parents? Well, I know it's easier said than done, but you have to stop listening to them! Look at me." His blue eyes met hers. "Stop believing them. You need to believe me now because I'm the one who truly knows you. I'm the one who loves you. I know just what you're capable of, and probably more than even I can imagine right now. You are not a loser, Pacey. You have never been a loser, and you will never be a loser, no matter what you do with your life.
"You're an incredible person, which is far more important than grades and college degrees and career choices. I know without a shadow of a doubt that you're meant to do great things with your life. You deserve happiness. You deserve love. You deserve to have ambition and goals. You deserve success. You deserve the best life has to offer. You deserve more than just being my boyfriend. And you have to start believing it, Pacey. I think the only reason you're so quick to walk away from culinary school is because you don't believe that."
His face contorted with disbelief. "You think that I'm settling for you?"
She quickly brushed away the tears that had begun to brim over. She couldn't push away the fear entirely. "What if I'm not enough? There are things out there way better than me."
Pacey sighed and tenderly touched her cheek. "Josephine Potter, when are you ever going to see yourself as you really are?"
"But you can do anything you want. Go anywhere you want. Have any woman you want."
"I want you, Jo. You're it for me. When I look at you, I see a beautiful, fantastic woman who makes me feel like I finally know why I was placed on this earth. You have no idea how much you've done for me. You've made it easier for me to live, to get out of bed every morning and just be myself. If we were to ever part, pieces of me would be missing. My life… my entire future… would just disappear. I see everything in you." His words brought more tears to her eyes. "God, how lucky I am, to be loved by someone as amazing as you."
Joey leaned closer and kissed him lightly on his lips. "No, Pacey, I'm the lucky one… to have someone as wonderful as you to love." She kissed him again. "You and me, Pace. We can make it if we try."
Sighing, he pressed his forehead to hers, brushing her nose with his. "Then we'll try."
"We'll try our damnedest."
Pacey took her face in his hands, one thumb caressing her jaw as his eyes gazed tenderly into her own. Joey moved toward the kiss he offered. When his lips touched hers, she heard him sigh, felt his chest heave, and she eagerly reciprocated. There was always something so sweet, so gentle in his touch, in that first moment every time their lips met. With their arms wrapped in a tight embrace, their hearts felt like they had a firm hold on what they had always been seeking, and neither ever wanted to let go.