A/N: 1) Thank you to everyone for waiting patiently for an update. This chapter became way too long, and then I decided to split it, but then the characters still had things they needed to say, so this half ended up being a 10k chapter, anyway. *sigh* But I do hope you enjoy the update, and that it was worth the wait. Not very many people leave comments on this fic, so I don't know if people on actually like this story. A few have let me know they're enjoying it, but mostly I don't get much of a response. If you do like this story, or if you have ideas or theories or suggestions, don't hesitate to let me know! Even if you don't feel comfortable communicating in English, it's not a problem, which I've found prevents some people from feeling confident enough to comment on fanfics or messaging me elsewhere. I'm fairly fluent in Spanish, but don't feel as though language is a barrier or that your English won't be good enough if it's your second or third language. I'm sure I'll understand you perfectly!
2) An Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con trigger applies to this chapter.
October 8. Pacey woke abruptly as if somebody had shouted in his ear. It was still dark. Slowly removing his arm from around Joey, he rolled over to lay on his back. He stared up at the ceiling, his mind immediately racing, his stomach filling with anxiety. Joey still slept. She soon rolled over, seeking his warmth, and laid her head upon his chest as she snuggled against him. He lay there for a long time, absentmindedly stroking her long, dark hair. The sky outside the window was changing rapidly from deep, velvety blue to cold, steely gray and then, slowly, to pink rimmed with gold.
The prospect of the impending meeting at the high school with his parents and Principal Peskin filled every part of his brain. Eventually he couldn't stand lying there anymore, and got himself out of bed, careful not to wake his girlfriend. He walked into the bathroom. After brushing his teeth, he set a clean towel on the counter beside the sink, went over to the stall and turned on the hot water. He'd barely gotten himself wet when Joey joined him in the shower.
He was slightly startled, and quickly becoming aroused, to feel her standing just behind him.
Pacey turned around and smiled wolfishly. "Miss me?"
She said nothing, merely stepping closer to him, moving towards the spray of the hot water. He bent his head and started kissing the side of her neck, and couldn't keep his hands off her gorgeous backside. He thought he was in heaven.
Joey picked up a bottle, squeezing some shampoo onto her palm. She ran her fingers through his hair and every anxious thought of the impending meeting at the high school fled his mind. Pacey closed his eyes and moaned in genuine pleasure as she lathered the shampoo and massaged his scalp.
When his hair had been rinsed clean, she reached for her vanilla-scented body wash and began lathering up his entire body. She soaped his firm chest, his stomach and arms, then turned him around. She soaped his back and shoulders, the wiry, taut muscles beneath his smooth skin, before giving considerable attention to his butt. She reached between his legs and started soaping his scrotum and his thick erect cock, and now Pacey knew he was in heaven. She was pressing herself against his back, and his eyes fluttered shut as he felt her hand move over him, giving him such pleasure.
Joey turned him around again and urged their soaped bodies beneath the showerhead, letting the hot water wash over them. In an instant she was on him, hands roaming up and down his bare back as he kissed her, hot and demanding. He pulled back to look her in the eye. "I love you, Joey."
"I love you too, Pacey. I love you so much." She stared at his mouth and licked her lips as her gaze traveled down his firm body.
He smirked at the heat in her gaze, and then nibbled gently along her ear. "Tell me what you want."
His husky voice vibrated in Joey's ear, making her shiver. She ran her hand up and down his magnificent erection. "You."
He threaded his fingers through her hair, silencing any further talk with a demanding kiss. His knowing hands proceeded to remind her why her decision to join him in the shower had been a very good idea. Within minutes, she was wild for him and practically climbing his body. He lifted her up into his arms. She wrapped her legs tight around him. He matched her urgency as his hips met hers, and they quickly found their natural rhythm. They came together in a mutual orgasm that seemed to last forever, until his legs felt so rubbery that they began to shake. It was all he could do to keep from falling over.
After they were both sated and overheated from the water and each other, Pacey snagged his towel and wrapped Joey in it. She stepped out of the shower. Getting out of the stall, he grabbed another towel from the closet and wrapped it around his waist.
"I love that you have a wild side."
"I do?" Her brows knitted as she looked at her reflection in the mirror, recalling the many times over the years that he'd pretty much said she was the opposite of wild.
"You look all buttoned up to the rest of the world, but with me you're just yourself. Right? Wild on the inside."
Joey smiled. She liked that description. She'd never thought of herself that way, but Pacey and the passion they felt for each other brought that out in her. She felt wonderful and free, so very free. "Are you going to call me a naughty girl again?"
He laughed as he dried his hair with a small towel. "I will if you want me to."
Dropping her towel, she stepped naked onto the bathroom scale, dampening it. "I've gained two pounds."
"It doesn't show," he told her, and she frowned. "I thought you were supposed to gain the Freshman 15, anyway."
"I'm trying not to."
"Eh, why not?" he said with a shrug. "Live a little."
With a sigh, she stepped off the scale and wrapped herself back up in the towel. Grinning, Pacey moved towards her and pulled her against him. "You're dating a cook, Miss Potter. If you don't gain any weight, people are gonna think my cooking is shit."
She giggled and lifted her mouth for a kiss. His lips met hers, kissing her softly.
By the time he finished shaving, pulled on a pair of plaid pajama bottoms, and walked into the kitchen, Joey was making coffee. She turned from the counter and smiled as he approached.
His gaze swept over her, taking in her long wavy dark hair and her sage green V-neck sweater and knee-length denim skirt, and then he kissed her cheek. "You are so beautiful in the morning."
She slid her arms around his waist and kissed him. "Just in the morning?" she purred against his lips.
"Morning, noon, night," he replied with a laugh, pulling her closer to him. "Every minute of every day."
She kissed him again and then released him, turning back to the coffeemaker. "Want a cup?" she asked, reaching for the cabinet above.
"Yeah, thanks."
"So, I just want you to relax this morning, and I'll make us some breakfast."
He looked doubtful as she handed him a steaming cup of coffee. "Maybe I should cook instead. It relaxes me, and it'll help me take my mind off things. Better than just sitting and thinking."
Joey frowned. "I'm sure you must be nervous, Pace. That's why I wanted to do something nice for you this morning. I wanted to give you a relaxing shower, and then make you breakfast. If I'm not gonna be helping in the kitchen, then what else can I do?"
"Just stand there and look pretty," he told her, fighting a grin, and her eyes narrowed. When she turned around, scanning the open surface of the counter, he asked, "What're you doing?"
"Looking for something heavy enough to throw at you."
"Check the cabinets," Pacey advised. "And let me know when to duck."
Instead, she stood there drinking coffee while he made them breakfast. He was flipping pancakes expertly—with chocolate chips threaded through them. "Bodie's recipe never fails," Pacey commented.
"God, these smell delicious," she moaned, leaning in toward the pan.
"Hey, let the cook work in peace," he admonished. "Grab us a couple plates."
"Geez, you're bossy this morning." Joey hip-checked him lightly, and the teasing smile he gave her made her heart flip. She'd been with Pacey for almost a year and a half, and she was amazed at how much more in love she was with him each day, how he still gave her butterflies, and she suspected that would never change.
After they'd finished their pancakes and second cups of coffee, Pacey went into Joey's bedroom to get dressed. He soon emerged wearing a slate blue button-down shirt that was tucked into belted Levi's, and dark newer shoes.
"How do I look?" he asked nervously.
"Gorgeous." Joey smiled.
He tilted his head and blinked at her. "Do I look… serious enough? For this meeting, I mean? Do you think I should get rid of the jeans?"
"You look fine, Pacey," she said reassuringly. "Really."
They left the house in time to be at the school by ten o'clock. They arrived early, and walked hand in hand towards the main entrance, where they found Tom Kapinos waiting for them just inside the doors.
"Pacey," he said in greeting, reaching out to shake his hand before turning to Joey. "Miss Potter." He scowled and then sighed. "The meeting has been moved to the principal's office. When I spoke to your sister, she made it seem as though practically the entire Witter clan was coming this morning, and Mr. Peskin's office is much larger."
Pacey's brows furrowed. "You talked to my sister?"
"I believe so. Amy Emerson is your older sister, correct?"
"Yeah."
"Well, she called earlier this morning to confirm the meeting."
His throat constricting, his heart beating against his Adam's apple, Pacey followed Mr. Kapinos to the principal's office, Joey walking beside him, holding his hand tight.
Inside the empty office, Pacey took a seat at the conference table, Joey sitting down next to him, while Tom took the chair on his other side. "So, how are you, Pacey?" he asked kindly.
"I'm all right, considering."
Beneath the table, Joey rubbed his thigh softly over his jeans, her touch exuding sympathy, compassion.
They were soon joined by Principal Peskin and the school board president, Whitney Vantine, who greeted them curtly. A tense silence filled the air while they waited. Soon the office door was opened by the secretary, Mrs. Carden, and she announced the arrival of the Witter family. Pacey turned towards the door and watched as his mother entered the room, followed by Amy, Doug, and Gretchen. And then the secretary closed the door behind them.
"How are you, sweetie?" his mother said to him, placing her hand on his shoulder.
"Oh, I'm just great, Ma." He could hear the sharp sarcasm in his voice, and felt guilty for a moment as he saw her smile falter.
He watched his mother and older siblings take seats at the conference table. His mother looked positively worried, but despite their anxious looks, his brother and sisters gave him encouraging smiles. They said hello to Joey, but his mother seemed to be ignoring her. He quietly listened as Mr. Peskin and Mr. Vantine made their introductions around the table.
"Thank you for coming, Susan," said Principal Peskin before glancing around to the others at the table. "Are we waiting for John?"
"No, we're not. My husband had an earlier meeting at the Sheriff's Office with the Emergency Planning Committee and unfortunately, it's running over. I don't think he's going to make it."
Pacey watched Doug exchange frowns with Amy and Gretchen, and also couldn't help but notice the look of relief on Mr. Vantine's face.
The warm glow of comfort that had flared inside Pacey's chest at the sight of his siblings was suddenly extinguished.
His father hadn't bothered to come.
Pacey felt a dull sinking sensation in his stomach and, before he knew it, the feelings of worthlessness that had plagued him since he was a boy rolled over him once again.
"Okay, well…" the principal continued tentatively. "Mr. Kapinos asked me to call this meeting to discuss a…" He tilted his head from side to side. "An incident… certain inappropriate actions… that occurred a few years ago between Pacey and a teacher who was employed at the high school at the time, a Ms. Tamara Jacobs—"
Susan Witter huffed. "My husband and I have been told the details. I honestly don't see the need for this, Dave. Pacey has graduated, and from what I know, this woman didn't even work here that long. Why bring all this up now?"
The principal said nothing and gestured to Mr. Kapinos.
"Thank you, Mr. Peskin," Tom said pleasantly before turning to address Susan. "Mrs. Witter, we are fully aware that Pacey is no longer a student at this school, and that the teacher in question is no longer working here. However, when I am made aware that a crime has been committed, I am legally bound to report it, and we cannot simply ignore what happened."
"Crime?"
"Statutory rape is the crime," Tom said firmly, yet maintained his calm, friendly demeanor. "I was recently made aware of the facts, and it is my responsibility to advocate for Pacey's well-being. He was fifteen years old, well below the age of consent, and the woman was in her mid-thirties. I think we can all agree that it wasn't all that long ago that this occurred, and well within the statute of limitations. Pacey was too young to fully understand the seriousness of the situation at the time, and Tamara Jacobs took advantage of his immaturity and inexperience."
An awkward, tense silence descended on the conference table.
Pacey couldn't look at any of them. His face and neck turned red, and he stared down at his lap as his body tensed. He tried to push the memories away; he didn't want to go back to the past, didn't want the hazy details to sharpen in his mind. Then he felt Joey's hand on his, her grip firm and steady. Now was now, and in that present moment her hand on his was the most important part of reality. He focused on the feel of her hand and his body relaxed easily with her touch.
"And we are here," Mr. Kapinos continued. "Because now that the responsible adults in Pacey's life are aware that this happened to him, and that this school failed him, we need to decide how to move forward, and what would be in Pacey's best interests."
"I think first we need to keep in mind that I was not the principal when this situation first came to light," Mr. Peskin said, looking nervous. "If we're going to lay any sort of blame on the school, Tom, I think we all need to appreciate that Jane Markey was the principal of Capeside High at the time."
Pacey exchanged a look with Joey, both rolling their eyes.
"Well, I happen to think it is in my son's best interests that this matter not leave this room," his mother replied.
"You mean it's in your best interests, Mom," Gretchen said pointedly.
"Well, I for one couldn't agree more, Susan," spoke Mr. Vantine, the gray hairs of his mustache bristling.
Amy turned, glaring at the man. "Well, of course you would, since it's entirely the school board's fault for dropping the ball. This should've been handled correctly three years ago. My brother deserves some justice."
"Tamara Jacobs clearly flouted the law," Doug said indignantly, who seemed to have taken it as a personal offense that she committed her crimes literally right under his nose. "She needs to face the consequences."
Worry etched across Susan Witter's face. "But it certainly won't do Pacey any good for this to become public knowledge and to have this sordid affair splashed about the papers, assuming people will even believe it."
Pacey stared at his mother, his face falling. He felt as if he were a small child in a corner of the room where everyone was making decisions about his life and talking about him, but he had no input. He wanted to speak up and assert himself, but he had no idea what he'd even say. He suddenly wished he'd never agreed to this meeting. Wished he was somewhere else.
Joey stared at the woman who had insofar refused to even acknowledge her presence. "Maybe Pacey is the one who knows what's in his own best interests, Mrs. Wit—"
"Mom, it's already public knowledge," Doug remarked. "Except the version everyone knows happens to be a blatant lie."
"Well, from what I know of the facts, it was Pacey himself who lied to the school board, Deputy," said Principal Peskin.
"Tamara Jacobs lied as well," Doug shot back.
"So, what's the school board going to do now to right this wrong, Mr. Vantine?" added Gretchen. "Now that we all know the truth?"
Fidgeting with his red striped tie as everyone turned to look at him, the man was clearly uncomfortable. "Well… I can't speak for everyone on the board. We would need to arrange for a separate meeting. This matter would need to be discussed as a group, and we would need to come to a group decision—"
"And how soon can we make that happen?" Amy demanded.
"I think we're getting a little ahead of ourselves," Mrs. Witter said nervously. "This happened years ago. To go dredging this all back up now isn't good for anyone, certainly not Pacey. And I'm sure the woman knows what she did was wrong, and deeply regrets—"
Amy gaped at her. "Mom, are you seriously—"
"She doesn't."
Everyone turned to look at Pacey, who had finally found his voice. The silence that fell seemed denser than before.
"There's a part of her that doesn't regret it. And she doesn't take responsibility for it either. Not really."
"And you know this… how?" Susan asked.
There was a cold, plunging sensation flooding his stomach, and he couldn't look at his mother. "Because I spoke to Ms. Jacobs last week. She rationalizes it… blames me for what happened…"
"Unbelievable," Gretchen muttered.
"You spoke to the woman? You contacted her?" Susan said incredulously.
Pacey sighed. "Yes, Ma. I had to find out where she stood. I had to be sure before I took this any further."
Whitney Vantine shook his head. "The woman's attitude, as you've portrayed it, is unfortunate to be sure, Mr. Witter," he said with a very supercilious look on his face. "But as Tamara Jacobs is no longer working for the school district, I don't know what you expect us to do about it. It's not as though we can reprimand her or terminate her employment."
"Didn't you meet the first time to talk about pursuing criminal charges against her, but then immediately dropped the matter altogether, never broaching the subject again?" Doug said heatedly. Although his older brother wasn't wearing his uniform, Pacey couldn't help but notice an air of sharp authority emanating from him.
Color drained from the school board president's plump face. He stared at Doug Witter for a moment or two, then, appearing to pull himself back together, said, "Yes, well, keep in mind that when we called that meeting, Pacey was still a student, and Tamara Jacobs was still employed at that time. Pacey denied anything inappropriate had occurred, and she backed up his statements. Afterwards, she resigned of her own accord, and then she even went so far as to leave Capeside. There wasn't much else we could do."
Joey scoffed derisively. "Why should Pacey have to suffer the consequences of this situation, have his reputation in Capeside tarnished, but when it comes to Ms. Jacobs, you're quite willing to just sweep her actions under the rug?" she said, her voice laced with anger.
"Maybe because Mr. Vantine here knows that if the truth of this comes to light, it's the school board's reputation that will take the biggest hit," Doug astutely mused.
"I'm not sure what you mean by that, Deputy," the school board president said defensively, yet his demeanor was becoming quite frazzled.
"Oh, I think you do," he replied, his eyes narrowing.
Mr. Kapinos cleared his throat and spoke calmly. "Let's try to keep our tempers from flaring. I think it's becoming rather obvious that a solution won't be reached here in this room, and that an official school board meeting is in order."
Doug turned to the president, arching his brows challengingly. "Mr. Vantine, I'm sure you would agree with the school psychologist."
Whitney shared a resigned look with the principal. "I'll—" He exhaled a heavy breath. "—make some phone calls."
Just then the intercom buzzed on Mr. Peskin's desk. He got up from the table to answer it. "Yes, Kathy?"
"Sheriff Witter is on the line. He's on his way back to Capeside," said Mrs. Carden through the intercom. "He wants to know if the meeting is over yet or not, and if you still need him to come in."
"No, Kathy," Principal Peskin replied with a sigh. "The meeting's pretty much finished. There's nothing more to be said here."
"Actually, Mrs. Carden," Mr. Kapinos said, raising his voice slightly from where he sat at the conference table. "Can you let the sheriff know that his presence is requested in my office when he gets back to town? I want to meet with him and Mrs. Witter privately."
"Okay, I'll tell him." Then the secretary was gone and the principal was walking back from the desk.
Tom turned to Pacey. "I'd like you to join us in my office as well."
Pacey felt his stomach drop, leaving him with a queasy sensation as he turned to look at Joey. Her gaze swept over his face, and she only gripped his hand tighter.
Not long after the group left the room, Pacey walked with his mother down to the school psychologist's office. Once inside, he took his usual seat on the couch. His mother sat in one of the chairs across from Mr. Kapinos's desk. There was no one else in the room. Pacey glanced at his watch. He knew his dad was heading back to Capeside from the Sheriff's Office in Buzzards Bay, and would be there as soon as he could. He knew it would take about forty-five minutes to drive across the Cape.
What he didn't know was why Mr. Kapinos wanted to meet with him and his parents separately.
"You didn't tell me that you'd had contact with Miss Jacobs," Tom said to him gently.
"It just happened on Friday."
"Before or after you called me to set up the meeting today?"
"Before."
"Ah. I see. And how did that go? Do you feel you came to any sort of understanding of how and why this happened to you?"
Pacey looked up at him, his eyes meeting the counselor's sincere gaze. "You mean an understanding of Tamara's actions? Her reasons? Why did she do what she did? Am I supposed to understand?"
"Understanding is the first step towards acceptance," Mr. Kapinos told him. "And only with acceptance can there be healing."
"Well… I guess I understand the reasons she gave."
"Did they change your perspective of the situation at all?"
Pacey shrugged. "She basically admitted to using me, so…"
"You also said in Mr. Peskin's office that she blames you."
"Yeah, well, according to her, if I hadn't been so…" His voice trailed off as he shook his head. A flush of embarrassment had crept into his face.
Tom laughed derisively. "Been so mature for your age? Been so charming and irresistible, she would never have done such a thing? That it was because of you she did something so reckless and irresponsible? It was because of you that there were negative consequences?"
"Sounds about right." Pacey crossed his arms in front of his chest, and looked down at his lap, embarrassed that his mother was sitting here listening to this.
Mr. Kapinos frowned slightly. "Blaming the victim is common practice, not only among abusers, but in society in general." Then his gaze moved away from Pacey. "And how are you feeling about all this, Mrs. Witter?" he asked.
She shook her head helplessly. "I… don't know what to say. I never went through these kinds of problems with my other kids. But it's always something or other with this one." She nodded her head in her youngest's direction.
Pacey wilted under his mother's glare.
"When did you start having problems with Pacey?" Mr. Kapinos said.
"He started acting out in middle school. I know it's natural for boys to get into trouble, but he was constantly in trouble. Constantly. I'm pretty sure he was suspended at some point every year starting in the seventh grade. He's lucky he was never expelled."
Brows furrowing, Pacey took affront. "Not true."
"Oh, it's not?"
"I wasn't suspended my junior year."
"Oh, well, bully for you," his mother snapped sarcastically.
Tom cleared his throat. "And you didn't see Pacey's acting out as a cry for help?"
Susan Witter stared at the man as if he had three heads. "A cry for—"
"Yes. Any kind of acting out is a cry for help. Everything kids do tells us what's on their mind. They may be jealous, afraid, lonely, or, in Pacey's case, in a situation that is out of their control."
She appeared speechless. Then there was a knock on the door, and Mr. Kapinos stood up to answer it. Seconds later, John Witter entered the office.
Pacey looked at his feet. His heart, which seemed to have suddenly swollen to an unnatural size, was pounding loudly beneath his ribs.
"Thank you for coming, Sheriff," Tom said politely as he retook his seat behind the desk.
"Yes, well… this is an unfortunate situation," John said from where he sat in the chair next to his wife. "It's an issue I never thought I'd have to deal with, I can tell you that." He turned to look at his son. "What were you thinking, getting involved with a teacher? You should've known better."
Pacey opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
"Mr. Witter, this is not Pacey's fault," Tom said. "The fault lies entirely with Miss Jacobs. She preyed on his loneliness and his deep need for approval and affection. She groomed him to accept her behavior as normal instead of predatory."
"A one-time mistake is one thing, but for it to have gone on for weeks, knowing it was wrong, but also illegal. My son knows the law, believe me. To say the woman abused him, when he willingly continued with the affair…"
Pacey's heart beat rapidly and his stomach turned anxiously. He told himself he should be used to it by now, but his father's disapproval was always devastating.
Tom breathed a patient sigh. "Again, Mr. Witter, Pacey is not the one who broke the law. He is the victim in this situation. I think it's in his best interests that everyone in this room comes to an understanding of what he has been coping with, or perhaps not coping with, over the past three years. Yes, Pacey entered into an ongoing, yet inappropriate, relationship with Miss Jacobs. This issue is one of deep conflict within victims, and also their families. On the one hand, it's a situation where an adult took unfair advantage of a young teenager who didn't know better and lacked the judgment or mental strength to resist. On the other hand, there is very often guilt and confusion because 'they wanted it' and 'they liked it' and often 'went back for more.'
"Repeated encounters create a relationship of sorts, and when this relationship suddenly breaks apart because parents or other adults discover it, a series of unintended consequences can ensue. One of those is guilt or self-blame, and possibly feelings of abandonment. My own experience in working with survivors of adolescent sexual abuse is that we have a golden opportunity to prevent a great deal of problems if the parents immediately engage in adult conversations about what their child feels at the moment. It is critical that feelings of guilt or shame or abandonment—among a number of other emotions—are fully addressed. Parents should rally behind their child.
"When this situation with Pacey and his teacher first came to light, what was your reaction?"
Susan Witter started wringing her hands. "Well, we believed his version of events—that he'd spread a nasty rumor around the school."
"So, you reacted with anger?"
"Of course, we were angry," John said defensively. "And rightfully so."
"Just how angry did you get?"
The sheriff became noticeably uncomfortable. "I… may have lost my temper. But this was a serious thing we thought he'd done."
"Had Pacey ever done anything like that before—acted out inappropriately in any sort of sexual way, or behaved inappropriately with the opposite sex, such as harassment?"
"Certainly not. My son has always been respectful of women."
Pacey looked up at his father, surprised. There was a discernible tone of pride in his voice.
"So, then spreading a sexual rumor about a teacher would've been out of character, correct?"
"He didn't tell us the real story," Susan said, still wringing her hands.
"Did you ask him for the real story?" Mr. Kapinos said simply. "I have a feeling that if you'd reacted in a calm way, asked him questions with genuine care and concern, Pacey would've folded like a cheap suit."
"But we believed him. Pacey is many things, but my boy isn't a liar. And he's done many things, but he's never lied to us."
Pacey stared at his mother, flabbergasted. Her face was a mixture of pride and worry.
Tom leaned back in his chair. "Well, we can't change the past. We can only deal with the present and face the future. And presently, Pacey has been coping with a lot of pent-up guilt and anger over what happened with Miss Jacobs. Abused adolescents like Pacey may feel that they have done something terrible since the person with whom they had been intimate was banished or arrested. They may wrongly feel responsible for the abuse, even though it is the adult who should have known better and who must pay the consequences for choices made."
"I can't believe this. How could this have happened?" Susan said quietly as she turned to her husband. "People are going to say that our son is some sort of sexual deviant."
The counselor continued, seemingly ignoring her comment. "It is unfortunate that not one adult in Pacey's life tried to dig deeper at the time, and this went essentially ignored. He suffered because of this. The starting point for you, as Pacey's parents, should've been to quickly address the situation and let Pacey know that he did nothing wrong. He was a minor and hadn't developed full judgment. It was vital that the first response from you, as his parents, should've been one of support and love."
Mr. Kapinos paused, and although his voice remained light and calm, and he gave no outward appearance of anger, Pacey felt a kind of chill emanating from him, and noticed that his parents stiffened in their seats.
"How could this have happened?" Tom repeated. "Scientific research shows that those from abusive homes are often put on a path that leads to further victimization. Living under your roof, Pacey had known nothing but neglect and often cruelty at your hands. And it is the physical and emotional abuse he suffered at home that put him in Miss Jacobs' path. Pacey didn't engage in a relationship with an adult because he needed sex and couldn't get it anywhere else. Rather, he was desperately looking for the love and nurturing he wasn't getting from his family."
Susan's eyes went round as quarters. "Are you accusing us of abusing our son? What's this world coming to? Has everyone gone crazy?" she demanded, furious, and stood up from her chair. "I'll have you know, Mr. Kapinos, that we are an exemplary family in this community, and I will not stand for such things being said about us! We love all our children, and I won't have anyone in this town saying otherwise! If anyone has abused my son, it's this Jacobs woman! We'll see you at that school board meeting!"
As his mother stormed from the room, Pacey gave an apologetic look to Mr. Kapinos, and then after an uneasy glance at his father, followed her out. The hallway was empty; classes were in session. He saw his mother making for the exit doors. With a heavy sigh, he went after her. Moments later, he was stepping outside into the sunshine, and found her leaning against the brick building.
"I know the blame lies with this Miss Jacobs. She was an adult and your teacher, and I am appalled a person would do such a thing, but I have no doubt you brought some of this on yourself, Pacey," she said to him as he reached her side.
He frowned. One thing his mother had always taught him was that no matter how badly life treated him—whether it was school, or girls, or his father—he always had a hand in making it as bad as it was. Either he'd wanted someone's approval too much, or too little, or he hadn't been friendly enough, or he was being too friendly. He expected too much or didn't expect enough, so he got what he asked for.
"Well, Ma, you can rest assured that I solely blamed myself for years."
"You think I'm a bad mother," Susan Witter said.
He looked at her deeply as she waited for his reply, noticing for the first time in his life that his mother was getting older. "No, I don't," he said, but wasn't sure whether that was entirely truthful.
"That's what that Mr. Kapinos said in there. You had this… relationship… with a grown woman because you weren't getting the love you needed from your parents. He means your mother! Right? Isn't that why young men seek out older women? Issues with their mothers? You must think I'm a terrible mother."
"Ma, no—"
"But you've been seeing a psychiatrist—"
"Mr. Kapinos is a psychologist."
"Psychiatrist, psychologist, whatever."
"I used to go see him every week last spring to avoid a two-week suspension… or possibly expulsion. I'm not… seeing him now. Ms. Jacobs showed up at the restaurant and… I just needed someone to talk to."
"Well, people go see therapists when they think their childhood screwed them up somehow. Isn't that what you were told during your… therapy sessions? Isn't it always the answer that your mother is a bad mother and that's why you're screwed up? Isn't that what it's about?" Her words were accusing, but her voice was soft, even a bit afraid.
"No," he told her. "That's not what it was all about. It was about me, not about you. If anything, Mr. Kapinos tried to get me to understand that parents do their best and we should appreciate that and forgive them for their shortcomings. Of course, there are some shortcomings that are… worse than others… that… can't be so easily forgiven."
Her eyes became wet with tears.
"But the general idea isn't to hold your parents responsible for everything that goes wrong in your life. It's to understand that there are circumstances outside your control, but you shouldn't let how others view or treat you dictate your behavior. You have to take responsibility for your own actions, learn from your own mistakes, and see where you need to make changes to be a happier, healthier version of yourself. It's about understanding and acceptance and healing, like what Mr. Kapinos said earlier in his office. And it's about… finding healthy coping mechanisms, and getting rid of self-destructive ones."
"Do you think I'm a bad mother?"
It was a question he never thought she'd ask him. It was a question he never wanted to answer. Pacey paused and waited for an answer to come to him.
"I think sometimes… parents can try to be good parents, and children still don't get what they need. Every child is different. Sometimes I didn't get what I needed from you." That was the truth. He hoped it didn't hurt her too much. "Maybe by the time numero cinco came around, you just didn't have it in you to be an attentive mother."
"I did my best, Pacey. I've raised five children, and none of you have become bank robbers, perverts, or homeless people. None of you are in jail or on drugs. We were taught to be hard on our children so they would know the difference between right and wrong."
"I know. I know you tried. And… you did—you did teach us right from wrong."
"But you still think I'm a failure."
"No, I don't. It's just that sometimes I needed things that you wouldn't, or couldn't, give me. Maybe you didn't know I needed it."
They stood in silence. Pacey asked, "What were you trying to accomplish as a mother? What kind of mother did you want to be? What did you work hard to do and to give to your children?" He thought this was an important question. How did one judge a good mother or a bad one? Effort and intention had to be a big part of it, right?
His mother looked sad. Susan thought carefully and almost whispered, "I thought it was really important that my children always knew where their mother was. So, I never took a job, never went to work. I always stayed home with you kids. I never wanted you to have to wonder if I was coming back or if I had abandoned you. That was what was most important to me."
Pacey knew that was what she'd never known as a child. The certainty of a mother's presence, a mother's dedication.
Sympathy welled up inside him. He stepped closer and pulled her into a hug. "Then, Ma, please know that you are a successful parent. You achieved what you set out to do. Whenever you walked out of the house, I never wondered if you were coming back. It never once occurred to me that you would ever leave us. I always felt safe… in that way." That was the absolute truth. Until that moment, he had never even considered it.
His mother smiled, but said nothing in reply.
"Well, there was, of course, the time you almost abandoned me at that Baskin-Robbins…" he grinned over her shoulder.
"Oh, Pacey," she scoffed, and pulled out of the hug. "That was an honest mistake. I swear you and your siblings always make that story into a much bigger deal than it was." She sighed. "You were such an emotional child, frightened sometimes by things you couldn't see, easily hurt."
"A sissy, as Pop used to say. Right before he'd try to slap it out of me."
She averted her eyes from his. "Your father just wanted you to toughen up, Pacey. To stop being so soft and sensitive. Life is hard, and when hard times come, you have to be able to face them like a man."
He stared at her, bitterly remembering her inaction and indifference through every violent altercation with his father. For years, he'd hoped to find a savior in his mother, but instead found a witness. She may never have physically walked out on him, but it didn't change the fact that she'd abandoned him in other ways.
"Are you really going to be at the town hall tonight?" he asked her.
"Well, I'm gonna have to be. We can't have everyone thinking that people can mess with the Witters and there are no consequences. Commit a felony with the son of the sheriff and get away with it! What would people think? This is surely going to spread like wildfire around the Cape. That horrid Jeffries woman has it out for your father like she has an axe to grind. God knows what she's going to write about us after this comes out. We raised our son to not only sell drugs, but sleep with his teachers. What these people are going to think of me as a mother…"
He knew she was referring to Karen Jeffries, the reporter from the Cape Cod Times who wrote several contemptuous articles earlier that year during his father's re-election campaign, articles which became even more scathing following Pacey's arrest and conviction.
Anger and annoyance filled his gut. "Is that really all you care about? You've been told the truth of what happened to me, what I had to cope with, and the only thing you're worried about is what people will think of you?"
The school bell rang, interrupting whatever his mother was about to say. He didn't wait for a reply, and started walking away from her in the direction of the visitor parking lot, where he knew Joey would be waiting for him.
"Pacey John, don't you walk away from me!" Susan Witter shouted.
But he kept on walking and didn't look back.
Joey was indeed waiting for him in the parking lot, and the way her slender frame leaned back against the passenger side door of the Mustang was a sight for very sore eyes. He walked faster. He looked at her leaning against his car, her dark wavy hair shining in the sun, stirring and lifting in the breeze. When it blew in her eyes, she tossed her head, lifting her arm to pull it back from her face, and his gaze followed the line of her throat—and lowered to the open V of her sweater, the shadow of her breasts against the soft green lifting slightly with the movement.
"Hi, sweetheart," Joey said, giving him a hesitant smile.
Something caught hold of Pacey inside, running through his veins. Something wild, as pagan as the crisp, earthy scent of the falling autumn on the wind. His mind's eye saw him taking hold of her, laying her down on the hood of his car, and taking her right there in the parking lot. Her scent, her voice, her look, the movement of her body filled him with untamed thought, sudden desire. He wanted something hot and sweaty and fast. Something dangerous and crazy and wild from his heart.
Pacey slowed down, and exerted some self-control. The events of the day, and all its conversations, swirled inside his mind. Was this sudden onslaught of desire simply a coping mechanism following a strained conversation with his mother? He'd always chalked his problems up to having a dysfunctional relationship with his father, but maybe the whole thing with Tamara really did lead back to his mother's emotional abandonment. Sex had been a coping mechanism that allowed him to feel loved.
Maybe that's all it had been then, but that's not what sex was to him now. It was so much more than that, and he wouldn't treat Joey that way, as a mere outlet for him to relieve pent up tension and anxiety spurred on by his never-ending problems with his parents. He didn't need to rely on sex just to feel loved.
He did feel loved. He was loved. Joey loved him. She loved him, and he loved her. He was more sure of that than he was of anything else in his life.
Soon enough he was standing in front of her. "How about you, me, and the boiler room, right now?" he deadpanned.
She snorted with laughter, and then looked at him seriously, recognizing the defense mechanism in his dry comment. "I take it the meeting with your parents went splendidly."
"The whole town's gonna think I'm some sexual deviant, if you were to believe my mother."
She pulled a face. "What did your dad say?"
"Funnily enough, he didn't get to say very much, at least when I was in the room. My mom kinda… stormed out, and I followed her." He sighed. "Do you think I'm a sexual deviant?"
Joey laughed and grabbed hold of both his hands. "Well…" she said with a playful smile. "You have been rather fixated on my ass lately." She made a face, her eyes going wide as she stuck out her tongue, and then laughed again.
Instead of returning her lighthearted banter, he frowned. "Jo, if we're doing things, or planning on doing things, you're not comfortable with, then you gotta tell me. I don't ever want to do anything you don't want to do."
Alarmed at the troubled look on his face, she stepped closer. "I was teasing, Pacey. We haven't done anything that I haven't thoroughly enjoyed. You know that."
"I think I'm all screwed up, Jo."
Frowning in sympathy, she shook her head and lifted a hand to caress his face. Being back in this town wasn't good for him. Being around his parents wasn't good for him. "What can I do, Pace? Tell me. I'll do anything."
"Well, for starters, you can kiss me with the sweetest lips I've ever known," he grinned.
Joey kissed him, enveloping his lips with her own. Pacey embraced her, pulling her into his arms. He deepened the kiss, and she leaned into him even more. Her heart hammered inside her chest as one of his hands cupped her cheek. He lingered over her mouth as if he had all the time in the world. When he kissed the curve of her mouth, she wanted more. But he broke the kiss, moving slightly back from her.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there in that meeting with your parents, Pacey."
"Not your fault. Mr. Kapinos just wanted to meet with us."
"But I'm gonna be there tonight at that school board meeting. Right there next to you." Memories rushed forward in Joey's mind of the last school board meeting she'd attended, of how the board had let Capeside's bigoted residents run Principal Green out of town. Bitterness and anger rose up inside her. "And if they won't listen to reason, I'll make them listen."
A knot of anxiety tightened in Pacey's chest. The meeting was six hours away. He would have to officially spill his guts about Tamara, on the record. He could hardly believe that in a few short hours, he would be sitting in the town hall where decisions would be made that would affect not only himself, but possibly the entire Witter family and everyone else who cared for him, and, not to mention, Tamara Jacobs herself.
Fear stabbed at his insides. Fear that he would be crushed under the shame of the combined weight of public disapproval, his father's negative judgments, and his mother's emotional abandonment of him.
Pacey pulled Joey into a tight hug. She felt like he was holding onto her as though she might try and slip away and only the strength of his grip would prevent it. She didn't mind. Being held in his arms was like a dream. Felt like she was meant to be there. Needed to be there. There was a calmness over her. A feeling of being home. She held him just as tight.
After another long moment, he still wasn't letting go of her. "Are you okay?"
He stood there, holding onto her for dear life, as tears stung his eyes. "I'm fine," he lied.
"I love you," she murmured, her soft lips brushing against his neck.
Pacey swallowed against the lump forming in the back of his throat. "I can't do this without you, Jo. I can't get through this without you."
"We're in this together, Pace—you and me," she whispered.
"The meeting tonight?"
His voice was jagged, like he was holding back tears. Joey pulled back to look at him, and gazed deeply into his blue eyes. "No. Life. Whatever happens at that meeting tonight, whatever happens afterwards, whatever happens a year from now, five years, ten… you're gonna be okay. Everything's gonna be okay."
"How can you be sure?" he said, his voice thick with emotion.
"Because you have me. And we have each other. No matter what, we'll get through it. Together." The certainty in her voice masked the niggling doubt in Joey's mind. He did have her. He had her love, and she believed she was the love that he needed. But he had touched her and changed her life in so many ways that she hoped her love was enough for him in return. She could only hope she was enough.
Pacey embraced her once more, holding her against him. His hand went to her soft hair and he closed his eyes as he pressed his nose to the sweet comfort of it. He whispered three little words over and over and over again that made Joey's heart swell and ache for him at the same time.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
When Pacey and Joey arrived back at the B&B, they saw Bessie and Bodie had returned from their weekend trip to Martha's Vineyard. Once inside the house, Joey told them all about the meeting in Mr. Peskin's office.
"There's an emergency school board meeting tonight at six-thirty," she stated.
"At the town hall?" Bodie replied.
"Yeah." She turned to see Pacey scoop up a laughing Alexander and take him out to the back porch.
The door opened and shut, and then the house was still for a moment.
"How is he?" Bessie asked.
Joey tore her eyes from the door and looked at her sister. "I don't know. He's not saying much, but he says he's fine." She shrugged. "It's just a lot. Being back here. Dealing with his parents. Having to face the whole thing with Ms. Jacobs becoming public. I think he's holding it together."
"I'm sure you have a lot to do with that," Bodie said with a smile.
She lowered her gaze and tucked her hair behind her ear before she scoffed at herself. Anxiety filled her chest. "Most of the time I don't even know what to say to him. I don't know what to do. I've been calling our friends since we left Peskin's office, and they're all coming down from Boston. Well, most of them. Dawson and Jen are already here. They're gonna be coming here to the B&B to hang out for a bit before the meeting. I hope that's okay. We'll probably have supper before the meeting. I know it's a bunch of unexpected mouths to feed…"
Bodie exchanged a look with Bessie. "Sure, Jo. Not a problem. We've got plenty here."
"Okay. But now I'm second-guessing myself." She took a deep breath, and then started rambling. "I thought a big support system would be good for Pacey, you know? To have all his friends around him, to know they have his back. But what if he doesn't actually want to be around a bunch of people? What if he just wants to be left alone? Which, of course, is typically Pacey's default. But that's not exactly healthy, is it?
"But what if he gets irritated with there being a houseful of people, who are all likely going to this meeting and will have to sit there and hear, in detail, everything Pacey has to say about Ms. Jacobs? God, I can't imagine. Maybe I shouldn't have called them. There's still time to tell them not to come. They won't have left Boston yet. But… what if Pacey walks in there and the only friendly face is mine? What the hell kind of support is that?"
"Joey, calm down," Bessie chuckled. "What are you so nervous about?"
Tears pricked her eyes. "I just want him to know I'm doing all I can for him. That… that I'll do whatever I can to make this easier on him."
"I'm sure he knows that, Jo," Bodie said kindly.
"But what if I can't make this easier? What if nothing I do or say can make him feel better about this?" Her throat tightened. "What if I'm not enough?"
Bessie sighed deeply and walked over to her younger sister, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Joey, this is something very serious that Pacey is dealing with, something very personal, that has probably impacted him in more ways than he even realizes. All he needs to know is that you're there and you love him. He'll have to work out the rest for himself… or possibly with a good therapist."
"You can't save anybody," she muttered. "As my friend Alan would say."
"Jo, it's not your job to save Pacey," Bodie told her. "Your sister is right. There are things that Pacey needs to get right with inside himself. That's not on you to solve or fix. You gotta let him work through it."
A few minutes later, Alexander came running inside the house, asking to watch Nickelodeon. Pacey had remained outside. Joey walked over to the back door and pulled the curtain aside to see him walking down to the dock. She watched him for a moment before turning as her sister approached holding a plate.
"Two turkey sandwiches, just the way Pacey likes them," Bessie said maternally. "Go on."
With a grateful smile, Joey thanked her, took the plate, and walked out the door.
Pacey looked toward the creek, and the panorama almost took his breath. The sky looked bigger here than in Boston, he thought, its blueness fading into deep green that touched the shining creek, creating layers of sky, land, and water. These horizontal slivers defined the landscape of his childhood, parallel lines that ran one on top of another, occasionally dipping into or overlapping the adjacent layer. The bright afternoon light created reflections and shadows that further blurred the lines.
He walked through the grass toward the small dock at the water's edge. As he approached, frogs leapt from the bank into the water. A flock of geese flew overhead, yapping and honking. He sat down on the dock, hugging his knees, a brisk wind rippling the creek. Soon enough he heard footsteps approaching, and he turned, unsurprised to see Joey walking towards him.
"Bessie made sandwiches for lunch," she told him as she handed him the plate, before sitting down next to him.
"Thanks," he said, giving her a slight smile.
They sat in comfortable silence on the dock's smooth boards and ate their turkey sandwiches, watching the sun on the water. When they finished, Joey set the plate down behind them. A gust of wind shook the trees and tall reeds, and she shivered. Pacey gently pulled on her arm until she found herself sitting in the V of his long legs. He pulled her back to recline against his chest. His arms wrapped around her waist, and she sagged against him, humming contentedly at his warmth.
They remained silent for some minutes.
"What are you thinking about?" Joey asked, finally breaking the quiet.
"My mom."
"How she stormed out of Mr. Kapinos's office?"
"Not exactly."
Pacey's mother was nine years old when the last of her parents' wealth ran out. One night, his grandparents opened the last bottle of Irish whiskey they would ever share and toasted the past. They had a great run together, doing what they wanted and owing nothing to anyone. Their two children were hungry, huddled together on the cold floor playing with the last toys they would ever own. It was February, and there was no heat in their small house—a house in a decent Boston neighborhood that had once had an air of modest wealth and class, but had since been scavenged for its valuables and anything that could be pawned for a bottle of booze and whatever food they could get for their children. A month later, the family was evicted from the house, the children sent to live with relatives.
"I can imagine my mom saying goodbye to her parents, with no one listening, how scared and confused she must've been," Pacey said to Joey. "I can imagine my grandmother looking at my mother's lips moving, hearing nothing at all but her own selfish wants and needs, her own embarrassment and confusion over being caught in a situation with no alternatives."
No one had listened to his grandmother weep when the carriage had come for her in Ireland and her own mother had turned her away, he thought, remembering the story Doug had told him years ago. Weren't children meant to be seen, and not heard, and to be taught to live according to the needs of their parents? The needs of the children were secondary. His grandmother had done as she was told. She had no time for a daughter whose needs were a mirror to her own weaknesses, she had no tolerance for remembering the fear and confusion that she had once known as a child. So, she did for her daughter what her mother had done for her, and nothing more.
"My grandparents let the relatives take the children, let the authorities take the house." They continued to fight the struggles of poor drunks, alone and apart from each other. Pacey heaved a deep sigh. "Eventually, my grandfather sobered up enough to get a decent job, reclaimed his children and moved with them to Capeside, then tried his hardest to be a good father. But my mom was fourteen by then. The damage had been done."
"Did your mom ever see your grandmother again?"
"No. That woman never loved or wanted her children. We have no idea if she's living or dead. My grandfather died when I was four years old. I don't really have any memories of him, but my brother and sisters adored him. I'm told he was a very nice man, very sweet and very funny—the complete opposite of my dad's father."
Joey nodded, her eyes widening. "Ah, good ol' Grandpa Dale."
Pacey shook his head and scoffed. "I come from a long line of screwed up people."
"You think the Potters are any better?" she joked.
"Yes. I'm tellin' you now, Jo: our kids are gonna take your name."
She snorted. When he flipped his palms upwards, her hands fell into them and her fingers interlaced with his. "What's made you think of all this?"
"My mom asked me if I thought she was a bad mother. You know, I must have mommy issues if I was fuckin' my teacher."
"Wow… that's…"
"Yeah. Hell, maybe I do. You think I should lie down on someone's couch and have them psychoanalyze me?"
Joey chuckled. "You know what Freud supposedly said about the Irish, don't you? 'This is one race of people for whom psychoanalysis is of no use whatsoever.' Apparently, the Irish, when in mental or emotional trouble, go to poetry, storytelling, or escapism. He believed the Irish have no interest in picking apart their own brains."
Shrugging his shoulders, Pacey nodded in agreement. "The Irish… just deal with it. Even if something's wrong, they'll just go to work, sing songs, drink Guinness down at the bar, raise a bunch of kids, and then grow old and die. They can deal with something being wrong for their entire lives 'cause… Well, that's life. I think that might be another reason I'm the black sheep of the family. I couldn't just deal with the things around me that were wrong, and that of course made me soft and sensitive and emotional, and my parents couldn't have that."
"Freud also apparently said the Irish are a mass of contradictions and impervious to the rational thought processes that might resolve them."
"Well, that explains the Witters," Pacey deadpanned.
Joey shifted slightly, turning to look at him. He chuckled and kissed her. They sat on the dock silently for a while, his arms around her holding her close, watching the mesmerizing sparkle of the sunlight on the water.
A great longing rose up in Pacey's heart to be again what he once had been, to get back what he had lost. "I miss the True Love, Jo. I miss her so bad."
Tears began to form in Joey's eyes. Her heart constricted as she pictured that magical summer they'd spent on the boat. They'd been deliriously happy, deeply, passionately in love, and blissfully ignorant of all that their senior year at Capeside High would involve. They were young and free and unencumbered by real life and its struggles and complications.
"I miss her, too, Pace."
"You should've let me turn the boat around and go back to Key West. But no, we had to go back to school."
Joey laughed through her tears, and turned in his arms to see the scowl on his face. She smiled at him and kissed his cheek. His face softened at her sweet gesture, and he bent his head. Their lips met in a soft, passionate kiss. Pacey held the kiss as long as he could until they had to break for air. She brushed her nose against his, closing her eyes in contentment.
The sun glinted off the ripples in the creek as the wind bent the cattails on the bank near the dock. Their familiar whispering was a comfort. Joey's hair lashed her face as the wind blew it into her eyes. Pacey brushed the hair from her face with gentle fingers. She relished his tender caresses, and her heart fluttered in her chest.
Then they were locked in a tight embrace, and returned to kissing each other with a renewed passion.