A/N: An Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con trigger warning applies to this chapter.
October 10. After a fitful sleep, Pacey woke to an empty bed. A note from his girlfriend that had been left on the nightstand reminded him of her eight A.M. class. He remembered Wednesdays were her long day and he wouldn't get to see her before he left for work that afternoon. After looking at his watch, guessing she must've left him well over two hours ago, he frowned as he sunk back down onto his pillow. He'd lain awake for quite some time the night before, listening to Joey's slow and steady breathing, the scent of their lovemaking heavy in the air, and wondering what tomorrow would bring, what the next few months would bring, how the ripple effect of Tamara's confession would possibly affect his life.
The smell of coffee emanating from downstairs told him that Gretchen must be home. Eventually the tantalizing scent tempted him enough to move, and Pacey forced himself out of bed and into the shower. Once he'd dressed and readied himself for the day, he went down the spiral staircase. To his surprise, two sisters were in the kitchen drinking coffee.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I live here, dummy," Gretchen retorted.
He squinted his eyes at her and pulled a face. "Ha-ha."
"My flight back to North Carolina's not until tomorrow," Amy told him. "And two nights at Mom and Dad's is about all I can take. So, I'm crashing here. Gretch is gonna take me to the airport in the morning."
"It's too bad you won't be around for the Housewarming party," Gretchen pouted.
Pacey stared at his sister. The furthest thing from his mind at the moment was a party. "When did you decide to have it?"
"Well, I want to make use of the rooftop patio before the weather gets cold. How about a week from this Monday? I think that'll give us enough time to get this place in order, not to mention the rooftop patio. I figure you could use a little fun, considering… What do you think?"
"Monday? Weird night to throw a party," he remarked.
She shrugged. "Well, you said that you wanted to invite your coworkers, and that's the only night the Ambrosia is closed, right?"
"Yeah," he said with a sigh.
Gretchen smiled. "You and Joey did a nice job painting in here yesterday."
"Thanks. It was relaxing and got my mind off stuff. So, how's Carrie?" he asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee.
"Packing her bags for the hospital," Amy replied.
He turned from the counter and blinked. "Really?"
Gretchen nodded. "Dad kinda laid down the law Monday night after the school board thing. Told her if she didn't go willingly, he'd have her committed. So, that's what Mom and Dad are doing today: taking Carrie to Southcoast Mental Health Center. I honestly think Dad was partly just desperate for something else to occupy his time. And driving down to Wareham will keep him away from his office, away from district court. He doesn't want to be seen as having some sort of influence over the proceedings, you know…"
Pacey's brows furrowed as he sipped from his mug.
"Tamara Jacobs' arraignment is today," Amy reminded him.
"Right," he nodded, his stomach twisting fiercely.
"And since she's willingly pleading guilty, she might end up making a plea deal with the prosecutor to try and avoid a harsh sentence. If the lawyers strike up a deal by then, she could be sentenced right there at the arraignment," Gretchen added. "Well, Doug seems to think so, at least. This time tomorrow, she could be sitting in a prison cell."
Amy scoffed. "Well, hopefully. Isn't she engaged to a guy with boat loads of money? Dougie said her lawyer works for one of those New York firms that charge like a thousand bucks an hour. Watch her plea herself right out of jail time with a nice slap on the wrist. The rich never do real time."
Not knowing how to respond, Pacey gulped the hot coffee instead. The liquid scalded his throat, the pain an effective diversion.
"Doug called from the courthouse while you were in the shower, said the media is already camped out," Gretchen said with a grimace. "Did you see that Karen Jeffries at the town hall Monday night, shoving her microphone in everyone's faces?"
Pacey frowned and took another gulp of hot coffee. His eyes watered as his tongue burned and the roof of his mouth scalded. This was going to be a long week.
Back upstairs, he scowled at the pile of dirty laundry filling one corner of his room. He had time to kill before work, so he may as well get the chore done. Dutifully, he piled his clothes in a large basket, then pulled the dark red sheets from his mattress, and took them down to the Ford Mustang that was parked on the street in front of the apartment building.
Outside, the sky threatened rain. He drove to the laundromat on Dixfield Street, the closest one to his apartment. The laundromat was clean except for a couple empty juice bottles on top of one machine and an ashtray on another—traces of the early morning crowd. There would be another crowd in at night. It was almost noon, and no one else was there at the moment. The only sound was coming from the small television that was mounted on the wall beside the clock down at the far end of the room. While the place wasn't all that dirty, there was a certain air of despair about it. Yet despite this, the laundromat had become one of Pacey's favorite places in the neighborhood.
There were rarely any men around, for one. It was mostly women who would come there to make things clean for their families. They folded clothes and chatted and gossiped and swapped advice about food and laundry products and husbands. It was a public place but its uses were private ones, so people who found themselves there together were related in a way. And Pacey would sit there, listening to it all, glad to be simultaneously ignored and yet somehow included.
When the washer light went off, he took the sheets out and pushed the dripping bundle in a wire basket down to the row of dryers at the far end of the room. He put in four dimes and watched as the sheets tumbled slowly and gracefully behind the glass door. They would stick to the side of the drum, then fall and climb again, fall and climb again. Pacey zoned out for a while, when a news broadcast caught his attention.
"…Capeside High School. We have NBC10 Boston's Jonathan Moseley live from outside Barnstable District Court with all the latest."
Pacey turned and gaped at the television screen, his heart in his throat.
"Thank you, Erin," spoke the middle-aged field reporter into his microphone. "That arraignment just happened moments ago. We can show you some video from inside the courtroom when it occurred." The broadcast cut away from the reporter and immediately Tamara Jacobs was on the screen, standing beside her lawyer in front of a judge. She wore a simple navy blue dress and light makeup, looking beautiful and demure and remorseful.
"Thirty-eight-year-old Tamara Jacobs was arraigned today after being charged with ten counts of statutory rape of a child by the Barnstable County Sheriff's Department. The victim, who remained nameless during the proceedings, was fifteen years old at the time and was her student at Capeside High School, where she taught tenth-grade English. She and the victim became involved in a sexual affair that lasted approximately a month before she resigned from her teaching position and left the state of Massachusetts. She was thirty-five-years old at the time of the relationship.
"At the arraignment, the prosecutor stated that in her written and recorded confession, Jacobs acknowledged the factual basis of the offenses, i.e., that she had knowingly and willfully engaged in unlawful sexual intercourse with the victim who was under the age of sixteen, and as part of a deal with the prosecution, voluntarily entered a guilty plea to one count of rape of a child."
Pacey swallowed hard. Rape. He never thought in a million years that word would ever have any association with him, and to hear it spoken aloud like that…
His head was spinning.
"Assistant District Attorney Alexandra Lorenzetti of the Cape and Islands DA Office told the court that the prosecution would be seeking a four-to-six-year state prison sentence for the defendant's 'violation of trust.' Jacobs was released on a five-thousand-dollar cash bail, and will be due back in court for the sentencing hearing on November fifth.
"We're live from Barnstable, Jonathan Moseley, NBC10 Boston," the reporter signed off.
Staring at the television, Pacey felt sick. Four to six years in prison. Years? He felt guilt trying to creep in once again, as if he had done something wrong. As if it wasn't fair that Tamara should receive such a harsh sentence for something he did. Why should she be punished, and not him?
He tried to tell himself what everyone else had been telling him—that it wasn't his fault, that he wasn't to blame, that he wasn't responsible. If only he could make himself feel it.
The woman news anchor named Erin sitting at the station desk continued. "Thank you, Jon. And we've also just learned that no arrest warrant had been issued, but Tamara Jacobs voluntarily appeared at the Barnstable County Sheriff's Office and turned herself in Monday afternoon. According to the investigators, Capeside High's Tom Kapinos, a child psychologist employed by the school district, recently became aware of the relationship and reported it to school officials. It was then that the Sheriff's Department became involved. The victim is a former student of Capeside High School where Jacobs taught English for five weeks in the autumn of 1998. The authorities have not revealed the identity of the former student citing the 'sensitive nature' of an ongoing investigation. According to the deputies involved in the case, the victim has confirmed the relationship. We're digging deeper into this situation involving former teacher, Tamara Jacobs, and her then fifteen-year-old victim."
The male anchor sitting beside her at the news desk then took over. "Our coverage continues now in Capeside. That's where we find NBC10's Christie Abrams. Christie is live for us outside of Capeside Town Hall, where we're learning more facts about this shocking story."
A young woman appeared on the TV screen, standing in front of the building Pacey had just been inside two days ago. "David, yes, there are more facts coming to light, including the stunning reveal that this relationship between Tamara Jacobs and a former student had actually been uncovered three years ago at the time it first occurred, when she was still teaching at the school. The accusations were brought up here at the town hall before the Capeside School Board three years ago, where both Jacobs and the victim denied the relationship at the time.
"School officials have said in a statement: 'The district takes the allegations against Ms. Jacobs very seriously and is continuing to work with the authorities as they investigate this matter. While the district understands the need and desire for more information, there are specific laws that govern school districts which prohibit the district from sharing details of students or personnel, current or former.'
"Parents of other students from the school have all been shocked by the allegations," said Christie Abrams before the television showed footage of a man who looked like he'd been stopped on the street to be interviewed. "Bradley Wolfe, one of the parents, had this to say."
The man started speaking. "That's really shocking and annoying because I have a son who went there and had a class with this Miss Jacobs when he was a sophomore. Who's to say it didn't happen to him?"
The young reporter named Christie was then speaking into the camera again. "Tamara Jacobs, reported fiancée of notable Boston business tycoon, Joseph O'Donnell, was arrested Monday night in the town of Bourne after sheriff's deputies alleged that she confessed to having sex with a former student around ten times in the span of one month in 1998. According to authorities, both Jacobs and her victim deny that any of these alleged sexual encounters took place on school property. It was reported that the unnamed former student, who was just fifteen years old at the time, has since moved out of Cape Cod altogether. It has also been reported that the investigators into the case have not yet ruled out the possibility that there could be other victims."
Pacey had heard enough. He bolted up from the plastic chair, then went over to the television and turned it off. He collapsed back in the chair and stared at his tumbling sheets. His eyes burned and he felt heat creeping into his neck and face. He couldn't bear the thought of Tamara in prison. She didn't belong there, among the cruel and violent. She would get eaten alive.
He was trying not to feel guilty, and failing.
After a while, he noticed that the dryer stopped, maybe had been stopped for some time. He watched it to see if it would start up again. When it didn't, he had to use all his power to move through the six feet of space to the machine. Inside the drum, the sheets were hot, an old dark blue T-shirt turned Joey's nightshirt was limp with heat. Hands shaking, he gathered the laundry up and tossed it in the wicker basket on wheels. Glancing up at the clock, he saw he'd have no time to fold. He had to leave now or he'd be late to work.
The restaurant was busy. Not surprising for a rainy Wednesday night. The orders were steady, and working alongside the always friendly and chatty John Valenzuela, Pacey kept busy with prep work and the time flew by. At nine-thirty, when the last tables had been served their entrees and desserts, he went out back to the alley to take a break. The rain had slowed, but water still poured from the gutter onto the top of the dumpster in a musical rhythm.
Leaning against the brick wall, partially shielded from the rain by an awning, he pulled his Nokia cell phone from his pocket. He had several voicemails waiting for him. Dinner service had been a blur of motion and organized chaos, and for a few hours, the school board meeting and his father and Tamara and all that he'd seen on the news earlier had been completely swept from his mind. Now that his mind could rest, it all came rushing back.
His stomach churning, Pacey lifted the phone, hoping they were messages he actually wanted to hear. Somehow, he doubted it.
The first message started and he instantly recognized Andie's voice. "Pacey, hi. You're probably at work. Um, have you seen the news? If you have, are you okay? Are you freaking out right now? If you are, it's totally understandable, but you should definitely talk to someone. You know, like Mr. Kapinos, or someone in the city. I can give you the numbers of several good counselors my therapist recommended to me who specialize with helping young people who've been through what you must be going through right now, and you should think about it. Yes, I've talked about you with my therapist, but that's not exactly a revelation, is it?
"Anyway, um, if you haven't seen the news… well, uh, I think you should as soon as possible. You know, so you're not blindsided by insensitive, idiotic comments like I was in class this afternoon! Ugh! Look, I can guess that if you have seen the news, then you might be blaming yourself for the prosecutor coming down hard on Ms. Jacobs, but she broke the law and she has to face the consequences. You did nothing wrong, so don't you dare blame yourself, Pacey Witter. Call me if you need to, okay? Bye!"
The voicemail beeped, and Pacey shook his head. Andie had talked so fast it sounded as if her entire message had come out in a single breath.
"Hello, little brother," Doug spoke as the next message started. "I just, uh…" He breathed a heavy sigh into the phone. "Just calling to see how you're holding up. Call me back, please, so I know you're all right."
The next message played. "Hey, it's Gretchen," his sister spoke. "And Amy!" his other sister interjected in the background. He could picture them sitting together on the living room couch.
"This bullshit with your teacher is all over the news," continued Gretchen. "Your name hasn't been mentioned yet, but… Pace… the more people in town these vultures talk to, I think it eventually will come out. Especially if they talk to students at the high school. I mean, everyone knows the rumors. Well, what used to be rumor. I just… I feel awful. This whole situation sucks."
Then he heard the muffled sounds of the phone changing hands. "Pacey, no matter what these Massholes might say about you on TV or in the paper, you've got nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed about, okay?" Amy said. "It's that woman who has humiliated and shamed herself for her own terrible decisions. She did the crime, so she has to do the time. She brought this on herself."
"Yeah," Gretchen agreed, taking the phone back. "Anyway, I have to work tonight at the bar, but Amy is gonna wait up for you. I should be home a little after two. If you're not still up, then I'll see you in the morning."
"We love you, Pacey!" Amy called out in the background.
He smiled weakly as the voicemail beeped again, then sighed with relief as Joey's calm and gentle voice filled his ear.
"Hi, sweetheart. It's almost five o'clock. I just got out of my last class like twenty minutes ago, and I'm about to hunker down in the library for the rest of the night. I'm just calling to see how your day is going. Sorry we didn't get to talk this morning, but I didn't want to wake you and—" Another voice interrupted the message. "Girl, you skipped two days' worth of classes. Come on, get your sweet little ass moving." Pacey recognized the voice as belonging to Alan Napier, and wondered if they were hanging out in her dorm or the residence hall's common room.
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Joey responded. "Sorry about that. Alan has the patience of a hungry squirrel. Um… anyway, I hope you're doing all right. I know how difficult yesterday was, and… well, I've been thinking about you all day. Call me when you get out of work, or you can come by my dorm and stay the night, if you want. By some miracle, Audrey has no plans to sexile me tonight. Anyway, I'll wait up. Okay, well… Love you. Talk to you later."
Pacey frowned at the phone. He'd been so wrapped up in himself that he hadn't even given much consideration to that fact Joey had missed out on her college classes to be with him in Capeside, and then to stay home with him yesterday. They hadn't arrived back in Boston until late Monday night, and they ended up sleeping in. She had told him she wanted to spend his day off together so he didn't have to hang around the apartment by myself, and he hadn't given it much thought. He'd simply enjoyed her company without thinking about where she should've been instead. For someone who was such a control freak about her coursework, and no doubt had piles of it waiting for her back at school, the fact she didn't mention this fact to him even once over the past several days must've taken real effort.
He hoped she hadn't missed out on anything too important, anything that she wouldn't be able to make up. He wondered if she'd caught any of the news today, but maybe not if she'd been occupied with her classes and assignments. If she hadn't, she was likely to soon enough. Along with her college friends, and everyone else in the city.
A heavy gloom came over him as he started to walk back inside the restaurant to start cleaning up his station. Right as he reached out to open the door, his cell phone started ringing. He heaved a sigh and pulled it from his pocket. Jen Lindley's name was on the I.D. screen. For a split second he contemplated letting her leave a voicemail to join all the others, but then he answered.
"Yes, I've seen the news," he wearily said by way of greeting.
"Huh?"
"Isn't that why you're calling me, Jen?"
"No. I'm calling you because Grams is in bed, Dawson's working at his mom's restaurant, Jack's in the midst of Hell Week at that damn frat house, and Joey didn't answer her phone."
"Oh, well, I see where I rank on your list of closest acquaintances," he quipped.
"Hey, at least you're in the top five, right?" she laughed.
"Anyway, what's up?"
"I was wondering two things: what time do you have to be at work tomorrow, and how do you feel about Shakespeare?"
Pacey chuckled. "Um… I have to be at the restaurant by three o'clock, and… well, honestly, Shakespeare is kinda boring."
"But have you ever seen Shakespeare live on the stage?"
"Are you asking me on a date, Lindley?" he smiled.
"How about you, me, the Calderwood Pavilion on Tremont Street, and the twelve o'clock matinée showing of Othello?"
He smiled again and thought a moment. "And exactly how long is this supposed to last?"
"Two hours and forty-five minutes, including a fifteen-minute intermission. You should be able to make it to work by three. The theater's less than ten minutes from downtown. Please, Pacey? I have to see it for one of my classes, and I really don't wanna have to go by myself."
"Haven't you made any new friends in this college of yours? Maybe you should think about moving into student housing and expanding your social circle."
"And leave behind the free room and board with Grams?" Jen scoffed.
"Frankly, I'm shocked Grams doesn't want to go to the theater with you. Or Jack, for that matter."
"Believe it or not, Grams has more of a happening social life than I do, and Jack said he has plans. At the fraternity, I'm assuming. So… will you come with me? Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease?"
The more that Pacey thought about it, hiding away in a dark theater for a few hours didn't sound like a bad idea at the moment. "Yeah, okay, I'll come."
"Thank you!"
"You'll probably wanna grab a bite to eat first?"
"Sure. There should be some decent places near the theater."
They said their goodbyes, and then he hung up the call and went back inside the restaurant.
Just after the doors closed at ten o'clock, Tiffany the waitress popped back into the kitchen. "Hey, Pacey, Mr. Moore wants to see you. He's in the office."
Dropping the towel on the counter, Pacey turned and walked back out through the double doors. He knocked on the office door as he opened it. James was sitting behind the manager's desk, where his wife usually sat in the afternoons, calling in orders and barking at vendors over late deliveries and settling the various minidramas among the waitstaff.
"Pacey, come on in," his boss said with a weary smile, and then gestured to the chair in front of the desk. "Have a seat."
Tentatively, he did as was requested, sitting down and entwining his fingers in his lap.
"So, what did you do to piss off Joe O'Donnell?" James asked.
Pacey's mouth went dry and he swallowed. "Why?" He honestly hadn't thought of how the people in Tamara's life would react, but he honestly should've expected this.
"He wants me to fire you, and in return he offered me a lot of money."
Pacey felt his stomach plummet at the thought of being ousted from the Ambrosia. Dread then gave way to anger; how dare that guy fuck with his life like this?
"You've gotta be kidding me."
Mr. Moore shook his head. "Nope, not kidding. He didn't tell me why he wants me to fire you, just made the offer, and then casually threatened to drop all ties with me and my businesses and charities if I continued to employ you. And I'm sure you can appreciate how serious a blow that would be to lose a patron of Joseph O'Donnell's status."
Pacey nodded, his heart sinking within him. He was angry and nervous in equal measure. "So, are you gonna fire me?"
James gave him a furrowed look. "I would think you know me better than that by now."
The fear of being fired began to lift, and Pacey felt a sense of relief begin washing through him.
"I told him I couldn't fire you," he said. "It was out of the question. You're too good a worker, and I'm not about to let some other restaurant snatch up someone as talented as you."
"Thank you. I appreciate that."
Mr. Moore leaned back in his chair and eyed him appraisingly. "Does Joe's sudden dislike of you have anything to do with that fiancée of his?"
Pacey slid his hand over his mouth, his fingers circling around his lips before moving down his chin, and exhaled. "I'm pretty sure it has everything to do with it."
"I see. Then I was right in thinking that you have a history with her that goes beyond her being your teacher?"
He scoffed sarcastically. "I don't suppose you've seen any news reports on TV today?"
James shook his head and nodded at the folded Boston Globe on the desk. "I read today's paper."
"Well, hey, maybe it'll be in tomorrow's issue, then. If I'm lucky, it'll even make the front page." He crossed his arms in front of his chest, shaking his head as he stared down at his lap.
"Are you in some kind of trouble?"
"No. I'm not…"
Pacey looked up at his boss. "But have I ever told you that I'm cursed? Because I am, and now I'm starting to think that maybe you really should fire me."
The corners of Mr. Moore's mouth twitched. "Cursed, huh? Well, you're not cursed inside the kitchen, I can say that."
"Then that might be the only place I'm not cursed," he muttered.
"I don't like this self-defeatist attitude, Pacey." His face and voice were stern, but James had a twinkle of amusement in his eye. "Joe O'Donnell may have made me an offer, but I'm going to make you one instead."
He stared with wary curiosity. "Yeah?" Then the wheels started turning, and he frowned. "Look, if this about school—"
"It's not, but I'm willing to discuss it further whenever you're ready. That's not the offer I'm talking about. With the change of seasons, we change up our menu." James crossed his arms, then leaned forward on the desk. "Your white bean and pancetta soup is a perfect appetizer for the fall menu. And I'd like to add it to the menu in all the Ambrosia restaurants, so I'd like to buy your recipe from you."
Pacey gaped. "Buy my recipe? But—"
"I'll pay you handsomely," Mr. Moore said, sliding a small piece of paper towards him across the desk. "And I'll even throw in revenue sharing. You know, you'll earn a percentage every time we sell it."
This was the last thing Pacey had ever expected. He didn't reach out to take the paper, and merely stared down at it in shock. "But… that's too much…" He could only shake his head, dumbfounded. "I mean, it's just soup."
Grinning at him, James scoffed. "It's not just soup—it's a product! The very beginning of your culinary empire."
"My what?" Pacey laughed.
"I've told you before that it's time to think about getting some ambition."
"But there's nothing fancy about the soup. It's cheap and easy to make."
"Which means we'll garner more of a profit from it than a complicated dish with expensive ingredients that takes hours to prepare," James said shrewdly. "You've made something cheap and easy that tastes expensive and difficult. Do you see?"
Pacey nodded, and then smiled knowingly. "And so, then you can charge an arm and a leg for a bowl of soup…"
"No arms or legs required, but I think eighteen dollars will do the trick."
"Know who pays eighteen dollars for a bowl of bean soup? Suckers."
James chuckled. "There are a lot of wealthy suckers in this town, what can I say?"
Pacey stepped out of Mr. Moore's office feeling better than he had all day. When he walked back through the double doors and into the kitchen, the chefs and cooks were sitting around the large wood-topped island in the middle of the room, talking and eating and drinking. One half of the new dishwasher brothers, Hector Navarro, was in the corner messing with the radio.
As he approached the island, John turned to him and smiled. "Oh, hey, man. We're talkin' about that teacher on the news. The one who was fuckin' her student. They were just talkin' about it on the radio. You hear about that?"
Pacey's mouth went dry and he cleared his throat. The feeling that had buoyed him as he left the manager's office instantly evaporated. "Uh…"
"She's smokin' hot," Sean Sullivan said in his thick Boston accent as he lifted his bottle of Sam Adams to his mouth. "I bet she rocked that kid's world. If I'd had a teacher like her when I was in high school, I woulda been thanking my lucky stars, not calling the fuckin' cops."
Assistant chef, Andrew Zimmer, chuckled. "Maybe she dumped him, so now he's pissed and wants a little revenge. I feel bad for her, honestly."
"You guys are so gross," Charlie snapped. "She was twenty years older than the kid. If their genders were reversed, you'd all agree that the male teacher belongs in jail."
Pacey stared at her, wondering if his sister had said anything about it to her, hoping Gretchen hadn't. Hoping against hope that his name and face wouldn't get out to the public. He didn't want to imagine what would await him at work if it did. The way the other cooks would look at him, the things they would say to him, or about him when he wasn't around…
The things people would say to his family members.
The things people would say to Joey.
"That's different," Sean said dismissively. "Sex can't happen unless a guy gets excited, so how are you gonna call it abuse?"
"She broke the law!" Charlie shot back. "Regardless of whether or not her student wanted it to happen, it was still illegal and wrong. You're just blinded by gendered stereotypes that prevent people from accepting that a man could be victimized by a woman. Men can't possibly be overpowered, either physically or mentally, by weak, vulnerable women. Men are the ones who dominate. Men are the ones who initiate sex. It's macho bullshit."
The other assistant chef, Richard Ottosen, set his wine glass down. "The teacher is too pretty for jail," he mused.
Charlie pulled a face. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"Well, it's another stereotype, isn't it?" John said. "If she were ugly, people would see her as a villain who deserves to be punished. But because she's 'smokin' hot' as Sean said, she's seen as a babe and the kid should be lucky to have banged her. Any horny teenager would love to fuck their hot teacher, right? So, they're not gonna punish her too much. I bet she gets probation."
Pacey was not about to join in the conversation. He had to get out of there. He said goodbye to his coworkers, then changed out of his uniform and drove home.
Just as she had promised earlier, his sister Amy was waiting up, sitting on the couch in the living room watching the television when he walked inside his apartment.
"Hi, honey," she called out as he shut and locked the door.
"Hey."
Pacey took off his jacket and shoes, dropped his basket of clean laundry on the floor, and collapsed on the couch beside her. There was a deodorant commercial on the TV screen. "What are you watching?"
"Letterman. How was work?"
"It was good. Busy. The usual. Nothing too eventful occurred."
"Which I'm sure was a welcome change from the past few days," Amy said astutely.
He sighed heavily.
"How are you feeling about it all?"
"I don't know," he said. "I'm trying hard not to think about it. I wish none of this had ever happened."
"Well, it has happened and you have to think about it. You have to allow yourself to feel what you're feeling, instead of ignoring it and bottling it up. And then you just gotta move forward, Pace. Things suck right now, but focus on the future and the good things ahead of you."
Thoughts of Joey swirled inside his mind. "Yeah. Well, I have to go call my girlfriend. See you in the morning."
Amy said goodnight and then he went up the spiral staircase to his loft bedroom. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he pulled out his cell phone and called the only number on the speed dial.
"Hello?" Joey answered in a quiet voice.
"Hey, it's me."
"Hi. Audrey's asleep, so I gotta keep it down."
"Okay. So—"
"Did you get my message?"
"Yeah, I did. Thanks for calling. It was nice to hear your voice on my break."
"Are you okay, Pace?"
"I don't know," he answered honestly. He felt guilty and nauseous and confused, or maybe he was just afraid.
"Do you want to come over and stay with me tonight? Or I can come to you?"
"You're not coming down to Southie in the middle of the night, Jo. Besides, don't you have an early class tomorrow?"
She sighed into the phone. "Yes, I do, but—"
"Jo, you need to concentrate on school. This shit that's happening with me, it's a distraction you don't need."
"Pacey, what are you saying?"
He heard the rising panic in her voice, and closed his eyes as he rubbed his fingers between his brows. "I'm saying you already missed several classes this week, it's a school night, you need your sleep, and… I think I just wanna be alone right now."
"You're upset."
"I just…" He shook his head. He just what? He didn't know.
"You've either seen or heard about the news today, right? Pacey, you shouldn't feel guilty or responsible for what's happening to Ms. Jacobs. These are the consequences for her actions."
"I know I shouldn't feel that way, Jo, but I do. You know what kind of stuff could happen to her in prison? She doesn't deserve that."
"I do know, since I actually have a father in prison, Pacey."
He hung his head, feeling even worse. "I'm sorry. I—"
"Pacey, you can't beat yourself up over this. Is there anything I can do? Why don't you come over and stay the night? Let me be there for you."
"Joey, I…" He wanted to be comforted, but he also wanted to be alone. "You have been there for me. I never would've gotten through this weekend back in Capeside without you. I don't want what's happening to negatively affect you anymore than it already has. You need to focus on your classes, okay? I know how important it is to you to do well at Worthington, and I'll feel even worse if you fall behind or don't give your classes or assignments the attention required because you're worrying about me or your mind is on this mess."
"Pacey, we are a team. We have to deal with things, as a team."
"Not if it's negatively impacting your life."
"But it's not—"
"It will! What's gonna happen when my name gets out there? And suddenly you're the girl on campus whose boyfriend is that guy on the news whose teacher—" He couldn't wrap his mind around the word rape, let alone say it. Not like those newscasters and the way the word just rolled off their tongues like it was the easiest thing in the world to say. "It's an embarrassment."
"Pacey, I'm not embarrassed by you."
"You should be! The Sadim Touch, that's me."
"The what?"
"You know, Midas Touch backwards."
"Good lord, not this again." Joey heaved a sigh. "Hold on, I have to leave the room or I'm gonna wake up Audrey." He listened to muffled sounds and guessed she was getting off her bed. "Pacey, you're not cursed, okay?" she said, speaking louder now. "Curses only exist in fairy tales. If you need to talk about this, then I'm willing to listen. I want to. I want to be there for you."
"Joey, I really don't want to talk about this right now. I can't even wrap my head around what's happening, or how I feel about it. Can we just talk tomorrow? I need time to think and… sleep."
"Okay, well…" He listened to her breathing. "Well, my last class gets out at twelve-thirty. Do you wanna get lunch after?"
He frowned, but suddenly felt thankful he had an excuse, which only ratcheted up the guilt churning in his gut. "I actually made plans with Jen. She roped me into going to see a play with her. I guess she didn't have anyone else who could go."
"A play?"
"Yeah, Othello. She has to see it for school, and she didn't want to go alone."
"Oh, well, that was nice of you."
He could hear the disappointment in her voice. "Yeah. It's Shakespeare, so I'm sure I'll fall asleep in the first twenty minutes."
She snorted.
"Why don't you go out to lunch with Alan or your roommate?"
"Audrey has class and Alan said he's busy and has plans tomorrow. Anyway, lunch wasn't the point. The point was spending some time together. Do you wanna hang out on Friday before you go to work? I can meet you somewhere when I get out of my art class? Unless you want to swing by campus and pick me up?"
"Um…" He had to make an excuse. "Yeah, maybe, but I promised Gretchen that I'd work more on fixing up the rooftop patio. She wants it all done in time for the housewarming party."
"Oh, right. I forgot about that."
"So did I until Gretchen reminded me this morning."
"Well, then when am I gonna see you, Pacey?"
"Um… Monday?"
"Monday?!"
"Yeah. It's my day off and you only have the one class and you're out by nine-thirty. Pack a bag and come over after. Stay the night."
"Pacey Witter, are you trying to avoid spending time with me?"
"Of course not," he lied. "I just said you could spend the night on Monday."
"Yeah, and what's with this 'focus on school and I'll see you in five days' crap?"
The guilt continued to churn. "Don't you have a mountain of homework and studying you have to do, Jo?"
"That's beside the point."
"No, that's exactly the point."
"Are you trying to pick a fight with me?"
"Not on purpose. Joey, why would I pick a fight with you?"
"I don't know. You tell me, Pace."
He wanted to be left alone. And he felt guilty about wanting to be alone, especially when she only wanted to be supportive and take care of him. He didn't deserve her care. Not when he was on the verge of humiliating her if his name and face did get out to the public. It was only a matter of time before the news media on the Cape got his information, and then the Boston-based publications would surely pick it up. He couldn't stand to put Joey through that.
"Right now, I really just wanna take a shower and go to bed. I'm exhausted, Jo."
"All right." She sighed deeply. "Look, Pacey, I know this must be so confusing and difficult, and I know you have a lot on your mind that you need to work through. Will you… Will you at least call me over the next few days and let me know how you're doing? If there's radio silence, I'm gonna worry. You're thinking for two, remember?"
He smiled sadly at the memory. "Yes, Jo, I remember. I'll call you. I promise. And I'll talk to Gretchen about making herself scarce on Monday so we can have the place to ourselves."
"Okay. Oh, and Pace?"
"Yeah?"
"'A weak man has doubts before a decision, a strong man has them afterwards,'" she told him.
"And who said that?" he asked with a breathless laugh.
"Karl Kraus, and me, just now. You're a strong person, Pacey. And a good person. You're the best man I've ever known. Don't let this eat you up when you know in your heart that you did the right thing."
He smiled. "I'll try, Jo. Thanks."
"I love you, Pacey."
"I love you, too. Goodnight."
After showering and pulling on a pair of plaid pajama bottoms, he lay his head back on his pillow, looking at the stars painted on his ceiling. He wasn't lying to Joey when he said he wanted to be alone to get his head on straight. He thought of those voicemails that had been left on his phone earlier. Andie, his sisters, his brother, Joey…
They'd all wanted to check in on him, make sure he was okay, offer their shoulders to lean on. He should call Andie back. Call Doug. They'd no doubt offer to spend time with him, just as Joey had. But he couldn't handle company. He didn't want to see the looks on their faces. But he couldn't bear their pity and concern, or their secondhand embarrassment.
He just wanted to be alone.
And he honestly hated being alone, in his own head, with his own thoughts. It was not a friendly place right now. He didn't want to be buried in embarrassment, and guilt, and shame anymore. But it was more than that. It was the feelings of disappointment and failure that he'd done something so stupid, and years later it was ready to wreak havoc in the lives of those he loved.
He could picture Joey walking to her dorm room, picture his father walking into the Sheriff's Office, his mother pushing a cart around the grocery store, and he could hear the whispers and see the stares and sideways glances they'd now have to endure because of him. It made him want to curl up and fade away. Or maybe a hole could form in the floor and swallow him.
Pacey had wanted to leave Capeside and its bad memories behind. It had followed him to Boston, like a shadow that now seemed like it would never leave.