Part Three
III.
"...The girl sat in the dentist's chair, which was not a dentist's chair, and dreamed of sailing."
"Thank you, Joey." Professor Wilder smiled at her as she finished reading her first story for his Writing Workshop. "Any comments?"
A girl in the second row raised her hand and was called on. "The writing was all right, pedestrian but serviceable. But the message was appalling. To think of all the women who have fought and sacrificed to give us freedom over our own bodies, and still, the patriarchy rules us enough that little girls like you—no offense—want to perpetuate the myth that abortion is some life-destroying event."
"But that's not—"
"Okay," the professor interrupted. "This is not an ethics class. We're not getting into a political debate. But this is a literature class, and the best literature makes us think a little harder about the things we believe and why we believe them. It seems, Joey Potter, that you've stumbled onto something here." He wrote a B+ across the front of her paper and handed it back as the bell rang.
Joey shuffled back to her seat to grab her stuff while the rest of the students filed out. She waited until the last one had left before she told the professor, "She was wrong. About my story. It's not anti-abortion. It's not even really about abortion. That's just the setting."
Wilder looked up from his book and smirked at her. It was more charming than it should have been. "I know. It's about lying."
Joey nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. "I didn't want you to think I was all the things she said."
"Joey, I'm a professor of literature at one of the most prestigious universities in the country. Give me a little more credit than your average college freshman."
"You're right. Thanks. Sorry." She headed for the door.
"Joey?"
"Yeah?"
"Take it from someone who's been there. Wallowing in past mistakes might be a good way to write a story, but it's no way to live your life."
Joey turned away.
II.
Beginning life at Worthington was a dream come true. Joey loved the campus, the classes, the teachers. She even loved her wild child roommate. So when Audrey suggested going to a party to distract herself from the fact that Pacey had missed his last scheduled phone call, Joey found herself—to her surprise—accepting.
But all of that disappeared when they walked outside, and she saw Pacey on the lawn. He hadn't seen her yet. He was looking from a scrap of paper in his hand to the imposing buildings around him.
A passing student stopped and spoke to him. Pacey showed her the paper, and she pointed straight to where Joey had frozen in the doorway.
"Joey? Earth to Joey! What's wrong with you?"
Joey didn't answer Audrey. She barely heard her. Pacey had spotted her. With a whoop and grin, he was eating up the yards that separated them. Joey managed only three steps of her own before she was in his arms and in the air, twirling around, laughing and crying at once.
"Either you're the infamous, prodigal boyfriend, or I'm reporting you to campus security."
Joey laughed some more, hiding her face in Pacey's neck, breathing him in. She made the introductions without letting go. "Pacey, this is my roommate, Audrey Liddell. Audrey, meet the one and only Pacey J. Witter."
Pacey tucked Joey into his side in order to free a hand for Audrey to shake. "Of the Pacey J. Witter Memorial Wing of the Potter Bed & Breakfast in Capeside, Mass."
Audrey pulled a face at Pacey's lame, obscure joke, but shook his hand cheerfully. "I've been dying to meet a guy so full of himself he'd keep an amazing girl like Joey here dangling for three whole months. Gotta say, in person, you kinda underwhelm."
"Audrey!"
Pacey laughed. "Touche, Liddell." He sketched a mocking bow. "I have been put roundly in my place. I conclude you're astute enough not to be taken in by my assurances that I was suffering as keenly as Miss Potter herself."
Joey snickered and kissed Pacey's shoulder.
Audrey rolled her eyes. "What is it with you people and your big words? I guess I see why you like him, Joey, and I also guess I'm going to this party alone."
Joey nodded. "Sorry, Audrey. Rain check."
Audrey waved goodbye, and Pacey pulled Joey to him for another long hug. She had almost forgotten how good it felt to be in his arms.
"You know, if you want to go to this party, Jo, I can always—"
"Pacey! Think about the words coming out of your mouth."
He grinned down at her. "Right. Forgot who I was talking to for a sec. So takeout in your dorm room and pretend other people don't exist?"
Joey slung his arm around her shoulders and led him inside. "You know me so well."
Pacey nuzzled her neck as they walked. "God, I missed you, Jo."
"Missed you, too, Pace." She kissed the palm of his hand, then pulled him to her door. "Home, sweet home. It's small, but we got the corner room, which means the best view on the floor."
Pacey surveyed her tidiness and Audrey's disaster zone. "So here it is, the inner sanctum of a college co-ed. The fifteen-year-old boy in me thinks this is a milestone moment in my life."
"And the worldly eighteen-year-old man you are thinks?"
He sat down on Joey's bed and pulled her into his lap. "That these beds are pretty small, but will serve in a pinch."
Joey could feel his hardness against her thigh. Pacey's mouth sought hers, but she tilted her head up at the last second and gave him only her chin. "You've been gone three months, Pace. You're not getting me into bed in three minutes."
"It was a long three months, Jo."
"I'm sure it was." Joey left him behind to pull takeout menus from her desk. She kept her face averted, so he wouldn't see her amused smile. "So what sounds good? Chinese, pizza, or there's a great Thai place right up the road. Cheap, too."
"You pick. I'm not hungry. For food, anyway."
Joey ignored his sulking and ordered a selection of Thai favorites.
"Jo, are we okay?" Pacey asked as soon as she hung up.
Joey turned around, surprised at his worried tone. "Of course. Why?"
"You haven't even kissed me hello."
Joey walked back to the edge of the bed. She took Pacey's face in her hands, tilted it up to see his beautiful blue eyes. "Hello, Pacey." Ever so slowly, she lowered her face to his, brushed their lips together lightly as butterfly's wings. "Welcome home." She kissed him for real, relearning the contours of his mouth, taking his bottom lip between hers, teasing the tip of her tongue against his teeth.
Pacey bore the slow torture patiently, until her hands found his hair and pulled. Then Joey was on her back, and Pacey took his turn, tormenting her with a kiss that was a blatant mimicry of everything he intended to do to the rest of her body. Joey's hips rose of their own accord, her body on overdrive after three months without his touch.
But no matter how alive her body, Joey's brain never completely shut down. "Pacey," she managed, when he abandoned her lips for locations further south. "Pace, we have to stop." Words alone failed to move him, so she gave him a soft shove. "Delivery is on its way. I know you don't care, but I'd rather not meet it half-dressed and panting. Food first. Food and talk and then—maybe—sex."
Pacey groaned but retreated to Audrey's bed. "Your priorities are so skewed, Potter."
Joey took in his tousled hair, swollen lips and dilated eyes and thought their priorities weren't that far apart at all. She was just better at hiding it.
"I haven't even asked where your stuff is. Did you just get in? Do we need to go get it? Do you have a place to stay? I mean, you can stay here tonight, but I can't kick Audrey out of her room forever. There might be an extra room at Jen and Jack's place."
"Relax, Jo. I got it covered. My stuff's still at the boat. The dean is done with it for the season, so he offered me the use of it in return for keeping an eye on it and some light maintenance work."
"He offered it to you, just like that?"
Pacey shrugged. "He likes me. I'm a likable guy." When Joey continued to eye him warily, he added, "Or it was in payment for servicing his hot daughter all around the Caribbean. That's what you're thinking, right?"
Joey knew she'd hurt him, but she couldn't deny the thought had occurred to her. "You talked about her an awful lot, Pace."
"It was a family yacht, Jo. There weren't an awful lot of people to talk about. She was the only one near my age, so we played cards, got drunk, and bored each other stupid with tales of our significant others back home. I didn't touch her, and you should know me well enough to know that."
"I do, Pacey. I do know that, and I'm sorry. It's just...it was a long three months for me, too. I was jealous of the fact that she got to see you everyday, and then I scared myself into the idea that I had other reasons to be jealous."
"I was jealous, too, you know. Of Dawson and Jack and every other guy who got to see you when I couldn't."
"Jack's gay." She deemed it best to ignore the Dawson implications.
"You almost turned him straight once before," Pacey teased.
Their food arrived. Pacey paid for it, over Joey's objections. She added a scrunchie to the doorknob while Pacey carried the food to Joey's desk. They ate straight from the cartons, sharing chopsticks and making each other try all the dishes. Pacey might have denied being hungry, but he ate the lion's share of the meal.
They talked for a while about Worthington and Joey's classes, but she eventually asked him the question burning a hole in her mind. "So you've got a place to stay. Any idea what you want to do?"
"Doug wants me to meet with this restaurant guy," Pacey said in a flat tone.
"And you don't want to?"
He shrugged, a choppy gesture under his shirt. "I don't really have any choice, do I? At sea, I might know what I'm doing. But on land, I'm just another talentless loser, who has to be grateful for any job I can get."
Joey put down her nearly empty tray of som tum. "You are not a loser, Pacey." She lowered herself into his lap. "And as for talentless, there are some who would say that making me happy is a rare talent in and of itself. Better men than you tried and failed. But you're also smart and funny and kind and noble. And I don't know if you realize this, but very few teenagers build their own boats."
"So you're saying I shouldn't take the job?"
"Take the job, don't take the job, I don't care. I'm saying don't let your job define you. What you do for a living isn't who you are. Just because I happened to work as a waitress for a while doesn't mean that's what I am."
"Good thing, too, Jo, because you were a pretty terrible waitress."
"Aww, and here was I under the impression you wanted sex tonight."
Pacey's eyebrows raised at her challenge. "Want and will have." He stood, lifting Joey to her feet and leaving his hands on her hips.
"Not likely if that's your best line." Joey stepped back, well aware she was retreating towards her bed. Pacey followed, inches away.
"Yeah, well, you're not my only option."
"But your left hand gets so tired." Her knees hit the foot of her bed.
"Vulgar wench." Pacey's head bent, tilted, lips hovered millimeters from her own.
"Hypersexualized horndog." Joey grabbed his shirt and pulled him down to the mattress with her.
Pacey laughed against her mouth. "Your roommate's right. We use too many big words."
"So shut me up."
He did.
III.
Audrey, Joey's new roommate, had convinced her to go to this party, and someone had handed her this drink and then another, and now the ground was tilting in a way that reminded her of sailing with a strong tailwind. Joey reached for her phone, so she could tell Pacey about it, but then realized she didn't know Pacey's number anymore. Pacey might not even have a number anymore.
So she called Dawson instead. She got his machine.
"Hey, Dawson. What's up? It's Joey. I'm at this party, and I was just thinking about...something. God, what was it? Sailing! Yeah, sailing. You were never very good at it, were you?" She burst out laughing. "Remember that time you tried to beat Pacey by cheating? What an asshat thing to do. The thing is, Dawson, the thing about sailing is that the winds have to be right. No wind, and you could stay there for hours, while your boyfriend paints your toenails and spills the polish over your feet, and you chase him right into, right into..."
Joey was crying. When did she start doing that? "I miss you, Pace," she whispered into the phone and hung up.
II.
The knock sounded entirely too early. Or maybe it felt like that because Joey had not fallen asleep until the early hours of the morning. She tried to stretch in the cramped confines of the bed, reveling in the warmth of Pacey at her back.
"Just a minute," she called to the door, while she shook Pacey awake. "Come on, sweetheart. Time to get dressed. Audrey's back. Fond as she might be of over-sharing, I'd like to keep you to myself."
"I'm up, I'm up," Pacey grumbled.
While he searched for his boxers, Joey wrapped her blue bathrobe around herself and headed for the door. She looked back to confirm that Pacey had pants on before throwing open the door.
"Surprise!"
"Dawson!"
Dawson's smile collapsed as he glanced behind her and saw Pacey. Joey stood frozen in the doorway, too stunned by Dawson's unexpected presence to know what to do or say.
"Dawson, man, what are you doing here? I thought you were California-bound." Pacey, still shirtless, clasped Dawson's hand with his right, while his left came to rest possessively on Joey's shoulder.
"Pacey. Hi. I didn't know you were back."
"Just got in yesterday. You still haven't said why you're here, dude."
A door opened down the hall and out walked Audrey with the shy boy from Joey's writing workshop. Audrey noticed the tableau and bounced over to see what was happening.
"Be still my hungover heart! Until yesterday, I'd never seen Josephine Potter with a single hottie, and now she's got two." She turned a blistering smile on Dawson and held out her hand. "Audrey Liddell. Single. Ignore him." She waved vaguely back at the boy whose room she'd slept in last night.
Bemused, Dawson shook her hand. "Dawson Leery. Nice to meet you."
"Ooh, I've heard of you. Best friend, turned love interest, turned best friend again. This must be super awkward for you, right?"
"Well, talking about it in a public hallway with a near stranger isn't helping."
"Sorry." Joey jumped back from the doorway. "Come in, please."
Dawson's eyes darted from Joey to Pacey, then back again. "That's all right. I should have called first. I'll go drop my stuff at Jen's. Maybe we can get together later for lunch, Joey?"
"I have a better idea," Audrey said, linking her arm through Dawson's. "I'll go with you, give you a tour of campus, and we can all get together for lunch."
"Great idea, Audrey," Pacey said before Dawson could respond. "See you later, D-man." He swung the door shut.
Joey scowled and crossed her arms. "You might have at least let Dawson speak for himself. What if he doesn't want to spend the day with Audrey?"
"Given that he flew clear across the country to spend the day with you, it's a pretty safe bet he doesn't." Pacey walked past her without a glance. "Have you seen my shirt?"
Joey grabbed it from the windowsill and tossed it to him. "We don't know that's why he came."
"Joey." He gave her a pointed look.
"Okay, fine. But I didn't even know he was coming, Pacey!"
"I know you didn't, Jo."
"Then why are you acting like this?"
"Like what?" said Pacey, deliberately obtuse.
"All possessive and jealous and weird."
"I'll cop to the first two, but the weirdness? That's the vibe between you and Dawson."
Joey started pulling open drawers, grabbing clean clothes at random.
"Jo? Jo, did something happen between you two while I was gone?"
"He kissed me, all right? But I stopped it, Pace. I told him I was still with you."
"Unbelievable!" Pacey threw his arms in the air, then covered his face and shook his head.
"What? I didn't do anything wrong."
"Not you, him! The man goes around for a solid year, playing the victim, treating me like Judas Iscariot for daring to fall in love with a girl he dated for two minutes once upon a time; then the minute my back is turned, he makes a move on my girlfriend."
Joey could see Pacey's point, but was mostly sick of the whole damn thing. She gathered her clothes and bathbag. "I'm running out of ways to tell you that you've already won this fight, Pace. You're the one who woke up in my bed this morning, you're the only one who has ever been in my bed, and Dawson knows it. If you still need to have this pissing contest, do me a favor, and leave me out of it. I'm going to take a shower."
When she returned, Pace was gone, but had left her a note. In it, he apologized, said he had some errands to run and listed the time and place they were supposed to meet Audrey and Dawson for lunch.
Joey sighed. She shouldn't have stomped off. Now she'd lost the chance to spend the morning with Pacey. She pushed the regret aside and spent the hours until lunch researching a paper for her philosophy class.
Joey arrived at the little cafe at exactly noon. Dawson and Audrey were already there. Pacey was not.
Audrey waved her over. "So I've nearly convinced Spielberg here that I am his muse, and he should have me star in all his future productions. What do you think?"
"I think anything that keeps me from having to act again is a great plan." Joey studied her two friends. Audrey was even bubblier than usual; she might have the start of a crush on Dawson. On the other hand, Dawson, while amused by Audrey and more relaxed than this morning, was clearly dying to spend some time with Joey.
Joey felt guilty. Dawson had traveled all this way. And yet she didn't want to upset Pacey or give Dawson false hope. Stupid men. "You never did say, Dawson, why you flew out here so suddenly."
Dawson looked from Joey to Audrey, before resigning himself to the presence of a third party. "A few reasons. I got fired from my internship."
"How do you get fired from an internship? They don't even pay you."
"Long story that basically boils down to the director was an asshole."
"Ah," said Joey, the pieces falling together, "so in addition to doubting whether you're good enough to make it, you're also doubting your belief in the whole magic of Hollywood."
"You got all that from what he said?"
"Of course she did. She's my soulmate."
"Now there's a term I haven't heard in a while."
Joey jumped out of her seat at the sound of Pacey's voice. She greeted him with a short, but fervent kiss, a silent protest against the soulmate contention.
"Hey, Pacey, where have you been?" Dawson didn't sound as though he cared; he sounded annoyed that he'd shown up at all.
"Getting a job, actually."
Joey grinned as they sat down. "Really? That restaurant one your brother set up?"
"Something better, I hope. I was walking by the marina when I saw a Help Wanted sign in a window. I looked up, and the business is Taylor & Sons, Shipwrights. They do custom builds, restorations and repairs for sailboats. I figured it was too good to be true, but I went inside anyway, just to ask. Turns out the latest generation of Taylors would rather study molecular biology than learn the family business. I chatted a bit with the old man. When I told him about True Love, he hired me on the spot."
Joey squealed and threw her arms around him. "That's amazing, Pace. It really does sound like the perfect job for you."
"I'm just glad it will keep you in Boston," Audrey said. "So Joey will stop being such a mopey-face."
"Congratulations, Pacey." Dawson's voice was tight. He had lost a job, and Pacey had found one. One more thing Dawson would resent.
Joey loved Dawson, but at that moment, she heartily wished him back in California.
"Thanks, man." Nothing in Pacey's tone gave away his anger from the morning. "Shall we eat?"
While they looked at menus, Joey squeezed Pacey's knee underneath the table, a gesture of appreciation for being the bigger man. Pacey caught her hand and held it, apologizing for earlier without a word.
Lunch was surprisingly pleasant. Pacey had stories to tell from his summer away. Dawson told them about the director from hell. And Audrey never had a qualm filling a silence. Joey didn't say much herself, but she began to relax and enjoy the day.
As the meal was winding down, Dawson ended the detente by asking, "Joey, is there any chance I could have some time with you this afternoon? I'm leaving tomorrow, and there are things I need to say."
Pacey tensed at Joey's side. She braced herself for the explosion, but it never came.
Joey tried to negotiate a compromise. "Sure, Dawson. Maybe you, Pacey and I can take a walk by the wharf."
"That's okay, Jo. I don't think Dawson was aiming for another awkward balancing act. I'll go check in with Lindley and Jackers." Pacey took the pen from the restaurant bill and scribbled something on a napkin, which he passed to her. "That's my boat. Meet me there later?"
"Pacey, you don't have to—"
He cut her off with a swift kiss. "I trust you, Jo. Maybe not him, but I trust you."
"Pacey, don't get the wrong idea," Dawson said. "I only—"
Pacey stood, all six foot two of him, and glared down at his old friend. "Save it, Dawson. Joey told me about this summer. After spending way too long this morning thinking about it, it's only made me regret that I ever wasted my time feeling guilty for hurting such a self-centered, hypocritical jackass." He turned to leave, rubbing his hand along Joey's hair as he went. "See you later, Jo."
Dawson sat stunned, but Audrey burst into delighted laughter. "You guys are almost as good as Melrose. Quick, Joey, throw your drink at me!"
Dawson and Joey left the cafe together. They rambled, silently and aimlessly, through the streets before ducking into a nearby park.
"So you had something you needed to tell me?" Joey finally prompted.
"Well, I did, but after Pacey's little speech—and you not refuting it—everything I had to say seems self-centered, hypocritical and moot."
Joey groaned. "I wish the two of you would accept that there's room for both of you in my life. Pacey is my boyfriend, you're my best friend, and I don't plan on either of those things changing anytime soon."
"Life is change, Joey. Surely our adolescence taught us that, if nothing else."
"You're right, Dawson. It is. Which is all the more reason to hold on tight to the people we love and not allow ourselves to lose them in the chaos."
Dawson laughed bitterly. "Two days ago, I reached the same conclusion myself and hopped on a plane to tell you so."
"Dawson—"
"No, Joey, I've started now. I might as well play the scene to the end. I love you, Joey. As best friend, soulmate, muse, and love my life. All the time I was sitting on the plane, I convinced myself if I laid it out for you that naked and openly, I had a chance." Dawson grimaced. "And then I saw Pacey in your room this morning, and I knew I'd been the starry-eyed dreamer yet again. But I'm not sorry I kissed you this summer, and I'm not sorry I told you I love you just now."
"And I'm not sorry I fell in love with Pacey. So where does that leave us?"
"Same place as always, the cipher key to each other's life."
Joey gave him a sad half-smile, her Dawson smile, and nodded in agreement. "Then, as your personal decoder ring, may I offer you one piece of advice?"
"Please."
"Go back to school, Dawson. Work for another director, and maybe another and another, until you find one you can respect. You can't let one failure rob you of your dreams. They're the best part of you."
"No, you are. But they're a close second." They walked on together, the silence between them now companionable instead of loaded.
Until Dawson stopped and poured out in a rush, "I gotta say this, Joey, even if you hate me for it. You think because Pacey's back that everything is going to work out for you two. But the guy spent three months sailing away from you, he lives on a boat, and he's going to work at a place that builds them. It doesn't take an advanced degree to see the symbolism here. He's gonna run again, and when he does, I don't want you to get hurt."
"Symbols are for lit. classes and French films, not for life. Pacey just likes boats. No deeper meaning attached," Joey said and tried to make herself believe.
"I hope you're right. Really, I do. But if I am, and that day comes, you know you can always—"
"Count on you? I know, Dawson. I know."
III.
Dawson came to visit, and Joey was happy to see him, because he was her best friend and how could she not be? He wanted to talk about them, about the idea of them being an "us" again. Joey wasn't averse to the notion, but she was too busy with school to think about it.
He listened to his phone messages while she did homework at her desk. "Why didn't you just say so, Joey?"
"Say what?" Joey had two papers and a set of trig problems to focus on. She didn't even know what Dawson was talking about.
"That you're still in love with Pacey."
Joey huffed her disbelief. "That is patently ridiculous, Dawson."
Dawson pressed some buttons on his phone and handed it to her. Joey listened to her own message. Her mouth pulled tight, her eyes closed. Joey willed herself not to cry, not to think.
"I was drunk," she said and gave Dawson back his phone.
Joey went back to studying, and Dawson went back to California.
II.
Trepidation gripped Joey as she walked along the wharf to Pacey's boat. Dawson's words echoed in her head. Despite all the counterarguments Joey had formulated, they had the ring of truth.
True or not, Pacey had been back for less than thirty-six hours, and she was already afraid of losing him again. She half-convinced herself the yacht wouldn't be there.
But she turned onto the correct dock, and she could see Pacey on deck from several berths away. His back was to her; he had showered and changed since lunch. He had set up a small, portable grill, and the smell of roasting meat contrasted with the briny scent of the harbor.
Joey wrapped her blue sweater tighter around her and willed away her fear. She looked up at the sky, disappointed by the smoky, blackish haze. "Can't see them very well from here, can you?"
Pacey turned, a welcoming smile on his face. He followed her gaze to the sky. "What, the stars? No, you can't see them very well, can you? But what the hell. I've seen them all before anyway, right?"
Joey grinned. "Me, too."
Pacey held out his hand to help her aboard. The second his fingers closed around hers, Joey knew Dawson was wrong. His analysis didn't factor in this reality: Pacey loved her.
"Help yourself." He nodded towards the small spread of chips, macaroni salad, and hot dog fixings, then went back to his grill. "So how was the date with the other boyfriend?"
Joey threw a Dorito at him. "You're not remotely funny."
"Actually, that's one of the few things most people agree I have going for me." Pacey scooped the frankfurters onto a plate and turned off the grill. "Along with my rugged good looks and natural charm."
"Don't forget your massive ego and absurd delusions."
Pacey watched her as she prepared a plate. "How was it really, Jo?"
"Awkward. Painful. Nothing resolved, and yet somehow still friends."
"So the usual."
"Pretty much." Joey sighed. "Does it make me a bad friend if I'm happy he's leaving tomorrow?"
Pacey leaned over the table to kiss her nose. "No. It makes you a good girlfriend, though."
They took their dinner to the curved bench at the bow and settled in close together.
"I gotta say, Pace," Joey said, taking in her plush surroundings, "this is quite a step up in the world from the True Love."
"I don't know. I kinda liked the tight quarters." He slipped his arm around her and patted the side of her butt cheek. "Gave me an excuse to touch you."
Joey rolled her eyes. "Like you ever needed one."
Pacey chuckled. "Got me there, Potter. Another plus I'll give the more elite mode of travel: actual beds instead of hammocks."
"Really? I think I slept better in that hammock than I ever have in my life, like a baby in a cradle."
"Oh, they're great for sleeping, but a bit more complicated for other activities." Pacey kissed Joey's shoulder where her sweater had slipped down.
Joey smiled, remembering one breathless night when her virginity had been preserved not so much by moral conviction as mechanical malfunction. The hard fall had left them both bruised for days. "Your 'other activities' can wait a bit. I want to hear more about this new job of yours."
"Not much more to tell. The family have been shipbuilders for almost two hundred years. It's run by the old man and his son, but the grandson got accepted to M.I.T.—Jo, I wish you could have heard the guy's tone when he said that, actually disappointed about M.I.T." Pacey shook his head in disbelief. "So they're going to teach me the trade. I start Monday."
"I'm so happy for you, Pace." For a moment, Joey considered mentioning Dawson's ridiculous theory, but she dismissed it. No reason to let Dawson ruin their night with his Hollywood-driven imagination.
I.
School started, and it was terrifying and exhilarating. Joey loved her writing workshop, despite a rocky start with the professor.
Dawson came home for a visit. His first job had ended badly, and he was ready to turn tail and quit. Between them, Joey, Pacey and Jen got him sorted out and on a plane back to California. It was where he belonged. Not in Capeside, squandering his talent, and not in Boston, staring at Joey's ever-increasing belly with sad eyes.
Dawson wasn't the only one who couldn't tear his eyes off Joey's pregnancy. Every kid on campus seemed to find her worth a second or even a third judgmental look. Joey thought her life in Capeside had made her gossip-proof, but knowing her new peers all thought she was less than they were—stupid enough to get pregnant, too stupid to get an abortion—left her in tears more than once.
She tried to blame the hormones.
And her hormones were definitely on overdrive. Joey cried when she and Pacey shopped for baby things, when Bessie sent Alexander's baby clothes—they were officially having a boy—and when she got a B on a paper.
Pacey tried to be patient with her, but he had his own bad-tempered days. Working seventy to eighty hour weeks was taking its toll.
The days when his exhaustion met Joey's hormones were the worst; screaming rows about idiotic things—like leaving the cap on the toothpaste—led to her crying or him storming off or both of them trying to enlist Jen and Jack to their side. Jen told them to work it out; Jack told them they were crazy, and he should know.
Eventually, they always came back together, apologetic and ready to start over. Until the next bad day.
IV.
Living with Mrs. Ryan had been the part of the arrangement Joey most dreaded, but it turned out to be the best blessing she could ever have dreamed. Evelyn Ryan might be firm in her opinions and open about expressing them. But she was also unstintingly generous and fiercely protective of those she loved. And, according to Jack, to live under Grams' roof was to become part of her family.
Just having a former nurse in the house saved Joey many a frantic phone call to her doctor or unnecessary trip to the E.R. Mrs. Ryan kept a clear head and talked Joey through all the little incidents of her pregnancy. She made sure Joey was getting the proper nutrition, exercise, and bedrest, all of which Joey would have neglected in the freshman stress of Worthington.
One of the reasons Joey lucked into so much of Mrs. Ryan's personal attention was that she was home more than Grams' more favored children. Jen had a new boyfriend and a radio gig. Jack joined a fraternity. Joey was in class, in the library, or home. Her advanced pregnancy didn't lend itself to socialization with her peers.
Jen happened to be home one night in October, painting Joey's toenails—which Joey could no longer see or reach—when she got a phone call. It could have been her boyfriend, but the way her eyes flickered to Joey's face before she took it to another room made Joey sure it wasn't.
Joey pretended to read a magazine until Jen returned. "So how is he?" she asked without putting down the gossip rag.
"No." Jen sat down and calmly went back to Joey's toes. "You don't get to keep your pregnancy from him, make all of us swear to do the same, and then ask for updates on his life. At least don't do it with me."
"Fair enough. I'm sorry, Jen."Joey put down the magazine and leaned her head back on the couch pillows. She was tired all the time now.
"Of course, hypothetically speaking, if I maybe knew that a certain someone had arrived in Boston, and I also knew that someone else had certain critical information to impart to the first person, then maybe I would be justified in breaking my promise to that person to keep their hypothetical whereabouts a secret."
"Hypothetically," Joey snidely returned. Inside, her emotions were roiling. Pacey was in Boston, but apparently wanted to see her so little that he'd made Jen promise not to tell her. The exact opposite of the conditions under which she'd ever want to see Pacey again.
"You should see him, Joey. You should tell him."
"If I saw him, I wouldn't have to tell him." Joey laid hands on her protruding belly. "But as he doesn't want to see me, I have no need to see him."
With a cry of disgust, Jen pushed Joey's feet off her lap. "You two are among the most ridiculously self-destructive people I have ever met." She grabbed one of Joey's school binders and marked it with the nail polish. "And I know from self-destructive." She shoved the notebook back at Joey. "There. Ignore that, if you can."
Pacey's address and phone number stared at her in shining, ruby red print.
III.
Pacey was back.
He was back and, of all things, working in a restaurant. In all her imaginings, that was never how Joey first saw him again. Her only comfort was that he didn't see her at all.
All those mornings running by the harbor, pretending she wasn't looking for him, and then she almost smacked into him walking to the restroom.
She stood frozen, absorbing the blow-back as her heart was flung forcibly into her chest. Then she remembered how it felt to hurt and walked away.
She couldn't let it lie. Pacey was back, and he hadn't said a word to her. Why? And was it just her, or was he hiding from everyone?
Dawson didn't know. If Dawson knew, he would have told her. Doug might know, but if he'd been sworn to secrecy, it was no good trying to get it out of him. Gretchen would know, if anyone did, but Joey was certain Gretchen would think she was doing her brother a favor by keeping Joey out of his life.
That left Jen. Joey wasn't certain Pacey would contact Jen, but she was the safest, the most neutral of their little gang. She was also incredibly bad at secret-keeping.
After finally being freed from Audrey's awful mother—Mrs. Liddell was just a rich version of Mrs. Witter, as far as Joey could tell—and promising Audrey she'd listen to her rant later, Joey grabbed a bus to Jen's neighborhood. She was perhaps a bit insistent with the doorbell when she got there.
"Josephine Potter!" Mrs. Ryan opened the door in her bathrobe. She looked scandalized. "What are you doing here at this time of night?"
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Ryan." Joey slipped under the old woman's arm and into the house. "I need to see Jen. Is she here?"
"She's in her room, studying." Mrs. Ryan shut and bolted the door. "As you should be."
Joey wasn't listening. She was already flying up the stairs to Jen's room. Jen's door was shut, but her light was on. Joey knocked but went in anyway when Jen didn't answer. Jen was at her desk, back to the door, typing away at her computer. The large headphones covering her ears explained her lack of response.
"Jen!" Joey tapped her shoulder.
Jen twisted her swivel chair so fast she fell out of it. "Ow. Jeez, Joey, you scared the life out of me." She settled her headphones around her neck. Joey heard a few beats of blaring femme rock before Jen turned off the music. "So what's up?"
"Pacey."
Any doubts she had about Jen's knowledge disappeared at the guilty look on her face. "P-pacey? What about him?"
"You're a rotten liar, Jen. I know you know he's back."
"I wanted to tell you, Joey. I swear. I even invited him to Sunday dinner. He made me promise not to tell anyone."
Joey sank onto Jen's bed, her manic energy deserting her as quickly as it had arrived. "Especially me?"
Jen nodded as she sat beside her. "He asked about you. Nearly the first words out of his mouth. He wanted to know if you were happy. I told him he should ask you."
"But he hasn't." Joey tried to think of all the reasons Pacey would avoid her. Maybe he hated her. But he hadn't acted like he hated her the last few times she'd seen him. He didn't even know the reasons he should hate her.
Maybe he was still in love with her. But if so, why wouldn't he tell her that? Joey had given him all the opening he needed with her last words to him. And it wasn't like Pacey "Ask Me To Stay" Witter to be shy about the way he felt.
Maybe he was just sick of her drama, and his life was better without her.
"How'd you find out anyway?"
"He was working at the restaurant I ate at tonight. I saw him, but he didn't see me."
"Maybe you should fix that." Jen tore off part of an envelope and wrote something on it. "He's staying on that yacht he sailed around in this summer, boat-sitting or squatting or something." She handed the scrap of paper to Joey. "That's where it's docked. Pay him a visit, and put us all out of your misery."
Joey did not go to the docks that night. She went back to her dorm and tried to give Audrey a sympathetic ear while she complained about her mother. Audrey picked up on her distraction and pressed her on it.
Telling Audrey the history of herself and Dawson had been easy. Joey's roommate was both a gossip junkie and a romantic, and she was determined to win Joey's confidence. The Dawson saga was the perfect story for her. And it all felt so removed from Joey's present life that she didn't care.
Dawson and Joey made a good script; they just didn't make a good couple. Audrey the actress couldn't see beyond the page, though, and had decided to join Dawson in the star-crossed lovers camp.
On the other hand, talking about Pacey was impossible. There was too much dichotomy between what Joey wanted to feel and what she actually felt. There was too much pain, and too many secrets wrapped in silence.
Not to mention, the story on paper didn't read clean: I fell in love with my ex-boyfriend's best friend, who also happened to be my good friend's ex-boyfriend. We hurt them both, then ran away for the summer, while they were left behind to pick up the pieces. When we came back, we were okay for awhile, until I developed a penchant for lying, and his insecurities ate him alive. We had the most painful, public breakup ever, and then he ran away again.
Joey could say all that. Every word was true, but it wasn't the truth of them. They were defined by their details, as she had said they would be. By the way her toes curled when he kissed her, and the way her body fit against his like it belonged. By the sweetness and the sarcasm; by days spent sanding down the wreck of a boat and nights spent counting stars.
She couldn't tell Audrey that. So she told her she ran into an ex-boyfriend, then went to bed without answering any questions.
The next night, Joey did go to see him. She didn't mean to. She went for a walk, and her feet took her of their own accord.
Their encounter was...strange. She caught her breath at the first words from his deep voice. Her pulse raced when he took her hand to help her into the boat. But she couldn't read him. They talked, they bantered, even brought up the past, albeit obscurely, but she couldn't tell how he felt about anything.
At moments, Joey felt she was looking at a stranger wearing Pacey's face. Then, suddenly, she'd catch his eyes on her, and she'd think, he still looks at me the same way. But except the hand up, he didn't touch her, reminding her more of the Pacey from their last unpleasant weeks as a couple than from any other time in their lives. Yet he wasn't surly, as he'd been then. He was pleasant and kind and utterly charming. She didn't know what to make of him.
If deciphering Pacey was confusing, figuring out her own feelings was a Rubik's cube. Excited to see him again, to hear his voice, and talk the way they used to. Saddened by the distance between them, by this chasm she didn't know how to leap. Terrified of everything—of being hurt, abandoned again; of hurting him; of him finding out her secret; of keeping the secret inside to fester and poison her further. Wanting to run and wanting to stay. Alive for the first time in months, and not convinced that was a good thing.
It wasn't until she was walking home that Joey realized why she felt so dissatisfied with the visit. She had been waiting for him to ask her to go sailing. He never did.
Mitch Leery was dead. The man who had been more of a father to Joey than her own was gone in an instant. She didn't know how to process this grief.
She wanted to be there for Dawson, the way he had been there for her after her mom, and yet where could she go with her own loss?
Joey was on her way to see Pacey before she finished the thought. But on her way, the decision solidified as the right one. Mitch had been a surrogate father to Pacey as well; he deserved to know. They would all need each other to get through this.
Pacey was as stunned by the news as she had been. But he resisted the idea that Dawson would need him. Joey's tongue wouldn't let her tell him that she needed him. She convinced him to attend the funeral. But he didn't so much as squeeze her hand.
Maybe it was partly her fault. She didn't reach for him, either.
After what felt like the longest day of her life, after the funeral and the wake, after fighting with Dawson and holding a sobbing Gail, Joey fled onto the veranda of her sister's B&B to get a moment to herself, to remember Mitch in a quieter way, to think up ways to help Dawson cope.
A shadow blocked the doorway. "Mind if I join you?"
Joey cursed the way her heart leapt. Of all the days to be so selfish. "Not at all." She started to pull her feet back, to make room for him on the loveseat beside her, but Pacey lowered himself into a chair without noticing.
"What a day, huh?" Pacey sighed and rested his head on the back of the chair.
"An awful day." Joey lapsed into silence, staring into the black night.
"Barnacle for your thoughts?" Pacey asked softly.
Joey smiled at the old game. "You don't have a barnacle."
"Spot me. I'm good for it."
"I was worrying about Dawson. Apparently, he had this big fight on the phone with his dad before the accident, and now he blames himself. He feels like if they hadn't fought, maybe his dad would have paid more attention to the road or something. I don't know. I think he really feels bad that the last words he'll ever say to Mitch were unkind."
"Mitch loved Dawson, and he knew Dawson loved him. Not all fathers and sons have that."
"Try telling Dawson that. He won't hear it from me."
"What was the fight about anyway?"
"Oh, Dawson has the idea in his head that he should drop out of USC and come home. He tried to make me ask him to stay a few weeks ago when he came to visit, but I wouldn't. I guess he wanted his dad to support him. Instead, they fought."
Pacey was silent for a moment. "I would have thought you'd want Dawson to come home."
"Of course, I'd be happy to have Dawson back. I just can't be the reason for it. The ironic thing is now Dawson has to take a bereavement leave so he can help take care of his mom and Lily. He has his reason, which makes him feel guiltier."
"Poor Dawson." Pacey leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped, vision focused on them. "I sort of thought, after I left, that you and he would make another go of it."
Rage filled Joey, swift and hot. "Because I'm that changeable, right, Pace? Out of sight, out of mind, and I would just move on like the last two years of my life never happened."
Startled, Pacey's eyes jumped to hers at the start of her rant and stayed riveted there throughout. "I'm sorry, Jo. I didn't mean it like that."
"How did you mean it?"
"You and Dawson...you had destiny written all over you. I guess I always felt like I was a cosmic accident, a cataclysm that knocked you off your rightful path. So without me to mess it up, maybe you'd find your way back."
Tears burned in Joey's eyes. This, then, was the explanation behind the new Pacey. He'd rewritten their history according to Dawson's script.
"Pacey, for Dawson, I crossed a creek. With you, I sailed oceans. Which sounds like the more important relationship?"
He drew in a sharp breath. "Joey, I—"
"There you are. I could use some help in the kitchen, Joey." Bessie poked her head around the doorframe, only then spotting Pacey. She froze. "Sorry, am I interrupting?"
Joey jumped to her feet. "Nope. We're good. Bye, Pacey." She hurried after Bessie, afraid of how much she'd revealed and of what Pacey's response would have been.
I.
Joey was sitting on their bed reading an assigned text when Pacey got home from a shift at Civilization.
"Danny is a dick," he announced before flopping backwards on the bed, feet still touching the floor.
Joey was intrigued enough to shut her book. The one time she had met Pacey's boss, she thought he was a smug asshole. But up to this point, to hear Pacey tell it, the man was a god. "Your boss Danny? I thought he walked on water."
"He'd sink to the bottom like every other slimy scum-sucker."
Looking at Pacey's face, Joey could see this wasn't just a fatigue-fueled bad mood. She reached out and ruffled his hair. "What happened, sweetheart?"
"He's cheating on his pregnant wife with one of the staff." He ripped away from her touch and paced the room, gesticulating angrily with every word. "This was a guy I respected, you know? I thought, he was a screw-up like me, but he showed them. He made something of himself. I started to think if he can do it, so can I. But he's still a screw-up. And a dick. Did I mention he's a dick?"
"Once or twice." Joey made herself waddle over to stop Pacey's frantic behavior. It took effort, like all decisions to move lately. She took his hands in hers, stilling them. "Pacey, you are not your boss. Even if you are a screw-up—and I've seen precious little evidence of that lately—you have never been and never will be a cheater. I speak not just as your girlfriend and mother of your future child, but as a lifelong friend who watched you grow up; there is nothing selfish or callous about you, and Danny is both."
"Should I quit, Jo?"
Joey nearly laughed. Dear Pacey and his noble causes. "The man can still cook, right?"
Reluctantly, Pacey nodded.
"So let him teach you how to cook, and accept the fact that he can be both a good chef and a bad man."
Gripping her hands, Pacey leaned forward and kissed her. "What would I ever do without you, Potter?"
She pretended to consider that. "Not sure, but it would likely involve prison at some point."
"You joke, but..."
Joey's baby shower featured all the same women as Gail's, with three additions.
"I had to tell her," Gretchen said apologetically when she arrived with her mother in tow.
"Josie!" Mrs. Witter's brusque voice rang through the house. "You're big as a horse. Let me look at you!" She placed heavy hands on Joey's shoulders and surveyed her with a critical eye. "Those aren't good birthing hips. Witter men are large even from birth. Why, with Pacey, I was in labor for—"
"Come on, Ma. Save the war stories for later. We should help Mrs. Ryan in the kitchen." Gretchen pulled her harridan of a mother away, mouthing Sorry back at Joey.
Karen, Pacey's co-worker from Civilization, came as well. She was quiet and seemed a little out-of-place, but she told Joey she wanted to come. "Pacey helped me out of, well, out of a bad relationship." Joey knew immediately she'd been the one having an affair with Danny. "I thought I'd like to see what a good one looks like. You're all he talks about, you know? I half-expected you to glimmer and float on air."
Joey liked Karen and thought they could become friends, but Karen explained she was leaving town in a few days. "I need a new start."
The third new face was a girl Joey had met at Worthington. Audrey Liddell was loud, brash, an admitted party girl, and the last person on earth Joey thought she would make friends with. But Audrey had plopped herself next to Joey on their first day of biology lab and announced, "You look smart, which is great for me, because I'm here on the size of Daddy's checkbook. So how about it?"
"How about what?" Joey gave the stranger her best go-away-or-die glare, but Audrey was oblivious.
"Lab partners, you and me. I'll buy all the supplies, if you'll do most of the work."
Joey was too financially strapped to turn down that offer, but she grew to like Audrey in a surprisingly short time. The first time they ate lunch together on campus, Audrey heckled all the people who stared at Joey's belly until the gawkers fled and Joey laughed instead of cried.
"So what's the deal with that anyway?" She gestured at Joey's body. "You religious or something?"
"Worse. In love."
"True love? Seriously? I thought they outlawed that in this country after Kennedy was shot. Must be some guy, your man; I wouldn't suffer a paper cut for most guys I've met."
Eventually, Joey introduced Audrey to Pacey. The blonde took one look at him and told her, "Now I get it."
Pacey thought Audrey was hilarious. So did Jen. She drifted right into their little gang as though she had always belonged. Joey thought it was because they were all in awe of her no-holds-barred approach to life.
Jen was the one who organized Joey's shower. "It's part of my godmotherly duties," she'd told her.
"Godmother? We're not Catholic, and you're an atheist."
"And? Look, I practically match-made you two, you live in my house, and I'm your best friend with a vagina. I've got dibs."
"Dibs. On godmother."
Jen nodded, and, just like that, their baby had a godmother and shower planner. Joey had nixed Jen's male stripper plan, in deference to Mrs. Ryan, but the idea of making it a diaper shower—where the guests brought diapers, wipes, and other consumable necessities in lieu of more expensive gifts—Joey thought was genius.
Gail brought Lily with her. Six months old and utterly beautiful, the baby stole all the attention from Joey. Joey was fine with that.
"She's perfect," she told Gail while the other ladies fussed over the baby in Gretchen's arms.
"She's spoiled," Gail responded with a smile. "Not even a year old, and she's already got her father wrapped around her little finger. And Dawson—I don't think a week goes by without him sending her some little present. Most of them useless until she's old enough to watch Spielberg, of course."
"Dawson's good, then?" Joey asked nervously. They tried to call each other every week or so, but sometimes they missed. Even when they did speak, there was more distance between them than ever before. Joey knew it had more to do with life changes than location ones. Still, she worried. She wanted him to be happy.
Gail read all that in a glance. She patted Joey's cheek, rounded from her pregnancy as it had been in girlhood. "Dawson is coping. You're a hard girl to forget, Joey Potter. I myself have had to let go of some daughter-in-law dreams, but I know well that you can't help who you fall in love with. I'm just glad you're happy."
Tears in her eyes, Joey hugged her. "Thanks, Mrs. Leery."
Mrs. Witter's voice rose above the rest. "So I said, 'Enough fooling around. You'll either drown, or you'll learn how to swim,' and threw Pacey off the boat."
Joey winced. "If it's any consolation," she told Gail in a low voice, "my mother-in-law dreams have turned into nightmares."
"Every choice has its price, Joey." Gail laughed and gave her a reassuring pat on the back.
With her due date fast approaching, Joey began to despair of ever finding a name for the baby.
Even the last name had been a matter of debate for a while. Technically, since she and Pacey weren't married, the baby should have her last name, but Joey thought that was stupid and old-fashioned. Jen suggested a hyphenated name, but Pacey vetoed both Potter-Witter and Witter-Potter as too ridiculous. His alternative was a mashup name.
"Pitter or Wotter? Those are worse," Joey said. "This baby will be a Witter, and convention can go hang."
So the baby had a last name, but nothing to go with it. Pacey annoyed her by constantly suggesting the names of dead rock stars.
"I am not having a son named Hendrix, damn it!"
Dawson kept pushing for Steven, as in Spielberg, but said he'd settle for Frank, as in Kapra. Joey told him to have his own damn kid, except more kindly. It was a sore subject.
Jen's names all seemed to emerge from a world atlas, like London, Dallas and Danzig. Joey didn't hate them as names, but she couldn't see the point of naming her son after a place neither he nor his parents had ever been. And no way was she naming her kid Florida or Massachusetts.
Jack was obsessed with his new frat, and his few suggestions all sounded like it. Brad. Eric. Chris.
"Why would I name my kid after the type of people who make life suck for the rest of us?"
Mrs. Ryan's names came from the Bible, Bessie's from romance novels, Bodie's all sounded like food.
"The problem, Jo, is that you don't suggest any names yourself. You just shoot down other people's."
"I'll know it when I hear it," she insisted.
As it happened, she didn't hear it. She saw it.
It was the last week of October, a few days before Halloween and only a few more before her due date. Between anxiety, the constant need to urinate, and the inability to find any position approaching comfortable, Joey could not sleep. Her twisting, turning and repeated trips to the bathroom woke Pacey.
"What is it?" he asked, still blurry from sleep. "You okay, Jo?"
"Can't sleep." And maybe it was her resentment at his drooping eyelids that made her ask, "Can you read to me, Pace?"
"What time is it?" Pacey mumbled. But he turned on the light and grabbed a book, like the well-trained boyfriend he was.
"Many years ago, there lived an emperor who was so very fond of beautiful, new clothes, that..." Pacey had picked up the volume of fairy tales which was the very first book they ever read together.
Joey's irritation fell away at the memory. She turned on her side to watch Pacey read, and there was her son's name on the front of the book, shimmering in gold typescript.
"Andersen," she breathed. She swore the baby kicked the moment she said it.
"What, love?" Pacey asked, fighting a yawn.
Joey closed the book and pointed at the author's name. "Andersen. Andersen Douglas Witter. It's his name."
"Andersen." Pacey tested the name before smiling. "I like it. But Dougie, really? How's he rate the middle?"
"Through a lifetime of putting up with you." She tweaked his ear. "Would you prefer Dawson?"
"Douglas, it is." Pacey put both hands to the sides of her belly, the way he always did while talking to the baby. "Hear that, little man? We've got everything ready for you now. Even your name. Andersen."
Andersen kicked again.
The good news, as far as Joey was concerned, was that she wasn't in class when she went into labor. The bad news was everything else. She had thought she was prepared for the pain, but nothing could prepare you for that. All women were martyrs, and Bessie was a saint, because when the first contraction hit, Joey screamed bloody murder.
Her yell brought Mrs. Ryan—the only other person home—running. "Josephine, child, what is it?"
"It's time," she hissed. She was in agony and scared, and the sight of Mrs. Ryan brought on flashbacks of Alexander's birth. Joey did not want to have this baby in a living room chair.
But Mrs. Ryan was the best person to have in an emergency. She stroked back Joey's hair, unfazed. "Of course, dear. Do you have the car, or should I call a taxi?"
The contraction eased, and Joey could breathe again. "It's here." She gestured to the set of keys hanging by the door. Over the last few weeks, Pacey started taking the bus to work, in case of just this event.
"All right. Your suitcase is by the door. We'll call Pacey and Jennifer from the hospital. Is there anything else you need?" Mrs. Ryan's low, calm tone forced Joey to be rational. She must have been a great nurse.
"No, no, I'm good. Wait! Andersen's Fairy Tales. It's upstairs, on my dresser. I want it."
Mrs. Ryan gave her a look that questioned the importance of fairy tales at a time like this, but she climbed the two flights of stairs without a word of argument. By the time she returned, Joey was in the midst of her next contraction. Mrs. Ryan held her hand and talked her through it, then helped her with her shoes and got her to the car before the next one hit.
Joey had visions of getting stuck in traffic and being forced to give birth in the backseat of the Wagoneer, but they never materialized. Her contractions were still three minutes apart when Mrs. Ryan got her into Admitting. While Joey filled out paperwork—paperwork in the middle of this pain!—Mrs. Ryan used a payphone to call Pacey at the restaurant, Jen at the radio station, and Bessie in Capeside.
"Pacey is on his way, dear," Mrs. Ryan told her, while an orderly wheeled Joey to her room. "Jennifer has to finish her broadcast; then she'll be here as well. She says she'll try to track down Jack, and that you're to listen to the radio. She's going to dedicate a song to you." Grams smiled with pride in her granddaughter.
"And Bessie?" Joey followed the nurse's instructions, changing into a hospital gown, while Mrs. Ryan waited outside the curtain.
"I couldn't reach her, so I called the Leerys. Mitchell said they've probably taken Alexander trick-or-treating, and he would keep trying until he got through."
"Trick-or-treating?" Joey tried to settle into the hospital bed as another contraction started. She had forgotten what day it was. "I don't want...to have...this baby...on Halloween." She screamed. Mrs. Ryan rushed through the curtain, taking Joey's hand, even though Joey was afraid she'd break it.
The pressure receded, and Joey fell back against the pillows. "It would make Dawson entirely too happy."
The nurse returned to hook Joey and baby up to the necessary machines. Joey asked for drugs—she had zero desire to experience natural childbirth—and Mrs. Ryan asked to borrow a radio. They both got their requests, and Joey relaxed a little while Grams fiddled with the dials until Jen's voice came through.
Jen was in the middle of another man-hating diatribe. It was the last thing Joey needed, wishing for Pacey with every other breath. Mrs. Ryan didn't enjoy the show any more than Joey did, clucking her tongue and making horrified sounds whenever Jen talked about sex. Which was often. The contractions were almost a relief, as they took focus from the show.
Pacey finally arrived, still in his uniform, wild-eyed and panicked. Mrs. Ryan ceded her seat at Joey's side to him. He kissed her hair, rubbed his nose against her cheek. "I'm so sorry, Jo. How are you doing?"
"Better now." She took his hand, comforted by how large and strong it was. "Nothing to do you with you, though. I think the drugs are starting to kick in."
He smiled weakly at her joke. Mrs. Ryan suggested her removal to give them privacy. Joey thanked her for everything. Pacey gave her Gretchen's number and asked if Mrs. Ryan would let her know. Gretch could inform the rest of the Witter brood.
"I give you fair warning, Pacey, if your mother tries to come in here while I am in labor, I will get out of this bed and throw her bodily from the window."
Before Pacey could respond to Joey's half-serious threat, the song on the radio ended, and Jen's voice floated out to them. "Going to end the show on a slightly different note tonight. None of my listeners can doubt I am a certified cynic when it comes to all things romantic. Nevertheless, I've been in the bizarre position of watching two of my best friends fall sickeningly in love with each other and somehow stay that way over the last three years. Tonight, they're having a baby. And while, yes, I, too, can think of a million jokes comparing Halloween to the horrors of labor and child-rearing, I'm instead going to ruin all my credibility by saying, I love you guys. All the luck in the world. And Joey? Here's a little something to help you out."
The sounds of Salt-n-Pepa's "Push It" coincided with Joey's next contraction. Nothing like being caught mid-laugh to make the pain even more unbearable.
"She knows this song is about sex, right?" Pacey asked, to distract from his fear at seeing Joey's labor pains.
"She's Jen...of course...she knows." Joey crushed Pacey's fingers between her own.
When the contraction ended, Pacey stared at her in awe. "Joey, I—"
"Pace, let's make a pact. Right now. To avoid all the cliches of childbirth."
Pacey grinned. "All right, I'll bite. Like what?"
"You are not going to tell me how much you love me after each contraction. We'll take it for a given that I know that. In return, I won't scream that I hate you and you're never touching me again in one breath, then beg you to stay with me in the next. We already know you aren't getting any for at least six weeks—let's face it, it's me, so probably longer—but that you'll still stay and probably be annoyingly perfect about the whole thing."
"And your longstanding hatred of me is a matter of public record, so why belabor the point?"
"Exactly." Joey gritted her teeth as another contraction beset her.
"We could be truly original, and I could scream how much I hate you, while you tell me all the ways you love me."
"Don't push your luck, Witter."
Jen arrived soon after, sans Jack, who was at his frat party, she told them with annoyance. She visited with them long enough to assure them she was there, then joined Mrs. Ryan in the maternity ward's crowded waiting room.
Gretchen joined them about an hour later. "I convinced Mom and Pops to wait until after the baby's born, but Dougie is driving up after his shift. Also, I hope I didn't overstep, but I called Dawson. I figured he'd want to know and might not be on anyone's list."
Pacey studied his sister carefully. She looked at Joey and avoided his gaze. "That's fine, Gretch. I didn't know you and Dawson were in touch."
"We talk sometimes. It's no big deal. We're too smart to do the long distance thing, but I still care about him."
By this point, Joey was too exhausted to speculate on Dawson's love life. She only wanted to know one thing. "He's not coming here, too, is he?" Her labor room was starting to feel like a revolving door.
"Uh, no. He said to tell you good luck, how great it is that you're having a Halloween baby—"
Joey snorted.
"—that he'll call you tomorrow, and he can't wait to meet the little monster when he comes home for Thanksgiving." Message delivered, Gretchen took Joey's hint to vacate. She hugged Pacey tight, whispered something in his ear, and left in search of their little support group.
"What did she say?" Joey asked, after the next contraction.
"Huh?" Pacey looked both frazzled and frumpy. Joey didn't even want to think about how she must look.
"Gretchen. What did she whisper, a caution against pissing me off?"
"No, actually. She, she said she was proud of me." Pacey's eyes were owl-wide, like he couldn't believe it.
"Of course she is. I've long held that Gretchen is the only other legitimate human being in your family." She rested a hand on his cheek. "I'm proud of you, too, you know."
Pacey turned his head and kissed her palm. "Shouldn't I be the one saying that to you?"
Joey shook her head. "Too cliché."
It was almost midnight before the only other person Joey wanted in the delivery room arrived.
"Sorry it took me so long." Bessie had changed into sweats, but hadn't bothered to wash the zombie makeup off her face.
Under the influence of drugs, fatigue, and another gruesome contraction, Joey couldn't help but scream when she looked up at her sister. "What is that?"
"Oh, sorry, Jo. We were at a Halloween party. Alexander had just passed out in a sugar coma when Mitch called. I rushed right out the door, didn't even remember my license, so it's a good thing I didn't get pulled over. Bodie sends his love."
"I don't want it," Joey hissed, temper fraying after hours of pain and stress. "I want you to wash that stuff off your face and then get back here. I need you, Bess."
Bessie's face was soft, even under the bloody makeup. "I'm here, sis." She rushed off to follow Joey's instructions, but was back in minutes. She took her place across from Pacey, holding Joey's other hand. She stroked her little sister's hair, the way their mother used to do, and told her again, "I'm here, sis. Everything is going to be okay."
After eleven excruciating hours of labor, Andersen Douglas Witter entered the world in the early hours of November 1, 2001, all red, squawking 7 lbs, 13 oz. of him. They placed him in Joey's arms, and she thought, he's so ugly. And then, he's so beautiful. And then, I never knew I could love anyone so much.
The nurses took him away again. Joey was too tired to protest, too tired even to berate Pacey for the way he kept whispering, "I love you, I love you," into her hair.
She slept.