Joey sat at her dining room table surrounded by school materials: notebooks, folders, books, and highlighters. Her brow was furrowed in a look of concentration as she wrote frantically on index cards. She stopped writing only to massage her sore hand. Alexander began crying in the background. Joey consulted her textbook and then returned to writing; she was determined to finish her flashcards in preparation for her science test. As she grabbed another index card, the front door swung open. Bessie stormed into the house. "Joey! Seriously, what are you doing?!" she yelled as she dropped the meager groceries she was carrying. Joey looked up from her work making eye contact with her furious sister.
"I'm trying desperately to prevent what will be my inevitable failure on this science test, if I don't finish making these stupid flash cards," Joey responded in frustration.
"And deciding to ignore your crying nephew in the process?" Bessie accused.
"Look, Bess, I was going to get him right after I finished this flashcard," she said closing her book harder than intended. Joey winced at the sound it made knowing that a larger argument was now unavoidable.
"Oh perfect, go ahead and throw a temper tantrum," Bessie began. "I have nothing better to do than to attend to two whining children," she said as she walked quickly to pick up her son. Joey sighed in annoyance. She silently resolved to let Bessie's comment go unaddressed; she may be a lot of things, but whiny was not one of them. Joey began reorganizing her flashcards in hopes of finishing her task when she heard a loud unidentifiable sound. "Damnit, Joey!" Bessie yelled. Though she would prefer to ignore whatever was going on in the back of the house, Joey stood up to see what was wrong with her sister. Joey walked into the room to see her art supplies thrown about the floor; Bessie's careless attempts to return order to the mess she had just made. "Why is this stuff in here anyway?!" Bessie snorted.
"Geez, Bessie. Where am I supposed to keep it? In our spare room? One of the many walk-in closets we don't have?" Joey glared at her sister. Her patience was depleted and annoyance was all that remained. "Please, I don't even have a bedroom, so what do you want me to do?" Joey asked in a mixture of frustration and desperation.
"I don't know why you need all this stuff anyway. You never use it. And I know it wasn't cheap," Bessie charged. She hadn't meant to attack her sister, but now she found it hard to squelch her anger. Bessie was tired. Not just "I didn't sleep well last night" type of tired, but completely drained. She had been nearing empty for quite some time. Every day that passed without steady income cost her resiliency. She had few friends and Bodie wasn't around much, so she didn't have opportunities to build reserves. Like her younger sister, when Bessie was faced by increasing fear or uncertainty she responded with stubborn determination. Until even that became a luxury and then she was filled with anger and frustration.
Joey felt herself reaching dangerous levels of frustration. "That's not fair, Bessie! You know I don't have time to use them. I mean, someone has to earn a paycheck around here. Might as well be the teenager who is just trying to get the hell outta here, right?!"
"New flash, Joey: No one is keeping you here," Bessie responded in aggravation.
"You know what? You're right, Bessie," Joey said angrily. She grabbed her coat and slammed the door behind her. Joey began walking without a clear destination. Surprisingly, she found herself walking away from her dock. She passed the row boat that offered her easy access to the Leery dock; to what she thought was her "true north." As she walked, Joey felt herself drawn to another place entirely.
By the time Pacey and True Love came into Joey's view she had worked herself up into more of a hissy. Pacey was working below deck, so he did not see her approaching. However, her loud steps announced her arrival. As he climbed the stairs from the below, he saw her. She was clearly upset. Her cheeks were stained a dark shade of pink and she seemed perpetually out of breath. Pacey didn't know if someone had ever looked so beautiful. He began to smile, but quickly revised his affect recognizing that would be a sure fire way to incur her wrath. Not to mention that finding her beautiful in what was clearly a moment of distress would not be the most sensitive response.
"Hey, Jo. You OK?" Pacey asked as he walked toward the ladder. He knelt down to offer his hand to help her up. She walked by without acknowledging his gesture and began pacing.
"No, I'm not OK. Is there something around here that I can … I don't know … hit or saw or something? I need to use some power tools. Oh, where's that hammer Doug gave you?" Joey asked as she moved toward Pacey's toolbox.
Recognizing her intentions, Pacey quickly disembarked. "Whoa, whoa, there missy. I'm sorry you're upset, but you can't take it out on my girl."
"C'mon, Pacey. What is all of this good for, if not for at least some form of therapeutic release of pent up aggression? I come down here all the time and you never let me do anything besides sand and provide snacks. You claim to like women who tell you what they want, but then you can't handle it when one does. This is what I need. Can you help me or not?" Joey said bluntly with her arms tights across her chest.
Pacey examined her face for a moment. He was suddenly overtaken with the sense that he would not be able to deny this girl. Her anger seemed pure and her request was clear. Pacey had already made a long list of things that he could not give her. At least one of which was undoubtedly the source of her current stress, but this he could deliver. "Just give me a sec, Jo. I didn't say you couldn't do those things. Just asked you not to injure my girl in the process," he said as he removed her hand from his toolbox. "I would be happy to share my power tools with you, but not in your present state. I refuse to be responsible for you losing an appendage. I mean, I'd hate for you to be stranded without your hitchhiker thumb." Pacey opened his toolbox and removed the oversized hammer. He grabbed Joey by the hands and guided her to the sawhorses. "Here, have at it," he said motioning toward the pile of scrap wood. Pacey handed her the hammer. Then he turned the volume up on his portable radio and returned to his work.
Joey looked at the small pile of wood in front of her. She wasn't sure if it would be enough to calm the storm raging inside her. She grasped the hammer tightly in her hand and stole a glance at Pacey. He had already returned to work and seemed comfortable with allowing her to unleash her fury on his spare lumber. Joey wasn't normally a violent or aggressive person, but too much had happened recently. She needed a release and this seemed preferable to getting drunk, though she reserved the right to try that method as needed. With that thought, Joey accepted Pacey's offer and picked up her first piece of wood.
After a few moments, Pacey heard the hammering start. He was pleased to offer her an outlet for her frustration. He had resolved to not bother her until she was ready to talk. As a master of the silent anger "I need space" form of coping, he knew enough to allow her privacy. Nevertheless, his eyes couldn't help but wander in her direction. Pacey was struck by the many contradictions of Joey Potter in that moment. She was at once adorable, but fierce; angry, but sad; frustrated, but motivated. She seemed to be every woman he'd ever known. Yet, even at her worst, she wasn't that bad.
Joey hammered her way through most of Pacey's spare lumber pile. Eventually she stopped, but only because her arms began to ache and her head was throbbing. She released her firm grip on the hammer and slumped down into Pacey's chair. Pacey became aware that the constant hammering had ceased. He turned down the volume on the radio and walked over to join her in the seat next to her. "OK, Jo. What's got you so upset?"
"Nothing, Pacey," Joey retorted.
"That doesn't look like nothing," he said pointing toward the dents she had hammered into the wood. Joey looked sheepishly at the damage she had caused.
"I'm sorry, Pacey. I know you need all the materials you can get," she offered.
"Nothing to apologize for, Jo, but these things aren't free." Joey looked at him with unease. "It's gonna cost ya," he said. Pacey walked toward the pile and picked up the first piece of wood.
"What do you want, Pacey? Because I really have nothing left to give," Joey proclaimed with painful honesty.
"For each piece of wood you demolished, you need to tell me something about what's got you so upset," he offered. Joey began to open her mouth in protest, but Pacey continued. "So this guy right here, who or what was responsible for his destruction?"
Joey, who was too tired to argue, found his logic reasonable. Or at least reasonable enough to humor this boy who cared enough to make up such a silly deal. "Fine. That one was for being reasonable, at the ripe old age of 16, for providing our only household income," she offered.
"Yeah, that's a big one. You took care of him pretty good," Pacey said with satisfaction. Joey's face softened just slightly. "And this one? What was his crime?" he asked holding up a second piece of wood.
"He is my A.P. science test. His crime is for requiring me to learn things that I'm pretty sure I will never use," she replied.
Pacey nodded his head. "Yes, I see that. Useless knowledge and gratuitous testing are indeed punishable crimes," he agreed as he replaced the two pieces of wood with another. "And this poor fella?" he asked.
"Pacey, why are they all male?" Joey questioned with slight amusement.
"Because we live in a sexist society, Jo. Now, stay focused. You still owe me payment," he added.
"Well, you're right about that one being male. That one is Dawson, actually," Joey offered.
"Ahh, the soul mate …" Pacey stated with a twinge of jealousy.
"I never said Dawson was my soul mate. He merely decided that I was his," she said without skipping a beat.
"Fair enough," Pacey recanted.
"He wants to put me in this little box. You know? If I don't fit his ideal or vision of who Joey Potter is, then I'm wrong. It's like I'm breaking character or going off script or something. Being his chosen soul mate is exhausting sometimes. Especially when it seems like we don't even have much of a friendship these days," Joey admitted.
Pacey was surprised to hear Joey's words. He was more surprised to find the affect they had on him. Suddenly Pacey realized that he was adamantly opposed to anything or anyone who served to constricting Joey's vibrant personality. To dim the light in her eyes, calm her quick tongue, harness her creativity, or convince her not to have an opinion on every topic – to be responsible for any of these would be to commit a crime in Pacey's eyes. This included his best friend, Dawson. He considered sharing these thoughts with Joey, but he knew that their agreement did not allot for his opinion. Not to mention, that she would probably come to Dawson's defense, which would simply reinforce Pacey's concern. "OK, last one. What hardships has she caused?" Pacey asked.
"That's Bessie. Well, not her exactly, but something she said earlier. We were arguing because we are both on edge these days. She knocked all of my art supplies over and then had the nerve to accuse me of spending too much money on them since I never use them anyway. I was mad at her for saying it, but I'm mostly mad at myself because it's true. I made this big production of wanting to discover myself. Art was a big part of that, but I feel like I just abandoned it. Really, when was the last time I really sketched anything?" Joey asked rhetorically. Her face clouded with disappointment.
Pacey knew their bargain hadn't changed, but he felt compelled to respond to this concern. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Jo. I mean, you have to let yourself off the hook a little bit."
"But I don't wanna be let off the hook, Pace. I enjoy art. I know I'm not great at it or anything, but I'm OK. And I don't want to just let my supplies gather dust," Joey stated.
"Well, that settles it then," Pacey said. Joey looked at him with confusion. "You'll store your art supplies here. We can secure them below deck. Then when you come down here, you can create. It's beautiful out here. Maybe you'll even feel inspired," he suggested with a smile.
"Really, Pacey? You'd do that?" Joey asked as her face came alive.
"Of course, it's not like you get that much work done here anyway," he said as Joey's jaw dropped in feigned disgust. "Just don't go neglecting your snack duties," Pacey added with a wink.