Author's note: I'm glad some of you seem to still be enjoying this story. I am definitely enjoying writing again!
Pacey pulled into the parking lot. He put the truck into park allowing the radio to continue to play sensing that his passenger wasn't quite ready to exit. Joey stared out the windshield. "Do you ever wish things weren't so complicated?" she asked without breaking her concentration on the bird that had landed on the concrete in the parking space in front of her.
"All the time, Potter," he responded. Pacey put his right arm out across the back of the front seat. "A wise person once told me that sometimes complicated is worth it though," he offered with a soft smile.
"Sounds like an asshole," she suggested with a knowing smirk. Joey's gaze shifted until she was face to face with the boy next to her. "But don't we ever get to be the children?"
Pacey shook his head, "No, you and I don't get to be the children." He wanted to supply her with a different response – an answer that might offer her more comfort – but Pacey respected her too much to placate her. "Maybe other people do, but not us." He shrugged at the painful honesty present in his words. His deep blue eyes remained fixed on hers trying to provide her with silent support.
Joey carefully considered his observation, "But don't you ever feel cheated, Pacey?"
"Of course!" he answered emphatically. "I mean you and I could be the kids, but what would that cost us?"
"Oh you know, the usual – financial ruin, a lifetime of inescapable inevitabilities. Including a life sentence paying for my father's decisions. It all sounds very enjoyable," Joey said sarcastically.
"Right, which is why you work your ass off every minute of every day. And why I try so damn hard not to become the person my Pop thinks I am." Deciding to lighten the mood Pacey added, "It's also why I insist on not losing my boyish charm."
"It's all very exhausting, especially maintaining that whole charming façade." Joey flipped her chocolate hair behind her as she smiled teasingly at Pacey.
"Yes, it is," he agreed.
Without skipping a beat, Joey continued. "You know, I'm thinking of throwing a hissy fit just for the fun of it. I mean I think I'm due for one."
"And what will be your irrational complaint of choice, Miss Potter?" he queried. "Bad hair day? Satellite dish isn't working? Filet mignon too cold?"
"Nah, none of those sounds like good options. First, with hair this good there's no such thing as a bad hair day." Pacey was proud of her confidence even if she wasn't able to finish that statement with a straight face. "Second, what is your obsession with satellite? I mean really?"
"That's when I'll know I've made it," he stated.
"You'll know you've made it when you can watch all your obscure hockey games on 10 different channels?" she asked.
"Precisely!" Pacey exclaimed.
While Joey rolled her eyes at him, she was also thankful for Pacey's ridiculousness. "Well, I guess we better get in there. Heaven forbid we miss visiting hours again." Pacey smiled warmly at his companion, and turned the truck engine off.
Joey and Pacey checked in with the guard who let them into the visiting area. Before she was allowed to join him, Joey saw her father sitting alone at a picnic table. She observed that Mike Potter had aged since she last saw him. She also noticed how sad he seemed. His demeanor changed entirely the moment he saw Joey enter. As difficult as it was to visit her father in prison this was always Joey's favorite moment – the moment his love was palpable enough that even she believed it existed. Her father's face lit up as he stood to meet her. His shoulders pulled back and he seemed to grow taller, prouder. "Joey," he said affectionately. She smiled slightly. Joey's eyes lowered as she considered how to handle this uncomfortable situation. "Hi, Pacey," her father said shaking Pacey's hand.
"Hello, Mr. Potter," Pacey responded.
Unable to tolerate the discomfort associated with knowing he was unlikely to receive a hug in greeting from his youngest daughter, Mike Potter motioned for his visitors to have a seat at the picnic table. "It's so good to see you, Joey," he began. "I'm glad you came." He received little in response from his daughter whose eyes remained fixated on the floor in front of her. "Thanks for bringing her, Pacey."
"My pleasure, Mr. Potter," he said sincerely.
In that moment Joey was reminded of how envious she was of Pacey's social skills. As much as his cockiness really did drive her crazy, he was charming. He always seemed to know what to say and how to act. His was a calming presence for both Potters. "How are you, Joey?" the elder Potter asked.
"Tired," she said simply.
"I'm sorry, I know it's a long drive here," Mike Potter apologized.
"I'm always tired," Joey replied simply.
"Well, you look as beautiful as ever," her father said wholeheartedly.
Joey heard, but did not respond to his comment. "We got the insurance money from the Ice House," she explained. "We decided not to rebuild it." Joey didn't necessarily want to cause her father pain, but she was also not accustomed to skirting around the truth. She believed in approaching hardship head on; to do otherwise was a luxury life had not afforded her.
"I'm so sorry, Joey," her father began. He shook his head as the shame began to flood into his consciousness.
Joey also shook her head trying to prevent the memory from taking hold. She held her hand up in front of her effectively cutting off his apology; she had already heard too many of them in her young life. "We tried what you wanted, the restaurant, I mean. And well, we all know how well that went, so we've decided to follow Mom's dream," she explained. Joey looked up at him. She was simultaneously hopeful that he knew what she was referencing, and angry with herself that she cared if he remembered.
Mr. Potter remained silent for a moment. "You're building the B&B?" he finally asked. Joey simply nodded her head in response. "That's beautiful, Joey. What a lovely idea," he remarked. He paused seemingly deep in thought. "Has Dawson been helping you?"
"Not really." Joey answered. "Dawson's not very into manual labor," she said bluntly.
"Maybe not," her father agreed. "But he's pretty into you."
Feeling her impatience growing, Joey said, "I've forgiven Dawson, if that's what you're fishing for."
"That's good, Joey." Her father said placing his hand on hers. "You should forgive him."
"I really don't think you're in any position to talk about forgiveness," Joey stated pulling her hand from his. "Dawson and I are friends, but Pacey's the one who has really been there most."
"Pacey? Really?" Mr. Potter asked surprised. He looked toward the person sitting next to his daughter. He studied the boy who had always been around, but rarely factored into the equation.
Joey felt her frustration growing. "I know you have this misguided idea that Dawson and I are meant to be together, but that isn't my reality," she said.
Mike Potter felt his daughter growing more distant, and silently chastised himself for mentioning the Leery boy. "Joey, listen to me. I do like Dawson. I think he's a good guy, but it's not that I think you're soulmates," her father tried to explain. "It's just that … he's the person in your life that I knew best. He was the one who was always around, and before incarceration was my reality, the two of you were inseparable," he reminisced. "I know things change, but that scares me, Joey. Because they change without me." He took a deep breathe trying to steady his voice before continuing. "You're growing into a beautiful woman, and I'm not there. I don't know how you spend your days. I recognize that's my fault, but it doesn't make it any easier. It doesn't change the fact that it hurts."
Hearing her father's words, Joey's eyes filled with hot anger-filled tears. "Yeah, well, it hurts me too. I spend my days working too hard at school only to then go to menial jobs that don't pay enough. I help Bessie with Alexander because we can't afford for Bodie to stay home. Then Pacey and I help the guys with the B&B remodel. If we're lucky we spend some time working on his boat, and I might draw a little. That's how I spend my days, and why I'm 16 going on 40." She stopped only briefly to take a breath before continuing. "I've grown since last year. I believe now that you love me, the problem is that just makes it harder that you're not there. We're doing OK though. We will always be OK," her eyes did not leave her father's face. "I'm sorry if it hurts you to know that we're OK without you, but that's my reality. I've grown up knowing that I am capable of providing for myself, which is empowering and everything, but it's not what's supposed to happen. You're supposed to do that."
"I know, Joey. I know I am. I tried to do that. I really did," he claimed with an unmistakable look of pain and regret.
"I didn't come for your apologies," she explained. "I came because it's Thanksgiving. I'm here because as much as I hate you, I also love you." Joey leaned over to kiss her father quickly on the cheek. She then turned to leave without concerning herself with either of the men sitting at the picnic table.
Pacey cringed at the sound of the words, "Dawson and I are meant to be together," leaving Joey's lips. Then he heard Mike Potter say, "soul mate," and felt as if he had been punched in the gut. Pacey didn't think it was possible for someone to hate two words more than he hated that phrase. It wasn't so much that he despised how everyone around them seemed to place "Dawson and Joey" on a pedestal making all other alternatives inferior, but that these same people didn't seem to recognize Joey's value as an individual. He was a person who, despite his best efforts, had been in awe of Joey Potter for years. Pacey had decided long before the option of a relationship with Joey seemed even remotely feasible, that he would not be complicit in her failing to reach her full potential; he would never allow her to be defined by a relationship rather than as an individual. While Pacey's insecurities of never measuring up to the "Dawson and Joey" ideal tried rearing their ugly head, he focused his attention to Joey. Her feelings were paramount; she was the one going through something difficult right now. As she left the visiting area, Pacey felt her emotions radiate from her. Deciding to give her a moment alone, Pacey gathered himself before asking the question that had been on his mind since making the plan to visit the state prison.
"Mr. Potter?" Pacey asked carefully. The aging man in front of him continued watching his daughter until she was completely out of sight. Then, realizing someone else was speaking to him, Mr. Potter faced Pacey. Pacey began, "I wanted to ask you, sir, for your permission to take Joey out. Well, really, just to ask her on a date. I guess it's up to her to say 'yes,' which I think she will. I mean I'm pretty sure she will."
Mr. Potter chuckled slightly at Pacey's nervousness. His face changed when the truth of the words he was about to say hit him. "That isn't my decision to make, Pacey. I've lost that privilege."
Pacey did not have a child, but he could feel Mr. Potter's pain. "You will still always be her father," he said in an attempt to reassure him hadn't completely lost his place in Joey's life.
"And what an honor that is," the elder man observed. Pacey nodded in agreement, and began to rise from his seat. "Pacey?" Mr. Potter said halting Pacey's exit.
"Yes, sir?"
"Thank you for being there for her." Mr. Potter's voice was ripe with emotions, but on his face was a genuine smile. A smile he hoped would portray just how grateful he was to the young man.
"She does the same for me," Pacey responded. "Happy Thanksgiving, Mr. Potter." And with that, Pacey left.
"You're lucky I didn't have the keys, or I would have left you," Joey said when he found her in the parking lot leaning against the truck.
"Even if you had the keys, you wouldn't have made it very far, remember?" he remarked.
Joey rolled her eyes at him refusing to admit the accuracy of his statement. "Haha. Very funny, Pacey."
Pacey smiled, and placed his hand on the small of her back guiding her to the passenger side. "Let's get you home, Potter," he said opening her door.
"Actually, could we maybe go somewhere else first?" Joey asked. She climbed into the truck before adding, "I'm not really ready to go home quite yet."
"Sure, Jo," he answered as he closed her door. He climbed in next to her, started the truck, and looked over at her. "I know a good place." The two drove away from the fences and gates. Joey resumed her activity of staring out the window. The atmosphere in the vehicle was different than it had been earlier; the aura of anxious anticipation was gone having been replaced with calm sorrow. Music quietly played from the radio, but neither occupant acknowledged it. Pacey's right hand rested on the seat next to him. He was slowing for a stop sign when he felt her hand on his. Pacey said nothing, but he gently squeezed her hand hoping the warmth of his skin could begin to portray his feelings.