Beyond the Pale

Joey sat on Dawson’s bed in his dark bedroom, steeped in her own private misery, occasionally wiping at the tears that fell down her face. There was a reason that she’d suggested Titanic for movie night. She could cry and Dawson wouldn’t think anything about it.

It had been a long, long week since she’d last talked to Pacey. He simply avoided being around her at all. He didn’t come to the Icehouse, he didn’t eat in the cafeteria at lunchtime, and if he saw her in the halls at school, he’d turn around and walk the other way.

You have no idea what you want, do you? Pacey’d said to her. When you figure it out, you come and see me. Joey sniffled. She thought about the pictures of her and Pacey that had been taken at Fort Jonesboro. She’d already turned a couple of them in to their history teacher for extra credit. But there was one that she’d put into the lacquered wooden box where she kept her journal and her most treasured possessions.

She looked at it often. She and Pacey had been standing beside a rusty cannon, and behind them was an impossibly blue sky. Their shoulders were touching, and Pacey’s former sullen expression had mellowed to merely serious. Joey had been smiling, very faintly, and her hair had been blowing in the breeze.

Why can’t I figure out what I want? Joey berated herself. She could understand Pacey being hurt by the way she’d abruptly pulled away from him after their encounter at the fort. She was just scared, and she wanted to be sure. What was so wrong with that?

The closing credits rolled on the TV screen. "Well," Dawson said, "that makes my eighth time to watch this movie." He pushed the stop button and then hit rewind, and then glanced at his friend. "What’s wrong, Joey?"

"What do you mean, what’s wrong?" Joey said defensively, wiping her eyes. "It’s a sad movie."

"Well, yeah," Dawson agreed, "but that doesn’t explain why you’ve been crying since the opening credits."

Joey slumped down on the pillow and rolled over on her side, away from Dawson. She took a deep breath, attempting to get control of herself.

She felt his hand in her hair, gently pushing it away from her wet face. "It’s Pacey, isn’t it?" Dawson asked her.

Joey huffed impatiently. "He’s so stubborn!" she complained.

Dawson chuckled. "Jo, I think you may have him beat on that one."

Joey turned back over and glared at him. "You are not helping."

"Did you guys break up?" Dawson asked.

"How could we break up, Dawson? We never were really together," Joey said.

"Well, what were you, then?"

Joey sat up, agitated. "I don’t know. That’s the problem. Pacey’s mad at me because I won’t tell him what I want to happen with us, and I just don’t know what to say! I’m seventeen...how am I supposed to know what I want?"

"Well," Dawson said, getting up from the bed and walking to the VCR to retrieve the tape, "it seems pretty clear what you don’t want."

Joey stared at him.

"You don’t want Pacey mad at you," Dawson clarified. "Look at you...you’ve been miserable all week. You have to talk to him, Joey."

Why did it sometimes take a third party to help you figure out what you should do? Joey wondered. Dawson was absolutely right. She couldn’t go on like this.

"Thanks, Dawson," Joey said, getting up from the bed and hurling herself into his arms. She hugged a surprised Dawson tightly, then sprinted for the window.

"You’re welcome," Dawson said. He shook his head and smiled as Joey clanged her way down the ladder.

Joey shifted from foot to foot, waiting for someone to answer the door at the Witters’. It was about nine o’clock, and she didn’t think it was too late to come over here. But she’d knocked three or four times, and so far no response.

Joey was about ready to give up when the front door was jerked open. Doug Witter stood in the doorway, scowling, wearing only a pair of slacks. His hair was standing straight up, as if he...or someone else...had been running their hands through it. "What?" he barked.

Joey took a step back. She wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, but she was frightened of Pacey’s brother. He seemed too volatile to be a police officer. "I, um, was looking for Pacey."

"He isn’t here! Who knows where the hell he is?"

"Dougie," called a querulous female voice from the back of the house. "Baby’s gettin’ lonely...."

Joey snickered, unable to help herself. So there was someone in Capeside who found Doug sexually attractive. Probably some bimbo he’d picked up at the bar. So much for Pacey’s pet theory that Doug was gay.

Doug looked mortified. He closed the door in Joey’s face.

Joey turned and started down the porch steps, trying to figure out where Pacey could be. The video store closed early on Sundays, so he wouldn’t be there. Joey checked the ruins and the dock area outside the Icehouse. Nothing. The only place left was the beach.

Joey took deep breaths of the night air, feeling soothed by the roar of the waves. The ocean at night had to be the most peaceful place in the world. She walked along the shoreline, gazing up at the bright stars. If she was ever going to believe in anything, it would be here. Anything seemed possible in the infiniteness of sky and sea.

A few feet ahead, she saw someone tall and broad-shouldered standing in the surf in his bare feet. Her heart began to beat faster. She knew that it was Pacey.

Joey approached him cautiously, knowing that he couldn’t hear her over the pounding surf. Swallowing nervously, she reached out and touched his arm.

Pacey turned slowly, as if he’d known she was there all along. His dark eyes scanned her face, and he said, "You’ve been crying." His voice was husky.

Joey shrugged, unable to take her eyes from his face. She now had water in her shoes, but it didn’t seem worth mentioning.

Pacey looked back out at the ocean. Joey dropped her hand from his arm. They stood without speaking for a while, and silent tears began to slide down Joey’s face.

Pacey glanced at Joey, and he seemed horrified to find her crying. "Oh, Joey...don’t," he said.

"I’m sorry," she cried. "I didn’t mean to hurt you!"

Pacey turned to her and put his arms around her, holding her close. "God, Joey, I’ve missed you this week," he said fervently. "It’s been like torture staying away from you!"

Joey wrapped her arms around Pacey’s waist, feeling safe again. Right now, this was what she wanted. He was.

"I feel so alone all the time," Pacey explained to her, "and then I thought you’d left me, too. I got a little crazy."

Joey raised her head from his shoulder. "I may not know exactly what I want," she whispered, "but I know that I want to be with you while I figure it out." She looked into his eyes anxiously. "Is that so much to ask for?"

"Jo," Pacey said, gently wiping her face with one hand, "right now I’ll take anything you can give me."

Joey raised her mouth to his, feeling the tension in her body dissolve as he accepted her kiss, as he pulled her even more tightly against him. His tongue slipped into her mouth, and Joey eased her hands underneath the back of his shirt, wanting to feel his bare skin.

Neither one of them felt the cool night air by the time Pacey broke the kiss. He smiled at her. "This night is like a dream," he said.

"But it’s real. We’re real," Joey said.

Pacey gazed intently at her. Cupping her face with one hand, he said, "Tu es la lune et les etoiles...tu es la plus belle."

Joey smiled tremulously. "What did you just say to me, Pacey?"

"Joey, Joey," he chided her. "Don’t ruin the moment by making me translate. Just accept that I said something incredibly romantic to you."

"I should’ve taken French instead of Spanish," Joey grumbled.

She forgot her irritation, however, when Pacey gave her another long and thorough kiss. She held him close, deciding that she’d worry about what would happen tomorrow when tomorrow got here.

Right on, Scarlett, Joey thought to herself.

Write to Angie!