I seem to be spending an inordinate amount of time these days watching Joey Potter walk away from me.

Or, to be more accurate, running after Dawson.

I should have known – hell, I did know. They’ve been best friends forever, superceding any other relationship in their lives. They know everything, feel each other’s emotions. I wouldn’t be surprised if they needed each other to breathe.

What hurts the most is how right everything felt while we held each other. Being in her arms and having her in mine was like every piece of the puzzle coming together all at once.

Perfection in one simple dance.

Then she froze, pulled away and followed him out the door.

Just like always.

Andie still thinks that I should tell Joey I’m leaving, that I love her, but I can’t do it. I can’t offer her my heart anymore when I already know the outcome.

I just want to get through these next two weeks so I can get the hell out of Capeside. Three months free of film metaphor, analyzing even the most minute changes, and the eternal subtext of our little town, not to mention that it will be three months free of Dawson and Joey.

I think back to last year when I turned sixteen and remember how desperately I wanted to see Dawson and have him remember. I think about how much he’s meant to me all my life.

And I really wish I could go back in time. Back before Dawson found out and started hating me, back before I kissed her, before I fell in love with her, before I pulled up alongside her dock and forced us both to admit we were friends.

I wish I could take it all back. For Joey’s sake.

I wish…

Not that it matters. The damage is done, the lines drawn in the sand. Me on one side of the battlefield, Dawson on the other, and Joey…she’s stuck somewhere in-between.

But it’s been made more than clear who she wants to be the victor. It’s painfully obvious that Dawson’s reactions are the ones guiding all of Joey’s choices.

And so, in what is becoming the running theme of my existence, my best friends in the world have something in common with my father.

They prefer Dawson to me.

Changing a lifetime of habit is easy with the proper motivation. For example, if I performed well in school, I got to perform with Tamara. If I improved my grades, Andie moved up a notch on the affection.

If I just avoid them all in the halls, just walk away when I see them, I can avoid watching Dawson and Joey rekindling their relationship.

It’s all in the motivation.

Andie asks me every day if I’ve talked to Joey, if I’ve told her my summer plans. I’ve sworn her to secrecy about them and, thanks to last summer’s dalliance, I’m pretty sure she won’t be breaking my trust on this one.

I tell her no, every time she asks. I tell her I’m not even tempted. I mean, why should I give Joey an opportunity to tell me exactly how uninterested she is in my vacation itinerary? Why should I give her another chance to let me know how undesirable my feelings are to her?

Why should I give her another chance to break my heart?

Despite finals, the Bed and Breakfast and her busy social schedule, Joey’s started working on her wall. I keep trying to estimate how much her Dawson-centric message on the wall that I bought for her is going to hurt.

So far, it’s just a block of white that she sits and stares at every night.

I watch her. I stand across the street in the shadows. I watch her paint, humming along to her music. I watch her contemplate her blank canvas.

I look away when Dawson comes.

He comes almost every night now. They talk, sometimes argue. And then Dawson walks away while Joey stays there and stares at the wall, her knees pulled up to her chin. I want to go over there and comfort her, but I can’t. We’ve gone too far past friends and we’re nowhere near close enough to being anything else.

So I watch her, until she puts away her paints and brushes and walks home in the darkness.

Alone.

It’s been a week since the prom and, in all that time, I haven’t talked to Joey or Dawson. I feel sorry for Jen, Jack and Andie, all caught in the middle of the melodrama. But school’s out tomorrow and then I’m as good as gone. Pack up the boat, stop by the Leery’s wedding and sail away.

Thank you very much.

And it was all easy until tonight. I spent the evening on the boat, cleaning everything and getting it set to sail. I walked by the wall on my way home, wondering if I should break down and say goodbye, wondering if she’d kiss me one last time.

But she wasn’t there. The wall was dark, the white rectangle still bare. I figured maybe it was a sign, the same fate or whatever it was that had decided Dawson and Joey were soul mates, telling me to leave it all alone.

Until I checked my computer and found out that the many advances in technology have given us a new approach to pain.

To: Pwitter
From: Jpotter
Subject: Would you please speak to me?

Pacey -
You can't keep avoiding me in the halls forever. Dawson was heartbroken when he saw us dancing... what was I supposed to do, let him go? I know you think all I ever do is run after Dawson - that night he found out about us, at the stupid alternative prom... but I'm not ready to let him go, Pacey. And as much as I may or may not want to, it's gotta be my choice, otherwise I'm going to resent you both. And myself. Please try to understand. I know you have been trying but just... I don't know. Don't give up on me, Pacey. I'm trying, too.
Joey

It would be funny if it didn’t hurt so much. She seems to know exactly what I think, but she doesn’t have a clue. Dawson was heartbroken when he saw us dance. And how do you think I felt watching him hold you all night, Potter? How much do you think it hurt to sit there and see you in his arms? Do you have any idea what I went through when you bolted away from me?

You’re not ready to let him go, Joey. And you never will be. But it’s painfully clear that you can walk away from me.

There’s still nothing on her wall. I noticed it this morning as Doug and I drove down to the boat with most of my supplies. He slowed almost to a crawl as he drove by; his eyes focused on the road in front of us. I ignored him, used to the subtlety that is my brother. I didn’t want to think about Joey. The wedding was the next day and then I was home free.

Tonight is the bon voyage party that the two people I’ve known the longest in my life will not be attending. Tonight is the last night I have to pretend. After the wedding tomorrow, I can just go home, get a good night’s sleep, my last on Dougie’s couch for a while, and I can just stop pretending. I can let my heart shatter, no longer needing to hold it together.

I can stare out the window and bemoan my fate. I can just lie there, stare at the ceiling and think about what might have been. I can remember her kisses, the feel of her in my arms.

Or I can keep pretending. I can pretend none of it matters. I can pretend people will miss me when I’m gone, that they’ll even notice my absence. I can pretend that I’m not dying inside. I can pretend I live in a world where I wasn’t in love with the same girl as my best friend.

I’ve gotten so good at pretending.

Maybe I’ll wait until I’m safely at sea before I stop. I’ll go to my party and try to smile for my friends who are all trying so hard not to choose sides. I’ll go to the wedding and tell Mr. and Mrs. Leery congratulations. I’ll watch Dawson and Joey be together, best man and maid of honor. Funny that he’s the best man.

Well, it would be funny if it didn’t hurt so damn much.

I listen half-heartedly to Doug, knowing that he wants me to tell Joey the truth too. Everyone seems to think it’s going to make a difference. Why do they think that? What I want has nothing to do with this. How I feel doesn’t have any bearing on the situation. It’s all about Dawson.

Dawson and Joey.

Just like it’s been our whole lives.

I stare at her wall one last time. After her speech today about me giving up, I realized that maybe Doug and Andie have been right all along. And if that isn’t scary enough, I’m actually taking their advice. Tell her how I feel, right? Do what has to be done to let her know exactly what’s at stake.

Tell her that I love her.

I wish it were that easy.

After she walked away, I took the groceries I was carrying to the boat then came back and stared for a good long time at her wall. I bought it for her, knowing that she needed a fight she could win, where it was very clear who the good guys were and who the bad guys were. I bought it for her because I needed something that would tell her how I felt.

I almost feel bad stealing it from her.

I have paint all over me. My clothes and face are stained red. I don’t know what I’ve done. I don’t know how she’ll react. Maybe this will be the last nudge that pushes her right back into Dawson’s arms. Or maybe, just maybe, it’ll make her realize that I need her, that I love her. That she’s everything to me.

She knows I’m leaving. Doug was nice enough to pass that bit of information along. And, if her attack is any indication, she seems to care a little. Maybe it’s just a woman scorned. Maybe she hates the fact that I’m not going to stick around and watch.

Or maybe she doesn’t want me to leave.

I stare at her wall, no longer a pristine white, waiting for her loving brush to stroke life onto it. No longer available to Dawson. The wall is no longer hers. It’s ours now. Our relationship, or whatever it was during the too short time it lasted, is written there in blood red letters.

“Ask me to stay.”

I’ve given her the question, and I already know my answer.

I just wonder if she loves me enough to ask.

06/05/00