Places Where We Aren’t

by Leia

 

Sometimes I wonder how I ever got here. Then, I trace back the events in my humble history. That stupid frat party landed me in Cincinnati in the middle of this bitter cold winter.

 

But we won’t go there. Not for now, anyway.

 

As I tramp through the snow, I feel it crunch beneath my feet. Its two days before Christmas Eve, and the snow has melted and frozen over, making this horrible, dingy slush. Its slippery and I’ve already had so many near-falls and near-collisions as I walk to the diner. Luckily, the diner is only four blocks from my building. Even with the short distance, the bitter cold still numbs my body... if only it would numb my mind. Or my heart.

 

But we won’t go there. Not yet.

 

I tighten my scarf and hold my coat closed where one of the buttons have fallen off.

 

I need to fix that.

 

I pull my hat over my ears. Only two more blocks.

 

I went to the grocery store earlier today. That’s when I saw him. I had my mild, bread, and ham in my basket and was ready to pay. And that’s when I saw him.

 

Pacey.

 

My face turned deadly white. At least, that’s what the woman behind the counter told me.

 

“Honey?” she inquired, using a name I’m sure she calls everyone. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

 

I glanced at the slightly overweight, middle-aged woman who wore bright red lipstick and green eye shadow. To keep in the Christmas spirit, I suppose. Otherwise, I’m almost positive her eye shadow would’ve been blue.

 

I looked back to where I saw him. There stood a man who didn’t even resemble Pacey. Short, redheaded. Ten years older. But, then again, I don’t even know how old Pacey looks, or if he’s even alive... I’m sure he is, though. He’s probably married with a kid or two. His family is probably decorating their tree, singing Christmas carols. I wonder if he ever thinks of me...

 

Let’s not go there. At least for now.

 

After what is seeming like an eternity, I finally get to my destination, Maury’s Diner. As I walk in the back door, the bell rings.

 

“Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings, Jo,” my co-worker, Maria says.

 

“Bah humbug,” I mumble as I slip my coat off and hang it up with my hat and scarf.

 

I tie on my apron and use a couple of pens to pull up my long brown hair. The place is surprisingly empty, considering last minute Christmas shopping is in full swing. But, then again, I work the late shift.

 

I had never thought that my main profession would be waitressing. I’m sure plenty of other people had predicted that “that white trash Potter girl” would waitress, or worse, for a living. But I never did... and I never thought that what had happened would’ve happened to begin with.

 

But we won’t go there.

 

Maria turns up the Christmas music for the 5 tables that we have going. “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” by Frank Sinatra is playing. Bessie loved Frank Sinatra. I remember that she used to play Mom’s Frank Sinatra Christmas album while we decorated the tree.

 

I wonder how Bessie and Bodie and Alexander are doing. God, Alexander would be nine now. What grade would he be in? Fourth grade? He was three the last time I saw him. I wonder if Bessie had anymore children. Or if her and Bodie are even still together.

 

“Jo?” Maria asks, her voice barely audible over the music. “Table six needs their order taken.”

 

I nod my head and almost mechanically move over to table six without even looking up.

 

“Can I take your order?” I ask, my voice tired and monotone.

 

“Hold on a second, please,” his deep voice answered.

 

I freeze. There is something unmistakably familiar about that voice. I look up from my pad, slowly and unbelieving. Its him. I feel my mouth go dry. My legs start moving towards the kitchen before I’m even aware of it. I stumble right into Maria.

 

“Jo?” she questions. “Are you all right?”

 

I shake my head and close my eyes.

 

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

 

I keep my eyes closed and take a shaky breath.

 

“See that man sitting at table six?” I ask.

 

“Yes,” she replies.

 

“What does he look like?”

 

I’m sure she’s looking at me as if I’m crazy now.

 

“Well, he’s very good-looking. Very, very good-looking. Brown hair. Dark eyes... which are searching for his disappearing waitress.

 

I open my eyes. Its him. I’m positive.

 

“Maria, please take table six for me! Please?” I beg.

 

“Jo, what on earth-”

 

“Don’t ask any questions! I swear, if you do this for me, I’ll work your Christmas Eve shift!”

 

She takes in a deep breath. I know she’ll accept. She’s a single mother with two kids.

 

“Okay,” she agrees. “No questions.”

 

I let out a deep breath. I should be relieved, but at the same time, I feel emptier than ever.

 

Why?

 

Let’s not go there.

 

* * * * *

 

I have calmed down. Well, sort of. Pace- Well, the man had left hours ago, but my hands are still clammy and I find it hard to concentrate.

 

“I’ll close, Jo,” Maria offers. “You go home and get some rest.”

 

I nod, my emotions vacant from the expression on my face. I put my coat and hat on and tie my scarf around my neck. I head out the door, the brisk wind hitting me like a slap on the face. I begin my trek of four blocks and I hug my coat closer to me. I keep my mind void of my close encounter with Pacey. I concentrate on not concentrating on him. Concentrating so much to not notice the patch of ice I’m slipping on.

 

I feel myself falling forward and falling into someone else, making us both fly backwards in opposite directions.

 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, standing up slowly and offering me his hand.

 

I reach up for it reluctantly and his hand encloses around mine. For some very odd reason, warmth shoots through my entire body.

 

“Watch where you’re go-” I cut myself off as I sense him freeze. I look up slowly to see Pacey’s gray eyes staring into my brown eyes.

 

“Potter?” he breathes.

 

Its been so long since I have heard someone say that name. Since I had heard him say that name.

 

His hand is still holding mine, and I realize my hand is shaking. That my whole body is shaking.

 

“P-P-Pace,” I stutter. “Is it really you?”

 

He grins. Not his usual, or what I had known to be his usual “cocky, smartass” grin, but his overwhelmed, reassuring grin.

 

“In the flesh,” he replies.

 

“I...” I begin, not knowing what to say.

 

My heart is beating so fast, it feels like its going to burst right out of my chest. His hand has finally released mine, which is sweating like crazy. My head is pounding and I bring my shaky arms around myself. I avoid eye contact at first with him, at first, but then he draws me in with his eyes like he always does. I mean did. As in past tense.

 

Well, um, let’s not go there.

 

I feel his eyes looking me over. What is he thinking? That I look different? That I look the same? I begin to feel self-conscious as I remember I have awful bags under my eyes. He must think I look horrible.

 

“You look beautiful, Jo,” he whispers.

 

I flush, and I feel my entire face grow hot. I half-smile.

 

“I missed that crooked smile,” he says as he steps closer, cupping my chin.

 

I get lost in his touch. I always do. Wait, I mean “did”. This can’t be real, but my dreams never felt like this.

 

Suddenly, some random guy runs into us, yelling out a “Watch it!”. My face is now inches away from Pacey’s. His breath tickles my lips. I’m trembling.

 

“Say something, Jo,” he pleads.

 

“I... I... have to go,” I say, removing myself from his grasp.

 

My legs carry me as fast as they can for the rest of the four blocks. I don’t look back or listen to him call my name. I can’t afford to. Not if this is a dream. Like so many of them...

 

But let’s not go there.

 

* * * * *

 

I wake up slowly. Its noon, and I’m already late for my first shift. I shoot out of bed. I quickly brush my teeth. My clothes are rumpled and I haven’t changed since last night. Last night. A lump rises in my throat. I don’t have time to think about it and I rush out the door and down my stairs. I run all four blocks and hurry in the back door.

 

Maria is giving some orders to the cook.

 

“Hey,” Maria says before looking at me. Once she does, her reaction is slightly different. “Whoa! You look like you slept in your clothes!”

 

“Probably because I did,” I reply as I tie on my apron.

 

“You know that guy at table six last night?”

 

I freeze at her words.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, he came in here, raving that someone named Joey Potter works here.”

 

I turned to her urgently.

 

“What did you tell him, Maria?” I ask, grabbing her arm.

 

“Why?”

 

“Just tell me!’

 

“I... I told him that we had no ‘Joey Potter’, but that we had a ‘Johanna Witter’.”

 

I put my hand on my forehead. Crap.

 

“Oh God, did I do something wrong?” Maria asks desperately.

 

“No... no...” I reply, trying to pacify both her and myself. “Just tell me what he said.”

 

“Well... he said that he wasn’t going to leave until he saw who he wanted to see. He’s been here since 6 am.”

 

I peer out the door and I see him sitting at table six again. I let out a deep breath. This isn’t a dream. This is reality. I slowly open the door, but he doesn’t notice. He has dark circles under his eyes and he’s staring out the window. I walk to the table and slowly sit down. He startles slightly and turns his head to look at me. I don’t know how to read him. He seems happy, hurt, angry, and confused all at the same time. That is, if I still know how to read him after all these years.

 

But let’s not go there.

 

“Johanna Witter, huh?” he says finally with an almost injured smirk.

 

I don’t know exactly what to say, so I just nod. Should I tell him that I didn’t want anyone to find me? That’s not entirely true, though... I don’t know.

 

I’d prefer not to go there.

 

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he says quietly.

 

I can’t do anything but nod.

 

“There’s so much I want to say... want to ask,” he says softly.

 

I remain silent.

 

“Joey? Will you please say something?” he pleads.

 

“There... there’s so much I could say... I don’t know where to start,” I explain, tears welling up in my eyes.

 

He takes my hands in his and my tears run down my face. Its the first time in years someone has seen me cry... Pacey being the last.

 

* * * *

 

We walk up to my apartment. He hasn’t asked me any questions. I think he doesn’t want to pry, but I can sense the questions going through his head. I don’t know what I’ll tell him

 

I’m still not ready to go there.

 

I haven’t spoken very much at all, to tell the truth. I’m still a little shell-shocked.

 

I open the door to my apartment. Its a simple studio apartment. Good lighting.

 

“Good lighting,” Pacey remarks.

 

He knows me too well. Knew me, I should say, I guess.

 

“Do you still paint?” he asks.

 

I want to tell him that its all I live for. That all I do is wait tables, paint, and dream. Dream of how things used to be and how things should’ve been...

 

I really don’t want to go there, so I just nod.

 

I watch him as he takes everything in. His expression gives away that something is wrong.

 

“What is it?” I ask.

 

He turns to me and smiles sadly.

 

“You don’t have a Christmas tree.”

 

I shrug a little bit.

 

“I’ve gone six years without one,” I reply.

 

He nods and tries to smile, but I can see the injured expression on his face.

 

“Would you like some coffee?” I offer.

 

“Yes,” he says, finally smiling. “I would.”

 

I go to my kitchen and pour us both a cup.

 

“I see you still drink it black,” he says as I hand him his cup.

 

“Oh, um, sorry,” I mumble. “I forgot to ask you how you take your coffee. Years of waitressing and-”

 

“No, Jo. Still black.”

 

I run my hand through my hair nervously. I show a hint of a smile.

 

“I don’t have any furniture besides my bed,” I explain. “I never really have any company.”

 

Actually, no one has ever been to my apartment. He sits down on the floor and I sit down across from him. I want to tell him everything... why I disappeared. Explain to him. And I think he senses that. On the walls are various pictures of our friends. Some of Bessie, Bodie, and Alexander. A couple of Mom and Dad. He glances at my night stand. A picture of him and I is framed next to my alarm clock. He tenses. I look at him, worried.

 

“Why, Jo?” he explodes, running his hands through his hair like he does when he’s frustrated.

 

“What?” I ask, meekly.

 

“Why did you do it?” he cries out, on the verge of tears. “And why ‘Johanna Witter’? Why, Joey?”

 

“I... I...” I stumble over words that I don’t have.

 

I begin to shake. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this angry with me. I open my mouth to speak once again, but nothing comes out.

 

I’m just not ready to go there, yet.

 

I begin to crumble. I feel the tears splash down my cheeks. Sobs escape from my mouth before I can choke them back. Ashamed, I hide my face in my hands. I feel his arms close around me. He gently rubs my back. He buries his face in my hair and whispers gentle apologies. My sobs begin to cease and my breathing evens. I deeply inhale his familiar scent and a shudder of warmth surges through my body.

 

“I’m sorry, Pacey. I’m just not ready to go there, yet.”

 

* * * * *

 

I still don’t know why he’s here or what he’s doing with his life. I don’t know if he’s married or why he isn’t home for Christmas. It never occurred to me to ask. He asked me what I was doing for Christmas Eve.

 

“Working,” I replied.

 

“Oh,” was what he had said.

 

Its Christmas Eve, now. 7 PM, and I haven’t seen him since he left this morning. I fell asleep in his arms. Nothing beyond that, yet it had such a deeper meaning.

 

The diner is dead. We have one customer: that old man who always sticks around until closing. I sigh, and almost as if on cue, the door opens. Pacey comes in with a Santa hat and the biggest grin on his face. I even manage to laugh. I can’t even remember the last time I laughed.

 

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” he cheers.

 

I smile and roll my eyes.

 

“Ah, I missed those rolling eyes,” he says, tapping my face.

 

“Well, you haven’t missed out on too much,” I reply. “These eyes haven’t had much to roll at.”

 

A nostalgic gleam shines from his eyes.

 

“There’s some of that old Potter spirit I missed so much,” he whispers.

 

“Couldn’t be that,” I say, trying to crack a weak joke as my voice gives away my emotions. “My spirit was broken a long time ago.”

 

He gently caresses my cheek. His touch is enough to tell me that everything is okay. My stomach is doing flip-flops.

 

“Care for this dance, Miss Potter?” he asks, gently placing his arms around my waist.

 

I smile.

 

“Only if you take off that ridiculous hat,” I reply, plucking it off his head.

 

“Hard woman to please,” he says as I place my arms around his neck and lay my head on his shoulder.

 

We rock to the silence for a few minutes before he whispers in my ear, “Beautiful music, isn’t it?”

 

A small smile spreads across my face.

 

“Beautiful.”

 

* * * * *

 

 

We walk up to my apartment once again. I have lost my newly acquired chattiness, but I feel an aura of happiness around me. Pacey seems happy as well. But there’s something looming over both of us.

 

But I don’t want to go there.

 

We walk in the door and I flip on the lights. My eyes are met with white Christmas lights strung all over the room. Garlands intertwine with them. A five foot Christmas tree, scantily decorated with none other than popcorn and white lights, stands nobly in the corner near my bed. I stand in complete awe and I feel Pacey’s hand slip into mine. He squeezes my hand slightly and I squeeze his back. I pull him into a hug. He’s surprised at first, but quickly wraps me up tight.

 

“Thank you,” I whisper.

 

“Your welcome,” he replies. “I want to see your eyes light up like that always. I live for that.”

 

I hesitate for a moment, but I realize my selfishness. I can’t not “go there” with him anymore. He deserves to know.

 

“Pacey... I want to... I need to tell you everything.”

 

He pulls away, his hands cupping my face. His eyes shine with tears, but he smiles. I lead him towards my bed and I sit down. I’m not sure where to begin. I could start from the very moment I knew that I had made that wrong choice the summer before our senior year. The very moment I found out that he had sailed away for good. The times that I dreamed of him. How miserable I was in college, and how he made me feel better with just a phone call.

 

But I can’t do that. So I start from the beginning of my disappearance.

 

“I went to my first party freshman year in Boston. That party I told you about...”

 

“The night before you stopped returning my phone calls,” he whispers.

 

“Yes... I hadn’t had much to drink, but Sean,” I say, choking on the bastard’s name. “Sean had plenty. More than enough.”

 

I feel him squeeze my hand, and I see his eyes cloud with anger. He knew what came next.

 

“I tried to say no... he gagged me. And he... he raped me,” I barely manage to get out.

 

I see tears running down Pacey’s face, making my own tears seem less important. His hands are shaking as he holds mine.

 

“It’s okay,” I try to reassure him.

 

“No, its not okay, Jo!” he yells.

 

I place a finger on his mouth, silencing him. I needed to finish my story before I lost my nerve.

 

“I pressed charges,” I tell him. “Unfortunately, no one believes some nothing with a white trash legacy against a spotless, clean cut, all-star athlete frat boy.”

 

I don’t know how to say the next part, so I look down at the bed.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, finally, his voice shaking terribly.

 

“I felt... dirty. Ashamed. I nearly called you so many times, Pacey. I almost did... and then I found out I was pregnant.”

 

Pacey’s eyes widen and I wipe my tears, nodding.

 

“I had an illegitimate child on the way who was to be the son of a rapist. I didn’t know what to do! I couldn’t abort her... I couldn’t continue school in Boston... I couldn’t go back home. I guess I could’ve, but I... at the time...”

 

I look into his eyes pleadingly.

 

“I didn’t want you to look at me with the same pity and disdain everyone else did. I found a family in Cincinnati that wanted to adopt the baby, and that would pay my tuition. So I transferred to Ohio State and I planned to finish school there while I was pregnant and after I had the baby. I told everyone there that I was widowed. That... that my husband had died in a car accident. I changed my name to Johanna Witter... Johanna simply because I could still be called ‘Jo’ and I wouldn’t need to re-adjust... Witter because... well, um...”

 

I wring my hands in nervousness.

 

“Sentimental attachment, I suppose. It just kind of stuck with me. A reminder of my past.”

 

He smiled at me. He knew why I didn’t choose Leery or even McPhee.

 

“As I got further into my pregnancy, I... I grew more and more attached to the baby. I didn’t want to give her away anymore, but I really didn’t have a choice. If I kept her, I would have to drop out of school and I wouldn’t be able to provide for her. I was kind of... trapped. God, I almost called you a dozen times, but I always stopped myself. I convinced myself that...” I swallow. “That you didn’t need another burden in your life.”

 

I wipe away some tears. This part is going to be hard.

 

“I went into labor two months premature. I was in labor for eight hours. When she came out, she was so tiny... too tiny. The doctors gave her a week to live. That’s when the adoptive family disappeared. At the moment, though, it didn’t matter, because she was so beautiful. Lillian Elizabeth Witter... I know that she wasn’t yours, Pacey, but... I feel stupid saying this... I wanted her to be yours. With all my heart. I spent all my time talking to her... telling her about our wonderful home back east. About her wonderful father with the beautiful gray eyes and smile. I swear, I thought she kind of looked like you... but I guess I was just imagining it. If you wish hard enough, you start to believe them... She died a week after birth, just like the doctors said,” I sob. “God, I mourned for her for so long... I still do. She was the most beautiful little angel.”

 

He wipes the tears from his face, and I can tell that he’s trying to be brave for me.

 

“I... I had nowhere to go. I had to drop out of school because my source of tuition had disappeared. All of the scholarships I had once had were null and void. And I couldn’t go back to Capeside... Joey Potter, forever an emotional and financial burden on her family and friends. I couldn’t do that, Pace. I couldn’t do anything. It was like I was in this big black hole. I got a job working as many shifts as possible at the diner and I rented out this apartment. Good lighting, so I could paint... that’s really all I have left.”

 

He looks down at the bedspread and we sit in silence. Is he angry? Is he upset?

 

“Pacey?” I ask, my question met with silence. “Please say something.”

 

“You wouldn’t have been a burden,” he says quietly after a moment. “God, I looked for you, searched for you all these years. Everyone else gave up on you and said you were dead, but I didn’t. I knew that you were alive. I searched, I put out missing person ads... but I had never thought, never imagined that what had happened... That you would change your name to... well, what you changed it to. I never forgot you, Jo. Never.

 

“I had a picture of you on my desk... actually, several. And one day, a man came in and looked at my pictures, saying that he saw a girl that looked exactly like you working at a diner in Cincinnati. ‘One of those pretty faces that you can’t forget,’ he had said. So I flew out that night and I have been looking for you all week. I was just about to give up... and then, there you were in the middle of the sidewalk.”

 

I’m crying now, so moved by his words. By his devotion to me, which is unmatched by any other person’s.

 

“Pacey, why didn’t you give up?” I sob. “Anyone else would’ve given up.”

 

“Because I knew in my heart that you were alive... and that deep down you wanted me to find you. I couldn’t give up, Jo. I couldn’t bare the thought that I might never see you again.”

 

He is crying again, too. I bring him closer to me and we lie in bed, our tears intermingling. Tears of sorrow, relief and joy. But most of all, joy. Our tears cease almost simultaneously, and we, again, fall asleep in each other’s arms.

 

* * * * *

 

I’m falling, falling, falling! Darkness is surrounding me... suffocating me! I try to scream! No one can here me! Nothing is coming out!

 

I wake up in a panic. Pacey is gone. I look all over the apartment, in the bathroom, everywhere. I begin to shake. It was all a dream, everything. It was all a dream. My tears take over everything else, and I collapse on the bed.

 

The door opens, and I shoot up in bed, still crying. Pacey rushes over to me, instinctively bringing his arms around me.

 

“I thought... I thought that you were gone,” I sob.

 

“Never, Jo,” he whispers, kissing my forehead. “Never.”

 

 

He had gone to the store, he explains. He begins to cook me breakfast. I lie back down, but keep my eyes open so I can watch him. He’s grown even more gorgeous after all these years. His gray eyes, although considerably more mature, still have that mischievous twinkle. His shoulders are broader, and he’s not the high school boy that I had fallen in love with. He’s the man that I’ve fallen in love with all over again.

 

He hums a little as he brings my plate to me. I sit up.

 

“Merry Christmas,” he whispers, handing me my plate and kissing me on the cheek.

 

My heart beats a little faster and my breath quickens. I feel my cheeks flush. Even at twenty-four, he still has the same effect on me as he did when we were sixteen. We eat in a comfortable silence, just relishing the time we have together. After we finish eating, he hands me an envelope. I look at him curiously and gently open the envelope. Inside is a slip of paper.

 

My dear Joey,

I know that this isn’t much of a Christmas present, but right now the practical Christmas gift just doesn’t seem right. This is a “certificate” good for a plane ticket to anywhere... to wherever you want to start over. It can include me, but I understand if it doesn’t. I just want to know that you’re safe.

 

Love Always,

Pacey

 

I smile gently and jump into his arms. We stand next to the Christmas tree.

 

“Where to, Josephine?” he whispers.

 

“Home,” I whisper back.

 

“And where is home, exactly?”

 

“Wherever you are, Pace,” I answer.

 

He grins at me and I look up at the ceiling for a moment.

 

“I do believe that we’re standing underneath the mistletoe, Mr. Witter,” I say.

 

He looks up at the empty ceiling, knowing very well that he didn’t buy any mistletoe. He smiles widely at me.

 

“I believe we are, Miss Potter,” he whispers.

 

He gently leans in, brushing his lips against mine, almost tentatively at first, as if I’m so fragile that he doesn’t want to shatter me. I deepen the kiss, at once remembering how intoxicating he is... and how hard it is to keep a coherent train of thought when his lips dance against mine. The kiss is slow, languid, and sensual, awaking all of my senses to a point that I hadn’t remembered they could be at. My whole body is trembling. We pull away slowly, and I smile against him as I feel his lips slide almost reluctantly off of mine. I find myself remembering how earth-shatteringly amazing one kiss from him can be.

 

An unwipeable smile appears on both of our faces. I lie my head on his shoulder. We don’t need anymore words. We have a silent agreement.

 

To take each other to places where we aren’t.

 

The End.