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.