Turns out, Pacey's riding out his banishment from Capeside High at Casa Leery. "When my suspension is over I will go home, but until then I'll risk you getting sick of me for invading your personal domain," he tells Dawson. "Hiding out here and alienating you beats the crap outta facing death at the hands of my father back home," he finishes glumly. (he's probably not exaggerating all that much, poor kid)
"Well, I'll be happy when my room returns to its original owner," Dawson smiles, sniffing the air. "And odor," he notes, then questions Pacey's choice of movie. "Jerry McGuire?" he asks disbelievingly. (See, I toldja!) "I'm on a continuous loop," Pacey mutters. "It speaks to my current situation as a renegade moral crusader."
Speaking of, Pacey wants to know how things are in the land of Oz, I mean, Capeside High School, in his absence. "Pretty much the same," Dawson replies dryly, "plus or minus a few sexual identity crises." "How is Jack?" Pacey asks, to which Dawson says he seems okay. "And Joey?" Pacey asks again, to which Dawson offers a curt "fine," but quantifies it by saying she, too, seems okay, but is keeping a low profile.
"And Andie?" Pacey wonders a little hesitantly. This time, Dawson is in fine form. "Andie? Last I heard, she had run off to Bali with a Brazilian soap star named Diego. I hear she's very happy. And tanned." He notes the lack of amusement on his friend's face, then sighs exasperatedly. "Just call her, you idiot! I can't believe you let a week go by without talking to her!"
Pacey replies that Andie thinks he's responsible for dragging the McPhee scandal through the school corridors. "She thinks I'm a short-sighted, insensitive and selfish," he comments. "So for right now, we're at an impasse." Dawson shakes his head. "You've passed impasse, now you're just in avoidance." He tells Pacey that Andie is hurting and that because Pacey cares about her, he should just apologize and get his girlfriend back. (advice that didn't work for him, clearly)
But Pacey is as stubborn as he is sweet, and insists he did the right thing. "I don't want to apologize! I stood up for something I believed in. I was right!" He tries to convince Dawson that he's acting in the same intent as Jerry McGuire (or Tom Cruise, to be more accurate), whose mission statement said he was going to take a stand against what he believed was wrong. "But he lost everything!" Dawson reasons. "And he had to beg, grovel and crawl to get it all back!"
Trying to break the tension, Dawson adds with a smile that Jerry also wasn't sleeping on his best friend's floor while trying to do so. "Floor?" Pacey replies in mock-innocence. "I thought you said I got the bed tonight?" "I don't think so," Dawson laughs. "Joey gets the bed," Pacey notes with a small pout. "Don't go there," Dawson smiles, shaking his head.
The next morning outside school, Ty and Jen are going there, in full public view of anyone who cares to walk by, including one Dawson Leery. As Jen's current beau finishes his oral examination of Jen's mouth and leaves, her ex-beau comments ever-so-slightly sarcastically that love has bloomed in Capeside. "It feels so silly, like I've got this stupid junior high crush," Jen smiles broadly.
"Nah, it's great. It's a beautiful thing," Dawson smiles back, adding that he is very happy for her and that Ty seems cool. "He is," Jen agrees. "He's very cool." She then asks Dawson if he feels like joining them in an evening excursion that night. "A Bible party?" Dawson smirks. "Not exactly," Jen smiles mysteriously as they walk down the quad towards the front doors of the school.
Inside those very doors, Joey and Jack are at her locker, rummaging for textbooks. Apparently, after the spray-paining incident from last week, Jack has opted to move into his girlfriend's locker, and who could blame him? Besides leaving a very painful memory behind, it also sends out a clear "I'm-straight" message to the rest of the student body. Besides, all high school couples are supposed to share lockers anyway, right? (I have no idea, actually ... I went to an all-girls school ...)
As Joey digs out her Economics book, Jack stands near her, knapsack slung over his shoulder. "Nice purse, McPhee!" jeers a jock-type who passes by. "Let me know if you wanna borrow it then, Morgan!" Jack snaps back. (Hmm ... could that be Abby's brother? Maybe Jack was calling the guy by his surname? Damn those unisex names, you can never tell)
"Jerk," Joey mutters, commenting that it would just be so nice if the running commentary would come to a stop. "What, and give up my role as Capeside's most talked about non-homosexual?" Jack smiles. Joey smiles back, a bit, but she's serious. "That's not what I mean ... I mean, Jack, you're not gay, and I'm tired of talking about something that's already been refuted."
"You're right," Jack grins. "We have to fight fire with fire here. I say we make love right on the student green! (now there's a mental image I did not particularly want) Wait, we could do one better, we could have a going into the closet party, and everyone could come dressed up as their favourite straight person!"
Joey chuckles. "Get to class, straight boy." "That's Bubba to you," Jack laughs and kisses her on the check. Joey laughs too, but after Jack leaves, her smile fades into a look of anxiety and concern. Just then, Dawson approaches, concerned by the expression on Joey's face. "Uh-oh," he begins. "I know that look ..." "Uh, yeah. Don't ask ... okay?" Joey smiles weakly.
"O-kay," Dawson replies, then changes the subject and asks if Joey would like to tag along with him tonight to the jazz club that Ty likes. "I can't," Joey answers curtly. "O-kay," Dawson replies again. She apologizes then for her shortness, and thanks Dawson for asking, but explains that she and Jack have plans to study. Dawson smiles briefly and nods a little too enthusiastically. He's trying to be a big person here. "Sounds like fun," he offers politely. "Huh," Joey smiles wanly. "I guess we haven't been focussing on fun much lately."
"Maybe you should," Dawson says, muttering that he can't believe he is suggesting this, but "maybe you should plan something for the two of you alone. Maybe even something ... romantic?" He almost winces as he says that last word. Joey is both impressed and surprised. "Dawson Leery, I cannot believe you are giving me relationship advice!"
"There are easier things in the world," he notes wearily with a smile, then leaves, before saying something he or Joey would probably regret. "Dawson?" Joey calls after him, as he walks down the hall. He turns around, waiting. "Yeah?" "... Nothing," Joey shakes her head and smiles, stopping herself before saying something she or Dawson would probably regret.
In English class, Peterson is taking attendance, finishing the roll call, of course, with "Mr. Witter." "Here," Pacey mutters. "What a delight it is to have you return," Peterson coos, as the sarcasm dribbles down his chin. "Tell me, did you think of us while you were on ... hiatus?" "Every day," Pacey answers flatly, then drops some assignments on his desk.
"What's that?" Peterson questions bemusedly. "All four assignments I missed while I was gone," Pacey replies sarcastically. "I didn't want to get an incomplete on any of them." Peterson dryly states he will take Pacey's diligence into consideration, and presents Pacey with his poetry assignment ("sorry you didn't get it back sooner," he says snidely). Pacey's received an F, of course.
"What exactly was wrong with this?" Pacey demands. "Well, in my educated, editorial analysis ... it stunk." (so does Peterson's grammar ... for an English teacher, he should know that the correct past of the verb "to stink" is "stank," not "stunk") "So as my teacher, you have no comments or advice on how I might compose a poem more to your liking?" Pacey asks, exerting great control over his bubbling rage.
"Yes," Peterson muses. "Write better." He goes on to inform the class that from now on, their grades will be subjective to his personal taste. "Those of you with intelligence, talent and ability will have no problem, but the rest of you should come to terms with your inevitable failure," he announces pompously.
In the caf after class, Dawson and Pacey are rehashing Peterson's remarks. "It's bad enough he has to fail me," Pacey sighs, "but ..." "... you can't drop the class halfway through the semester," Dawson finishes. "Bingo," Pacey agrees dejectedly, "Which put me at 7.4 on the screwed Richter."
Just then, Andie enters the cafeteria, tray in hand. "Make that a 7.8," Pacey mutters. "Phase of massive destruction." Dawson urges him to talk to Andie, but Pacey is adamant not to. "She saw me! She could come over here," he states, a tad touchily. "Pacey, go," Dawson sighs. "Okay, I will," our hero says noblely, "I just want to give it a second."
At another table, Joey presents Jack with a menu. When he asks what it is for, she announces triumphantly that it's what she will be cooking that evening. "For who?" Jack wonders in bewilderment. "Us," she smiles. "We're gonna have the dinner to end all dinners, at my house, on the dock. And where it leads to from there ... only the fates can say." (Oh no, Joey. No, no, no, no, no!)
Jack is happy with Joey's plan for romance and expresses his gratitude to her for standing by him and supporting him throughout the present situation. She brushes off the compliments, though, telling him it comes with the territory of dating him.
Jack's sister, however, isn't as happy. Pacey approaches Andie's table very reluctantly, and they exchange Hi's, followed by an ocean of silence. "You haven't called ..." Andie wades in gingerly. Pacey dives in head first, though. "Last I checked, my phone had an incoming line," he responds tightly. (Uh-oh ... if he's gonna start the conversation in that tone, he shouldn't have come over in the first place)
"You left me stranded on a pier after telling me I was weak and insensitive!" Andie shouts. "I really wasn't up to talking to you." "And you abandoned me when I needed you the most!" Pacey responds in kind. "I thought I'd wait for your call." "My call?" Andie says incredulously. "You thought I'd call and say what?" "For starters, 'I'm sorry!'" Pacey answers hotly. "I agree," Andie deadpans. "'I'm sorry' would be nice to hear."
She then asks if there was anything else Pacey wanted, because they aren't making any progress at the moment. "I just came over to say hello," Pacey replies crisply. "Any progress beyond that, I hadn't really considered." "Well consider this," Andie remarks coldly. "Hello is typically followed by one thing. Goodbye."
Andie leaves then, and runs into her brother, who is also about to leave the caf. "What was all that about?" he asks. "I don't want to talk about it," she sighs. "I'm late to meet Milos." As always, Jack is confused. "What do you mean?" he asks. "It's nothing," Andie smiles briely. "I didn't want to bother you. He's been calling for mom lately, and I've been covering, and finally he asked me to come in."
Jack tells her that's where he's headed too, to Milos' office. "I figured it was more good-guy counsellor BS," Jack shrugs. "Hmph. I wonder why he wants us both to come in?" Andie wonders.
Inside Milos' office, the answer is clearly evident, in the form of a tall, distinguished-looking, silver-haired man. "Daddy!" Andie cries, flinging herself into his arms, while father and son exchange heated glares over her shoulder. While Andie basks in her father's embrace, hugging him and glowing, Jack hangs back in the doorway, scowling and glowering. Obviously, while Andie is Daddy's Little Girl, Jack is not at all a contender for the role of Father's Pride and Joy.
That evening, while Joey is busily preparing herself for her candlelit dinner a deux, she gets a disappointing call from Jack, calling the whole thing off. "It's my dad," he explains apologetically. "He came in from Rhode Island, and he wants to take Andie and me to dinner. Milos called him and told him everything that went on at school." Joey replies sadly that she understands completely, but Jack feels awful nonetheless for ruining their evening.
"I'll be fine," Joey tells him lightly, trying to mask the obvious disappointment in her voice. "I'll find something to do." After they hang up, Joey lets her hair out of the pretty butterfly pins she had put it up in, and sits there, thinking for a minute. (Katie looked really pretty in this scene, I thought ... red really suits her!) After a moment, she picks up the phone and starts dialing (and you all just KNOW who she's calling, right?)
Cut to the jazz club, where Jen, Dawson and Joey (toldja!) are "admiring" their surroundings, while Ty makes himself right at home. "O-kay, this place couldn't be seedier," Dawson muses. Jen is quick to say it isn't that bad, and Joey agrees that it "sure beats being home feeling dumped."
"So, Ty," Dawson begins amicably. "I take it you come here a lot?" "It's practically like home to me," Ty replies with a smile (ehhh, that isn't saying a lot). To prove his point, Ty orders four "usuals" from a nearby bartender. "What's a 'usual'?" Joey asks. "It's a surprise," Ty answers mysteriously, "a stiff surprise." Joey tells the bartender she only wants a coke, and Dawson echoes her order. (How sweet! They're both being a good little girl and boy!)
As the same portly, transvestitey-looking, tone-deaf, wannabe blues singer from last week trills the end of another saccharinely-sweet "jazz" song, she turns to our gang of four and announces, "Ty, honey. It's your turn." "Duty calls!" Ty tells his new friends and jumps up on stage. "Um, what's he doing?" Dawson asks, a little concerned. "I have no idea," Jen replies in amazement.
Ty, meanwhile, is doing his best Ray Charles impersonation, and tickling the ole ivories while the singer drones on about some man who done her wrong. "O-kay ..." Dawson says, stifling a laugh (my sentiments precisely) "Where'd he learn how to play?" Joey wonders. "Church," Jen replies, and the three giggle.
"So what is his deal?" Dawson asks, very amused. "Doesn't his religion frown on all this?" "Yeah," Jen nods. "He's got issues." "Ah," Joey jumps in, "He's perfect for you!" "Thank you so much!" Jen replies with a smile.
Dawson, however, has more pressing concerns than Ty's spiritual conflict. "Can we just stop and comment on the irony of the three of us sitting here?" he muses. "Ah, you mean the proverbial, proverbial triangle?" Jen notes with a sardonic smile. Dawson continues. "I mean, here I am, single, sandwiched between two women who both dumped me! I am pathetic," he announces, in a quasi feeling-sorry-for-himself manner.
"Well ..." Jen begins, trying to soften the blow, "I'm dating a Bible-thumping hypocrite." "Hey," Joey adds, trying to make them both feel better, "My boyfriend might be gay." Suddenly the trio burst into a fit of giggles. "Bartender!" Jen barks. "Three usuals!" Dawson orders. "And hurry!" Joey snaps.
Pacey, however has decided to forgo a night of bonding at the jazz club for a night of research at the local library. The librarian leads him to a section which contains the code of conduct bylaws for every pulic job in the county, including teaching guidelines. "Not that I care ... but why are you doing this?" she asks suspiciously. "I'm just trying to make the best out of a bad situation," he replies with a shrug, and sighs. "It's gonna take forever."
Andie, too, has decided to forgo the jazz night bonding session. And like her boyfriend Pacey, her chosen alternative activity is not a whole lot of fun -- dinner with daddy dearest. Over a stuffy dinner at a formal restaurant, Andie fills her father in on her mother's latest developments, telling him that her new prescription seems to be visibly improving her behaviour.
"Oh, she's gonna be so excited to see you!" Andie gushes. "Hey, I know! Tomorrow I can make this fabulous breakfast and we can surprise her!" Her suggestion is met with silence from her father, so she babbles on to fill up the void. "I made the honour roll," Andie tells him, waiting for congratulations. Instead, she gets a cold "You always make the honour roll." "Yeah, well," she smiles, "I ... made it again."
More uncomfortable silence follows, so Andie suggests Jack tell their father about his job at the Ice House. It's an idea Jack doesn't seem too impressed with, so Andie again talk to cover the silence. "Jack's working at a great restaurant downtown and he seems to be doing well," Andie offers, hoping her father will be impressed with this.
Instead, he ignores her and speaks to his son very pointedly. "You're especially quiet tonight," Mr. McPhee prods Jack. "I have nothing to say," Jack responds flatly. "Everything's all right, I guess." His father pounces on that last bit, saying that's hardly the case, because if everything were all right, then Jack's guidance counsellor wouldn't have called him and insisted he leave his work, drive down to Capeside and disrupt his life. (Gee, this guy sure isn't about to win any Father of the Year awards, is he?)
"I'm sorry to have bothered you, dad," Jack mutters with a touch of venom. Mr. McPhee, though, being the savvy businessman that he is, is tired of all the beating around the bush, and just cuts to the chase. "Are you gay, Jack?"
"Would you care?" Jack challenges. "That is not an answer, and yes I would!" his father shouts. (yeah, he'd care ... for all the wrong reasons) "I think this family has enough problems, we don't need any more!" Mr. McPhee snaps. "Oh, and it would be a problem?" demands Jack. Like son, like father -- Mr. McPhee doesn't answer the question directly. Instead, he pushes his own agenda forward. "You're the only son I have now, you don't have Tim to hide behind anymore. People notice you now --"
Andie, sensing an explosion, jumps in and tries her hand at extensive damage control. "Daddy, I think you've made your point ..." she begins, but Mr. McPhee interjects almost immediately and speaks in a voice of cold fury. "Andie, this is not your concern, and I will have made my point when Jack gives the appropriate response. If Jack really cared about this family and all we have done for him, he'd recognize we already have enough problems we can't help, and those we can help would best be resolved immediately. Do I make myself clear?" Jack manages to mutter a "yes." Mr. McPhee nods and sips his wine, as his children exchange horrified looks.
Back at the jazz club, the same annoying singer with the big nose and overly made up face who likes the sound of her own voice a little too much, is attempting another shockingly bad rendition of a bluesy love song. But wait, it can't be that bad ... because who do we find dancing to said song, but none other than Capeside's favourite non-couple, Joey and Dawson!
Dawson asks Joey (whom he is holding very close) if she's having a good time. "Actually, yeah," she grins, to both their surprise. Dawson says he's sorry her plans with Jack didn't work out, but he's really glad she's here. "Jack is missing out," he smiles happily. Suddenly, the budding romantic mood is broken by Joey. "You think he's gay, don't you?" she snaps. (it's a telling remark, but it tells us more about Joey's subconscious than Dawson's train of thought)
"I didn't say that," Dawson reassures her, but adds it has crossed his mind once or twice. "I don't know ... you know him better than I do." "Yeah, I do," Joey notes, but it doesn't help her any. "Do you know him as well as you know me?" he asks gingerly.
"Of course not," Joey almost laughs at the absurdity of his suggestion. "Not yet. I can't read his eyes the same way I can yours." Buoyed by this small acknowlegement of their endless and deep connection to each other, Dawson finds the courage to ask her what his eyes are saying right now, right this minute.
The question catches Joey off-guard a bit, and she thinks a moment before replying. "I think what your eyes are saying is how comfortable it is for us to be here ... like this ... together ..." but before Dawson can break into a 100 watt grin over her statement, she whispers gently, "as friends." Ouch. The two words that hermetically seal the romance out of any relationship. "You're good," Dawson remarks over her shoulder with a sad smile, as she rests her head on his own shoulder and they keep dancing.
Meanwhile, Ty and Jen are watching the pair dance from their table, Ty with a mixture of amazement and confusion, Jen with a mixture of wistfulness and (dare I say it?) a twinge of jealousy. "I don't get it," Ty begins. "They make such a great couple ... why would Joey wanna be with a fruit fly?"
"Jack's no fruit fly," Jen half-laughs. "Oh, come on, Jen -- he's playing for the other team," Ty notes (borrowing from Seinfeld, I might add!). "If it looks like a duck, talks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it's a duck," he announces emphatically. "You don't know that," Jen remarks. "And what does it even matter? Even, say if he is a ... duck ... what's the problem?"
Ty acknowledges there is no problem, per se, that "if Jack wants to quack, then more power to him. It's his choice." But Jen disagrees. "I don't necessarily think it's a choice that you make," she notes. "That's what they want you to believe, but everything in life is a decision. You choose to quack, and Jack's a quacker," Ty answers definitively. "Are you kidding me or are you serious?" Jen asks, stunned. "I'm completely serious," Ty replies, completely serious. (tee hee) "Nobody has to quack if they don't want to."
At home in his own little pond, Jack the quacker is throwing a ball against his bedroom wall, contemplating the evening's events, when Andie enters. "I'm sorry about tonight," she apologizes. "He shouldn't have said those things." Jack says it's okay, and that he didn't expect any less.
"Jack, he hasn't had it easy," Andie begins, but her brother will have none of it. "Yeah," he interrupts sarcastically, "and life here has been a bowl of cherries." Andie tells Jack that it won't get any better unless their father comes back. "It's true, we cannot keep watching after mom and everything. We're too young for this kind of responsibility."
"Yeah, well, get used to it," Jack answers. "He's not gonna stay." Andie likes the idea too much to let go, however. "But if we make him see we all need to be together, then --" "What? Why?" Jack interrupts. "Why do we need to?" "Cause he's our father," Andie replies, almost in tears.
"Andie, we lost him when Tim died, and then mom got sick and he bailed, so what makes you think things are gonna be any different now?" Jack tries to reason. Andie's tenacious though, and flashes that McPhee stubbornness at him. You can't really blame her though, she's just trying to rebuild her shattered family. "How do you expect him to accept you if that's the way you feel about him? If you continue to resist loving him, how do you expect him to love you back?"
"I don't know and frankly, I don't care," Jack shouts, exasperated. "As far as I'm concerned, you can spend the rest of your life listing all your accomplishments, begging at his lap for a few meagre signs of approval that he may decide to toss your way, but I can't do that."
Andie is hurt by this, and sadly, almost pathetically, tells him she doesn't think there is anything wrong with wanting her father to be proud of her. "No, no there isn't," Jack agrees. "But did you ever stop to wonder if you were proud of him?"
Over in the Ryan family kitchen, Grams comments to Jen how much she likes Ty. It's ironic, after a string of suitors whom Grams didn't approve of (Dawson, Vincent, Chris ... wait, does Grams even know about Chris? And where's Cliff Elliot where you need him? Yeah, I know ... dating Felicity ... or not, actually, they just broke up. Wait, that's a whole 'nother show, back to DC!), she finally meets one she does like, only now it's Jen who doesn't exactly approve of him.
Grams asks the golden boy himself, who is at the kitchen table finishing a sandwich, if he'd like another glass of milk. (you were expecting beer, perhaps? ;) ) "No thanks, one's my limit, I'm driving." (groan ... oh, puh-leeze) Grams giggles girlishly at his pale attempt at humour, but Jen's sticking with me and remains unimpressed.
Ty's a quick study, though, and picks up on the fact that something's wrong. After denying it a bit, Jen finally confesses that she does have a small problem. "Let me guess ... the quacking ducks?" Ty suggests.
"How can you think that it's wrong?" she laments. "I never said it was wrong, Jen," Ty corrects. "I said it was a choice." "So then you think it's okay?" Jen asks hopefully. "No, I think it's wrong. It's in the Bible," he insists, then asks Grams which chapter in the Good Book condemns homosexuality as a sin.
Happy to wax on her pet subject, Grams believes it's Leviticus. (Third Book, Old Testament ... hey, I didn't go to a fundamentalist Christian school for three years for nuthin', ya know!) Jen is truly vexed now, she orders her grandmother to stay out of it. "I'm not going to let the two of you gang up on me here!" Jen shouts. "How can you have such a narrow view about being gay?"
Ty chooses to fight fire with a big ole canister of gasoline. "How can your view be so narrowly liberal?" he demands. (narrowly liberal? Now there's an oxymoron, if ever I heard one) "You're no saint, and you know it," Jen mutters icily. Ty tells her he doesn't claim to be a saint, but he knows that one day he's going to have to answer to the Big Man, and so will Jack, and if Jack is ready to take responsibility for his actions, then he can do whatever he wants, adding that Jack's "kind" is damaging to the world at large.
Jen is livid. The match has been lit, the fuel dumped on the flame and the whole thing -- discussion, relationship, friendship, whatever -- is approaching five-alarm blaze status. "I cannot believe you!" she screeches. "For you to suggest that somebody can just magically just decide to be gay is insane!" Ever adamant, Ty insists that gay movement has been "nothing but medically and morally damaging" to the country.
"What?!" Jen screams, enraged. But before she can go any further, along comes Grams, driving the fire brigade. "I've tried to stay out of this, I have, but I can't, Jennifer --" "No, no, Grams," Jen sighs, thinking her worst nightmare is about to come true, her new boyfriend and Grams force-feeding her ultra-conservative religious dogma. "No," Jen insists. "I'm not gonna let you moral majority me here!"
Turning to Ty, Jen tells him he doesn't even know all the facts about the gay movement, but Grams jumps in again before she can state her case. "What I have to say isn't directed at you, Jennifer. It's for Tyson," Grams clarifies, turning to her granddaughter's beau. "All I'm saying is, if Jack is gay, he does not need your judgement, young man. The Lord above will be the one to judge him. What he needs, from you, from you, from me, from everyone else in this world is love and tolerance. If anything, that boy must feel scared and alone and needs the understanding of his fellow man to get him through this. I'd save judgement for someone much more experienced than you."
At this completely unexpected show of solidarity, Jen gets up and stands near Grams, smiling at her benevolantly and gratefully. The two of them continue to smile down at Ty, and the charred remains of his argument.
As far apart as Jen and Ty seem to be moving, Dawson and Joey are moving in the opposite direction. Dawson's walked Joey home, and even though she insists he didn't have to, he insists he wanted to. He asks how she's doing, and she replies she's okay, but he knows better than to accept that. "Did the club just make you more blusey?" he smiles sympathetically. "Yeah," she smiles back sadly.
When Dawson asks if Joey wants to talk about it, she dismisses it and tells him it's stupid. "Well, you're talking to the right person then," he grins, following her into her house. "I have a wealth of experience when it comes to stupidity."
Obviously, Joey feels comfortable enough with him to pursue the conversation. "Can I ask you something, straightforward and honest?" she says gingerly. "Yeah," Dawson replies. "You know you can." There's a long, long pause as Joey formulates the proper wording in her head. Finally, she just blurts it out. "Am I sexual?" she asks timidly
In those three little words, she's managed to convey both a frankness and vulnerabilty which is very poignant. Dawson's a bit overwhelmed, though, he wasn't expecting this. After his initial incredulous response of "What?" Joey continues, explaining herself.
"The thing is, I know Jack's not gay, but I know he's confused about something, and it's always kept him at a distance," she begins. "And I was just wondering if he chose me because I'm safe." "Safe?" Dawson clarifies. "Well, look at me," she replies. "Joey Potter, virgin at large ... I don't have any real experience with men or with relationships or with sex."
Dawson's finally picked his jaw up off the ground and found his voice. "Joey, you are extremely sexual," he tells her, with every ounce of conviction in his body. She brings up a good point, though. "You didn't see it ... you fell for Jen, the sex machine. I was something else to you."
She's got him there. "Joey, I was just ... stupid," Dawson confesses. "It took me time to see what was there." "What was there?" she asks quietly. "What was there was ... an amazingly sexy girl. (ugh. Oh, gross. I just hate it when things go all cheesy like that!) Joey, your sexuality is in everything you do, from your wit, your intelligence, your anger, your feistiness ... I see it more and more every day. (if he tells her she's blossoming, I'm just gonna vomit) You're blossoming, (bleargh!!!) and it's amazingly sexy."
She thanks him, but personally, I wouldn't if I were her. I mean, that whole little speech was trite, cloying and pedantic, and I wouldn't be surprised if the After School Special people come a-sueing for copyright infringement. It sounds like soemthing a mother would say, (except she'd replace the "sexy" with "beautiful" or something, of course -- no mother wants to ever think of her baby girl as sexy!) to try to overcome her teen daughter's insecurities about her looks. And ... blossoming? Ergh. (rolling eyes) That word should be reserved for roses and tulips only.
Anyway, I'll just climb down off my pedestal and proceed, shall I? Okay. Dawson has a question of his own for Joey, though, and it's a good one. "I don't think the question is why Jack chose you," he starts. "I think the real question is, why did you choose Jack?" And with that, he leaves her, thinking and confused, to contemplate his words. It's a question which has as many ways of being interpreted as it does answers.
Very early the next morning, Pacey catches his school principal as she's about to start her day at Capeside High. "Given your tardy records, I didn't think you rose before ten," she admonishes. (what, is it like some sort of pre-requisite at this school that, in order to teach there, you have to have an honours degree in meanness, rudeness, and sarcasm?)
Pacey doesn't rise to the bait though. He tells her in order to rise, one must first sleep and he hasn't done that yet. "This is for you," he announces triumphantly, passing her a document he's prepared. "What's this?" she asks suspiciously.
"I checked out the state by-laws for professional ethics for teachers," he tells her calmly. "Mr. Peterson is in violation of almost every one." Irritated, Principal Markey wants to know what the point is. So, showing off those fine research and reading skills he honed so well at her fine institution, he announces triumphantly from the document: "'All educators shall remain professional relationships with students in a manner which is free of vindictiveness, recrimination and harrassment.' Do you want me to keep reading?"
The principal is pissed. "What do you suggest I do, call Mr. Peterson into my office and give him Saturday detention?" she demands, but Pacey's already got an idea of what the next step will be. As a matter of fact, it's a step he's already been through, last season when his affair with Tamara became a matter of public knowledge. (Poor thing doesn't have much luck with sophomore English teachers, does he?)
"You don't have to do anything," Pacey tells Principal Markey. "This (document) contains 20 other testimonies from other students that I gathered last night. There's a school board meeting on Tuesday, and I want this man publically reprimanded for his behaviour."
"Pacey, I hope you know what you're doing," the principal warns. "I'm sorry I had to go around you, Principal Markey," he apologizes. "But I'm trying to do the best I could with my particular set of circumstances." Yes, and as I'm very very fond of saying ... circumstances dictate events. :)
That same morning, Andie and Jack's father is checking out of Hotel McPhee. "Daddy, where are you going?" Andie asks, puzzled. "I have to get back," he announces crisply. "I have three meetings this afternoon." He gives her some names of nursing companies for her mother to get some help in the house. "Can't you stay any longer?" Andie asks disappointedly, and we can feel the tears welling up in her eyes. "No, I'm sorry, that's not possible," Mr. McPhee tells her firmly. "But you said we'd discuss it," she pleads. "I'll come back in a few weeks," Mr. McPhee offers. (but you know he doesn't really mean it)
"Don't bother." A voice calls sharply from the hallway. "Excuse me?" Mr. McPhee is indignant. "I said, don't bother coming back," Jack states calmly but decisively. Andie goes into panic mode just then, and urges Jack to just let her and her father talk, but both brother and father ignore her.
"Would you like to explain your comment?" Mr. McPhee demands. "You don't want to be here, so don't come back," Jack tells him. "We have everything under control, so just save yourself the gas mileage."
Needless to say, Mr. McPhee is outraged. "I will not suffer that tone from you! Do you understand me? I work too hard --" But Jack won't give him an inch and interrupts, standing up to him. "You work too hard. That's always the excuse. I couldn't care less how hard you work! What's the sense in trying to support a family you don't even care about?" he shouts.
"All right, that's enough!" Mr. McPhee barks, opening the front door. He turns to his daughter, who is devastated by what she sees unfolding before her. "Andie, I will call you in a few days --" Jack strikes again, though. "No." He closes the door and blocks his father's path. "You are not going anywhere."
His father orders him out of the doorway, but Jack's spine is growing stronger with every command and accusation and derogatory comment. "No! This is one conversation you cannot run away from! You don't want to talk about Tim's death, or mom being sick or even why she's sick! You don't want to address the reality of why your daughter's been on and off prescription medication for the past two years, and that's fine too, but we are gonna talk about me!"
Mr. McPhee shouts for Jack to calm down, but it has the exactly the opposite of the desired effect. Jack is bordering on hysteria, and dangerously close to the breaking point. "No, I will not calm down and I will not be quiet! Ask me again!" His father is a bit confused by that last bit. "Ask you what again?" he roars. "Ask me the question again! Ask me if I'm gay! Ask me! Ask me!" Jack screams, almost unintentionally taunting his father.
Ah, yes. The $64,000 question, the one we all want to know the answer to (even though we know we already know the answer anyway). "You are NOT gay!" Mr. McPhee bellows emphatically.
"Yes ... I am!" Jack's voice breaks as he finally comes to terms with the truth. "You know it ... I see how you look at me, and I know you know," he cries (literally). Mr. McPhee turns away, predictably. To paraphrase the words of another Jack (Nicholson, in "A Few Good Men"), he can't handle the truth.
Jack isn't finished though. Amid tears and sobs, the rest of what's been welling up inside him for years finally comes bursting out. "I think of the way you treated me and the way you treated Tim. Because he was the real son, and I was different. And as hard as you've tried to block it out and to ignore it, I have tried harder! I have tried harder than you to keep quiet and forget about it and to not bother my family with my problems. But I can't try anymore because it hurts! I'm sorry, Dad ... Andie ... I'm sorry. I don't want to be going through this, but I am ..."
His words move his sister to tears, but the sight of both his children sobbing over the revelation that his only remaining son is gay is a little too much for Mr. McPhee to deal with. "Stop crying, both of you!" he snaps in an effort to regain control of the situation. "Andie, leave! This is between Jack and me!"
Inspired by and aching for her brother, Andie finally gets a clue and sees her father for the heartless bastard he really is. "Not anymore it's not. Just leave!" He doesn't budge, however -- he's probably too shocked that his submissive, eager-to-please daugther has grown an instant spine and stood up to him. "Get out of here!" Andie roars, holding Jack in her arms, who is still crying unabashedly. Mr. McPhee stares at the pair of them, mute, and leaves, as both Andie and Jack hold each other, crying, on the hallway stairs.
Later that morning at school, Jack spots Joey and thinks a moment before approaching her. She's happy to see him, and pleased that he has survived his family dinner from hell. "Barely," he smiles wanly. Jack then asks if he can call in his rain-check and make a plan to see Joey that night. She's thrilled and agrees. He gives her a dutiful peck on the lips before she leaves, and smiles ... a smile which fades quickly the moment she's out of sight.
As Jack and Pacey are getting ready to endure the daily hell that is Peterson's English class, they are surprised to find a note on the door saying that class has been cancelled, and they are to go to study hall instead. Jack takes this opportunity to finally thank Pacey for everything he's done. You can tell by the smile on Pacey's face just how much this means to him, I suppose if he can't get the support and encouragement from Andie, her brother's the second-best thing.
Jack heads off to study hall, but Pacey lingers a moment, peeking in the classroom. Peterson is sitting at his desk, staring at the floor, a packed cardboard box in front of him. Puzzled, Pacey pushes the door open and waits for a response. Getting none, he enters the room. "Why isn't class in session?" he asks gently.
"Oh, you didn't get my latest update?" Peterson sneers. "Your favourite teacher is leaving this godforsaken institution." "I don't get it," Pacey remarks. "You haven't even met with the board yet." "Please," Peterson rolls his eyes, "Do you really think I would appear before some collection of idiot parents and have them tell me what I've done wrong for ... the last 30 years? I'd rather eat dirt."
He starts out fiery enough, but when he realizes, deep down, that Pacey is right and Peterson has no reason to blame him, or the parents or anyone else for that matter, that flame is vanquished instantly. Instead, he tries to cover his inadequacy, humiliation and defeat with an explanation to save some face. "I was planning of retiring in six months anyway. Your action gaveme every reason in the world to make an early exit."
Pacey, being the decent person he is, still feels badly about the sudden turn of events, even though it's Peterson's own fault. After all, the goal wasn't to get the man fired, it was merely to get him to apologize. "Mr. Peterson," he starts, "This may feel a little late in coming, but I am sorry."
And, being the horrible person he is, Peterson refuses to accept the apology. "That stunt you pulled was one of the few admirable moments in your life, don't apologize for it!" he barks.
Pacey is frustrated. "You are unbelievable, man! What is it inside you that makes you so damn mean?" "Mr. Witter," Peterson replies, "As awful a man as you find me to be, you came here to learn from me." (implying that personality clashes have nothing whatsoever to do with teaching) "I have learned, sir," Pacey counters respectfully. "I have learned that respect is not commanded through fear, it is earned through compassion."
Peterson's had enough, he's not about to "learn" anything from anyone, let alone Pacey, of all people. "Then tell me this," he asks, as he finishes packing up and heads out the door. "Should I respect you? You're responsible for ending my career. Where's the compassion in that?"
And with that, he leaves without a backward glace, as Pacey closes his eyes and sighs, contemplating the situation. I must confess, though, I really like how the writers left this jagged, uneven bit here, they didn't make Pacey and Peterson agree to disagree or kiss and make up, they just left it unsolved and acknowledged that not every situation can be neatly sewed up in a satisfactory manner.
And speaking of things that cannot be sewed up in a satisfactory manner, Ty comes over to see Jen and to discuss their shortcomings. "I come in peace, nursing my wounded ego, hoping for redemption," he tells her. "Ty, this isn't gonna work out," Jen sighs. "I'm sorry, but there are too many differences, and I can't seem to get beyond some of your inherent views."
"So we can't disagree?" he asks. "I hope a relationship was about growing together. Look, if you think my beliefs are wrong, then teach me. Show me another way." It's a very mature, rational approach to take, but Jen still isn't convinced.
"Ty, it's not that easy ..." she begins, but he jumps in before she can continue. "What reltionships are that easy? The important thing is, I'm open-minded. My ways are up for discussion ... what about your liberal views? Are they as open?" Jen absorbs his words for a moment while he continues. "You are a wonderful, beautiful girl ... can't we just see what happens next?" How can she disagree with reasoning (and a face!) like that? "You certainly have a charm, don't you?" she smiles at him.
At school, Andie approaches Pacey. The whole Jack thing has finally cracked her, and she's ready to clear the air. "I've been looking for you," she begins, but Pacey interrupts her. "No, actually, I came to talk to you --" "No," Andie interrupts his interruption. "Before you say a word, I need to say something. I should apologize ..." Pacey one-upps her again. "No, I came to apologize."
Andie displays her stubbornness once again and overrides her soon-to-be-boyfriend-again. "No, I should be apologizing for treating you so unfairly." "But I hurt you with my little crusade without thinking about how it would affect you. I got obsessed ..."
"Okay, wait," Andie interjects. "Why do you get to be the only one who apologizes about this?" Pacey's exasperated with her, and it's clearly back to business as usual for these two. "Why are you arguing with me about it?" he challenges with a grin. "I was self-righteous to the point of alienating everything I care about."
"But I forced you to live up to these unreachable expectations --" Andie continues, but Pacey stops her short. "Andie, please shut up and let me apologize, okay?" he begs, exasperatedly. "The last week without you has been a living hell, and I don't ever want to have to go through another moment like that. I'm sorry, McPhee."
"You're forgiven, Pacey," Andie moons at him with puppy-dog eyes. "It's your turn now," he prompts, snapping her out of her adulation. Andie smiles dreamily, then launches into her apology. "It's just that ... I molded you into this person who I thought you should be. I did it to my father, too, cause I thought it was what I needed. I place this unfair burden on people, just so they can save me from myself. But I don't need a knight in shining armour. What I need is a partner ... someone I can be proud to love, and who can be proud to love me back in spite of all my faults. (well put! Hmmm .. has Andie been reading my diary again??) And it's you," she continues. "You're the one, Pacey, and I'm really sorry."
"How come your apology was so much better than mine?" Pacey demands with a grin. "I always lose to you, Andie." They smile at each other and kiss, after which Pacey corrects himself. "I take that back ... I am definitely the winner here," he murmurs, kissing her forehead and pulling her in for a warm hug.
Night falls on Capeside, and Jack heads over to Joey's, where she has outdone herself in setting up the quintessential romantic evening. She's pretty much lit every candle in all of Capeside in her back garden on those bamboo poles. It looks nice enough, but yeesh! A wee bit o'overkill. As far as the eye can see ... candles. All it would take is one of those to topple over and boom! Instant inferno.
Anyway, Joey tells Jack he's early, and that she hasn't finished lighting the candles yet. (no, no, dear, I think what you've got already will do nicely, honest) Jack's impressed with her efforts, though (well, who wouldn't be? She's going for the bloody Guinness Book of Records, I'm sure) but he tells her she shouldn't have. When she insists she wanted to, he again reiterates that she shouldn't have.
Her face registers that there's a problem. A huge problem. "This is the part where I say uh-oh, right?" Jack shifts uncomfortably, and a look of pure misery crosses his face. "Look, uh, Joey ... I don't know what to say really, or even where to begin ..."
"Just be honest with me," she asks softly. "This time, just be honest, please." He doesn't even have to open his mouth, she knows what's coming. Simply and very quietly, almost in a whisper, Jack tells her, "This morning, I told my father that I was gay."
"So you are ... you're gay?" she repeats, trying to make sense of it all. Jack is flustered. "Well, I mean not ..." "You're not gay?" Joey jumps on it hopefully. "No ..." he sighs. "Part gay?" she asks, and tells him not to laugh at her, because she doesn't know what he's trying to say.
After a moment or two of silence, Joey plucks up her courage and finally asks him flat out. "Are you gay?" There are tears in her eyes as she says the words, and there are also tears in his eyes as he responds with a simple nod.
"When I wrote that poem ... it clicked soemthing inside of me that has been quiet for so long, and it made me realize that whatever it is I'm going through is not going to go away, maybe ever," he tells her honestly. Joey's relieved the charade is finally over, but devastated nonetheless. Jack can sense this, and tries to comfort her with his next words. "Joey, I care about you so much. You've been such a good friend to me, which is why I can't stand the thought of losing you. But I don't want to hurt you, either."
She smiles at him bravely. It's bad enough being dumped, but to find out at the same time your boyfriend is gay, well, it's a little much to take in at once. (trust me, I've been there) "Thank you for being honest with me," she replies, her voice wavering and her eyes watering. Jack reaches out for her hand, which she gives to him, wrapping her fingers around his and giving him a gentle squeeze. "Thank you for being you," he responds simply. She smiles again, but looks very much like she's going to cry.
And so, our episode concludes where it began, in Dawson's bedroom. The boy wonder himself is watching TV contentedly enough, on his own, when a familiar figure appears at the window. "Joey?" Dawson sits up in bed, puzzled.
Joey doesn't say a word, she just enters the room and stands there for a split second before the dam breaks, and the waterfall gushes out from both eyes. She collapses on his bed, sobbing, as he puts his arms around her and lets her cry, stroking her arms and kissing the top of her head, not saying a word.
Fade to black ...