Don't Forget to Remember by Ygrawn
Part 2 in the series
Disclaimer: See Part One
Rating: PG-13
Peter and Jack's pizza arrived on time, and the two of them gossiped
about their various schools while they ate. At the table next to them a
large group of people were sitting and talking. All of them had a child
attached to them, and Peter guessed it was some sort of social,
meet-each-other kind of thing.
Jack obviously thought the same. "I remember going to those," he
said, looking at the assembled group. "Pain in the arse. Mandy always
wanted to go, and meet the other parents and I couldn't stand it. Did it
for the kids in the end."
Jack had three children-two girls and a boy. They lived with their
mother, and Jack had access every weekend. Jack had had to look after them
while Mandy had run away with the plumber, but she'd come back, tail between
her legs when the plumber left her for a younger model.
Jack had considered fighting for custody, but he knew the kids were
better off their mother, and he did all the things father's did, except that
he and his wife were separated. Peter quite adored Jack's children, not
having his own, and usually spent Saturday afternoon with Jack and the
children. He had an especial soft spot for the eldest, Fiona, who had just
turned twelve.
Peter was looking at the bar when Josephine walked in. She looked
very different then she usually did. To his classes she wore jeans and
loose tops, with her hair in a messy, hasty pony-tail. Tonight, she wore a
tight-fitting green dress, and her hair was carefully piled on her head.
She was holding the hand of a little boy.
Josephine crossed the room as Peter continued to study her. "That's
the girl I was talking about," he said to Jack. His friend spun in his
seat, his eyes immediately seeing the girl. She was certainly the most
striking figure in the room. She crossed the room in long strides. They
were strong strides, almost masculine, but they didn't take away from her
femininity.
She was heading towards the table beside Peter and Jack, and she was
only a few feet away when she noticed her teacher and Mr. Cornwall.
"Mr. Farson, Mr. Cornwall. What a surprise." She smiled, and Jack
realized what Peter meant.
"Jack, this is Josephine Potter. One of the students in my class.."
"I'm very pleased to meet you Ms. Potter."
"Please, call me Joey."
"Mommy," said the little boy and both Peter and Jack acknowledged
him for the first time.
"Yes, Alex?"
"Can I go over there and sit next to Mrs. Ryan? She said she'd save
me a seat tonight."
"Okay, but you have to sit with me for dinner. Otherwise it'll look
like I don't have a date."
Alex giggled. "Okay, Mommy. I'll show you my friends."
"Introduce," Joey said softly as he raced away. "That's Alex," she
said, turning back to face the two men. "He's my sister's son. I've
ah-I've had him since he was about nine months old."
It offered an explanation and yet it didn't and Jack suddenly
realized that this Joey was the perfect person to work with his star
student.
"Anyway," she was saying, "I better go over there and meet these
people." She didn't want to and Jack knew it.
"Here's a hint," he said, suddenly feeling warmth for this girl, who
looked after her nephew as if he was her son. "Stay for about an hour, and
then say you want to get Alex home to bed-you worry about him staying up too
late. Gets you off the hook and makes the others look like bad parents."
Joey smiled again. Jack was sitting down and he felt his knees go
weak.
Jack Cornwall had been a lifesaver. Joey had hung around for about
an hour and then had left, repeating Jack's words. The others had looked
guilty and Joey had hid her grin. She'd only had one run-in anyway.
She'd been talking to Red Connell, whose wife couldn't make it, when
a couple had sailed up to them.
"Hello Mr. Connell," said the woman, who had perfectly sculpted
eyebrows, the only thing Joey really admired about her. She was a little
plain looking, with lovely blonde hair and thin lips.
"Hello Tessa," Red had said, with a hint of impatience in his voice.
"And hello to you Stephen," he'd added, inclining his head towards the
man, who looked like he had a little more potential.
"And who is this?" Tessa had sniffed, staring at Joey with
something close to disdain.
"This is Joey Potter. Joey, this is Tessa and Stephen Masters.
Their daughter Amy is sitting near Mrs. Ryan." Joey had spared a quick
glance, seeing a blonde head. She'd also glanced around for Alex, seeing
him talking to his best friend, Charlie, Red's son.
"Pleased to meet you Ms. Potter."
"Oh, please, call me Joey. Ms. Potter makes me think of my mother."
"So, Joey. Which child is yours?" Tessa didn't look remotely
interested, but Joey decided to tell her anyway.
"Alexander Potter. He's sitting over there," Joey had motioned her
head, not wanting to point.
"Well, isn't he handsome?" Stephen had said, sounding very nice.
Tessa cut over the top of him: "I must say you're awfully young Joey.
You must be only twenty-two or so."
"If you must say," Joey had answered blandly. "But I'm actually
only eighteen. Very recently eighteen," she'd added, unable to resist.
"But that would you mean you were fifteen when…" Tessa had petered
off, her eyes growing a little cold.
"Your mathematics does you credit, Mrs. Masters. But let me guess,
you don't approve of women having children so young."
"I don't think anybody does."
"Well, Alex's father didn't really seem to mind at the time." Red
had tried not to laugh, but he'd failed, letting out a loud peal of
laughter.
Tessa had made her hasty excuses and left. Stephen had sighed,
wearing an expression of long-time suffering and followed his wife, with a
backward look of apology for Joey.
"I really like you," said Red, smiling at Joey.
Alex went to bed on time on Tuesday night and after Joey washed the
dishes, made her lunch for tomorrow, folded the washing and finished her
homework it was quarter to twelve. All around her, the place was still a
mess and Joey considered cleaning up, but decided against it.
She flopped heavily onto the couch, letting her legs splay out in
front of her. She felt like hagsville. Messy, knotty hair was piled on top
of her head, the bags under her eyes were beginning to weigh her down, and
her clothes pretty much fell off her body. She'd looked good last night,
but that had taken extreme effort. Incredible effort and sometimes Joey
just couldn't be bothered. Most of the time, I can't be bothered.
She picked up one of Alex's picture books and let it fall out of her
hand again. She should probably go to bed, but she couldn't be bothered
moving. Besides, by the time she got to sleep it would practically be time
get up again. She hadn't been sleeping well lately for some reason. Kept
having these dreams that she couldn't remember. There was a knock at the
door. Joey sat up. Who the hell would that be at this time of night? At
least they'd knocked softly-it was probably someone who knew she had Alex.
Lurching to her feet, Joey crossed the floor and opened the door,
leaning on the doorframe
"Will," she said a little surprised. "What can I do for you this
late at night?"
Will hitched up his pyjama pants. "Yeah, look I'm real sorry about
that, but there's some guy on the phone downstairs. English or
something-sounds like he's calling from far enough away. Asking for you.
Told him to call back tomorrow, but he said that it was real important, and
I oughta get you. Tried telling him how late it was and all, but the stupid
Pom…"
"It's okay Will, I'll come down." Joey cut Will off knowing he
could go on forever. "I'm sorry it woke you up." English? She didn't know
anybody from England.
She followed Will downstairs to the phone in the building's lobby.
If it could be called that. Three paces across and four paces long, it had
the phone, the notice board, messages, mail boxes and the stairs. There was
only one phone in the building and everyone shared. Will's apartment led
off the lobby, and he usually answered the phone.
Will retired into his bedroom, either too tired to care, or kind
enough to provide her with some privacy. Joey would have put money on the
later. Warily Joey picked up the phone, pushing a strand of hair out of the
way.
"Hello. This is Joey Potter."
"Ah, Ms. Potter," said a man, who really did have an English accent.
"So terribly sorry to bother you," he said, "but I understand you come
from the town of Capeside."
Who the hell was this loony? Calling her at midnight and knowing
where she came from. "Well I did live there, but I've been gone for a few
years now."
"Roughly three wouldn't you say?"
"Yes. Look who the hell are you? And how do you know so much about
me?"
"Just bear with me Ms. Potter. Now, tell me, who were the people
you were closest to when you lived in Capeside?"
"Are you from a newspaper or something? Look, I don't know how you
know this stuff, but I'm not impressed."
"Please answer the question. Everything will become clear in a
moment or so."
"Ah, my sister, her boyfriend, my best friend Dawson," Joey faltered
slightly over the name. "And my other childhood friend, Pacey Witter."
"Now, this Pacey, what a ridiculous name that is. You wouldn't know
where he is right now, would you?"
"You want Pacey? How did you get this number anyway?"
"Please. I must know about this Pacey boy."
"Pacey? You want to know where he is? Well, unless he left
Capeside for college, he's probably either at home, possibly arguing with
his father, or over at Dawson's.
"If he's left Capeside to go to college let me tell you right now,
he won't be training to be a sheriff. And I'm afraid that's the extent of
my knowledge about Pacey Witter, who I'm quite sure is enjoying himself
wherever he is."
"Oh he is," said someone in a familiar voice. "I'm really enjoying
myself."
"Pacey?" Pacey just laughed.
"Don't kill yourself by laughing too hard," said Joey, trying to be
sarcastic, but the most overwhelming feeling of joy was spreading throughout
her body. "Pacey Witter. God I missed you Pace. And where are you?"
"I'm calling from the phone near my dorm room. How 'bout you?"
"Calling from a dorm room, huh? So you did leave Capeside. Which
college?"
"University of California." It was now she was rendered speechless.
There was a long silence as Joey condensed that, and she could practically
see Pacey's infectious grin from across thousands of miles. "Pre-med," he
continued. Joey tried very hard not to drop the phone.
"Medicine?"
"Don't sound so sceptical Josephine. And what are you doing with
yourself these days? How is Alex?"
"Alex. Alex is fine, he's-I'm sorry Pacey, but I'm still trying to
get my head around Dr. Witter. Your parents must be so proud."
"Well, I think my Dad is a little pissed that I'm not being a
sheriff, but I pointed out that I may be able to save all those people that
get shot by the baddies, and he was miraculously mollified. But Joey, tell
me something about you."
"I'm pre-law at University of Chicago. And don't laugh-I could be
lawyer. Especially seeing you're gonna be a doctor."
"Oh I could really see you as a lawyer. You always used to piss me
off, so it's nice to know things will continue."
Joey smiled, fighting back the tears. She couldn't believe she was
so happy. "How did you get this number?"
"I was searching through one of my old schoolbooks for some notes,
and I found your cousin's number jotted down in the margin. I rang that,
and this lady answered, and explained that your cousin had passed away, but
she gave me this number. I knew it was late, but I just had to ring Jo.
Had to hear your voice. That super of yours though-what a pain."
"What was with the accent?"
"Wanted to surprise you. Wanted to make you laugh. When I heard
about your cousin well-all the bad luck, Joey just keeps coming for you."
"Yeah," she replied softly, a few of the tears spilling over and
running down her skin. "So what's the University of California like? Is it
coping with Pacey Witter?"
Pacey lay on his bed, the biggest grin on his face. If anybody had
seen him like this, they would have wondered if he were in the right state
of mind or not.
But really, he wasn't. He was so happy; he could feel his
threatening to break through his bones. Just of the sound of Joey's low,
intriguing voice had made his week, let alone his month.
They'd talked for hours-about people at home, about Pacey's family
and Doug's new boyfriend. About school, and California, and Chicago and
Alex, and living in Seattle-how the rain was so awful. They'd talked until
it was five in the morning in Chicago and Joey figured she better get
upstairs, and stop costing him a fortune in phone bills.
"I don't care," he'd said firmly. "I'll call you tomorrow."
The only two things they hadn't talked about were Dawson and Jen.
Which was really no great surprise, all things considered. But the very
absence of Joey mentioning them had stopped Pacey telling Joey that Dawson
was right there in Chicago. Right over the other side of town, probably
lying asleep in his bed. As for Jen-well that really wasn't his place.
Pacey sighed. Joey. His annoying, challenging, intelligent,
compassionate Joey. His friend. His unlucky, abandoned friend.
Dawson was late. He raced through the halls, cursing his stupid bus,
cursing the slow bus driver and the stupid traffic. He couldn't afford to
be late. God he wished he got a woman. God he wished he got someone good.
He burst through the door just as Mr. Farson opened his mouth, and without
missing a beat Dawson sat down. The rest of the class was already taking
notes.
"So, here we go," said Mr. Cornwall. "Jed Phillips and Holly
Evans." Jed was from his class. A slight muttering went around the
classroom. Jed and Holly had been going steady for years. Holly grinned as
she took her seat. Jed looked similarly happy, but there was no great
surprise.
Dawson watched the two of them-they had five minutes, the same as
every pair-and thought about how much better he'd be. Well, if he got a
good actress. It wasn't that Dawson was conceited, but he knew he was
better then these people. He didn't hate them for it, and he would never
lord it over them, but it was a simple realization that had come to him over
the months as he watched the others work.
After the two had finished to applause, Holly revealing that she was
scared sometimes she wouldn't be a good Mom, another pair was called and the
process repeated. They had most of today, and there would be twenty pairs,
so most of the interview sessions ended up being fifteen, twenty minutes
long.
There weren't many people left in the class when Mr. Cornwall called
his name.
"Mr. Leery, front and centre. And Ms. Potter, would you find your
way here also."
Ms. Potter. Nah, he was hearing things. Mr. Cornwall had
said Ms. Porter. Dawson stood, collecting his thoughts and looking at his
shoes as he walked forward. He sat down with looking up. When he started
interviewing this woman, he needed to see her for the first time, like an
audience would.
The girl passed by him, her legs a little thin, her black boots a
little worn. She swung herself up onto desk, he realized as he heard a few
sounds and saw her legs dangling. Time to see if she's any good, he
thought and looked up.