First up, a big shout-out to the Not! Couch: Djb, Gustave, Niki, and of course our lovely hostess Wing Chun (Glark too). , a moment of silence for the dearly departed "Angry Pants" McPhee (tm Kisle), who loved his non-dead, non-gay son. Lastly, I'd like to apologize for coming in so late with the recap this week. Thanks for your patience.
Welcome to the WB Wednesday night, in which viewers pinned under rocks, viewers named Rip Van Winkle, and viewers with absolutely no short-term memory learn that her choice. Changed. Everything. And fate. Will bring them. Back together. Don't get it? Go lie down.
Previously on Dawson's Creek: Joey and Pacey reluctantly return to Capeside; Dawson and Gretchen run into each other in the hardware store, and Gretchen says she's taking "some time off"; Jen expositions Henry's absence; Joey apologizes to Dawson yet again for "everything that happened"; Joey reassures Pacey that her heart "never left this boat." Not shown: Joey's spine, disguised as an electric eel, slithering overboard and disappearing into the dark deep for a rendezvous with the Skeeve-Jen plot and the cement-overshoe-wearing continuity editor.
Fade up on Capeside High exterior, with Pacey "Holding Out For A Hero" Witter telling Joey "A Farewell To Spines" Potter that "they" want to see him in the guidance office after school. As they walk along holding hands, Joey reassures him that it's probably nothing to worry about, and she teases him a little, and he grumbles, and she asks if teasing is "out of the question," and he says that teasing is fine, but that she raises an interesting point and they should talk about their "mutual wants and needs." Joey arches a skeptical brow, thinking he's talking about sex, as he goes on to point out that "we're a couple now, Potter," and they should discuss a couple of things. "Such as?"
Cut to the hallway, where Pacey wants to set a policy on kissing in public. Joey will allow it, "as long as it's of the spontaneous variety." As opposed to what, exactly? The scheduled variety? That doesn't make any sense. Pacey snarks, "Good lord, woman, you really are a fickle mistress, you know that?" Hmm. Yes. Much like the muse of dialogue, eh what? Pacey adds dryly that, without kissing, they don't really have much left. Oh, I see. They spent three months on a boat, in the scantily-clad summer months, in love, just…kissing. Maybe I should revise my Never Ever Read The Desktop policy, because evidently Pacey changed the name of his boat to "the Donna Martin" and I missed it. Anyway, Joey agrees that they have "precious little" besides kissing, and thinks they should probably break up. Pacey nods gravely. Pausing at the doorway of a classroom, they both smile, and Joey takes Pacey's face in her hands, and they start macking in a manner reminiscent of the famous photo in which the sailor returning from his WWII billet sweeps the girl off her feet in Times Square, and in my opinion it's a bit much for a busy school hallway, but whatever. Pan around to Dawson "Split End Of The Affair" Leery approaching the doorway and having to squeeze past the too-busy-nuzzling-to-notice-him couple to get into the classroom. Joey and Pacey exchange an "oops" look, and we go to credits.
Cat caught in steam press.
Harbor. Joey and Andie "Perk Cameron" McPhee walk along the waterfront -- hey, wait. These two became friends? The hell? Anyway, Andie flatly muses that it's senior year and there's lots to look forward to, in much the same tone that she might use to describe an upcoming IRS audit. As I begin to suspect that Foreshadowing borrowed my toothbrush, Joey says that if she doesn't get a job soon, she'll wind up at CCC, which she explains stands for Capeside Community College. "Hey, well, there's always CYC," Andie says, and Joey asks, "What's that?" Andie chirps, "Capeside Yacht Club! My father was just telling me they're looking for a waitress." When did he tell you this -- on his deathbed? And how would Joey not know about the Capeside Yacht Club, when she has lived in the same small town HER WHOLE LIFE? Joey snorts, "You're high." Heh. Andie keeps selling the idea, describing the CYC as "an Icehouse with cute rich boys and waaaay bigger tips." Joey reminds Andie of her past, saying that the CYC "would probably frown upon the applicant whose family name is synonymous with scandal," like, Joey? Who keeps bringing up the so-called scandals of which you speak? You. Who else remembers? Nobody. Who else cares? Nobody. Drop the chalupa. Andie agrees, saying that Joey should just "make like one of" the beautiful people. Joey makes a "huh?" face, and Andie suggests that, if the interview starts going badly, Joey should "drop a name" -- but not the name "McPhee," which has come to stand for "gay, crazy, and dysfunctional" in Capeside parlance. (Not to mention "marooned without a subplot.") Then a lightning bolt strikes, and Andie proposes that Joey name-check the Rosses, "Charles, Kate, and son Owen," who's an (apparently) gorgeous and eligible boy their age. Joey isn't biting. Andie asks where else in town Joey could make that kind of money. Joey rolls her eyes in acknowledgment before joking, "Well, there is always that strip club on the edge of town." Oh, great idea. Give Skeeve a call at the Lopsided Pines Retirement Home; maybe she can hook you up.
In town, Dawson, who's toting a handful of CDs, runs into Gretchen "Barry Oldwater" Witter in front of a community bulletin board, where she's "scoutin' out some new digs." Apparently, she's gotten fed up with Doug's obsessive-compulsive housekeeping, and a joke -- if by "joke" we actually mean "tired, unfunny stereotype of gay men as Felix Unger-esque Swiffer queens" -- is made at the expense of Doug's sexuality, involving the word "partner" in air quotes. Dear writers: I don't care if you "have a lot of gay friends." It's still offensive, and it's still played. Stop it. No love, Sars. Anyway, Gretchen announces that she's decided to room with Pacey instead. The mention of Pacey freezes Dawson's face, and he forces out, "That's great, good luck with that," before heading into a store.
Gretchen follows, saying that she knows it's none of her business, but "I can't tell you how much it breaks my heart to see once-inseparable best friends so estranged. If there's anything I can do…" Dawson smiles tightly and says nothing. "Clearly something you'd rather not talk about," Gretchen laughs uncomfortably, adding, "Sorry. My bad." "My bad"? So Gretchen's "time off" from college began in 1991, then. Good to know. Dawson tells her it's okay. Gretchen spots Dawson's pile of CDs and recoils in horror, calling them "the most offensive collection of music I've ever seen." Heh. Dawson allows that that's why he's trading them in. "Vanilla Ice? What were you thinking?" Dawson, embarrassed, defends himself with, "I was ten." Actually, if he bought the disc new, that would make him more like six or seven, but whatever. Gretchen brags that, at age ten, she knew every artist on the Sub Pop label (did Sub Pop even exist in 1968?) and had predicted that Kurt Cobain "was about to change the face of music as we know it." Shut up, Gretchen. Dawson says that at age ten he could "rattle off" the names of every cinematographer Spielberg ever worked with, and when Gretchen makes a face, he admits that that "isn't that impressive." Well, Attorney General Edwin Grease, knowing is half the battle. Gretchen picks over his CDs some more and ranks on him for returning the Grateful Dead CD. Dawson says that his parents gave him the CD, and it isn't his thing. Gretchen can't believe she's standing before "a teenage guy whose parents have better taste in music than he does." Shut up, Gretchen. The Dead suck. Dawson stares at her, horrified. Gretchen makes a big show of throwing her hands up in the air and walking away. Dawson laughs indulgently. Oh, whatever.
Over at McPhee Manor, Jack "My Subplot Is Not Like A Box Of Chocolates, Because I Already Know What I'm Going To Get: A Whole Lot Of Nothing" McPhee comes into his room with two mugs of tea and says to Jen "Mack And Cheese" Lindley, "You've gotta be kidding me. That's like the umpteenth time today you've checked your e-mail." He hands Jen one of the mugs. Without tearing her eyes away from the product-placed blueberry iBook, Jen tells him, "You lie." Jack points out that, every time he passed a computer lab today, he saw her behind a computer. She admits it. Sipping her tea, she says it's clear that Henry has "forsaken [her] for another." Jack tells her she needs to give Henry time "to get acclimated" at his new school. Getting up, Jen says that "it's becoming a thing," and goes on to explain that all summer long she and Henry called and e-mailed and IM'd each other "to the point of exhaustion" (ew), but now, whenever she goes online, "he's never there," and when she calls, he's unavailable: "I mean, I'm starting to feel like I did something wrong." Submitting to his advances in the first place, for one. Jack gets up to check his own e-mail as Jen wonders aloud, "Is it possible that I'm not a very good cyber-sex partner?" Bleah! Ew! Jack chuckles that he's sure she's "a very generous and giving cyber-lover," like, STOP it with that! The AOL guy tells Jack, "You've got mail!" and Jack's face falls. "Who wrote you?" Jen asks casually. "Uh…no one," Jack says, staring into the middle distance and closing the iBook without even reading the e-mail from his agent explaining that sorry, but he's stuck on the show until 2012.
Capeside Yacht Club And Marina. A woman wearing a Liz-Claiborne-knockoff suit and way too much goldtone jewelry asks Joey, "And what exactly is an Icehouse?" Once again -- SMALL TOWN. She would have HEARD OF IT. Jesus. Joey explains that it's a restaurant which burned down last year. "Oh, how unfortunate," Non-Liz Non-Claiborne says flatly, adding with a sneer that it "sounds like a charming little joint." NLNC and Joey sit at a table, and Joey lies that "Daddy" thought she should "get out and mingle with the little people." Continuing the central conceit that these two women would never have met or heard of the existence of the other, NLNC asks, "And what does Daddy do, dear?" Joey says that he "made his fortune in the pharmaceutical world." And now he's moved on to license-plate production and distribution, I suppose. NLNC is surprised, then, that the Potter name doesn't appear on the club's membership roster. "Well…I guess we're just not much of the joining kind," Joey says, leaning her chin on her knuckles all Dietrich-style. More back-and-forth about where Joey summered, she spent it sailing, blah bling blah, and then NLNC busts her by asking, "Were you a deckhand or a stowaway?" Ouch. Joey sets her jaw and says, "Excuse me -- but, um, before I submit to another second of your thinly-veiled bitchery, do you need a waitress or not?" Nice one. NLNC says icily that she's already filled the position. "Terrific," Joey snaps, gathers her things, and heads for the door, saying on her way out that NLNC should tell the Rosses she says hello. NLNC, brought up short, asks, "You know the Rosses?" Joey lies easily that she does, and rattles off a few key details. NLNC thinks that she and Joey "got off on the wrong foot."
Pacey enters the guidance office to find Mitch "The Flash" Leery rummaging through a file cabinet, and asks what he's doing there. The Flash says he's filling in until the school finds a new guidance counselor. Right. Of course. The Flash is the utility infielder of Capeside High's teaching staff. Anyway, The Flash reads Pacey some of the lowlights from his file, which include such words and phrases as "galumph" and "aggressively mediocre." Pacey knows the tune and suggests that The Flash proceed to the chorus with all due speed. The Flash babbles something about "special cases" and Pacey lacking classification, then gets all intense: "What happened to you this summer?" "Nothing -- I went sailing," Pacey shrugs. The Flash says that Pacey should have spent the summer "here," in summer school, or doing tricep curls and squat thrusts with The Flash. Well, not that last part. Pacey glibs that that sounds like a waste of a summer (and I think I can get an amen), and The Flash sarcastically inquires as to whether Pacey looked at his report card before he left. Pacey, unconcerned, says that he didn't; The Flash snaps that, if he had, he'd have seen that he flunked "science, math, and English -- three biggies, Pacey." "Science"? Which science, exactly? We never called it "science," we called it "biology" or "physics" or "chemistry." And which "math"? Nobody called it "math" after sixth grade. "English," okay, but what particular classes did he fail? It would have taken the writers maybe five minutes to call a school, any school, and find out what courses a junior in high school takes, and then have The Flash tell him that he failed chemistry and advanced trig, or cell bio and pre-calculus, but apparently the writers don't have time in their busy schedules for a little thing called "research." Criminy.
Anyway, Pacey catches his snap and starts to look scared: "Well, that sucks." The Flash perches himself on the edge of the desk and babbles about not really knowing "how to do this," he isn't Pacey's teacher or guidance counselor but "just a friend," he's watched Pacey grow up, Pacey needs to "cut the glibness" (word) and listen to him, blah blah blah Flashcakes. Pacey asks what The Flash wants him to do about the failing grades, and The Flash tells him that he can take the classes he failed over again, every day after school. Pacey says he'd planned to get a job after school because he needs the money, but The Flash says that Pacey isn't understanding him -- he has to pass the courses. What if Pacey can't do it? The Flash says he can, he just has to focus. "But what if I actually…can't?" Pacey says quietly. The Flash sighs that in that case, come May, Pacey will watch his friends graduate and move on without him, "and you'll be gearing up for another year at Capeside High." Extremely long fadeout of Pacey chewing his lip grimly.
It's a good thing the Bedazzled trailer shows us almost the entire movie, since nobody is actually going to buy a ticket for that bag of crap anyway.
Gretchen and Pacey, house-hunting. We fade up on the front porch of what looks exactly like Ta-MAH-ra Jacobs's house, which Gretchen finds "charming" and Pacey thinks is "something out of Better Homes & Crap." Heh. More back-and-forth, Gretchen seeing potential, Pacey seeing a rat infestation, blah blah blah. As they wander through the house, which they could never afford in the second place, Gretchen tells him without a hint of irony to "face facts, Pacey -- we don't have a lot of money!" Right. So why not look at a two-bedroom instead of a big old Cape Cod with a harbor view? More Gretchen babbling about "going to turn this place into a home," more Pacey grumbling. Gretchen diagnoses Pacey with "a particularly nasty case of 'first day of school,'" which naturally puts me in mind of Office Space and that annoyingly perky lady saying that "someone's got a case of the Mondays," and then Gretchen asks if "senior status" can't improve Pacey's mood at all. He grunts that, as it happens, he's "not exactly a senior." What exactly is he, then, she wants to know. "I'm screwed. I'm totally screwed." Gretchen asks what that means. Pacey briefs her: he failed three classes last year, so now he has to retake those classes on top of passing this year's classes in order to graduate. Gretchen closes her eyes sadly and shakes her head, then says in her best rah-rah tone that he'll just do it -- he'll "work really hard this year" and pass everything, and "it's…not that big of a deal." No response. Gretchen asks what Joey thinks. Still no response. Gretchen guesses that Pacey hasn't told her, and incredulously asks why; Pacey, tears standing in his eyes, says that "Joey is smart, but Pacey is an idiot, and I'm trying not to make her any more aware of that fact than she already is." Gretchen doesn't think that Joey's feelings for Pacey have anything to do with his GPA. She gets up and says that she could tell him herself that everything will turn out all right, "but it's gonna sound a lot better coming from [Joey]."
Yacht Club. Joey serves a couple of plates, and as she heads back towards the kitchen, a guy in a pink oxford -- who looks exactly, but EXACTLY, like a guy I had a huge crush on in college -- calls her over. She asks if she can help him; Crush Doppelganger cracks that that's "up for debate, actually." Joey says she doesn't have "a lot of time for verbal ping-pong," so he gets to the point, namely that he ordered an iced tea and a club sandwich half an hour ago and it still hasn't arrived at the table. Joey blanches, then apologizes and hustles over to get a pitcher of iced tea. Crush Doppelganger tells her not to worry about it, "I know how it is." "I doubt that," Joey mutters, pouring him a glass, and Crush goes into a "let me guess" diatribe on why Joey works at the club, conjecturing that she got pregnant and her boyfriend dumped her, and now she has to leave the baby with her alcoholic mother while she waits tables "on [her] high horse." Then he sniffs that the attitude will cut into her gratuity. Once again, the writers could have phoned up any country club on the East Coast and discovered that, in fact, most clubs include the gratuity in the bill, thus making it unnecessary for members to tip the wait staff. (My parents belong to one. Don't get me started.) Joey stares at him as though she's going to dump the pitcher of iced tea over his head, and Crush smirks, "Oh, come on. Where's your sense of humor?" He goes on to say that he's conducting an experiment, that his father is "a world-class cretin" who says stuff like that "to the help all the time," and that he always thinks to himself that his father's an idiot because "they're just gonna go back to the kitchen and spit in his food -- or worse even." "Fancy that," Joey says frostily, and pointedly excuses herself to go check on Crush's order. She huffs away, and Crush rolls his eyes and gets up to follow her, asking if she's going to spit in his food. "Or worse even," she snarks, bussing silverware. Crush tells her that she strikes him as very much "in touch with" her dark side, and thanks her for her candor. "Oh, my pleasure," she grunts. "First day on the job, huh?" She nods. He asks how much she hates "them" already, and goes into a rant about overprivileged snobs "laying down huge sums" blah blah blah "other members of their tribe" blah blah blah "creeps" blah blah blah fishcakes. Joey remarks that "nothing tugs at the heartstrings like the anguished cry of a poor little rich boy." Ouch. Crush smiles. She asks him to sign the bill. He does so, and hands it back to her; the block print at the bottom reads "OWEN ROSS." Um, you actually have to sign it, buddy. Like, in script. Joey stares at the name, taken aback. "Something wrong?" "Your order will be right up," she says, and flees in terror.
The Flash enters the Sanctum Dawsonorum, where he finds Dawson giving the Dead album another listen. Dawson confesses that he doesn't "get it" (yeah, no duh), and has no urge to start wearing hemp clothing or tie-dye; nor does he have "the slightest inclination to drop acid." Unlike his hairdresser. And the writers. And, for the preservation of their own sanity, a goodly percentage of the viewing audience. The Flash waxes rhapsodic about hearing the Dead play live. Snore. Dawson asks if he ever gets the feeling that he and Gail "are maybe a little cooler than I am?" Oh, man. So many responses, so little time. The Flash: "It's a burden, but we cope." Ha! Okay, give it up for The Flash, who then mentions casually that he saw Pacey at school earlier in the day. "Me too," says Dawson, not looking up. The Flash says he met with Pacey to sort out his schedule. Dawson, still not looking up, says in a tone of tried patience, "Uh huh," and attempts to tuck a lock of greasy hair behind his ear; it doesn't reach, but the oil makes it stick to the other locks and stay in place. Ew. Dawson, for the love of Pete, please get the urge to herbal. "He's in trouble, Dawson," The Flash says meaningfully. Dawson, evenly: "And that concerns me how?" The Flash knows that Pacey "isn't [Dawson's] favorite person" at the moment, but Dawson won't always feel that way; Dawson disagrees. The Flash reiterates that Pacey has gotten himself into serious academic trouble, and Dawson shrugs, "Well, what do you expect me to do about it?" The Flash doesn't know, but he's always taken pride in the fact that "my son is someone his friends can turn to when they need him." I hate to say it, but I don't know that I agree with The Flash's point; whether or not he has valid reasons for it, Dawson doesn't consider Pacey his friend, and Pacey doesn't consider Dawson his friend, so I don't think Dawson is obliged to step in here, and he'll just saddle Pacey with a bunch of condescending bushwa anyway. Dawson says more or less the same thing, explaining that, while it might seem "hyperdramatic" from The Flash's perspective, it's his world and his life, and Pacey "pursued a relationship with a girl that I've loved in one way or another for as long as I can remember, and that hurts, so much that sometimes I can't sit still." Dawson goes on to say that, while he thinks he's done a pretty good job "of moving forward," that doesn't mean Pacey gets to continuing "reaping the benefits of" Dawson's friendship: "He's on his own, I can't help him." And, based on what we've seen of what Dawson considers "friendship" as regards Pacey, he's doing Pacey a favor with that. The Flash sighs heavily and says that maybe Dawson knows "someone who can" help Pacey. Dawson, nostrils returning slowly to DefCon 5, mulls this over.
Andie, lugging a laundry basket into her room, grunts, "You're kidding me -- he wants to break up with her?" Jack clarifies that Henry said he wants to "take a break." In a rehab facility somewhere in New Jersey, Michael Pitt snorts scornfully while chain-smoking Marlboro Lights. Andie can't believe that, after stalking Jen for an entire school year -- and she actually calls it "stalking," too -- Henry is the one who wants space. Jack sorts towels and points out that Henry's at
a new school, he's got girls flirting with him, and, well, "Henry's a great guy, but -- he's sixteen." "Guys are maddening creatures," Andie grumbles. "Heh. Tell me about it," Jack says. Well, it looks as though we'll have to, Jackers, since the writers won't let you find out for yourself. What did Jack tell Henry? Jack told Henry he'd talk to Jen. Andie thinks that idea "borders on the terrible," and when Jack asks why, she says that what's between Jen and Henry should stay between Jen and Henry (ew, not like that), and that if a guy broke up with her, she'd hope he'd have the stones to do it himself. No argument here.
Moving on to the marina, where Pacey and Joey eat pizza al fresco; smooooooth jazz tootles in the background. Joey cracks unfunny non-jokes about making reservations, loving the atmosphere, blah dee blah. Pacey slumps in silence. Joey asks, "So, how was your day, honey?" "Oh, it was just swell," Pacey grumps. Joey teases him that he's just out of sorts "because we're not in the middle of the Atlantic anymore." Pacey gets up and says that he could have the boat packed and out of there in fifteen minutes if Joey says the word. Joey pretty much says "that was then, this is now," only a lot more wordily, and then flings a skillet in Pacey's direction by saying, "It's our senior year -- do you have any idea what that means?" Pacey comments in a monotone that, if he had a car, he could park it in the senior lot. Joey tells Pacey to read her lips: "No more teachers, no more books --" "No more Dawson's dirty looks?" Pacey finishes. I think he meant to say "Dawson's dirty LOCKS," but whatever. Joey shoots him a glare, then shrugs it off and asks what happened with the "guidance counselor office thing." Pacey asks if they can spend the rest of the meal "in blissfully dysfunctional silence." Joey is momentarily taken aback, then shrugs this off too and asks if Pacey wants to hear about her new job, announcing with a mixture of pride and embarrassment that she's "Capeside Yacht Club's newest serving wench." "Congratulations," Pacey says flatly, sipping a root beer. "Don't sound too excited for me there, Pacey," Joey says with an eye-roll. Pacey passive-aggressives that he didn't know she'd planned to get a job. Joey reminds him that he of all people should know how much she needs the extra money, "doomed to roam the streets of Capeside" yadda yadda yadda; Pacey swigs his root beer as though it's a real one as she continues that that's "unacceptable" and she's "not gonna end up some townie." Pacey gets his back up about that, asking when she became "a snob" and wanting to know "what's wrong with being a townie," and Joey tries to defend herself, but he talks right over her, wondering what if he wound up a townie. "You're not that kind of a person," Joey sputters, and Pacey snaps that that's not what he's asking, and if he did become a townie, "would that somehow make me less desirable to you?" Joey, befuddled, makes an "uch" sound and blinks a lot. "I guess that's my answer," Pacey grouses. Joey stares at him for a moment, then asks what's going on with him. "Nothing." "Then why are you trying to pick a fight with me all of a sudden?" Because he has to drive you back into Dawson's arms, silly girl. Read the contract. Pacey denies it, but Joey says he is too picking a fight with her, and if he doesn't want to talk about whatever's going on, that's okay with her, but he shouldn't start arguments "just to make [himself] feel better." Pacey doesn't look at her; nor does he answer. She sighs. We fade out on them eating pizza in…all together now…blissfully dysfunctional silence. Except for the "blissfully" part.
Dunna na na na na na na na na dunna na na na na -- MYYY CHALUPA! I love that shit.
Classroom. A teacher takes attendance. Repeated utterances of "Witter? Witter?" Ben Stein waits impatiently for his check to arrive; an annoyed Dawson looks at Pacey's empty chair.
On the porch of the CYC, Joey asks Crush Doppelganger if she can get him anything else. "Okay, weird girl, what gives?" Heh. Joey doesn't know what he means; he points out that she's compulsively refilling his iced tea, she's smiling and hovering, and "worst of all, you totally dropped that whole snappy sarcasm thing you had working for you yesterday." Thanks for the meta-statement on Joey's character, Crush. In addition, word. Joey continues to bustle about and says she's just trying to do her job. "Yeah, well, at least yesterday, you were entertaining; today, you're just creeping me out," Crush tells her, and asks her to sit down for a second. "Why?" "Because, since you elected not to wear hose with that little skirt, everyone can see your undies," Crush informs her. Oh, wait. I said that. Sorry. Anyway, she sits down to him, clearly uncomfortable, and Crush points at various people at the lawn party in front of them and lets Joey in on their secrets -- who's sleeping with whom, who's had plastic surgery, so on and so forth. Then he points at Non-Liz Non-Claiborne and calls her "the worst one of all," adding that back in the day, she got married "to one of the beautiful people," but the guy dumped her for "a younger model," so she packed up her kid and got a job "where she could be around the Fortune 500 set all day long." Anyone else see the plot "twist" crossing the Colorado Rockies right now? Okay, just checking. "Wow. No wonder she's such a bitch," Joey says, and asks how Crush knows all this stuff. "Hang around this place long enough, you absorb a lot of useless information," Crush says, adding that the club members have all the money in the world, and "not an ounce of class." Yeah -- takes one to know one, ass. Joey stares at him, brow furrowed.
Dissolve to Capeside marina at night. "What's happening, gorgeous?" Jen asks Jack. "Hey," Jack says; his voice sounds dry with fear even in that one syllable. "So, you rang, I ran. What's up?" Jack says he just wants to talk. Jen eyes their surroundings and teases him that "it's kinda romantic, don't you think?" before telling him that, if he's considering "a crossover episode, now's bad timing. I'm a taken woman." Jack, laughing up until the words "taken woman," clears his throat and asks if she's heard from Henry. She hasn't, but she thought about what Jack said the other day, and she's just going to give Henry time and it'll turn out fine. "Yeah," Jack says feebly, and asks her how she'd feel "if things went the other way." Jen doesn't get it; Jack wonders what would happen if she talked to Henry and things didn't go so well, and asks if she's considered that possibility. "Where is this stuff coming from?" Jen asks, concerned. Jack scoffs, "Nowhere! Forget it, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He proposes getting dinner, and he starts to head down the boardwalk, but Jen isn't put off so easily: "Jack? Have you talked to Henry?" Jack stares at her for a long moment before admitting, "Yes." "All right -- what the hell's going on?" Jen quavers. Jack says he's just worried about her, but Jen cuts him off: "He asked you to talk to me, didn't he?" Jack tries to stammer that no, he didn't, but Jen asks if Henry's breaking up with her, and when Jack continues to stammer, Jen snaps, "You know, he's lying to you, and you're lying to me." "Jen, come on --" "Just leave me alone," she says, and she waves Jack away and does the Mack Stomp on out of there. Jack watches her go, then slumps against the boardwalk railing.
Joey answers the door of the PB&B to find Dawson, who asks, "It's not too late, I hope?" She stammers no, of course not, and invites him in. He dropped by to return a few of her CDs; she looks at them and laughs, "You're kidding me, right?" He says he's weeding out "some of the more embarrassing reminders of [his] callow youth" from his music collection. "Callow"? God and sonny Jesus, writers, it isn't a Maugham novel. Knock it off. Joey gets two glasses out of a cabinet and points out that he borrowed the CDs "like three years ago." Joey, please put on a bra. You have wall-eye boob, and I don't need to see it. After a bit more awkward rambling, Dawson falls silent. Joey offers him a drink, which he declines, saying he should go, and when she starts to say something, Dawson pinches the bridge of his nose and whines that it's none of his business, and Joey asks what, and he grits out, "Pacey." Joey tells him to start making sense. Dawson starts to do the frustrated-hands-through-hair blocking, stops himself, claws at an errant chunk of bangs, and urges Joey to talk to Pacey. "About?" "About school," Dawson says, adding with patent reluctance that Pacey skipped school that day, "and if he's not careful, he's going to flunk out." Joey stares. Dawson says he doesn't know why on earth he should care, but he's there, and if there's anyone who can help Pacey, it's Joey. Joey sneers that, if Pacey really had a problem, she'd know about it. Dawson doesn't think so. He says quietly that "when you love someone, you want her to be proud of you. You want her to think there's nothing in the world that you're incapable of." Joey adopts a worried mien and looks down. Dawson goes on in this vein a bit longer. Silence falls. Dawson wishes Joey goodnight and leaves, pinching the bridge of his nose some more.
Witterschloss. On the porch, Pacey tinkers with a fishing rod. Gretchen comes out, followed by Joey; Gretchen tells her, "There he is. Try not to bruise him," and goes back inside. Pacey starts to make schmoopy noises in Joey's direction, but she bites his head off about the failing thing, specifically that she had to hear about it from Dawson. Pacey mutters that "apparently Leery Senior has a very big mouth" and snipes that he bets Leery Junior "loved being on the receiving end of that," but Joey snaps at him to "stick to the point," which prompts Pacey to remark that now Dawson can "swoop in on his soulmate with a big fat 'I told you so.'" On the one hand, yes, Dawson would totally do that, but on the other hand, Pacey needs to ease up on the insecurity throttle. Joey agrees, demanding, "Are you delusional?" and insisting that Dawson "has zero to do with this." "Yeah, sure," Pacey says, paying way too much attention to the fishing rod. Joey flaps her arms Dawson-style and relates how insulted she feels that she comes up last on his list "of people to contact in case of emergency," but Pacey tells her it's not a big deal, he's "handling it." Joey, near tears, wants to know how cutting school "translate[s] into 'handling it.'" Pacey blows this off too, so Joey makes for the door, mumbling, "Why does this even surprise me?"
Pacey, thinking she's making another townie-related dig, asks what the hell that's supposed to mean. "Exactly what I said." Pacey turns away from her, but she walks back towards him and tells him that he deals with everything by running away and takes the easy way out "every time." I don't know that history backs that up, to wit his relationship with Andie, but anyway, Pacey says in a tone of great weariness that that makes him "such a loser," like, we get it, you consider yourself a black sheep, now get over it. Joey argues that he's not a loser, and she didn't spend her summer with a loser; she spent her summer building the foundation for a great relationship. "I thought we were a great team," she says, "but it turns out I guess I couldn't have been more wrong." She turns to go, her split ends twitching angrily. As she opens the door, she turns to glare at him, but Pacey has turned back to the fishing rod, shaking his head slightly.
Okay, pretty soon Pizza Hut will start marketing the sauceless, crustless pizza with nothing but cheese. Not that I have a problem with that. But you can't really call it a pizza anymore.
Gretchen raises the blinds in the living room of the Witterschloss and tells Pacey to get up, shower, "button up [his] best bowling shirt," and go apologize to Joey. Pacey tells Gretchen to leave him alone, but Gretchen sits down on the table to the couch and says that Joey's "a keeper," and she won't let Pacey blow it because he's scared. "What are you talkin' about?" Pacey sputters. "I'm not scared." "Like a little girl," Gretchen says, saying that if he's not careful, he'll sabotage the relationship before it has a chance to go anywhere. No, no, Gretchen -- the writers do that. The writers. Pacey snorts that she's watching "a little too much Oprah," but Gretchen says she's serious. Pacey doesn't know how she expects him to feel, since he's had to listen to Doug and the Sheriff tell him he's stupid his whole life. Gretchen says he's right, "they're jerks, both of them, you know, but -- get over it already." Oh my god, WORD, Gretchen. I have gotten so very, very tired of listening to Pacey whinge about how everyone expects him to fail so he should just fail because who cares blah blah blah that I can't even tell you. Anyway, Gretchen puts her hands on her hips, thrusts out her uniboob, and says that the family isn't Pacey's problem: "Your problem is Dawson." Girlfriend, Dawson is everyone's problem. Pacey stares at her blankly. "Don't tell me you don't hear him -- you know, whispering in your ear, telling you you're not good enough." Pacey contemplates this; Gretchen adds, "He's just a ghost, Pace. She picked you. And now you have to deal with it." Pacey looks at her, then looks away. You know, Gretchen works my nerves a little, but after that speech, she can stay.
Capeside Yacht Club. Joey approaches Non-Liz Non-Claiborne: "You wanted to see me?" NLNC went over yesterday's receipts and found a couple signed by Owen Ross. "Right," Joey says brightly. "I thought you said you were a good friend of the family," NLNC sneers. "I am," Joey lies. NLNC wonders, if Joey's "such a good friend," why she didn't know that the Ross family is in Paris until the new year. Joey searches for another covering lie, settling instead on the neutral "that doesn't make any sense." NLNC smiles coldly and says no, it doesn't. Joey swears that she served Owen Ross, "he was very rude," but NLNC just rolls her eyes, smoothes an eyebrow, and says she doesn't think "this is going to work out." "Actually, Mom, the Ross kid was here," says Crush Doppelganger from the doorway. Joey stares at him uncomprehendingly, then back at NLNC, who says, "Drue, honey, I'm in the middle of something here." Crush says he can see that, but maybe she didn't hear what he said; he saw Owen Ross with his "own two eyes," he saw Joey waiting on him, and NLNC should commend Joey "for the way she handled him, because that guy, he can be real high-maintenance." Joey stares balefully at Crush. NLNC purses her lips all curses-foiled-again.
Later, Joey finds Crush hosing down a boat at the marina and demands, "What just happened in there?" Crush says that Joey should thank him for saving her job. "Who are you?" she snaps. "Drue. Drue Valentine," he tells her. Okay, did the Valentines just move to Capeside? Because Joey would KNOW HIM, people. Because the town? SMALL. GOD. (And does he have a sister named Emily? Just wondering.) Joey asks if Mrs. Valentine is his mom, and after he snarks that she picks up "quick," she says, "But you said all that horrible stuff about her." "Which doesn't make it any less true," he grunts, flipping his hair out of his eyes all Backstreet Boy. "You lied to me," Joey seethes. "Correction -- I was playing with you." "Why?" "It was fun," he says, going on to say that he figured out she'd lied to get the job, "which I totally dig about you, by the way." "You're a freak," Joey grumbles, but she can't help smiling. He is pretty cute. Please don't hurt me for thinking that. He tells her to lighten up: "So I'm not who I said I was, big deal. I'm actually a lot more fun." He clambers into the rigging. Joey regards him curiously. Foreshadowing uses the last of my floss.
Over at the Leery dock, Dawson tells Jen that "it's okay to be hurt." Jen whimpers that she's not hurt, but the "only real boyfriend" she ever had (no comment) enlisted her best friend to dump her for him, so she's angry. Dawson tells her that he spent most of last spring "angry at the world," and it's not worth it: "It might numb the pain a little bit, but it's basically just a distraction." Whatever, Mr. Miyucki. He gets up to stand beside her and says, after a moment's pause, that "if you do it right, loving somebody's gonna hurt." Oh, brother. Shut up, Dawson. But no, he can't shut up, instead advising Jen to "let [herself] feel that" so that she can love again. Okay, sincerely? I just threw up. That's why the recap took so long this week -- it's not because my cat-sitter bollixed up the timer on the VCR, and it's not because I left the back-up tape at Wing Chun's house, it's because I had to spend the better part of an afternoon cleaning chunks of repurposed lunch out of my keyboard.
Thankfully, Jen reads my mind: "Dawson, I don't need one of your sappy self-help seminars right now." Preach it, sister. Dawson says he heard similar speeches from her over the summer, and when Jen asks why he didn't just throw her into traffic (heh!), he says that she helped him "through the worst of times," and adds, as though it's just occurring to him, "I've really learned a lot from you, Jen!" As they stroll up the dock, Jen asks if he's learned things "like how to downward-spiral your way into adulthood?" Okay, writers. "Downward spiral" is your "Rae Dawn Chong." We get it. Now for God's sake buy a thesaurus. Dawson remarks that Jen taught him that "love can suck." Only when it's you doing the loving, Grease Witherspoon. Then he blathers on about things changing, passions fading, dum dee dum dum, but "one thing remains sacred": friendship. He says that, without the gang, the summer "would have just been this huge black hole of depression for" him, and we pan out as Jen laughs defeatedly that he's too "damn earnest" and she'd like to drown him in the creek (shout-out? And even if it isn't, Jen, get in line), and he puts an arm around her shoulders and says that it's "part of [his] charm," and while I lease an electron microscope in order to search for said charm, compared with which a quark must look like a meatball, Dawson cranks up the Cliché-o-matic and something about bad news and good intentions spews out, but I didn't hear it because I kept staring, transfixed, at Dawson's hair, which makes him look like Fred from Scooby Doo. Enter Jack, whose appearance Dawson greets with, "Jack. Thank God. Take her off my hands for a little while?" Like, ha ha. Not. After a dorky male-bonding shoulder-punch, Dawson goes inside, presumably to anoint his giant pate with another handful of Crisco, and Jen apologizes to Jack, and Jack says that's "supposed to be [his] line," and Jen rambles on about sorries, and how "somebody's always sorry," and a relationship is a string of sorries "culminating in a big final messy sorry." Jack cracks that it sounds like Jen "is drowning herself in an economy-size vat of self-pity," and Jen says that the recently dumped "get to wallow just a bit." Then there's a weird jump-cut to Jack saying he's really sorry -- I think part of this scene must have gotten left on the cutting-room floor -- and she says she's sorry too, and she shouldn't have killed the messenger, but she didn't need to hear the bad news from Jack: "I needed you to be my shoulder." Jack smiles ruefully: "Come here." Would that I could, honey. Oh, he's talking to Jen. Dammit. They hug. "Better late than never?" Jack asks. Jen hugs him tighter. Aw.
Marina. Pacey finds Joey sitting on the side of the "True Love." He greets her, then observes, "You're not liking me so much right now, are you?" Joey, clad in yet another overly revealing tank top, snips, "Not so much, no." Pacey sighs, then says with great effort that his sister said it's not such a bad idea to discuss problems with one's girlfriend. Joey comments wryly that "it's nice to know someone in the Witter family can boast a brain cell or two." "You're not gonna make this easy on me, are ya?" Pacey half-whispers. No response. "Okay," Pacey says, exhaling forcefully. "So where do I start?" "Wherever you want," Joey shrugs. Pacey takes another deep breath and says he'll start by saying that "you, Josephine Potter, have just wrecked me." Joey frowns. "In the best possible way," he barrels ahead, "you have absolutely wrecked me." Joey keeps frowning. Pacey explains that he fell in love with her thinking that they'd never get together, "knowing full well that a sizable chunk of [her] heart…[long, trying-not-to-cry pause]…would always be wrapped up…in our friend Dawson." He could have lived with that, "right up until the point that you chose [him]." She turned everything on its head by choosing him, Pacey continues, because then he got everything he wanted, "and from that day forward, I've just been a wreck." Joey, who has peered at Pacey throughout his breathless speech, asks, "Why?" He's waiting for the other shoe to drop, he confesses; he's really close to tears as he says that she'll eventually realize what a big mistake she's made, and that he'll wind up "a big disappointment." Joey can't believe what she's hearing. Pacey thinks she'll realize that "Dawson is the guy [she wants] to be with." Joey asks what Dawson has to do with his "screwing up at school." "Well, nothing and everything," Pacey sighs. He sits beside her and says that Dawson would never have screwed up like he has; it just wouldn't have happened. Joey concedes the truth in that statement, but asks if Pacey knows what else Dawson would never do. Pacey waits. "He would never inspire me to run away with him for the summer," Joey says matter-of-factly. Aw, that's sort of sweet. And, word. Run away from him, maybe. Pacey has to smile. Joey goes on that it wouldn't happen, and Pacey knows that. They had a magic summer, she says, and they shared something she'll remember for the rest of her life, and it's not about Dawson: "I mean, don't you see? We're creating our own history here, a history that has nothing to do with Dawson." "That's a nice way of lookin' at it," Pacey says, but it's clear he doesn't buy it. "Yeah," Joey says encouragingly. Pacey sighs, and Joey says that "this is where it gets rough," that they spent three months on the sea but "didn't even come close to weathering the storm," like, can we please dispense with the oceangoing language? Please? Because we get it. Unfertilized eggs get it, okay? Joey says that they ran away and created their own reality, but…"but it couldn't last forever," Pacey finishes. Joey tells Pacey that "a relationship isn't about a three-month cruise," and that "it'll be the details that define us." Oh, thank you, Deepak No-Bra, for that insight into relationships. Talk about watching too much Oprah -- since when do seventeen-year-olds talk this way about dating? Anyway, Joey goes on in this vein for a moment, and then Pacey breathes, "Okay. Joey…I am…really scared, um," and he stares into his lap, "I think that I screwed up, and I'm gonna flunk out of high school." Biting his lip, he heaves yet another sigh: "So I need your help." He sniffles. "Really badly." "That's all you needed to say, Pace," she says, drawing her to him, and he sniffles some more and says that's easy for her to say, and she strokes his face and says that whatever it takes, "we'll fix it," and everything will be okay, and she's not going anywhere without him, and they start kissing all Catharine and Heathcliff as a testicle wails the words "inside of meeeee" over and over again in the background.
Pacey asks how come Joey's "so much smarter than" he, and she says she's not: "You just happen to be a little emotionally retarded." She grins. He says that's a load off his mind and grabs her hand and suggests that they "go make out some more," and she snorts, "Sounds romantic," and her boobs waggle around in her unsupportive tank top, like, underwire -- look into i
t. Pacey calls her "too cynical for my romantic overtures," and she says he gets points for trying, and he does a little dance twirl with her and says, "Come on -- you love me." "You bug me," she says back. They walk off into the closed-captioning credits together.
time: a storm. No, really.