The Liberty Hell restaurant. All clad in their Sunday best, Jen, Joey, and Audrey sit at a candle-lit table and chatter about how nice it is to be out on the town. I wonder how they can afford to dine at such a posh and clearly pricey restaurant, seeing as when I was in college, my idea of fine dining involved Nacho Bar Tuesdays in the dorm. Because I was poor. Maybe they've been saving their pennies, though. Or maybe Audrey has a trust fund. Maybe they're going to dine and dash. At any rate, Audrey chirps that she's so happy she tagged along with Jen and Joey. "You mean 'invited yourself,'" Joey says, but she's smiling. Audrey smiles back and states that "no one believes [Joey] doesn't adore [Audrey]." I believe it, as Joey clearly has poor taste in companions; witness her continuing association with Dawson. Jen's cell phone rings in the middle of all of this Good-Natured Roommate Baiting. She smiles and hisses various half-sentences into the phone before hanging up and blushing. It was Charlie. Audrey doesn't know how she feels about "this Charlie." Joey agrees that Jen has been keeping Charlie very much to herself, a behavior which Audrey dubs "very 9 ½ Weeks." Audrey asks if this conversation was a "booty call." "Pretty much," Jen admits, but says she's doesn't know if she's going to answer said call. Although she "could use the snuggles." This comment leads to some run-of-the-mill male bashing, all about how men only see "snuggling as a means to the end," and how men don't know "how easy" it is to please women, and they're only after One Thing, and don't want to talk when they could instead be doing that One Thing, and I'm grateful that at least no one tells Jen that Charlie will never buy the cow while she's giving the milk away for free. Jen complains that she's been seeing Charlie for a week, and the only thing she knows about him is that his boxers come from the Gap. And although I well remember the early years of college, when I used to sit up with people until four in the morning and we'd talk about everything that ever happened to us ever in the history of our lives, and how it affects us now, and what that has to do with the thing with the guy in our biology lab, and while I also sympathize with Jen's wanting to learn more about Charlie, it has only been one week. Seven days. So chill, Jen, and maybe try doing something with Charlie other than going over to his dorm room wearing only a trench coat and pair of edible panties. Audrey wisely tells Jen that there are worse things than having a close-mouthed and dreamy sex toy. "They could be tighty-whities," she says. The girls shudder at the thought. Post-shudder, Joey gets up to go to the bathroom. "And when I get back, I'd like it very much if this week's episode of Sex and the City could come to an end," she asks, primly. "Okay, Charlotte," Jen calls after her.
Joey walks past Liberty Hell's open kitchen en route to the bathroom. And, why, who's that in the kitchen, chopping stuff? Could it be -- Pacey? What an amazing coincidence! Of all the restaurants in all the world, she had to walk into his. He doesn't see her staring at him, looking blank.
Apres bathroom break, Joey drags Jen off to a bench somewhere in the middle of the restaurant -- abandoning poor Audrey with the bill, I guess -- and gives her the big news. Jen, obviously, isn't particularly surprised, telling the flabbergasted Joey that Pacey's been in Boston "about three and a half weeks." Joey's shocked that Jen knew Pacey was in town. Jen hastens to point out that she had no idea that Pacey was the new prep cook at Liberty Hell, or she never would have suggested they eat there. "I should go," Joey says, looking like she'd rather chew off her left arm and roast it over a bare light bulb than finish her meal at the restaurant. Jen puts her hand on Joey's arm and asks her if she wants to see Pacey; Joey sputters that of course she does, but he "obviously" doesn't want to see her, or he wouldn't have made such a big deal about swearing Jen to secrecy. She trudges off, as Jen sits awkwardly on the bench and looks thoughtful.
Grams's Brand Spanking New Palace For Wayward Girls, Gay Guys Played By Exceedingly Straight Actors And, We Hope Temporarily, Dawson. The Big Giant Head slouches into the living room, and thanks Grams for letting him crash on her sofa. Color me surprised that that big old house doesn't have a posh guest room with a little white painted writing table where Dawson can sit late at night, after Grams and Jen and Jack have gone to bed, and stare out over the Charles River and write poems about his anguish until dawn. Grams starts making up the couch, and tells him that "having an expatriate sleeping on the sofa makes it feel like Paris in the twenties around here." Dawson just sighs. Grams hands him a baggie of Rice Krispies Treats for his bus ride back to Capeside, and tells him that staying in Boston is an awfully big decision. Dawson admits that he's very nervous about telling his parents. "The truth will set you free," Grams tells him. "The truth will tick them off," Dawson tells her. "If Moses can face Pharaoh," Grams says, handing him a pillow, "you can face your parents." Dawson makes a face like he's not so sure about that.
The Prettiest, Cleanest, Fanciest Frat In The Whole Wide World. There's a fairly low-key par-tay in progress; Jack and The Dumb Guy With A Dream are playing a football-related video game on the sofa. Jack makes some kind of nifty play in the video, and DGWAD grabs him by the shoulders and, in the process of giving him as a noogie, shoves Jack's head right into his crotch. And there's the frat system I know and love. Well, maybe "love" is too strong a word. The boys put down their controllers and stand up, at which point DGWAD is finally given a name: "Blossom." There are so many jokes flooding into my brain right now that I can't pick just one. Blossom introduces Jack to an African-American guy whose name, I think, is Bull. It's probably really Bill, but I prefer Bull, so there you go. Bull somehow knows all about all the classes Jack is taking, and which ones are the hardest, and then tells Jack to call him. "We'll talk about the subject of your pop quiz week," he says, smiling and giving Jack his card. College kids have cards now? Wonders will never cease. Blossom turns away from Jack for a moment, takes a list out of his pocket, and checks off "introduce Jack to the wonders of the frat system of 'studying' (cheating, years of pilfered tests and quizzes, a veritable library of papers and essays)." Hey, I'm sorry, but that was the scuttlebutt when I was in school.
, Blossom introduces Jack to some guy in a sweater vest named Pete. Pete is at BBC on a full golf scholarship. Pete and Jack chat about golf for a bit, and agree to hit the links Sunday morning for eighteen holes. Jack grins, thrilled to have found someone to golf with, and turns to Blossom, who hands him a plate of salami and a beer. "How do you know so much about me?" Jack asks, the tips of his mullet glistening in the light. "Everyone knows you like the salami, Jack," Blossom says. Not really. Also: I'm very sorry about that juvenile salami-as-penis joke I just used. Actually, Blossom spouts some crap about brotherhood being for life or something like that. I zone out, because I'm stunned by how clean and well decorated the frat house is. Jack opens his mouth, and starts to tell Blossom that he's gay, but Blossom is distracted by some yelling in the background. "Excuse me, I think a pledge just accepted his bid. I've got a new brother," he tells Jack, and goes to join the crowd of clean-cut, screaming guys. As they hoist the aforesaid New Brother on their shoulders, Blossom looks over at Jack and gives him the Frat Boy Head Nod. You know, the way frat guys greet each other on campus without saying anything, that Head Nod that's not so much a nod as it is a jerking, upward motion of the chin? Jack smiles back at him. This is too good to be true, right? I'm not the only one who thinks this is the weirdest frat house ever, right? I mean, it's like Frat Boys of the Corn, or something.
Liberty Hell Restaurant. Karen, The Bitchiest Waitress In The World, comes slamming into the kitchen, complaining bitterly about a customer who sent her salad back. I think Karen might benefit from some pharmacological assistance in regulating her moods, because healthy people aren't this obviously unhappy. Clearly, she and Pacey are being set up as a potential couple, taking into account his preference for women with mental health problems (see: McPhee, Andie). Possible chemical imbalances aside, Karen is also enormously unpleasant. This whole time I've been typing? She's been berating Pacey for not wearing a chef's hat. "There are health regulations, you know," she snips. Are we supposed to like her? Because when Pacey tries to turn on the charm, and she walks away from him while he's in the middle of a sentence, I have a hard time warming up.
Boston Bay College Of Contrivance, Dormitory For Real Good-Looking Scruffy Guys. Charlie opens his door, and lets Jen inside. She tells him that "this" isn't going to become "a regular thing," "this" being the whole booty call deal. Charlie starts kissing on her, murmuring that she certainly took her time. He could have gotten a pizza in the amount of time it took her to get there, he tells her. "Two pizzas. Deep dish. Chicago style," he clarifies. Jen pulls away from him and asks, interested, if he's from Chicago. "Not exactly," he says, and jumps back into the kissing. Jen wants to talk, though, instead of immediately hopping into the sack. She starts asking him questions, about where he grew up and where he went to high school. Charlie won't give her any straight answers, though; he's not interested in talking. Jen pulls away from him. "These are not real answers," she says. "The real answers are boring and long," Charlie tells her, although he finally does admit that he hails from Highland Park, Illinois. "Not exactly the birthplace of cool," he says. Jen smiles and tells him that she's just glad to know something about him. And they get down to business. If you know what I mean. And you do.
Capeside, where Dawson stands in his front yard and looks at the creek and the trees and the grass and all the fall foliage, and the camera swirls and twirls around, and The Piano Music Of The Prodigal Son tinkles in the background. Soon, it's joined by The Flute Music Of Twirling In The Front Yard And Thinking About The Past. After about two weeks, Mitch "The Flash" Leery opens the screen door and stares at his son. "Dawson?" the Flash asks, his face lighting up. "Hey, lover -- I mean, 'Dad,'" Dawson calls.
Inside The Leery House Of Father Figures Marked For Death. Gale hugs Dawson, worrying that he looks far too thin. Her bangs are far too long. The Flash rubs some more self-tanning lotion into his left arm and says that he wants to hear all about Los Angeles. Gale says something about cookies. Neither one of them asks Dawson what the hell he's doing on the east coast in the middle of the school week, which is odd. He hesitantly tells them that he hasn't actually been in Los Angeles; he's been in Boston. Gale and the Flash make confused faces. Dawson huffs enormously, and then makes his big announcement. "Guys," he says, "USC is not for me. I want to drop out." Gale looks completely appalled. The Flash makes a face like the dude at GNC just told him they were out of bodybuilding supplements. Dawson keeps whining about how he spent the whole summer in LA and he went to all of his classes and he hates it, he hates it, he hates it, and besides, all of his friends are in Boston! Gale wearily offers that Dawson will make new friends in Los Angeles if he just gives it some time. "Mom, it's more than that," Dawson announces. "I'm at a profound crossroads in my life." Sweet God. I don't know if you read any of Aaron's recaps, but he has this system wherein he grades the episodes according the amount of time it takes for a certain event to occur. In The Sopranos, for instance, it's until Tony appears in his bathrobe. He calls it Start to Robe, or StR. It's quite funny. Anyway -- and I do have a point here -- were I to apply this formula to Dawson's Creek, I'd have to use StV: Start to Vomit. And we're at "vomit," right here. Gale also looks disgusted; she closes her eyes.
"I know that if I don't choose this path, I'm going to have significant regrets," Dawson continues. Gale makes a disgusted "hmmmph" noise, and the Flash rubs his cheek with his middle finger. Instead of hollering that he's not dropping out of anything, Gale asks Dawson where he plans to live. "With Jack and Jen. At Grams's," he tells her. And what will he do with himself? "Find a new school," Dawson says naively, like you can just walk up to the registrar's office at any point during the year and introduce yourself and they'll pat you on the back and hand you the course catalogue. "Oh, Dawson," Gale sighs. He huffily swears that he's given this a lot of thought. The Flash sighs and says he's given it some thought, too. "You're not dropping out," he says. "It doesn't work like that," Dawson tells him. This is the part where my mother would have to have been restrained from attacking me physically, and the words "we're," "paying," and "your tuition" would have been used. ["Mine too. Well, except for the 'restrained from' part." -- Sars] "If you're going to talk to me about "crossroads' and 'paths,'" the Flash says sarcastically, "so you can drop out of school and go crash on a sofa, then don't presume to talk to me like you're an adult." Hey, the Flash can go! Get busy, Flash! It's your death day! Whoops, did I just let that slip? Hey, you read the recaplet. Dawson makes a dismissive face. Suddenly, Lily starts to wail upstairs. Gale looks put upon and trundles upstairs to fetch her daughter. The Flash fixes Dawson with a dirty look and walks off himself, unaware that this is going to be the very worst and very last day of his life. Dawson huffs. "Welcome home," he hisses under his breath.
Worthington Dormitory For Young Ladies. Audrey is wearing really cute jeans and strappy high heels, albeit in the middle of day. She plops down to Joey and asks who "the guy" is. "What guy?" Joey asks, crossly. The guy in the restaurant, Audrey says, the one "that obviously has some huge impact on your life." Joey snaps that the only guy who has any impact in her life right now is "James Joyce and [she] can't focus on him until [she gets] this room in order." Audrey rolls her eyes and gives her increasingly familiar "I'm A Therapist To All My Friends/Tell Me All Your Troubles/Come On, Get Happy" speech. "Don't you have a lacrosse team to date, or something?" Joey asks, not nearly as meanly as she could have. Audrey half smiles and announces that she has a theory about Joey. "You love academia because of the rules and you hate relationships because of the lack of them," she begins. "Do you want to see him or not?" Joey makes a conflicted face. She does want to see him. No, she doesn't. Yes, she does, but only if he wants to see her and he obviously doesn't. Audrey snorts. "God, you're dense! Of course he wants to see you," she says. Joey wonders why. "Because you're beautiful, and you don't know it. You're smart, and you don't believe it. You're the kind of girl guys never get over. Joey, you're the kind of girl that other girls get compared to," Audrey waxes, non-poetically. ["You know, the writers wouldn't have to tell us how great Joey is all the time if they actually showed us any of those qualities in her, but they don't, because said qualities? Don't exist. Like, hi. Joey is a neurotic bitch. You can write her that way, or you can expect us to believe that she's the second coming, but not both. ANYWAY. Sorry, Jessica." -- Sars] Joey moans that she doesn't want to make Pacey feel uncomfortable. "I think you don't want to make yourself feel uncomfortable," Audrey says. Okay, Dr. Laura, we get it. Why don't you go back to calling Dawson names and stop enabling Joey? Joey hems that her relationship with Pacey is "complicated" and that "it ended messy." She just doesn't want to make things worse. Audrey reminds her that no one is grading her on this. Hey, Professor Creepy might. It's in her stupid story, after all. Finally, Audrey stands up, frustrated. "Hey, relationships are messy! That's their nature. They start messy and they end messy and if you ever want to have another relationship in your life, you better just stop worrying about the mess," she says, and flops onto her own bed with a book.
Over at the frat house, Jack's face-down on a sofa, passed out. Ah, if I had a nickel -- I mean, never mind. "Know what this is?" Blossom asks, holding something under Jack's nose. Again, if I had a nickel for the number of times a frat boy held -- damn, I did it again. Jack wakes up, groggy. "I'm not even sure where I am," he mumbles. Turns out he's in "the chapter room," because "Sigmas don't let you drink and drive. [They] plan on keeping [their] house." Also in the room are Pete and Bull, both looking like cats that eat canaries. The item in Blossom's hand is, contrary to the dirty jokes I keep narrowly avoiding, a bid. Blossom starts up with some more crap about Sigma being in Jack's future and how they're brothers and blah blah blah Stepford Frat Boys blah. Jack looks at the bid and is stunned, "What happens if I accept?" he asks. He basically becomes a full-fledged member immediately, with no pledge period or hazing, according to Blossom. Everyone looks at Jack, who admits that he doesn't know what to think about this turn of events. "There comes a point in every man's life when he has to ask himself that fundamental question; am I in, or am I out?" Blossom says. Jack's like, you have no idea, and he stammers a bit, but finally tells the boys that he's gay. They look at each other and chuckle. See, they knew that. "Most people are surprised," Jack says. "Most people aren't Sigma people, Jack. You're Sigma people. You're one of us," Blossom intones. This is creepy. Jack wonders if there are other gay men in the fraternity. He'd be the first, he learns. Jack hesitatingly points out that "most fraternities are not known for being tolerant toward alternative lifestyles." Blossom nods and tells him that Sigma "has a reputation for being the buffest, party-hardiest house on campus," and that said reputation is not "entirely unfounded." Jack's doing the "awwwwww, yeah" head bob throughout this speech, which seems out of place here, but whatever. Then Blossom tells Jack that "the dean" wants Sigma to "diversify." You know, get out of the tech sector, maybe buy into utilities. "Yes, Jack, we know you're gay. We want you in this house because you're gay," Blossom says. Jack looks at the bid thoughtfully.
Charlie and Jen are lolling naked in bed. Well, she's wearing a shirt. So only Charlie is naked. But they are in bed. Jen tries awkwardly to make conversation: "What's your favorite color?" she asks. Charlie groans. "I don't know, the color of your eyes," he offers. Jen makes a face and claps a hand over his eyes. She asks him to elaborate. Charlie hems and haws and acts shocked that she thinks he's been "sleeping with [her] for a week," without knowing the color of her eyes. "Brown," he says. "With flecks of green," Jen points out. Charlie sighs. "It's not entirely my fault that we happen to have a completely normal, healthy sex life," he says. I have the feeling that Charlie thinks he and Jen are just, ah -- what was the euphemism we used to use, back in the day when I wasn't an old, old woman? "Having a good time." He thinks they're just "having a good time," whereas Jen is under the impression that their relationship is made of more serious stuff. She asks him if he's implying that it's all her fault? Charlie explains that neither of them has much self-control. Jen wonders aloud if they could go an entire day without having sex. "A day? Are you insane, woman?" Charlie asks. He doesn't think they could make it twelve hours. So, you know where this is going, right? Yeah, they decide to try to go twelve hours without sex. I guess it's hard, when you have an overwhelming physical attraction for someone. Because that's the word on the street. That they have an overwhelming physical…oh, never mind.
Liberty Hell, and more of the ever-charming Karen. Right now, she's not speaking to Pacey, and every time he tries to say something charming and Pacey-like, she shuts him down. It goes like this:
Pacey: Charming, charming, self-deprecating! Charming, wry, charming.
Karen: Bitchy, bitchy, cranky. Crabby, rude, rude.
Pacey: Charming?
Karen: Bitchy, rude!
Basically, she berates him for complaining about having to endlessly chop potatoes, because he's actually doing "classic culinary prep work." Then she spits that he landed his job simply because he's a man. This entire relationship is so silly. She's so hateful. It's not the "hatred masking sexual tension" kind of hatred. It's just unadulterated nastiness, and the cold, hard truth is that Karen and Pacey have no chemistry. And if she's so bitter about working as a waitress at that restaurant, maybe she ought to, you know, quit. Maybe she could run back to Dr. Carter.
Dawson's room. Little Mr. Mopey sits in the corner and thinks about how bereft he is. Enter the Flash, who ambles over and takes a seat across from his son. He muses that he used to "spend hours and hours sitting around thinking about [his] life." Dawson gloomily wonders why he stopped. "Because I got one, loser," the Flash says. More nicely, though. Dawson crabbily hopes that he "never gets to that place." The Flash rolls his eyes and reminds Dawson that he's "sleeping in a room with a baby monitor," so Dawson shouldn't "BS" him. "You and I both know what this is about," the Flash says. "This. Is about a girl." Dawson sniffs. "You say that like it's a bad thing," he says. The Flash makes a huge "whatever" face. "For the last four years [USC Film School] has been the friggin' mantra of the Leery household," the Flash begins. "So what do you do? You overcome hell and high water and the kind of adversity that would send ordinary kids running for cover and you actually do the impossible and you get yourself in."
My notes here read: "HUGE SIDEBAR ABOUT 'ADVERSITY' AND LACK THEREOF." Seriously, did I miss an episode? Maybe the one where Dawson was an orphan on the street of Calcutta, begging for pennies and batting flies away from his eyes? Or the one where he lived in the projects with an absentee father and a crack-whore mother, and he had to sell scrap iron for bread to feed his seven brothers and sisters, two of whom are blind? Or the one where, you know, anything remotely beyond run-of-the-mill-unfortunate happened to him? Yeah, his parents separated. Then they got back together. And, yeah, Mr. Brooks -- who he barely knew, really, and to whom he wasn't even related -- died. And left him bags of money. Where's the "adversity" in that? Dawson is an affluent white male. His parents love him, and each other. He has, against all odds, good friends. He's healthy as an ox. He's never even had to take the bus to school! For the love of God, what adversity is the Flash talking about? That's not a rhetorical question. What adversity? Holy hell.
"You did it, Dawson," the Flash continues. "You did it. And now here you are. Your whole life ahead of you, and you're thinking about chucking it all away. What, are you crazy?" Dawson rolls his eyes, hugely. "Maybe a little," he brats. The Flash informs Dawson that he's not choosing his own path; he's "following Joey down hers." Dawson huffs. "I know how much she means to you," the Flash says. "But do you really think it's wise to make major life decisions based on someone else?" Dawson rolls his eyes yet again, as the Flash reminds him that his decisions have "real consequences." Dawson hauls himself out of his corner and sighs. "Honestly, Dad! Do you think I don't know that?" he asks. "I know that this is the most important decision of my life!" The Flash ponderously advises Dawson to "make the right decision," but Dawson doesn't think it's that simple. "It really is," the Flash says. Dawson gulps and looks away. "Dawson, I have lived twice as long as you and I'm just trying to give you the benefit of my experience," the Flash explains. Dawson shouts that he can't "live the life [the Flash] chooses for him." He has to live his own. "Your own?" the Flash asks. "Yes," Dawson says. And then the Flash gets all up in Dawson's face, like he's going to toss him on the bed and kiss the breath out of him. Instead, he hands him a plane ticket. "Here's the chance to have the life you've wanted since you were a little boy. I booked you on the three-thirty tomorrow," he says. Dawson makes a piteous Parents Just Don't Understand face and flares his nostrils. They are standing so close to each other! Close enough that the Flash could lick the Beek's face if the notion so grabbed him. "Seize this opportunity, Dawson! Seize it!" the Flash hisses. "Then kiss me! Kiss me now!" Okay, not that last part. "It'll be gone in a moment," the Flash says, trembling with passion. "And that's life." He walks out of the room while Dawson pouts and stares at the floor. Wow, the Flash is so intelligent about life, and the meaning of our existence in this cold, cruel world. It's so nice to know that he has year upon year of life ahead of him, the better to reflect upon all the lessons he's learned.
Outside, Dawson sits on a blanket on the lawn under a big umbrella, holding Lily like a sack of flour. Over on the terrace, Gale confesses to the Flash that she "totally wants Dawson to drop out of USC and come back and be close to us." He admits that when he saw Dawson mooning out in the yard, his "heart pretty much leapt out of [his] chest. And [he] thought, God, [he misses] this kid." The Flash and Gale stare blankly at their children. "Do you know how much I love my life?" the Flash asks. "I have this…amazing family. I mean, I know that everybody says that, but trust me, I've been around the block enough to know that what we have here is incredibly rare. But you see? It's the only thing I've ever been really good at." You know he's about to drop dead, right? Because whenever a secondary character suddenly gets a whole lot of lines, and talks a bunch about how happy he is, he's obviously doomed. Gale makes some "oh honey" noises. The Flash waves it off. "I'm a family man," he continues. "I can say with relative certainty that I will never write a poem. Or paint a painting, or make a movie that will change the world. It just wasn't in the cards for me. But that's okay. Because maybe, just maybe, our son will do that." Gale leans over and kisses him on the cheek. "What was that for?" the Flash wonders. "What can I say? I love my boys," Gale purrs. That's too bad, seeing as one of them is dead meat, and the other is a lost cause. You figure out which is which. Also, do neither of them love or have any ambitions for their daughter? Poor Lily. Poor, poor Lily. And finally: gag.
Boston. Charlie hands Jen a cup of coffee while she looks through the newspaper for a movie to entertain them during the Great Twelve-Hour Sex-Out. The boxer briefs that Charlie is wearing? Are really, really revealing. Like, I know things now, you know? Things about shape, and size. And religion. Things like that. Just so you know. Jen suggests a Fellini retrospective, but Charlie pooh-poohs the idea; he hates subtitles. Jen doesn't get this, the whole hating of subtitles. In fact, she rants about it for five minutes. She can't understand not taking advantage of "the best film has to offer." Charlie sort of sighs. "Is this some kind of problem for you?" he asks. Jen swears it's not, but she's lying. Charlie leans back in his chair, the better to display his, you know, stuff, and tells her that this little tiff is good! They're getting to know each other naturally! "You learn a little something about me, I learn a little something about you, and before you know it, twelve hours are up, and we can have sex again," he tells her. Jen sort of grins.
Grams's Giant Estate For Reformed Sexaholics, Gay Potential Frat Boys, And, Perhaps, The Head. Jack tells Grams that he got a bid from Sigma, and he's excited about it, but that Tobey called him "the gay Uncle Tom." I have an Uncle Tom. He's not gay, though. As far as I know. And I know that the reference is to Uncle Tom's Cabin, not to my family, but I feel like I haven't talked nearly enough about myself this week. Moving on. Jack admits that he is sort of filling a quota. If by "sort of," you mean "totally." Grams purses her lips and asks Jack how he feels about Sigma. Jack says that he feels like he's finally found a place where he fits in and is comfortable, but he'd be the only gay person in the house. Which might be weird. Grams points out that it sounds like that might be more of an issue for him than it would be for the guys in the house. Jack thinks about this, and finally tells her that she's right, but it's "weird" because that's not how he usually is. Grams raises her brows, and points out that it's how Tobey usually is. Jack nods. Grams smiles, and tells him that she's quite sure "these fellows" want him for "much more than filling a quota." Jack smiles at her. I wish I lived with Grams. She could make me cookies and feed me beef stew when it gets cold and give me advice about boys, and then force me to worship the Lord with her.
Capeside. Gale and Dawson are perched on a picnic table outside, fiddling with soon-to-be-fatherless Lily. I'd make some comment about Gale's floofy summer dress in the middle of October on the East Coast, where I hear it gets fairly cool come fall, but we all know that Capeside doesn't conform to any known laws of meteorology. The baby, it must be admitted, is extremely cute. Gale gently probes Dawson -- ew, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Ahem, okay. Gale asks Dawson about the nature of his relationship with Miss Potter. He admits that they are not back together, and that she did not ask him to stay in Boston. "It makes no logical sense, I know," he says, putting his head in his hands. The hundreds of tiny bones in his hands fracture under the weight. "The past few years…" he begins, and I turn over on the sofa and take a nap while Dawson spews more stuff about goals and dreams and film school and following his heart. Apparently, now that he is following his heart, everyone thinks he's crazy. Gale makes a thoughtful face and points out that people change, especially between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two, and, whatever he does, she hopes his actions don't prevent him or Joey from growing. "And, sweetheart, I'm not dismissing this beautiful idea of soulmates, but the reality of eternal coupling? Quite frankly, it boils down to one thing. Faith." Finally, Gale asks Dawson if Joey is someone for whom he is willing to take a "very big leap of faith." Dawson huffs.
Charlie and Jen are lolling around his dorm room, trying to entertain themselves without surrendering to the temptations of the flesh. Jen asks Charlie who his favorite President is. "I don't know. Lincoln? I am from Illinois," Charlie says. Wow, people have a favorite president, like they have a favorite color? I had no idea. Charlie, bored by Jen's game of Twenty Questions, and worried that she's going to ask about his favorite Supreme Court justice , asks if they can get back to playing gin. "No," Jen says, "not until we find something we have in common." Charlie flings his leg over the arm of his chair and reminds her that they already have something in common: sex. But Jen doesn't think sex is really a sufficient basis for a successful relationship. Charlie begs to differ. "What possible reason could there be for two intelligent, responsible people who just happen to have an overwhelming physical attraction to each other, to deny that attraction?" he asks, coming across the room to where Jen is sitting on the bed. "Why are you leaving your side of the room?" she asks. "Because," he says, and kisses her. Jen pulls away, insisting that they really, really, really need to find something they have in common. Something. Anything. At some point. Charlie agrees, and kisses her some more. She tells him that they need to leave the room eventually. He agrees, again, and gets back to the kissing. Shortly thereafter, he turns away from her and sighs in frustration. They're out of condoms. Jen, horrified, demands that he go get one. Borrow one. Find one. Buy one. Dude, they could just have unprotected sex. Oh, save your outrage, I'm kidding! Kidding! Charlie cocks a brow and grabs her wrist. "Why borrow when you can steal?" he asks, and pulls her off the bed. Jen asks him what the hell is going on. "We're taking this relationship out of the bedroom," Charlie tells her. Nothing's more romantic than stealing condoms for your lady.
The Cutest Scene Of This Entire Season. Joey, wearing The Low-Cut Pants Of Doom, ambles toward Pacey's new boat (I'm calling it the True Love Two: Electric Boat-a-loo). On board, Pacey's fiddling with some nautical paraphernalia, sporting a red shirt and a vaguely better haircut. The Piano Music Of On-Screen Chemistry twinkles in the background as Pacey takes a swig from his root beer. Joey, unnoticed, watches him look up at the sky. "Can't see them very well, can you?" she asks. He looks over at her and smiles, startled. "At night, in the city," she continues. "What, the stars?" Pacey asks. "No, you can't see them very well, but what the hell? I've seen them all before, right?" Joey smiles up at him. "Me, too," she says. Pacey comes over and helps her onto the boat. They stare at each other, and Pacey mumbles something about "Lindley" selling him out. Joey tells him that she saw him herself, at the restaurant, but, when confronted, Jen "unraveled like a cheap suit." Pacey hypothesizes that Jen's shame over betraying him explains her absence of late, but Joey explains that Jen has "met a boy." The look at each other, all cute and awkward. "Good for her," Pacey says. More staring. "So I guess, um, [Jen] told you about these Sunday dinners we've been having," Joey offers. Pacey shifts. "Um, yeah. I seem to remember something to that effect." Joey tells him that the dinners are nice, "because it's easy to get lost in the big city." Pacey agrees. "You don't have the stars to guide you," he points out. Joey tells him he ought to come to one of the dinners, sometime, and Pacey drops his voice and tells her that he'll "try and do that." Joey fiddles with her sleeves and hems and haws and finally tells him that she would hate if he skipped the dinners because of "anything to do with [her]." Pacey looks at her quizzically. "Or this thing we shared, called 'a romance,'" Joey offers, half-smiling. "You know. It ended really badly? And there was bitterness? And tears? And recriminations?" Pacey smiles at her. "Yeah, I think I remember that," he says. "We dated once, right?" Joey screws up her face in mock consternation. "Yeah, we did, didn't we? But, you know, I've practically forgotten, now that I've slept with half the football team." Pacey grins, and helps her over toward the wheel of the boat. "Just half?" he asks. "I think that shows incredible restraint on your part." Joey tells him that she had to save the other half for her roommate. Pacey sits down, after sticking his butt in the camera for a nice, long shot, and asks about Audrey. They get to talking, comfortably, complete with banter about small spaces and snoring. Joey, sitting by the wheel, tells him that she read something for class recently about how, soon, humans may be able to regrow brain cells. "I think what it means is some point in the not so distant future, it may be possible to forget all the bad stuff and just remember the good," she offers, shyly. Pacey tells her he thinks that's already possible. They smile at each other, and Joey tells him that she wants to know all about the boat. "This is one mother of a boat," she says, grinning at him. Aww. Joey and Pacey 4EVA! Wow, I have no idea where that came from. It's just refreshing to see actors who appear to be having some small measure of fun with each other, instead of looking like they're about two seconds away from throwing themselves in front of a truck wearing a "Teen Suicide" t-shirt.
CapeSnide. Dawson packs a bag in his room, tossing sweaters angrily into his bag. Finally, he zips it up, looks around one last time, huffs, and stalks out and down the stairs. In the living room, Gale holds Lily and makes some fussy Concerned Mother noises. Dawson bids his sister farewell, and turns to face the Flash. He gives the Flash the ticket to Los Angeles, and tells him to shove it. Actually, he says that he hopes the Flash can get a refund. "Dad, I know you think I'm making a mistake," he starts. "But if I am, it's a mistake I have to make for myself. And I know when you think about this, you're going to realize that I'm only trying to be the kind of person you taught me to be." The Violins Of Dawson's Doomed Familial Structure begin as the Flash tells Dawson that he's making a huge mistake, and the Flash is disappointed in him. Then he grabs Dawson's neck, and stares into Dawson's eyes. "Never, ever, for a single second, forget that I love you. That I will always be here for you," he says. They embrace. The Flash walks outside. Dawson looks over at his mother. "He'll be fine," Gale lies, and tells her son to call his father. Dawson nods, and walks out of the house, where a taxi is waiting for him. The Flash stands on the lawn, enjoying one of his last moments on this green earth, and watches Dawson drive off to ruin his young life.
Boston Bay College Of Contrivance. Jen and Charlie climb through an open window and into a darkened building. Charlie declares this "a Boston Bay tradition." Jen furrows her brows. "What? Breaking into Boston Bay Health Center and stealing condoms is tradition?" she asks. Charlie tells her they aren't stealing; the condoms are free. He points to a sign above a glass bowl full of condoms. "'Gift of the Class of 1990,'" he reads. "'Here's hoping you get laid.'" Jen looks perplexed and asks him if he really thinks the sign says that. Charlie assures her that he's just paraphrasing. Jen slowly realizes that he can't read the sign. "Who can read that from here?" Charlie asks. "It's like China from here." Jen rolls her eyes. "'Gift of the Class of 1990, in anticipation of a world without AIDS,'" she reads easily. I really hope this is the beginning of an Afterschool Special-esque story arc about the functional illiterate, Why Charlie Can't Read. Perhaps this could even kick off a series of storylines lifted from educational television movies for teens of the late seventies and early eighties, like Joey, Portrait of a Teenage Hooker, or Red Asphalt, Starring the Flash. Actually, it just turns out that Charlie is nearsighted, and thinks he looks like a total dork in his glasses. "You are a total dork," Jen tells him, smiling. They do it on the floor. Newsflash: guys in glasses are way hotter than guys who act like they can't read.
Sigma Delta Quota Fraternity. Jack tells Blossom that he's not sure how he feels about the whole quota-filling thing. Blossom shrugs and tells him that all the brothers really like him, and, really, they're all filling some kind of quota. "That's why Sigmas kick butt," he says. That doesn't even make any sense. Anyway, Blossom tells Jack that he's "the one that [they] want." Ooh, ooh, ooh, honey! Jack just wonders if they all understand "the reality" of his gayosity. He tells Blossom that when his boyfriend comes to visit, he'll be sleeping with Jack, there in the house. And showering, there in the house. "Jack, Tobey is welcome," Blossom insists. "Even if you don't live in the house, and he needs a place to crash, this is his home, too. That's what it means to be a brother." Jack smiles at this, and accepts his bid. Cue much backslapping and hugging and being carried around on shoulders.
Liberty Hell Restaurant. Hey, I forgot about this entire plot line! I wish the writers would. Anyway, Danny the Chef takes a look at the giant pile of potatoes over which Pacey has been slaving, and throws them all away. Pacey is appalled. "Why did you waste my time and your money having me do that?" he asks. Danny ignores him, but gives him another tuber to slice. This one is a $1,200 white truffle. See, Danny wants to make sure that Pacey can chop correctly before he gives him an expensive foodstuff to tackle. Or something. I guess it's only important that Pacey understands, which he seems to. Danny then explains that Crabby Karen "has more discipline and motivation than a slack-ass like [Pacey] will ever have. But this isn't kick-boxing. And that's why [he] gave [Pacey] this job instead of her." A light bulb goes on over Pacey's head as he realizes that Karen treats him like crap because she wanted his job. No one else cares.
Joey comes back to The Worthington Dormitory For Well-Bred Young Ladies to find Dawson sitting on the steps, waiting for her. He asks how her weekend was. "Strange and unusual. How about yours?" Joey asks, taking her mail out of her box. "Strange and unpleasant," Dawson admits, and tells her that he "alienated [his] parents and set [himself] adrift on a sea of uncertainty. So what else is new?" Joey ambles over and looks at him sympathetically. Dawson asks her to tell him that he made the right choice. She tells him that she can't. "Damn," Dawson says. "But I can tell you this," Joey says, "there is no 'right' or 'wrong,' just the consequences of your actions." Dawson looks thoughtful for a second. "What the hell does that mean?" he asks. Joey grins and tells him that her sociology professor said it in class last week, and she thought it was profound at the moment. Dawson wonders gloomily if he ought to just go back to the airport. Joey shakes her head. "We can't seem to get you on that plane," Joey reminds him. "You're like Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man." Wow, burn. She smiles, though, and pokes him, and offers to buy him a cup of coffee. The two of them walk off, talking about Capeside. As Joey tells Dawson that "it's true, you can never go home again," we cut to the Flash, coming out of the market with a double scoop of ice cream and a bag of groceries.
The Flash gets into his SUV, licking the cone with great enthusiasm, and begins to sings along with the radio, using the cone as a microphone and pointing dramatically out the windshield during certain salient points in the song. ["Snerk. I'll miss the Flash." -- Sars] I laughed and laughed at that, but yesterday in the car I realized that I do it all the time. The singing and the pointing, not the using an ice-cream cone for a microphone part. Mid-Dramatic Gesture, though, the top scoop of the Flash's ice cream slides off the cone and onto the floor. He eyes it, and then, taking one last look at the road, leans over to pick it up. While driving. Was he planning to eat that scoop? It was on the floor of the car! That's disgusting! Why didn't he pull over? Why, God? WHY? As soon the Flash he comes up with the ice cream, he finds himself smack-dab in the headlights of an on-coming car. He makes an "oh, man" face and slams on the brakes. But it's too late. In a crunch of steel, the Flash is dead, baby. The Flash is dead.
week: The Flash is laid to rest. It's all Dawson's fault!