Usually around 10:00 on Wednesday nights my stomach starts to feel queasy.  My waitress shift has ended at Patty’s, the pizza place just off campus where I work four days a week.  I’m tired, my feet hurt, and my mind’s zapped.  I’m walking back to my dorm when it hits me.  Tomorrow’s Thursday.

Thursday’s one of my days off from Patty’s, but I do have three classes.  I also spend some time at the offices of the Worthington Informer, the college newspaper.  I’m a staff member assigned to write features for the campus life page.  I finish up at the paper around 5:00PM and head back to my dorm for a quick shower before I begin my nervous ritual.

First, I’ll dry my hair, being careful not to let the ends get overheated.  I apply my make-up, select an outfit, and put on my jewelry.  I get my Intro to Psych or Art History book and try to do some reading, but I find myself blanking out and looking at the same paragraph over and over again.  I grab a Diet Coke from the fridge and sip it slowly as I click on the TV and switch to a rerun of The Simpsons.  I try to laugh at their antics, but one eye will always be darting to the clock waiting for 7:00PM.  Waiting for Pacey.

When we finally met up in September after an anguished summer apart, we admitted how much we had missed one another.  We both knew that it wasn’t the right time to resume our relationship, but we felt ready to be friends again.  We settled on these weekly dinners.  Sometimes we’ll also go to see a movie or take a trip to the mall, but mostly we eat and talk and try to find comfort in each other’s presence.

I’m up on my feet at the first sound of Pacey’s familiar rat-a-tat on my door, but I make myself pause before answering.  Inhale, exhale.  Inhale, exhale.  I smile as I swing the door back.  “Hey, there.  You’re getting to be like clockwork.”

“Hey, Potter.”  He leans in to kiss my cheek as he greets me.  The combination of his warm breath and whisker stubble on my face makes me shiver.  More than I care to admit, I find myself craving physical contact with Pacey.  The salutatory kiss, the casual arm about the shoulder, the incidental brushing of my hand against his---I savor these moments, replaying them again and again in my mind until the next time we’re together.

“Did you get your hair cut, Jo?  It looks different.”

“Just a trim, but she took off almost four inches so I guess it’s pretty noticeable.”

His hand starts for my hair as if he wants to wrap my locks around his fingers, but he stops himself.  “It looks nice,” he says awkwardly.  “Healthy.”

I force a smile and mumble, “Thanks,” as I watch him shove his hands in his pockets and shuffle his feet.  I wonder if his urge to touch me is as strong as mine is to touch him.  “What do you feel like eating tonight?”

“Whatever you want, Joey.”

“I want you,” I think hoping the look on my face doesn’t betray my desire.  The flash in his crystal blue eyes tells me he knows.  I summon up a wry smile and a laugh, anything to break the tension.  “Well, as long as it’s not pizza, it’s okay by me.”

“Four nights of serving pies has turned you off the stuff, huh?  Okay, I’ll choose this time.  Let’s go with Mexican.  We can walk to The Burrito Deluxe or drive to Tijauna Joe’s.”

“Let’s go for a drive.  Get away from the rowdy college crowd.  Let me get my jacket and we can leave.”

He ushers me into the hall.  “Got your key?” he asks before shutting the door.  I nod affirmatively and begin walking.  “Roomie out drinking again?”

“Yeah, Pace.  She’s unbelievable.  At the rate she’s going, she’ll need a liver transplant in grad school.”

He chuckles and puts his arm around my shoulder.  “You’re such an innocent, little Joey Potter.  Pam’s just living the college life.  She’ll be fine.  Everyone’s not a goody-two-shoes like you.”  He squeezes me and pulls me close.

“Wait a minute, “ I protest.  “Just because I’m not out getting wasted seven nights a week does not make me a goody-two-shoes.  I’ve been known to overindulge on occasion.  You must remember Jen’s unbirthday party.”  Before the words are out of my mouth, I already know it was the wrong thing to say.  He drops his arm, breaking all contact with me.  His face hardens and his body visibly stiffens.  I’ve violated his unwritten rule by referencing the past.  “I’m sorry,” I murmur apologetically.  “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

We’re at his car now.  Ever the gentleman, he opens the passenger side and motions me in.  “I know, Joey.”  His tone is sad.  He looks at me and sighs.  “This still isn’t easy for me.”

“Me neither,” I reply, being sure my voice is free of bitterness and rancor.  “I really look forward to being with you every Thursday.  I don’t want to do anything to ruin this.”  Grinning, I tell him, “Get in the car.  It’s been a whole week.  You must have at least one funny story to entertain me with.”

He rounds the front of the vehicle and I reach across the driver’s seat to unlock his door.  He slides in and cranks the engine.  “Well, “ he says dragging out the word into two syllables, “I did work the charter boat for a field trip for this Fourth Grade class from hell…”

“Pam, I’m heading for the showers.”  It’s 9:00PM Sunday and for once my gregarious roommate is home.

 “Okay, Joey.  I’ll be here studying believe it or not.”

 I’m barely in the hall when Pam pops her head out the door, thrusting my cell phone in my face.  “It’s ringing.”

 “You could just let it go to voicemail, “ I tell her as I check the caller ID.  I see that it’s Pacey so I press talk and walk back into the room.  “Hey, what’s up?”

 “Jo, I’m glad I caught you.”  He sounds nervous.  “I, uh, have a f-favor to ask.”

 “Sure, go ahead.”

 “I hate to do this, but do you think we can cancel Thursday this week?”

It takes me by surprise and I struggle to keep my cool.  “Well, yeah, if there’s something else you have to do, I guess we’ll have to.”

“A friend has tickets to see the Barenaked Ladies on Thursday and she asked me to go with her.”

I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach.  She.  She asked me to go with her.  “Oh, how nice,” I manage weakly.  Then with an edge I inquire, “Who’s the lucky girl?”

“Her name’s Amy.  She works for the harbormaster.”  There’s silence and I know he’s bracing for the backlash he fears from me.  “We went out to dinner and a club last night.  It was our first date.”  I’m trying so hard not to cry that I’m afraid if I speak, I’ll fall apart.  “Joey?”  His voice is soft, pleading.  “Say something.”

“What can I say?”  I take a deep breath to steady myself.  “This was bound to happen, wasn’t it?  You’re too good a guy to stay single for long.”

“Oh, Jo, it’s not like Amy and I are a couple.  We always joke around and have fun and then one day she asked me out.  I wasn’t expecting it, it just happened.  And when I thought about it, I wanted to say yes.  It felt right.  It felt like it was time.”

My mind is detached from my body as I listen to Pacey’s words.  I hear him, but I don’t believe it’s real.  “Time for what?  To move on?  I guess you haven’t given up on true love after all, “ I lash out in anger.

“Jesus, Jo!  I’m going to a concert with the girl, not marrying her.  This isn’t about love.  I said yes to Amy because she makes me smile, she makes me laugh, she makes me feel happy.  Is that so wrong of me?  To want to be happy?”

“No, Pacey, no.  I want you to be happy.  I want to be happy.”  Tears are streaming down my face and I battle to keep the sobs from escaping my throat.  “It’s just that it hurts to discover that you can’t be happy with me.”

“I didn’t say that.  I don’t feel that way at all.”

“Then why is it that every Thursday you come here and we eat and we talk and we try to act like friends and then we say goodbye and all I see is sadness in your eyes?  Being with me will never make you happy because you look at me and all you can think of is how much I’ve hurt you, how much we’ve hurt each other.”  I’ve lost control.  My chest is heaving as I scream into the phone, “I still love you and I hate myself for it because no matter what you say, I know you don’t love me anymore.  I’m an idiot for thinking we could ever bring back everything we threw away.”

Pam has stopped studying and is staring at me as if I were insane.  My hands are shaking and I’m fighting the urge to throw things.  Maybe she’s right.  Maybe I have lost my mind.  My anger washes over me and I feel spent.  Pam continues to gape and I flush in embarrassment knowing that I’ve acted like a fool.  “Pacey, I’m sorry.  You didn’t deserve that.”

“Are you all right?”

“I just threw a hissyfit at you and humiliated myself in front of my roommate.  No, Pace, I’m not all right.  I’m a mess.”

“Do you want me to come over?”

“I want to see you, Pacey,” I sniffle into the phone, “but don’t you have to work tomorrow?  It’s not fair of me to ask you to run over here because I’m upset.”

 “I do have an early charter, but to tell you the truth, I doubt I’ll be able to get much sleep tonight after all this.”

“Pam’s home.  We can’t talk in my room.”

“Then meet me in the lounge and we’ll go to my car and talk there.  I’ll be by in half an hour.”

“Thank you, Pacey.”

“And, Joey, one more thing…”

“Yes?”

“Whether you believe me or not, I still love you.”

When I walk into the lounge, I see Joey before she notices me.  She’s wearing old sweats and a Capeside High t-shirt that I know she uses as pajamas.  Her chestnut locks shine and her face is scrubbed clean of make-up.  She couldn’t look more beautiful.

She’s sitting beside a covey of chatty coeds, but it’s clear that she’s in her own world.  I tap her on the shoulder and she snaps out of her reverie.  “I’m here, “ I utter quietly.

Without a word, she stands up and throws her arms around me, burying her head in my chest.  My arms enfold her and I begin to gently rub her back.  “C’mon.  Let’s get out of here,” I whisper in her ear.  I take comfort in the familiar scent of green apples in her freshly washed hair.

“We’ll just sit in your car?” she asks.

I nod yes as I confess, “I miss the docks.”

“Me, too,” she sighs.  "This dorm life is worse than being at home.  No privacy.”

“Don’t you have a coat?  It’s cold out there.”

“Oh, yeah.”  She walks back to the sofa and picks up a blue fleece pullover with Worthington emblazoned across the front.  She slips it on, smiling ruefully.  “I got caught up in school spirit during orientation and went a little rah-rah.”

“Don’t apologize.  You worked hard to get into Worthington.  You should be proud.”

We climb into my car and I crack open the front windows so our breath won’t fog the glass.  It’s a clear night with a half moon and a full complement of stars.  “I could tell Amy I can’t go, but the truth is I want to go with her.”

“You’d only resent me for standing in your way.  I know the feeling.  That’s no good.”

“We’re friends, Jo, but we’re not together.  It hasn’t come up before, but seeing other people has always been an option.”

“I know that,” she admits, “but I was hoping it would be an option you wouldn’t choose.”

“Haven’t you met anyone at school that you like?  You’re so beautiful, Joey, it’s hard for me to believe that every guy who meets you doesn’t want to ask you out.”

“I think I’ve managed to radiate those infamous Potter “hands off, I bite” vibes in the two-and-a-half months I’ve been here.”  Her tone is sarcastic and she gives me one of those half-smiles I know so well.

I arch my eyebrows and reply suggestively, “Funny thing, Jo, but when you used to bite me it only made me want to put my hands all over you.”

My modus operandi has been to doggedly avoid any mention of the past, so my remark catches her off guard.  I hear her suck in air.  Her dark eyes burn with desire as she locks them on mine.  “Pacey, “ she breathes while leaning in to kiss me.

I cup her chin in my hand to stop her.  “Don’t, Jo.  It’ll only make things worse.”  I put a finger to my lips, then softly place it on hers.

Her pain is palpable.  “I don’t even know this girl and I’m blinded by jealousy.”

“There’s no reason for that.  She’s not a replacement for you.”

“Don’t you understand?  She gets to be with you, do things with you, touch you, hold you.  All the things I long for each and every day.”  She takes my hands in hers and presses them tightly.  “I envy everyone who gets to spend time with you.  God, you tell me stories from your Scout charters and I’m ready to sign up to be a Den Mother.”  She turns serious and declares, “I’m afraid of losing you, Pace.”

“Like you were afraid of losing Dawson?  I don’t ever want to play that role in your tortured love life.”  She winces and I realize I’ve hurt her.

In steely tones, she replies, “I discovered this summer the difference between my feelings for Dawson and my feelings for you.  It was a very painful lesson and I learned it well.”

“Fair enough, Jo.  That was a low blow on my part.  And for the first time ever I can honestly say that I don’t think Dawson is part of the problem.  He’s really not in the equation anymore.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Then why are we sitting in my car at 10:30 on a Sunday night having an angst-filled discussion about the state of our relationship?  Why must we always be so complicated?”

“Because I want you more than you want me.”

“Ah, Potter, that is not quite accurate.  My desire for you consumes me.  I defy anyone to want you more than I do.”  The intensity of my words surprises me.

“If you want me so much, then why are you dating another woman?” she asks exasperatedly.

“It’s like the song says, Joey.  You can’t always get what you want, so you get what you need.  I think Amy is who I need right now.  And I think you need to stop letting your life revolve around our Thursday dinners.”

“Please don’t tell me you want to stop seeing me.  I couldn’t take that.”

“No, Joey, never.  I treasure our time together.  It’s just that there has to be more to our lives than that.  You’re in college now.  This is the time for you to feast on the world.  Don’t settle in the corner with a McDonald’s Happy Meal and think that’s all there is.”

“You are not a Happy Meal,” she pouts.

Chuckling, I respond in my best Boris imitation, “But of course.  I am most assuredly a Big Mac.”

“That’s you all over, Pacey.  A Burger King Whopper with Cheese, a Taco Bell Nachos Belle Grande, a Hardee’s Monster Burger…”

“That’s it, Potter.  It’s past your bedtime.  Out of the car.  I’m escorting you back to your dorm.”

“No fair.  I didn’t even get to a Sonic Extra Long Cheese Coney, “ she notes with a devilish grin.

“Did Bessie ever wash your mouth out with soap?  ‘Cause she should have.”

Joey’s quick elbow to my rib cage is her retort.  “Just because you’ve got me smiling, don’t think I’m buying all this want and need stuff.  You know come Thursday I’m gonna feel like crap while you’re off implementing project nookie.”

“So in other words, you think Amy and I should be attending a Limp Bizkit concert instead?

“Something like that.”

We’ve reached the door to her room.  “I’m deeply offended, Josephine, but I’ll forgive you this time.  Goodnight.  I’ll talk to you next weekend.”  We embrace and I kiss her forehead.

“’Night, Pace.  Drive safely.”

“Did you work things out?” Pam inquires when I walk in the room.

“We had a good talk.  Negotiated a treaty so to speak.”

“You got a little freaky there for a moment, Joey.  You had me scared.”

“Pay no mind.  It’s just the hormones.  Listen.  I’m beat.  I’m gonna go to sleep now.  G’night.”

“Okay, Joey.  I’ll keep the noise down.  Sweet dreams.”

I take the photo of Pacey and me that’s on the nightstand and climb into bed.  I use my finger to place a kiss on his smiling face.  The photo is from our stop in New York during our summer on True Love.  We look as blissfully happy as we felt.  “How can I think of being with anyone else besides you, Pace?” I ask his image in hushed tones.  “No one else could even compare.”  I clutch the picture to my breast and bury my face in my pillow, hoping it will muffle the sound of my bitter weeping.