Eternity
by Leia

 

 

Disclaimer: I don’t own Dawson’s Creek or any of its characters... I think the only character in this story that I do own is the doctor. Woo. Also, I do not promote suicide.

Author’s Note: This story takes place three or so months after college graduation if you don’t pick that up in the story.

I was always the weak one.

A little passive. A tiny bit fickle. I wasn’t like Jack. He was always so strong. Through Tim’s death, the roller coaster of my mother’s mental health, as well as my own, and his coming out, he has held our family and friends together, as well keeping himself together. In fact, he is the most together person I know.

What a contrast to me.

Funny, we don’t even look alike. He’s tall, dark, with broad shoulders and a muscular physique. I’m short, blond, and stick thin... a little on the frail side, especially now. However, despite our numerous differences that range from physical to emotional to our personalities, we’ve always been close. The best of friends.

But lately, I have felt so alone...

Jack is traveling abroad in Europe with Dad. It was a graduation present. My graduation present was a pat on the back and this apartment. It’s a nice apartment, I suppose, but its no trip to Europe. I got the little apartment in Providence and Jack got the trip to Europe... I graduated cum laude, you know. Jack didn’t. He got pretty average grades.

I have always fought so hard for Dad’s love. He brushes me off all the time. He knows I’ll always be there, because I always have been. Not that I’m dependable or anything. I’m mentally unstable, so of course I can’t be depended on.

I haven’t had a breakdown for years.

Dad brushed off Jack for quite some time, too…especially when Jack told him that he is gay. Then, I guess Dad had some sort of “major revelation” and him and Jack were practically like buddies... I struggled for him to pay attention to me but he pursued Jack.

I was an afterthought.

But for a while, my father and his lack of attention to me was just an afterthought. I had Dawson. Our relationship was strong and loving... it was like a dream. But in the middle of our sophomore year, things ended abruptly... and painfully. I haven’t heard from him since.

To be honest, I haven’t really heard from anyone for about a year, except for Jack, who called a month ago from Spain. I got a postcard from him and Dad yesterday. They should be home soon. Why doesn’t that offer me any solace? Why does the knowledge that I’ll be reunited with my family not fill that awful void inside of me?

I pick up the picture of Dawson and I. We’re in my tiny dorm room on Thanksgiving. All six of us were going to college at various schools in New York... and all of us were snowed in. No trains bound for Capeside would be arriving at their destination, so we all gathered in my cramped room, all six of us, and ate turkey sandwiches. It was the best Thanksgiving ever.

I sigh as I remember how happy I had been with him. I regret ever letting him go... but in a way, I never had. I feel the emptiness inside me expand until I can not possibly breathe. I clutch on to the counter, sobbing. This is like a ritual for me over these past few months. Over the past year and a half.

Andie, I’d tell myself. Andie, Jack and Dad will be home soon. Andie, you’ll start work soon...

Sometimes I wonder: Why? I don’t even know if I like kids anymore, why would I want to be a second grade teacher?

Nothing seems to satisfy me anymore.

I slip out of my clothes and get into the shower. As I rinse my hair, I eye the razor that I use to shave my legs. How easy it would be to slide the blade over my wrists.

This isn’t the first time suicidal thoughts have entered my mind. At first, it would only happen occasionally, when I was feeling especially down. Then, the thoughts came more and more
often. They become more and more graphic and inviting every time... now its all that I can think about. Suicide... and the past.

“You can’t live in the past, Andie,” my psychiatrist says to me all the time.

But what else is there? I can’t stand to think about the cold, uninviting future. There’s no place for me there. The past seems so much better. I dry myself before getting into my pajamas. I
realize that my shrink is right. I can’t live in the past... but I can’t face the future.

I know that this time, its not my craziness talking... or is it?

Am I crazy?

Yes.

Am I right in doing this? Will this stop the pain?

It’s the only thing I can think of. At least my father can’t say I’m fickle...

I’m trying to decide on a method. Slitting my wrists would be too slow, I imagine, and probably painful. I don’t want any pain. I gather all the medication I can find in my apartment. A bottle of Tylenol... a half empty Excedrin. I’m not sure if this is enough. I wish now that I drank. I have no liquor in the house, but it would be useful to make sure that this works. I go to my medicine cabinet in my bathroom. All I have left is some Midol and my Xanax. I put the Xanax away and grab the Midol. I fill my glass with water... my last glass of water. I realize the finality of it all. And it doesn’t bother me.

I sit down on my bed. At first, I take the pills two at a time, but I grow impatient and take as many as I can swallow. When I think I have had enough, I lay down, pull the sheets against my chest, and turn off my lamp. After a while, my eyes begin to grow heavy.

Then, the phone rings. Once. Twice. The machine picks up.

“This is Andie. Leave a message at the beep.”

“Andie?” Jack asks.

I’m jolted back to reality and the living.

“Are you there?”

I realize that this was my weakest moment of all. I’m taking the coward’s way out.

“Well, Dad just dropped me off... we’re both home. Give me a call...”

His words become incoherent as I reach for the phone.

“Jack?” I barely get out.

“Andie?” his voice is full of concern.

“I love you,” I whisper.

“I... I love you, too, Andie... what’s going on?”

“Help,” I whisper in a small voice.

I can no longer grip the phone. I barely hear it hit the ground before the room turns black.

I don’t really wake up. I’m here, but I’m not. I realize that I’m in the waiting room in ICU. Jack is sitting with his head in his hands, with Dad sitting next to him, staring into space. I sit next to Jack, not saying a word, not touching him. After a while, a young woman comes up to us.

“You can see her now.”

Dad nods and takes Jack’s arm. We all follow the woman. She takes us down the hallway and into a small, windowless room. There’s a young woman lying in bed... I realize it’s me. The doctor is talking, but all I can focus on is me. I hardly recognize myself. There are tubes coming out of me and I have an IV hooked up. I’m desperately pale. Deadly pale... and I’m not awake. I begin to listen to the doctor.

“We pumped her stomach, but I’m afraid it was too late. A great deal of the medication was already in her bloodstream. She slipped into a coma.”

“Well isn’t there something you can do? She will wake up, right?” Jack asks desperately.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor says. “She’s on life support right now. The machine is the only thing keeping her going. It’s only a matter of time...”

“This is my sister, DAMMIT!” Jack yells. “Can’t you do something?”

The doctor shakes her head sympathetically.

“I want a second opinion!”

I watch as Jack loses his cool and as my dad sinks into a chair, sobbing. I walk up to Jack, wanting to comfort him and hold him like he had done for me so many times, but I can’t. All I can do is whisper:

Let me go, Jack.

I’m not quite sure how I feel about my own death that I’m watching, but as I walk out of the room, I can’t help but wonder if now I’m still just an afterthought.

It’s bright and sunny, very contradictory to the event. I had never imagined I would be seeing this, but here I am, at my own funeral. It hasn’t started yet, but people are beginning to gather. I am surprised at how many people actually came. I suppose I was well liked.

As I try to make my way closer towards my coffin, I notice to familiar figures in front of me, doing the same. Two women, arms linked. One, a tall brunette who’s slender hand would occasionally brush some tears from her eyes. The other a petite blond with curly hair, wearing dark sunglasses. Both are dressed in black, like everyone else. I laugh a little to myself as I remember that Jen and Joey were never conformists. I haven’t seen them in over a year. I hadn’t heard from them in a little less of that time. Last I heard, they were sharing an apartment in New York. I think that Pacey stayed in New York as well.

I follow them until they reach the front, where immediately, Jen runs to Jack, taking him in her arms. Joey stands back, knowing that Jen could comfort Jack like no one else. I had always been jealous of Jen’s relationship with Jack. They were always so close.

I notice that Pacey is slowly making his way to the front. I’m pleasantly surprised that he shows up. He had always tended to run away from pain.

I note that the only ones missing are Dawson and I. I’m here in spirit, obviously. I don’t expect Dawson to show up, though. Nobody had heard from him or seen him since sophomore year.

Joey finally sees Pacey, and walks towards him. She takes his hand, entwining their fingers. Pacey obviously recognizes the gesture and whom it is coming from. He looks down at her and tries to smile, but his face soon crumbles. She takes him in her arms and both their bodies shake with sobs.

“She loved you so much, Pace,” I hear her whisper.

And she’s right.

I know Pacey will be all right. Joey will help him through this. She knows what it is like to lose your first love... after all, she lost Dawson in the fire at his dormitory back in sophomore year.

I know I can leave now, but I turn around. I need to say good-bye. The remaining four gather in a group hug, mourning the loss of me, and Dawson, too, I suppose. The combination is too much for any person to handle. I regret putting them through this as I watch their heads huddled together with the occasional wiping of tears. They’re all crying now.

“I love you guys,” I say before walking away.

I’ve give up on the whole “light at the end up the tunnel” scenario. Wouldn’t that have happened as soon as they pulled the plug on my life support? Am I destined to wander around for the rest of eternity as punishment for ending my life before my time?

I find myself at that park in upstate New York that Dawson and I had always gone to. I look around, memories begin flooding in. We had always traveled up here and rowed around on the lake because it reminded us of home.

I had been born and had spent the majority of my life in Providence, but Capeside was my only home. I found my family there... my little family of friends without whom I would’ve died. And without them, I did.

I crawl into a boat and lay down, staring at the clouds, preparing myself for eternal solitude.

I open my eyes, and the only light is provided by the stars. I didn’t know I was capable of sleep...

As I stir, I see that I have drifted to the middle of the lake. I gaze into the water, lost in thoughts of what will happen now. I look up to see Dawson sitting across from me.

I grin for the first time in a year and a half.

“Is it really you?” I whisper, almost afraid to break the silence. Afraid that he would vanish if I broke the perfect silence. He takes me hand. Its warm.

“Its me,” he reassures me.

I throw my arms around him.

“There’s so much I want to say,” I whisper as happy tears fill my eyes.

“Don’t worry, we have all of eternity.”

I pull away, the smile still on my face. I grow confused.

“So... we’re dead, right?”

“Right.”

“But how is it that I can sleep? And how is it possible for me to cry like an idiot, like I can now?”

Dawson smiled as he gently wiped some of my tears away.

“Being dead is... different from being alive,” he explained gently. “Things aren’t black and white. If you want to sleep or cry, you can. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. If you want pain, you can feel it... but most people don’t go for that.”

“Can you be happy if you want to?”

“Well... I suppose you can be happy, but you can’t be complete without something key...”

“What’s that?”

“Your soul mate.”

My face falls... he’s waiting for Joey.

“I’m finally complete, Andie,” he whispers as he leans his forehead against mine.

I grin and sigh.

“There’s so much I don’t understand.”

“Well, I’ve been dead for nearly two years and I still have so much left to learn.”

I lift my head and look at him incredulously.

“Dawson Leery admitting that he does not in fact know everything? Do my ears deceive me, or has the after life deflated his enlarged ego?” I jest.

Dawson pouts in that way that I have missed all this time.

“I thought you loved my enlarged ego.”

I smile teasingly.

“I love you. I missed you...swollen ego and all.”

I lean in and we share a blissfully sweet kiss.

“I missed you, too,” he murmurs. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

“We have all of eternity,” I say as I lean in for another kiss.

I could kiss him for forever... and maybe I will. For the first time since Dawson’s death, I feel complete. I wonder if I’m going to be punished for messing with the fates. For going before my time, but I realize maybe it was my time. Maybe my time was even before that. It doesn’t matter now, though. What’s a year and a half of lost time compared to eternity?