The speed at which I drive back to my house is safe enough that I know I’m not putting her in any harm, but dangerous enough that we get back a lot faster than either one of us expected. But she doesn’t say anything about it, just follows quietly behind me through the door and scans her eyes around the house, taking in everything around her.
“Movies are on that second bookshelf. Take your pick,” I tell her, as I move to the kitchen. I kick myself for not getting groceries sooner, as I realize the only we have to drink is either beer or tap water.
“Do you want a drink? We’ve got water, beer—“
“Beer’s good.”
I ignore my better judgment and take two from the fridge.
“Okay, it’s official.”
“What is?” I call back to her as I struggle with the bottle opener.
“You have every movie ever made. Seriously, this is insane.”
“What do you expect? Between me and Mark, two movie buffs—“
“Two movie geeks.”
I start to hand her the beer but then yank my hand away. “What was that?”
She reaches out for it but I hold it over my head, and even on her tiptoes she still can’t reach.
“Okay! I’m sorry. You’re movie buffs. Ebert and Roeper.”
“I think I preferred it when we were just geeks,” I finally relent and hand her the bottle, with a tremble in my hand that I hope she can’t notice. “So what’s it going to be, Beesly?”
“I don’t know, there are just so many choices. ‘Royal Tenenbaums’, ‘This is Spinal Tap,’—oh, Jim.” She turns to me holding a DVD with a bemused smile. “ ‘The Princess Bride?’ Really?”
“You say anything bad about that movie and you’re going to have to leave.”
“You—you don’t remember?” She looks defeated, a little bit of hope seeming to have sunk from her eyes.
“Remember—“
“Desert Island. This was in my five.” Her gaze falls to the cover in a wave of nostalgia, whether over the movie or that day, I can’t be sure. But I am sure that there’s no way I could forget that day; her eagerness to participate, her furious blushing over “Who Would You Do?”, her obvious delight over Katy’s picks. I want to tell her I remember all of it, practically every detail since she came into my life, but I have to feign indifference. For my own sanity, for her protection.
“Oh—right. Man, that day seems forever ago.”
“It was fun. Everybody outside of the office is so—“
“Different, I know.” The words pull our gazes to each other, and it scares me to think that she can see as much in my eyes as I see in hers.
“So,” I say, clearing my throat and taking the DVD from her hands. “Have you made your selection?”
She nods with a grin and plops herself on the couch while I dig around for the remote.
I press a series of buttons, failing to get anything working, when I hear her small voice behind me.
“Hey do you think…” she trails off and I turn to look at her with concern, and a little bit of panic. She’s having second thoughts, she wants to go home, this was a mistake, she feels sick, she’s going to throw up, she’s going to press charges for kidnapping, she’s glad I’m leaving—
“It’s just—I’ve been in this dress all night. And I’m…you know what, forget it.”
“No!” I say it with a little too much enthusiasm, and I lower my voice. “No, it’s cool. I’ve got some t-shirts and Mark’s girlfriend leaves stuff here all the time, she probably has some pajama pants or something. I’ll go look.” It takes so much effort not to sprint up the stairs, and once I get to the top, the gravity of the mess I’ve gotten myself—no, both of us into is starting to sink in. It’s Pam, in my apartment, about to be wearing my clothes as she settles on my couch, while her sorry excuse for a fiancée is home, completely ignorant as to what’s going on. I start to wonder why she doesn’t feel guiltier, or if she does feel guilty, why she isn’t acting on it but it’s too late for questions; I grab the first shirt I find, and silently thank Mark for doing laundry before he left for Tracy’s as I grab one of her deserted pairs of pajama pants from the neatly folded pile of clothes on his bed. I’m pretty sure he’ll be okay with it; I’m also pretty sure that once I tell him this story, Tracy’s pants will be the least of his concerns.
I jog downstairs and find her still waiting on the couch, the DVD menu casting soft frames of light on her tired face.
“Hey, you got it to work,” I say cheerfully, her look of pride practically contagious.
“It wasn’t too hard. We have, like, seven remotes at home so…” And there it is. There seems to be only enough guilt for one of us to feel, and it appears to be her turn. For now.
“A man and his TV. It’s a special bond, Pam. Don’t question it.” She’s grateful for the reassurance, even though I can hardly make myself believe it.
“Here you go. Bathroom is—“
“Down the hall, second door on the left. I remember.” She gives me a knowing smile and I’m in awe as I watch her effortlessly glide across the house, like she’s done this a thousand times. Maybe remembering the details isn’t so bad after all.
I don’t dare make myself as comfortable as I would like with my own clothing; no need to get that awkward. But I ditch the sweater and un-tuck my work shirt, which helps a little. I’m kicking off my shoes when she exits shyly from the bathroom, obviously self-concious in my old Ramones t-shirt and Tracy’s black pants.
“Better?” I ask.
“Much. Thank you.” She takes a tentative seat next to me on the couch, and I silently take note of her gulping large swigs of beer as I begin the movie.
We’re barely into the first scene when I discover a problem that’s going to be tricky to solve.
“Umm…is that glare on the TV okay or should…” I gesture to the lamp beside me, because I know if I finish that question, my voice is going to crack like I’m 13 and there’s just no need for that kind of humiliation tonight.
“Oh, sure. That’s fine.”
I struggle with the knob as the tremble in my hand returns, but soon everything goes black, and the only light from the room is coming from the TV as the grandfather presents the book to his grandson for the first time.
But any anxiety dissipates as I hear her release a content sigh, long and slow, like she’d been holding it in all night.
“This was a good idea,” she murmurs.
“Glad you approve.” My eyes are adjusting to the dark and I can just barely make out her features. She takes the clip from her hair, setting the loose curls free to hit at her shoulders. It’s when she starts to run her hand through them that I have to look away, focus all of my concentration on the Savage kid. Fred. Ben. No, wait Fred. Ben was on that show in the ‘90’s—
A loud yawn interrupts my thoughts.
“Uh oh. That’s not a promising sound,” I tease.
She shakes her head. “Mm-mm. I’m fine.” But the way she slouches and tilts her head back into the cushion betrays her weak protests.
“It’s okay if you fall asleep, I don’t mind.” I really don’t mind.
“No, I’m good…” her voice is just a whisper now, and for the second time in our friendship, I feel her head nestle onto my shoulder. I know it can’t be that comfortable, and frankly, kind of an awkward position for me to keep if I don’t want to wake her. So I cautiously move my arm around her and pull her towards me, her head resting on my chest. My hand lies at her elbow, and I allow myself to hold just the faintest grip on it as I hear her breathing slow into a calm, steady pace.
Westley fetches the pail for Buttercup just above her head, uttering his classic “as you wish” to her, and it pains me how much I relate to a fictional character.
“Pam?” I say softly.
“Hmm?” It’s barely an acknowledgement, but it’ll do.
"‘Singing in the Rain.’”
“What?” Her voice is a little louder now, and I know I have her attention.
“That was your all time favorite movie in Desert Island. The one I wouldn’t let you have.” I start to circle her elbow with my thumb, barely grazing her skin.
“Yeah,” she breathes. “Yeah it was.”
She doesn’t ask me how I know, and I’m grateful not to have to explain that I just do.
Westley and Buttercup say their goodbyes and it pains me that I envy fictional characters, and the fact that no matter what they go through in a span of a couple hours, it always turns out all right in the end.
1:59
Author's Chapter Notes:
Happy Premiere Day everybody! And what better way to celebrate than with a new chapter! It's fitting that I stayed up until the wee hours of the morning finishing this, huh? Hope it's somewhat coherent. Enjoy!
Chapter End Notes:
I know we're all in a tizzy over the premiere, but maybe take a moment to review? Please?
