I don’t get many things right the first time
In fact, I am told that a lot
Now I know all the wrong turns, the stumbles and falls
Brought me here
And where was I before the day
That I first saw your lovely face?
Now I see it everyday
And I know
That I am
I am
I am
The luckiest
Pam often wonders when she’ll be a bona-fide grown-up. There are moments, brief and fleeting, where she feels so adult, like she’s radiating wisdom and maturity, and then there are times where she feels eight years old again, completely certain that it is not at all healthy to still rely so heavily on her mother.
She takes a long sip of her chamomile tea and presses her hands against the ceramic mug for warmth. She’s sitting on the floor of an empty room, the windows bare and thrown open, a chilly spring breeze wafting through the room. Through one of the windows Pam can see the crescent moon shining as the sun sinks further into the horizon, milky shades of violet and heather soaking up the lingering hints of orange and pink. It makes her think of her mother and she finds herself smiling. She sets her tea down and picks up the phone.
“Hi, sweetie.”
“Hey, Mom. What are you doing?”
“Just finishing the dishes from dinner. What about you?”
“Tell me the story about you and Daddy again.”
There’s silence on the line. Pam doesn't have to see her mother to know that she's wiping off her hands on a faded blue dish towel, a smile on her face as she crosses into the living room to sit in a worn brown leather armchair, knowing that seconds after she was seated, a fat calico cat named Clover would settle happily into her lap.
“I was seventeen years old. Finally, a senior in high school. My best friend at the time was Sherri Beesly.”
"At the time?" Pam interrupts, laughing. Pam can't remember a time where Aunt Sherri hadn’t been her mother’s best friend.
“Oh, hush. This is my story! Anyway, it was a few nights before graduation and I was staying over at Sherri’s. We'd been inseparable since middle school. Sometime after dinner, Sherri’s older brother Greg pulled into the driveway in this brown beat-up Ford truck, honking his horn and causing a huge fuss. He was a sophomore at the University of Pittsburgh and I hadn’t seen him in over two years, but when he got out of that truck with his shaggy long hair and his corduroy bell bottoms, it felt like my heart stopped beating, like the earth stood still. That’s when I knew. I knew right then that I was going to marry him.”
“Did he feel the same way?” Pam already knows the answer, but she loves hearing her mother tell the story.
“I think so. He set his bags down and asked me out right there on the spot. He wasn’t home for ten minutes before he was gone again, this time with a passenger. He took me out for ice cream and we didn’t come home until the sun came up. We spent the whole night out at Lake Scranton, talking about nothing and everything. The sky was littered with stars and the moon was so full and bright, like something out of a movie. I still remember the way its reflection shimmered in the water. Your father brushed my hair back from my face and kissed me right on the mouth. I was so flabbergasted that I couldn't speak, but your father was calm. He whispered, "I've been waiting my whole life for you." And I knew exactly what he meant. We were married three months later. You were born nine months after that.”
Pam swallows hard. She had always longed for a love that matched what her parents had together. Life at the Beesly house had not always been perfect; there were good days and bad days and mediocre days, but the love between her parents was always, always a lingering presence, so heavy and full like that shimmering moon the night that her parents kissed for the first time, it was almost tangible.
“I tried to make Roy like Daddy,” Pam says softly, bringing her knees up to her chin.
“I know, baby.”
“I just… I thought that’s how it was done. I thought that the one you love when you’re young is the one you’re meant to be with. You and Daddy were always so happy, and I tried so hard to make him more like Daddy. I knew we were living a lie. I lived it for years and years, knowing the whole time that Roy would never love me the way Dad loves you.”
“Pam, it’s over now, you don’t have to keep bringing it up.”
“I know. I just wonder why everything is always so hard for me. Why did I waste so much time? How did Jim figure things out so much sooner than I did?”
Pam’s mother sighed into the phone. “You’ve always been that way, Pammy. That’s just who you are. You do things on your own terms, on your own time. Remember when Dad tried to teach you to ride your bike without training wheels? You wouldn’t let him. You knew you were a big girl, you knew you could do it yourself. So no matter how many times you fell and skinned your knees, you got back up and tried again on your own. Your failures made you stronger.”
Pam was silent.
“You didn’t waste time, honey. Everything happens for a reason. Maybe all that time you spent with Roy was just to help you become who you are meant to be. It helped you find your way to Jim. You’ve got to quit dwelling on this, Pam. Stop trying to understand how the universe works. Stop trying to analyze the whys and wherefores.”
“I’ll never know all the answers, will I?”
“No. And that’s part of the magic.”
Pam hears Clover meow contentedly. She picks up her tea and walks into the kitchen, emptying the contents of the mug into the sink.
“Daddy and I are still coming up tomorrow to help you move. We should be there around 8:30.”
“I’m excited for you to see the house,” Pam says. “We’ve spent the whole week painting. I think if Jim never touches another paintbrush in his life, it’ll be too soon.”
“Get some rest. Moving takes a lot out of you.”
“Okay, Mom. I love you.”
"I love you too, Pam."
Pam busies herself with simple tasks, picking up drop cloths and peeling off painter's tape from the baseboards. When Jim finally comes through the door, his arms full of Chinese takeout and a bottle of plum wine, Pam is breathless and suddenly she knows that her failures have made her stronger. Every tear she shed over Roy was leading up to the moment where she was finally able to realize that not only was it not working between them, but that she didn't want it to work. Every time she pretended not to recognize the longing in Jim's eyes was preparing her for a new life, the life she was meant to have but didn't think she deserved. Every time she swallowed the acrid jealousy of seeing Jim with Karen was preparing her for the stand she'd have to take, for the courage she'd have to find to make him her own.
She savors the story about her parents falling in love, but she loves her own story more. She thinks that maybe because the path leading her to Jim was so rocky, that the struggles they faced at the time seemed insurmountable, that she somehow has a deeper understanding of what it means to love a person, of what it means to be one half of a whole. She thinks that maybe if it hadn't been so hard, she wouldn't have such an appreciation for what they have. She's proud of it, proud of herself.
They sit on the floor of the living room and drink the wine right from the bottle, each invading the other's entree for a quick nibble or taste. Jim swallows and looks around. "The yellow turned out really nice. It's softer than I thought it would be."
Pam smirks, a silent 'I-told-you-so' on her face. "It's like butt-ah," she says, imitating that old Mike Meyers skit from Saturday Night Live. Pam thinks about all the plans they have for this house, their house. Their home. Pam knows they did it a bit backwards, buying the house before they are married, but it seemed so silly to wait. Jim's lease was up and Pam's was month-to-month, and there was a sparkling diamond on her finger anyway, one that she'd gotten on Michael's birthday, of all days (because two years prior, that's when the Earth stopped spinning for Jim and he just knew).
"I can't believe this is our house," she says, leaning over him to steal the last eggroll.
"And we are never, ever, leaving," Jim jokes. "Do you know how many reams of paper I had to sell to get the down payment?"
In this moment, in their home, eating dinner with Jim, something they've done countless times in the past and will do countless times in the future, she's overcome with the desire to articulate just how deeply he's rooted in her heart. She opens her mouth to speak but the words are heavy in her throat, they're stuck. She doesn't know how to tell him that the four walls and a roof are nice, but that home to her will always just be wherever he is.
"I love you, Jim." It's not exactly the earth-shattering declaration she was aiming for, but it's a start.
"I love you more," he returns, fishing a piece of broccoli from the bottom of Pam's carton.
"No," she says, her tone serious. Jim looks up at her, frozen in mid-chew. "No," she continues, "I love you times infinity."
Definitely something an eight year old would say. Pam feels kind of dorky and embarrassed that she couldn't come up with anything deeper than that, but Jim laughs and looks at her in that way of his, the one that makes her feel like the luckiest woman on earth and she knows, deep down, that he understands. Perhaps being a bona-fide grown up is overrated.
I love you more than I have
Ever found a way to say to you
Story Notes:
I have been so in love with Season 4 that I needed to write something sweet. This is set about six months into the future.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Title and lyrics in italics belong to Ben Folds.
heartcarved is the author of 2 other stories.
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