Same old story

Jim noticed her as he passed the bedroom on his way back from the bathroom. The sun had set as the party waned on and the room was only illuminated by the streetlights outside the window. Pam was sitting half in shadow, wedged into the gap between the pile of coats and the pillows on Karen’s bed. He almost didn’t see her at all.

In fact, up to that point he’d been pretty successful at maintaining a wide berth from her. She’d smiled shyly a couple of times when she’d caught him inadvertently (or so he hoped it appeared) glancing at her from across the room, but he’d managed to stay engaged in conversation with Mark, or to look busy collecting empty glasses and fussing with the CD player. Even Karen had commented on his unusually energetic performance as a bartender-slash-deejay-slash-boyfriend.

‘Thanks,’ she’d pecked him on the cheek as he opened more wine bottles. ‘You’re really being great tonight.’

‘Don’t sound so surprised,’ he’d retorted, honestly wishing she had no reason to be.

‘Guess I’ll have to think of a good reward for you for later,’ she’d laughed and winked at him. He’d chuckled back, but immediately looked around to make sure no one had heard them.

Now he regarded no one sitting alone in the dark. For a second, Pam remained unaware of his presence. He could easily have kept going, resumed his second-in-command host-with-the-most duties. He wouldn’t have had to interact with her at all, besides bidding her a perfunctory goodbye, thanks for coming as she left. Yet there he stood riveted to the spot, leaning on the doorframe, at a total loss for words.

‘Oh, hey,’ she looked up at him, slightly startled. ‘I’m just hiding in here for a minute.’

When he didn’t reply, she started to explain. ‘It’s just that Karen was trying to convince me to flirt with your friend Bill, and I…’

‘Will.’

She looked at him, perplexed.

‘His name,’ Jim corrected her. ‘It’s Will.’

‘Oops…okay, Will,’ she smiled, rolling her eyes at her mistake, before continuing. ‘I mean, he seems like a really nice guy and I know he’s a good friend of yours, but …’

She paused as if expecting him to interject something, to say something funny to let her off the hook. But he had nothing, no deflecting quips. Not for this.

‘S’okay,’ he replied at last, his tone chilly and dismissive. ‘You wouldn’t have much in common with him anyway.’

Pam flinched visibly. His implication was hardly subtle. Even in the dim light, he could see her mouth go slack, her brow knit with confusion and maybe even a little annoyance. But mostly, he could see the wounded look in her eyes. The ache he’d felt in the pit of his stomach when she first arrived, self-consciously holding her gift, twisted anew. He bit his tongue before he said anything else he’d regret.

The antidote to being her friend wasn't acting like an asshole; indifference was. But at the moment, making up his mind to have brown eyes or to be a foot shorter seemed more within his grasp.

‘Well, it was nice of Karen,’ Pam tried again, her attempt to not appear hurt betrayed by her faltering voice. ‘But… I’m just so bad at that kind of thing.’

‘I guess she thought…’ he began, but all that emerged was a mirthless laugh. ‘Hell, I really don’t know what she thought.’

Jim knew it would be best to cut and run now, to simply mumble an excuse about Karen needing him to do something and leave. After all, he wanted nothing more than for this conversation to end and he still had no clue what Pam wanted from him. Probably nothing at all.

Same old story.

Maybe it was the alcohol in his system, maybe he was just weary. But Christ, when she smiled ruefully at him like that she left him no choice. Everything beyond the bedroom – the voices of the other guests, their laughter, the blaring music – faded into blurred background noise.

He took a deep breath, crossed the room and squeezed into the small space left on the bed beside her. The same bed where not twenty-four hours earlier, Karen had moved above him and almost made him forget – if only for a moment. As he sat down, his eye caught the glint of the foil condom wrapper, still nestled amongst the trash by the nightstand. He swiftly – he hoped discretely - nudged away the incriminating garbage pail with his foot. If Pam noticed, she didn’t let on. She just slid over a little to make room for him, as if being together, here, like this, was normal.

It was anything but.

‘So, ceramics, huh?’ he asked. That seemed like a safe topic. ‘Didn’t know you were into that.’

‘Oh, I’m not really,’ she seemed relieved by his shift in attitude. ‘I mean, I hadn’t even used a potter’s wheel since high school. I was never any good, but there was just something about it I always liked. Then, last summer…well, I had a lot of free time, so I took a class.’

She stopped talking for a moment, staring out the window as if trying to remember something from long ago. Something that made her happy.

‘It just felt good to take this blob of clay and watch it rise up and take shape in my hands…’ she caught herself.

Jim’s mind raced places it had no business going, yet all too frequently did.

‘Wow, that sounded bad,’ she laughed nervously. ‘Anyway, it was fun, even though I still sucked at it. So, now I have like a dozen of these weird little lopsided pots.’

He wanted to tell her that he thought her pot was beautiful. He wanted to tell her so many things.

‘I guess it was a dumb gift for Karen,’ Pam concluded when he didn’t say anything. ‘But, I don’t know…I kind of like them.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ Jim said finally, so quietly he could barely hear his own voice.

It was odd sitting with her in the dark, so close he could sense the vibration in the air when she breathed. It was at once familiar and strange and wrong and right and he didn’t care. All he knew was how soft she looked in her sweater, how unnatural it was not to touch her, that he was made to touch her. He imagined pushing her back against the pillows, feeling what it would be like to cover her body with his own, her mouth with his. He wanted to pretend it was the end of a long evening at her - at their - place and everyone would soon be gone. He’d tell her, let’s clean up in the morning and he’d kiss her and she’d kiss him back and they’d have the whole night ahead of them.

He’d just be with her.

He lost track of how long they sat there together. It was probably only a couple of minutes, but it might have been hours.

‘Jim?’ Karen suddenly called from the kitchen, her voice cutting sharply through the silence. ‘Can you please come deal with the music? Put something less mopey on?’

Karen. Only then did it occur to him to wonder if she knew where he was. He didn’t want to think about it, but Pam took it as a cue.

‘I should go…it’s late,’ she said, standing up and searching through the mass of coats surrounding them like a fortress.

He watched her mutely as she found hers and put it on. When he impulsively reached out and caught her hand, it defied every sane instinct he had. But there were his fingers, desperately grasping the tips of hers. Holding on as if she was his to lose all over again. As if she ever was. Her gaze met his apprehensively.

‘You…’ he began hoarsely, then cleared his throat. ‘You don’t have to leave yet. I…’

But he could think of nothing to add that didn't feel like too much. And not nearly enough. Pam studied his face for a second before responding.

‘No, I should,’ she said, softly but decisively. ‘I’m sure Karen’s ready for everyone to go. She must be exhausted - with moving and this party…you both must be.’

Jim held on to her hand another second before letting it go. He watched her walk toward the bedroom door. She paused for a second and turned back to look at him.

‘Thanks,’ she said simply.

‘For what?’

‘I don’t know…’ she smiled faintly, perhaps wistfully. ‘For hanging out with me, I guess.’

And she was gone.