Author's Chapter Notes:
Okay, a couple of things...
1) I realize this story is a LOT of interior monologue, and if you're not into that sort of thing, I apologize. It's just how it's playing out in my head and Pam is getting a lot off her chest. Gotta' let the girl talk, right? ;-)
2) I meant to mention, before the first chapter, that much of this story was inspired when uncgirl told me Philly Jim reminded her of a particular song. And ever since that time last summer, whenever I hear that song I think of my New York Pam. So there is a link to the lyrics in the end notes of this chapter.
3) Just a reminder ... if you're reading this story, pretend none of season 5 ever happened. This takes place after Goodbye Toby and descends into a totally alternate universe.
I think that's it. For now. Enjoy!
1) I realize this story is a LOT of interior monologue, and if you're not into that sort of thing, I apologize. It's just how it's playing out in my head and Pam is getting a lot off her chest. Gotta' let the girl talk, right? ;-)
2) I meant to mention, before the first chapter, that much of this story was inspired when uncgirl told me Philly Jim reminded her of a particular song. And ever since that time last summer, whenever I hear that song I think of my New York Pam. So there is a link to the lyrics in the end notes of this chapter.
3) Just a reminder ... if you're reading this story, pretend none of season 5 ever happened. This takes place after Goodbye Toby and descends into a totally alternate universe.
I think that's it. For now. Enjoy!
One time during that first year Jim and I were together, I was standing in line at a Wendy’s waiting to order my Frosty or 99-cent Junior Cheeseburger or whatever and a lady caught my eye and smiled at me in the way that told me I’d been recognized. She immediately let someone cut in front of her so we’d be next to each other and then she leaned close to me, like we really knew each other as opposed to her just recognizing me from TV.
She said, in an awe-filled whisper, “You’re so lucky.” And I knew immediately what was coming.
“Most people never find their soulmates,” she breathed, her tone full of envy and wistfulness.
I nodded and smiled. “Yeah…”
She went on to tell me how fortunate Jim and I were to have found each other, that true love finds a way, that things that are meant to be just work themselves out. And at the time, I believed her. I was lucky. Jim was my soulmate. We were blessed.
But eventually I started to wonder what people meant by soulmate. Jim and I had a connection, sure. We had a similar sense of humor, some common interests, a strong attraction. But soulmates? What did that mean, exactly? That we were perfect for each other? That we were like two unique puzzle pieces that would only fit with each other, that there wasn’t one other person in the whole world that was a better match?
It was a lot of pressure, I’ll admit. Jim and I loved each other, and we got along a lot more than we fought. But we still fought. We understood each other most of the time, but sometimes we just … didn’t. We knew each other as much as each of us would allow, but there were still dark, mysterious places that neither of us let the other visit. We had good, often passionate, sex, but it wasn’t perfect. Sometimes he tried too hard when all the trying in the world wouldn’t matter, and sometimes I just didn’t try hard enough.
Often I felt like I failed to live up to his expectations and sometimes he failed to live up to mine. Sometimes – yes, I’ll say it – sometimes Jim could act like Roy. He wasn’t flawless, despite what thousands of swooning fangirls probably thought. He could be selfish and petty and he could hurt my feelings on purpose. Do soulmates do that kind of stuff?
Sometimes a shadow would slide across his expression and I knew he was thinking about our past, about the hurt I had doled out to him in fairly equal servings for those first years of our friendship. I felt so guilty about that – about my fear and my cowardice and my dishonesty. And I felt a little resentful that, on top of my own self doubt and lingering past guilt, he couldn’t seem to forgive me completely. Hadn’t I proven to him that I loved him enough? Hadn’t I made up for my mistakes?
Of course, I had my own share of grudges towards him. He had had four years to tell me how he felt and he waited until a month before my wedding? And then left, almost immediately afterward? And then when he came back, he brought his new girlfriend (his pretty, exotic, brave new girlfriend) to rub in my face?
Yeah, there were plenty of hurt feelings to go around in our relationship. But instead of talking about them, of learning from our past, we tiptoed around those heavy issues like they were sleeping giants. We tried to make up for lost time with apologetic kisses and tangling our bodies together, trying to press reassurance into each other. But the past was still there, just sleeping. Waiting.
Do soulmates do that? Do they avoid the truth to keep peace? Do they hold on to hurt instead of flushing it out?
Or were we just people, trying to make a relationship work? That explanation seems more palatable to me, now. Because if I failed at a relationship with my soulmate, what hope do I have for the future?
~*~
New York was terrifying. And exciting. And … terrifying. Every day there was a part of me that just wanted to pack up and abandon my tiny subletted studio apartment and run back to Scranton. But there was a just slightly bigger part of me that wanted to stay and just … see what was going to happen. I tried Indian food for the first time. One day I found my way from Brooklyn to Queens to Manhattan to Greenwich Village without asking for help one single time. I went to a movie alone, ate out at a restaurant (a REAL restaurant, not fast food) alone, took the Subway alone. I felt like freaking Lewis and Clark – an explorer. An adventurer. And New York wasn’t the topography I was truly exploring. I was learning who I was and who I wanted to be. I was feeling out the rivers and valleys of myself, wondering where they led, what was on the other side of that hill, where I might find an oasis. Something in me was shifting and I don’t know how else to describe it other than to say… I was mapping my soul. For the first time ever.
From the moment Jim and I started dating, I knew what my life with Jim would be like. It would be happy. We’d be happy, overall. We’d get married and have kids and live either in Scranton or some similar city or its suburbs. We’d do the things that nice, suburban couples do: barbecues, family gatherings, soccer games. We’d have fairly frequent sex and we’d grow old and be content. And that was fine. It was the kind of life I had had with Roy, for the most part. Jim and I were better together, of course, than Roy and I and I knew that could make all the difference in the world. But the life itself – the role as a wife and mother and classroom mom and chauffeur – was pretty much the same and I could imagine, already, what it would be like.
But my life in New York was unlike anything I had ever imagined.
I had sort of made peace with missing out on my 20s. I had never gone away to college, never (besides the one year between Roy and Jim) lived truly on my own, never lived in a big city, never partied too hard or had a one-night stand. I was okay with missing out on those things because I convinced myself that those things weren’t me, anyway. I wasn’t that kind of girl.
But what about the kind of girl who wore vintage, slightly dorky t-shirts and spent a sunny Saturday afternoon doing nothing but sitting on a park bench sketching the changing shadows of skyscrapers across the grass? What about a girl who could eat a different ethnic food every night for two weeks, all from restaurants within walking distance of her apartment? What about a girl who could be invisible in a crowd but never feel completely lonely because of the vibration of peoples’ dreams and stories and lives around her? What about a girl who could do what she wanted and be who she wanted without ever having to ask permission or apologize or worry?
Living in New York gave me glimpses of that sort of life, of the sort of youth I’d missed when I had wrapped my life up in a beefy boyfriend named Roy. And even when I was with Jim, I realized I was still wrapping my life up in someone else … but he was just leaner with floppier hair. I didn’t know how to be Pam. I didn’t know who I was without a “him” to define me.
But I knew that I should.
Chapter End Notes:
Here are the lyrics to the song I mentioned above: Missy Higgins -- "Where I Stood". (Thanks for bringing this song to my attention, uncgirl!)
http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/missyhiggins/whereistood.html
Another song that has inspired me in thinking about this story is "Details in the Fabric" by Jason Mraz. Here are the lyrics to that one, too.
http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/j/jason_mraz/details_in_the_fabric.html
I can't get these to link correctly... help!
http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/missyhiggins/whereistood.html
Another song that has inspired me in thinking about this story is "Details in the Fabric" by Jason Mraz. Here are the lyrics to that one, too.
http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/j/jason_mraz/details_in_the_fabric.html
I can't get these to link correctly... help!
