She didn't do it for him.
She didn't go to her adviser's office, the Admissions department, and the Student Affairs office for him. She didn't drive back to Scranton at speeds well over the posted limit for him either.
When she had said goodbye, anxious and frustrated, Alex had muttered something about "boyfriend" as she put her duffel bag in the trunk. But driving now, Pam's thoughts strangely leap to Roy. She thinks about how she hadn't been with him just because she had no one else, or because she was codependent, or anything else that people might have said behind her back. She had been with him because she wanted him, because she loved him. He had swept her off her feet as a giddy teenager and every so often he'd done something to make her stomach do flips again, even if they were smaller than before. Relationships faded after a while, that was natural. But she'd loved him one hundred percent.
And she remembers with a wrench in her stomach checking her cell phone because it was their anniversary and he hadn't called all day, smiling and saying, "Have fun" later that night, when he went to the bar to watch the game with friends because he "really needed a guys' night, hon." She had told herself this was normal, this was okay. Boys will be boys, and all that.
But if it was normal, why had she always, always felt second-best? Why were there lingering fears that if the world was coming to an end, Roy would have to hesitate between saving her and Kenny? And then she would berate herself because she was being selfish, being stupid. This was how relationships worked, she would tell herself, and she was greedy for wanting more. She was just craving attention like Kelly would do, and Pam didn't want to be that girl.
Now, she passes the gas station and her heart uncontrollably speeds up as she smiles. Her thoughts shift and time periods mix together in her hurry to get home, the bits and pieces of months she doesn't usually let herself remember slipping forward.
Because if she was going to be really honest, if Roy was the kind of guy she had convinced herself he was all those years ago, then he would have done those things he'd promised.
They would have gone to Niagara Falls, on a cruise to Jamaica, to California. He would have remembered their song, the first time they said "I love you," hell, maybe even their anniversary. But she had never fully realized it until that one ordinary night in Scranton she'd texted Jim saying, "I wish you were here" and ten minutes later he was.
And she'd wanted to cry then because she'd realized with a rushing force what she'd been hanging on to as normal and what was right in front of her, hugging her closely and looking at her with a face full of admiration, and it was a world of difference.
And she had learned- was still learning- that there was a difference between being selfless and putting up with more than you should, that she could say she didn't mind forgotten birthdays all she wanted, but in the end she was lying to herself and that was the worst thing of all. That doing what other people think will make you happy and doing what really makes you happy are sometimes the same, but not always, and she's done making other people happy at the expense of herself.
So her adviser could be disappointed all she wanted, and the admissions secretary could be stern-faced and rude. Pam was going home because she wanted to be there, because that was where she would be happy. She'd wasted too much of her life "sticking it out" and, honestly, she was done waiting around for things to get better. Old Pam probably would have thought she was being impatient and impulsive. New Pam can't hold back a smile as she gets out of the car and leans against the trunk, waiting for five o'clock.
So no, she didn't do it for him.
She did it for herself.
Story Notes:
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. I own nothing, and carve my stories into tree bark.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Meep...my first Office fic. This isn't even my usual writing style, so I am going to firmly blame insomnia and no air conditioning for this.
Chapter End Notes:
Well hey, thanks for reading Baby's First Office Fic! Any feedback/concrit is always appreciated if you are so inclined, or just have a cookie. Cookie, Kevin.
Freckleface is the author of 2 other stories.
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