He’s always seen the world like everyone else: in terms of what he would like to see happen, not what actually does.
So when his GPS demands that he should take a right turn at the next corner, he is beginning to think that going to her wedding was enough. The need to “show her what she’s missing” (or what he’s missing) has ebbed. But the new need to prove that he is strong enough to do this for his best friend has emerged and is making him warm and wordless.
He sees this event as a way to sever their relationship completely. But somewhere, deep within him, he knows that is not what will happen.
A large, white building appears in front of him, the setting sun an elegant backdrop for its rolling hills, white pillars and evergreens. The reception hall is groomed in white lights that look like small, fallen stars.
I don’t have to go.
He parks his car across the street and gazes at the building. He wonders if his own wedding reception will be held at such a dazzling place or if he will even have a wedding. It seems unlikely at this point.
The deed has been done: Pam and Roy are married. It’s over. Why not celebrate a new beginning with a few drinks and friends?
He suddenly feels like shouting and crying and running and just leaving because he knows has to face her again.
I’m doing this for her. My best friend.
The idea that she is only his best friend after three years of obvious more-than-that actions burns a hole in his self-esteem.
He tries to be honest with himself, Just a few more hours and you can forget about everything. You don’t have to worry about anything anymore because she’s with him now.
He leaves his car, shoves his keys in his suit pants and meanders up the hill toward the reception hall, 'no' panging around his mind.
He enters, surrounded by bright eyed family members and friends, and makes his way for the bar, knowing that the night is going to feel much, much longer. His eyes scan the room for any trace of her and he catches a glimpse of her smile, before she is whisked into a hug, a new conversation.
He considers saying hello. Maybe even a ‘congratulations.’
I shouldn’t. She would know I didn’t mean it.
After a while, he begins to think that he is just being melodramatic.
He’s realizing, as he sits alone at the Dunder Mifflin table at their reception (which he never thought he’d be at, even in a nightmare), that maybe none of this should mean this much. For the past three years of his life, each thought, movement, and emotion was built around the idea that he could change her mind. Each moment was an immense struggle and day to day, he wondered how he had made it that far and if he would see the next day’s sunset. He let the false idea that he could change Pam Beesly to Pam Halpert strangle his dreams. He allowed the notion that she might like me back enter his tone of voice when he spoke with her. He welcomed an indescribable emotion of joy coupled with inevitable defeat whenever he thought of her and he embraced it because he did not realize the reality of its result. But the worst part is how he let it take him.
As he takes large swigs of his vodka and tonic, he tries to think of her wedding as a way to gain closure – a way to end everything they were.
“You look lonesome,” comments Dwight as he sits next to him. Apparently, Pam must have thought it would be funny to place Jim and Dwight next to each in the seating arrangements. Or maybe it was to subconsciously seek revenge for not trying harder. He’ll never know. He’s surprised she even included him in the seating arrangements, especially since he was not supposed to be there in the first place.
“I could say the same to you, considering the fact that you don’t have a date, either,” replies Jim, taking a gulp of his drink, its condensation seeping through his fingers; cold, like the shoulder Pam has been giving him.
“Well, Jim. I could very well have a date but she cancelled on me last minute. She had some nonsensical family event to attend. She is significantly older than I am, anyway.” Jim wonders why Dwight is bothering to talk to him.
“How old?”
“Sixty-four.”
“Are you serious?”
“I have no romantic intentions. She’s a friend of a friend who was supposed to be paying me for taking her out. Apparently she is some sort of a lunatic who feeds off of large social gatherings to which she has no relation to.”
Jim stares at him. What is there to say? This is Dwight, he thinks.
“Back to the original question: why don’t you have a date?” asks Dwight as he straightens his tie, which, surprisingly, is not mustard yellow.
“I just didn’t feel –” Jim hesitates. Is this necessary?
Dwight glances around the room, as if searching for the answer. His eyes land on her.
“It’s Pam, isn’t it?” It sounds more like a statement.
Jim nods, slowly, unwillingly. He feels like there is no reason to continue to put himself through this – facing the truth and learning to deal with it. He doesn’t want to learn because it would take too much time and too many memories would resurface and he wouldn’t be able to let go of her naturally. He wants to leave behind every laugh they shared, every glance they sneaked, and all likenesses between them because he is sick of fighting for those things and knowing he will lose.
“It used to be,” Jim whispers as his lips touch his glass.
“You know, my Great-Aunt Adelheid cheated on my Great-Uncle Benedict for eighteen years and she got away with it completely. Couldn’t trace any guilt on her face.”
“I would never–”
“The point is, this,” Dwight gestures to him and then to Pam, “isn’t over.”
Dwight stands, nods, and walks away. Jim is baffled.
Goosebumps jump across his arms as he glances at her curls, full and bouncing on her shoulder as she laughs with old-time friends.
She looks so beautiful when she’s happy. I will miss that.
He’s given so much of himself that there seems to be nothing left. He can barely hold a steady conversation with his friends, let alone his own mother. Most of the time he has no appetite and falls asleep at six-thirty after daring himself with the television to stay awake. Most of the time he wants to fall asleep so he doesn’t spend the night thinking of the obvious. But he doesn’t have any regrets, even as he sits in the same room as his best friend, who is falling into her mold as a newlywed.
At least I made it this far. He could almost laugh.
“Hi Jim,” says Kevin, who sits across the table from him, a shrimp cocktail and a small plate of hors d'oeuvres.
“Hey Kev.”
“You’re not eating?”
“Not really hungry right now.”
“This shrimp is delicious.”
“I’m sure it is.”
There is a long pause as Kevin munches on cheese and crackers.
“Pam looks hot. But I shouldn’t say that. She’s a married woman,” Kevin snickers.
There is another pause as he looks at Kevin. There is only a small trace of emotional attachment in his eyes. He’s managed to pretend like he doesn’t notice but there is still dimness left in his iris’s that gives his rue away.
Kevin stops chewing and looks at him. “I’m sorry, man.”
He stands and leaves like Dwight did, and as Phyllis did from the ceremony, each of them offering a different type of condolence, but each aftermath the same: the silent understanding that he is not mistaken in thinking that this ceremony is wrong.
He is surprised that he hasn’t heard an outburst coming from Michael yet, but maybe Michael still needs a few more drinks. Then he’ll be on the tables, Jim thinks.
He sighs, swigs his newly acquired beer, thanks to the table-to-table service, and wishes she didn’t mean this much to him. And though he can’t stand the idea of being her best friend now that she is married, he does not want to end what they have, either.
It took her wedding, the most dreaded event of his young life, to realize that their ending wasn’t only his fault.
He looks at her for the first time that night and she catches his glance from across the room and he can swear that she is thinking the same thing, too.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Wish they were mine, but they aren't. Just writing for fun. No harm intended.
Chapter End Notes:
There is going to be at least one more chapter. Probably two.
