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Pam POV
This should be a dream. One of those sad, symbolic dreams where the meaning is nonetheless as clear as a slap in the face. Well, except for the dog who morphs into a Christmas tree ornament. There’s always something random like that, too. At least in my dreams. Maybe real, put-together people don’t have dreams that disorganized.
Anyway, the morphing dog hasn’t shown up yet, which means I’m probably not going to wake up and escape this. I’m at a wedding- my wedding. With my flowers, my monogram, my beautiful dress. Except I’m not the happy one. I’m the one sitting alone at a table in the corner, wondering how long I have to stay to be polite.
I probably could have escaped already except that I opened my mouth about Phyllis using all my wedding ideas, and if I leave now, she’ll think I’m mad about that and I don’t want to ruin her wedding any more than Michael already has.
The thing is, it isn’t that bad being invisible here in the corner. I have a talent for being invisible, apparently, and isn’t that just a sad, sad thing to know about yourself. When I grow up, I want to be polite, invisible, and a disaster on the dance floor. Right. Not exactly every little girl’s dream. Yeah, so I wanted to start standing up for myself, going after what I wanted. So I broke up with Roy, called off my wedding, and that somehow landed me at this pseudo-Pam-and-Roy wedding. Only alone and with a much plainer dress. Yay for assertiveness.
What hurts far more than the flowers and the dress is Jim, swaying easily with Karen on the dance floor. Because I’m watching him, and he doesn’t see me. And that’s ok. I’m glad he found her, because he deserves to be happy. She makes him happy, probably more than I could have. She can speak her mind, and dresses in those flashy, so-feminine business outfits and laughs with him, and I really am glad for that.
All I want for myself is a little of my friend Jim back. I miss glancing over at him whenever Michael said something particularly asinine and knowing that he knew exactly what I was thinking. If I could have my friend sometimes, I think I could be ok, too. Not as happy as he is, not yet, but close.
I don’t realize that I’m staring until he looks up and those beautiful green eyes meet mine over the top of Karen’s head. I should have known better- we always look up at each other at the same time. But this time, I can’t smile because something wrenches inside of me and the pain takes my breath away. I don’t know why. It’s something about his hands on her back as they dance. Because I remember those hands sliding up my back on Casino Night and how big they felt, spanning my whole waist. I’d never thought of my friend as being so much bigger than me, but he was and I still felt safe because those big hands were immeasurably gentle, touching me like I was someone precious.
Those hands cradled her now, and she was the something precious, and as it turned out, I wasn’t.
I look down, away from Jim and his hands and his puzzled eyes. But then I look back again before I can stop myself and he’s still watching me.
Suddenly, I understand why Jim had to leave Scranton, why he didn’t say goodbye. Because I still want him to dance, want him to be happy and not lonely. But I can’t watch it.
I rise and hope no one is watching as I flee as fast as my heels and crumbling dignity would allow.
Author's Chapter Notes:
When I first watched this episode and Pam ran out of the room after seeing Jim and Karen together, I was absolutely shocked that Jim didn't go after her. The second time I watched it, I just couldn't take it anymore, so I spent most of an unproductive workday writing this story so that at least my imaginary Jim went after her. Also, the italics wouldn't copy, so some emphasis was lost. Hopefully, you can guess where it would have been.
