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Author's Chapter Notes:

Hi. Remember when I had 3 WIPs going at once and I thought I could handle that AND the start of a new school year. HA. THINK AGAIN, ME!

But anyways. We finally had a lazy weekend, and I remembered that I had a lil baby of a story here that I wanted to add to. Hope y'all enjoy it :) 

She was drowning in a black sea, the curly white of the word Betrayal swimming around her in intricate patterns, beckoning like a Siren only to choke the life from her eyes. But being under the surface was a much better alternative to the open eyes of reality, the pang of eggshell white and beeping machines that screamed in constant reminder, Three years, three years, three years.


It all made sense now: the lines on their faces dug deeper, the hardness in their stares and the way their words were trapped in sporadic vice grips that only made anomalous sounds come out when she asked imperative questions like Why are you staring at me like that? and Why is Jim always here? and Who’s Melissa?


After doctors and nurses and interns and moms and Penny’s and Jim’s and Roy’s had all been purged, sedatives became her new best friend, numbing her mind from the painful reality that she had finally (finally?) been awoken to. It wasn’t a high or a low, but the feeling of being positively desensitized to any stimuli that dare threaten to make her see, to make her feel, to make her be anything more than lying immobile, letting the bright white of the ceiling tiles bleach her eyes until the veins were spidering, begging for release.


She wasn’t aware of how much time had passed between finding out and mental breakdown and numb numb numb to now. Looking at a clock, at a reminder of time and time passed and all that time lost would surely send her senses into overdrive, would start her right at the beginning. So instead, she refused to look ostensibly like a petulant child, her body dramatically turned to face the wall, away from the door so that she wouldn’t be able to see the seconds continuing to tick away, more time wasted to add to her growing pile of three years three years three years. Because if a tree fell in the forest and no one was around to hear it, did it even make a sound? Or something like that.


Doctors and nurses came and went, and their service she couldn’t rightly refuse, but she did her best to be as still as possible without outrightly refusing their attempts to check her blood pressure and shine an annoying light in her eyes. She let them lift her arms and check her bandages and poke and prod without much help from her end, limbs limp, and though not necessarily restraining, not making things much easier either.


Her room was under strict orders (from her, now that she had all the details) to not, under any circumstances, let either of those men so much as squeak a sneaker anywhere near her doorway. She’d managed that much, upon waking up and being asked how she was feeling (How was she feeling? Oh, I don’t know, maybe like someone had just pulled a rug out from under her feet, only beneath the rug was a canyon that didn’t end but simultaneously had the floor constantly hitting her in the face. A floor that was probably on fire), but aside from that, her throat was raw and red and not up for much more than the occasional grunt when some medical personnel would ask her to move an assorted body part or rate her pain on a scale of one-to-ten (the pain is gone. It’s literally. All. Numb).


When mom came back with red rimmed eyes and a nose that was a constant drip of wetness, Pam didn’t even have the decency to think of any description other than pathetic. She almost felt bad for her Mom, if you’re just going to sit here and cry, maybe you should go.


Maybe she’d feel bad about it later. Maybe she’d feel something later.


Dad wasn’t much better than he was back in the day, when she was a teenager and would come home with boy problems. It was almost formulaic, the grunt, “we only want what’s best for you Pammy,” cock-of-the-head, shrug. This was no different. Aside from the fact that, this time, she wasn’t getting the car keys taken away for being out at Roy’s past curfew, or being told she couldn’t go to art school in the city. No, no, no. This time, she was being conspired against. And not just by her family, but by the whole slew of ‘em. Family, friends, doctors she didn’t even know. People she didn’t even know.


Jim.


Somehow, in the depths of her hurt, this one seemed to hurt more than the rest.


And, quite frankly, she couldn’t put her finger on why.


It made sense, to be upset that someone you had just gotten to know had actually been lying to you the whole time. Someone whose trust you valued, literally taking it between his hands and crumbling it like a cookie. But this was inherently different. Because she knew him.


Three years.


She just didn’t remember him.


Which made this whole ordeal that much worse.


She’d had her fair share of fights with mom and dad. Sibling spats were inevitable.


But then there was Jim, the only memories of him being in this hospital or coming in weird flashes, like a broken stained glass window with only patches of light breaking through with no real pattern, like boats and cheerleaders and grilled cheese sandwiches and cuddling in bed in his t-shirt.


The one that he had given her just...today? Yesterday?


Yesterday.


She’d slept for almost an entire day, according to the date on the whiteboard whose blue letters had changed from Monday to Tuesday. It was almost taunting, the big, loopy lines that read Patient Name: Pamela Beesly; Status: Post-Op Brain Surgery; Today’s Plan: PT and rest; Notes: Goal! Home on Friday! :)


She surely wasn’t smiling anymore, was almost certain that one of the scars she’d take home as a souvenir would be a permanent frown and indentations between her brows that kept them pulled together. What kind of receptionist looked constantly irritated? She might just have to find a new job after all.


Screw the people on the cards and the people in the video tape. Screw the amount of time it took for him to put it all together, right? Because he had lied, just like the rest of them. He lied, and just when she was starting to wonder why the spicy, minty, lotiony scent on the collar of...his...t-shirt felt so familiar, felt so warm and right to be wrapped up in. Now, it was choking her, as her fingers touched the edges of the faded maroon cotton, found a small hole in the front--


The team went to my place to celebrate after the game, and my dog jumped into the middle of us all and clawed the front of it. I didn’t even get to wear it to school before it was ruined!


She had to get out of it. The damn shirt was making it hard to breathe, making her monitors beep faster as panic set in. The shirt was big and she was getting lost in all of its intricacies, couldn’t find her way out.


It felt like drowning all over again.


But as the world went dark, her head stuck in a hole somewhere, her quick breaths heating up the cavern of this goddamn shirt, it was gone. The light was back and blinding. She was topless, trying to catch her breath, and in the arms of her sister, as Shh, Pammy, it’s going to be okay overwhelmed her into oblivion again.


When she awoke again, sweaty and warm with a heavy head, Penny still sat at the foot of her bed. Judging by the clock above her doorway, she’d been out for only about an hour, apparently enough time for Penny to find herself a full cup of coffee and a muffin, which she thrust across the space between them with a soft but firm Here, you should eat something.


It was then that she realized that the pang in her gut oddly wasn’t pain or hurt or betrayal. It was Put that muffin in my stomach. Yesterday. Maybe go for a french fry run, too. So, for the first time since it had all hit the fan, she complied with the request--with a scowl on her face, but still.


It wasn’t hospital quality, but rather Otis Spunkmeyer, so she took her time savoring the soft cakey texture and the bite of the blueberries, her teeth sticking together as she did her best not to inhale it on the spot. It wasn’t until the muffin was halfway devoured, her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, that she realized she’d been duped.


“You have to forgive them all sometime, Pammy. We were honestly only doing what the doctors said was best for you.”


Although she tried, words couldn’t make it past the partially chewed muffin that was glueing her mouth shut like rubber cement. Instead, she settled for furrowed eyebrows and an I’m going to listen but I’m not going to like it expression.


“Seriously. Think about what would have happened if you woke up from brain surgery to not only find out out that you’d been in a terrible car wreck, but had lost three years of your life. That would have been devastating, Pammy. Somewhere buried under that grudge, you have to know that.”


It still stung, like salt on an open wound, to hear three years prick her ears, the constant reminder that she had no manual to an entire chunk of her own lifetime, one that was eligible for preschool attendance. She swallowed her pride, her grudge, her muffin.


“And finding out now, after being led on for weeks, isn’t?”


“No. You’re right it is. It’s absolutely devastating.”


Affirmation, she wasn’t expecting. She felt slightly uncomfortable, wiggled down under the covers a bit as her shoulders met her ears. It was then, with her eyes trained towards her lap, that she noticed the maroon peeking out from beyond her toes, folded neatly at the end of the bed. Her head snapped then, wondering for a moment what the hell she was wearing. The tiny blue dots of the hospital gown jumped out at her criss-crossed gaze. Her heart was heavy, if only for a moment.


“But, Pam, listen. It’s not like any of us were really on board with this, either. When your doctor said that we shouldn’t just...tell you...everyone was against it. Mom and dad hated the idea. Roy didn’t want to... And poor Jim. I mean, he’s been hurting more than all of us, Pammy.”


Penny capped her words with a shrug, sort of like That’s all I have to say on the subject; the rest is up to you.


But Penny’s words didn’t make anything better, really, rather, they only affirmed everything that had already been said. We’re doing this for your own good, Pammy. It was the best course of treatment, Pammy. We didn’t want to, Pammy, we promise. You know, but we’re still holding back, Pammy. All empty words, flying in her ears and straight to the fire that hadn’t quite settled.


“I don’t want to hear it anymore,” she replied, her caustic laughter not so much as bouncing off her sister’s fresh manicure. “I...I deserve to be upset about this. I’ve been here for two weeks living through this...this...bullshit lie, and I’m damn well going to sit and pout.”


“Fine. Sit and pout. Be mad. But when you’re ready, I’m sure there are some people out there in that waiting room who would like a chance to explain, and probably fill you in on everything you’ve missed. Or forgotten, or whatever.”


Penny waved her tripped words dismissively away, trying her best to maintain her composure as her big sister’s face didn’t so much as twitch at the suggestion.


“I graduated college.”


This time, her words were anything but authoritative, suggestive, demanding. They were soft, tentative even, as they always were when she shared something with Pam. They’d done their fare share of bickering in the past, as all sisters do. But there was something about those quiet moments, when Penny would crawl into Pam’s bed with eyes that shined, hesitant until she had her sister’s full attention.


And in that moment, her heart broke. Her sister, whose demeanor had been nothing but New York City business woman since the moment she stepped into the hospital room, was suddenly fourteen years old, telling Pam about the boy in her biology class who had passed her a note to ask her to the spring dance. The Beesly’s weren’t really huggers, per say, but as Pam’s scowl broke for the first time in nearly a day, the lines in her eyebrows turning up as her lips stretched and her eyes filled with tears, Penny was right there to scoop her up.


It was odd, hearing these memories that she had once lived recounted, some of the edges fuzzier than others as Penny detailed the past three years of her life. There were struggles with classes, arguments with professors, the eventual breakdown that pushed her into this now vigorous, hard demeanor that she carried herself with. A four-point-oh. Several competitive offers for high-paying jobs after graduation. A name for herself.


They cried, laughed, hugged in all the right places, Penny patient as her big sister grappled with some things that were right on the edge, being slow and cool and comforting. It wasn’t until Pam asked about Roy, about how much Penny had done so far as the maid of honor, that Penny was at a loss for words.


“Come on, Penny. There’s something you guys aren’t telling me.”


She was hesitant, her eyes focused on the designer jeans of her lap, her freshly manicured nails, their glossy paint catching the lowlights of the hospital room.


“You’re right,” she began, her words seeming to have miles between them. “But it’s not my story to tell.”


Their eyes met then, Penny vulnerable for the first time since Pam had seen her in this setting. She followed with the words that Pam was dreading, though their coming expected.


“You have to let them back in, Pam. You have to talk to them.”


Her heart and her throat were stuffed all of a sudden, like she’d swallowed a bag of cotton. She wanted answers, and yet the thought of actually trying to obtain them was more terrifying than the crash she had presumably just lived through.

 

It reminded her so much of high school, when she and her friends would gush over boys that they liked, but then as soon as the opportunity to talk to one presented itself, she’d blush and close up and chicken out.


But this wasn’t high school and pimply boys anymore. This was three years of her life. Three years, she choked back, that she needed to piece back together.


She closed her eyes, willing the tears to find a home somewhere other than her cheeks. When Penny was saying It doesn't have to be now, you know. Take all the time you need, she shook her head.


“No. No, I need to know. I...can you send Roy in here?”


There was worry in Penny’s eyes as she slowly rose to her feet, watching her sister’s frustration replace the momentary sadness and fear as the backs of Pam’s hands attacked her cheeks, red pigment consuming her pale skin.


She watched as shiny black boots were replaced with beat up leather. As her eyes scanned over worn jeans (the hole in the left knee was from four wheeling) and a long sleeved blue T (she bought him that shirt for Christmas in 1999. He was so bad about buying new clothes), the fury seemed to spread, to build again by the time she met his eyes. Though she never really met his eyes, per say, because he was doing his best to avoid her gaze altogether.


It reminded her so much of her first day being awake in this hospital, the way he walked as if the floor were covered in eggshells and was also on fire. He sat on the chair so gingerly that she wondered if he was afraid that it might collapse.


And then, it was all awkward.


He stared at his hands, pushing his fingers together, clasping and unclasping. Rubbing the back of his neck in a way that reminded her of Jim, but more rough, less nervous. It fueled the bubbling of anger in her temples, the momentary thought of That’s what Jim does, and you don’t get to take that from him taking her by surprise when not moments ago, all of her feelings for either of these men were nothing short of fury.


“This is your show, you know. You don’t get to do the puppy dog face while you wait for me to say something.”


Her tone was biting, something new that she thought had stemmed from waking up in a hospital bed to find out that three years of her life had disappeared. But, oddly, this sense of charge was a little thrilling, this boldness enlightening. Maybe it wasn’t so new after all.


“I know, I...I just...I don’t even know where to start.” He meshed his fingers together rapidly as he mumbled, in and out, in an out, the blue in his eyes so brightly contrasted to the way his face dropped, his features hung in sadness.


“How about with Melissa. Let’s start there.”


The look in his eyes was almost astonishment, a sad Really? Please, Pam, anything but that, like when a mother told her child that they had to go apologize to the kid that they had teased, even though everyone else thought the joke was funny.


She crossed her arms then, nodding once, her lips set in a thin line.


He took a deep breath, leaned back in the chair, looked towards the ceiling, and began to string the words together.


As he recounted the details of all that happened with Melissa, he saw little recognition in her eyes. In its place, though, he saw belief. Belief, despite the fact that she couldn’t remember a damn thing. He felt his chest tighten, knowing that, even though she was three years in the past, it didn’t phase her one bit that he could have pulled something like this off.


“So...that’s...Melissa.” His words tailed with a short chuckle, sort of an This sucks and it’s out in the open again and there you go.


He could see the wheels in her eyes turning as she processed in her head, slowly at first, but a distinct clarity hit them the longer she sat there.


“And...what about us, Roy? Something tells me I have a lot to catch up on from the past three years.”


He nodded, a sharp intake of breath happening with the jerk of his red eyes to the side.


She cried a little. But then, she cried a lot. It wasn’t anything close to wracking sobs or noisy, ugly crying, but there was a steady flow of tears when the words We broke up, Pammy and We just...we weren’t good together anymore. I think we both knew it passed like a stream through her ears. She was surprised when he corrected himself, when he choked out Actually, you dumped me, and I guess you finally came to your senses. It was sweet, the way he admitted his faults, took the blame. It used to be his face that was soft and his words that were hard. But somewhere, with the newly defined lines of his jaw, these three years had matured his words, if only just a little.


“I didn’t treat you the way you deserved to be treated, ya know? And even after...even after Melissa…God, Pammy, you should’ve just gone.” He caught himself then, shaking his head and searching her face for a reaction, though she wasn’t quite sure what to say just yet.


“Not that, like, I didn’t want to be with you. Because I did. God, I swear I still did. I just mean that...you didn’t have to stick around...for me. You shouldn’t have. Because I fuckin’ ruined it. But you did. Because you’re just...you’re too good, Pammy. Pam. I’m sorry. I know you don’t like being called that. I wish I would’ve known back then.”


It was the first time she’d seen him smile in awhile. It was soft around the edges, but it didn’t reach his eyes, those same blue eyes that she had lost herself in for six--no, nine--years. They were watering now, something she’d really never seen them do, save for a handful of times. When he tore his ACL and missed out on the football scholarship he’d been working so hard towards. When they had their first fight, and the words I think we need to take a break pushed past her shaky lips as he fell to his knees in protest.


The night he proposed.


This man before her, the one with whom she had grown up, had planned a future with, she was no longer in love with. But as he sat before her, naming his transgressions and expressing his regrets for not loving her enough, she felt a tugging on her heartstrings. She would always love him.


“So, I guess that answers my question of who I’m going with on Friday. Definitely not you,” she chuckled as she flicked stray tears from her eyes.


He laughed along with her, soft and hearty, before his eyes fell, pulling the corners of his mouth down and open with them. She waited, learning in this strange conversation with her, now ex-fiance, that she wasn’t the only one in pain. He was coming to terms with the words he was forming, too.


“Yeah, we, uh…” She could see him struggling still with his words, and waited patiently, though she fidgeted with a loose string on her cast while he did so. “Pam, you were, uh...you were leaving my place with your last box when you uh...when you...crashed.”


Oh.”


It was a soft noise, one that could have been missed, had he not been so focused on her reactions, on the way her shoulders dropped a little, her head cocked.


“Yeah. You, uh, you got your own place. I haven’t seen it yet, but from the sounds of it, it’s cozy. I’m sure you’ve got all of your art up on the walls and stuff.”


He was smiling, genuinely, at the thought, trying to push back the memories of I don’t want that chick stuff on my walls, Pammy! in favor of her in her element now. He settled instead for, “It was good to see you smiling again. You deserve that much.”


It seemed like a finality, as they took several minutes to absorb the conversation, to pick their heads up and blush at one another. This was the end of the Roy and Pam chapter, although by the looks of things, she had set out to close that book a few weeks ago anyway.


So why, now, in the middle of a hospital room, were tears pricking her eyes?


He stood, crossed the distance between the chair and her bed, and wrapped his arms around her body. These past few weeks he had been so mechanical and distant in his touches. But now, with his chin on her shoulder and his nose turning towards her cheek, she flew backwards in time, to high school dances and late nights in his truck with her feet up on the dashboard and remembered that this lug of a man wasn’t all that bad. Just because they weren’t meant for each other didn’t mean that their time together had been wasted.


He helped her grow, helped her change, helped her to learn how to face her fears and stick up for herself, no matter how roundabout the road to get there had been.


When he pulled away, he touched his lips softly to her forehead before moving awkwardly back to the middle of the room, his large hands shoved deeply into his pockets.


“Just so you know, you can call me at any time,” he began, tracing the big toe of his work boot in an arc along the floor. “Not like I’m trying to make a move or anything, I just...if it’s hard, or you want to talk, or you want someone to yell at...I’m still here. I still care about you, Pam.”


She nodded, words still lost on her as she directed all of her efforts into suppressing the tears that threatened.


He was about to leave when his voice, still rough with tears that he would probably deny later, said, “Oh, and Pam? Cut Halpert a break, okay? If you can sit here and forgive me of all people…”


His words were lost then, as she watched his gaze fall to the floor, watched him nod his head, watched him head towards the door. He clapped his hand on the frame, absorbed the small smile she gave, and said, “Well, bye Pam,” and offered one last smile before he disappeared.


She waited until he was out the door to let the tears fall, to let her lungs emit the sobs that stemmed from so many places, she didn’t even know where to begin.


It wasn’t a stream of consciousness, but more of a conglomerate of everything that swam behind closed eyes as she cried. It was Roy, past present and future. Triangles and pick-up trucks and house keys and Melissa and You were leaving my place with your last box when you crashed. But then, it was Jim, and Cut Halpert a break, okay? coming from the one place she had least expected it.


At that moment, as she tried to catch her breath, tried her damndest to just let every emotion release itself, to be free, she couldn’t do it. Couldn't cut him some slack or let him in. Not yet. That was enough emotional trauma for the day.


When she woke up to a nurse in her room and new meds in her IV pole, she saw the edges of maroon clutched between her fingers, peeking out from beneath her cheek.


Chapter End Notes:
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