Pam tugs the blanket around her a little tighter and settles herself deeper into the couch. It’s been a weird day. She doesn’t want to do anything except wrap herself in a cocoon and watch dumb reality tv and not think about anything, especially not the day she’s had. Roy is out with the warehouse guys for something called “Thirsty Thursday” at Poor Richard’s, so she’s able to manage the first two items on her list without interruption.The third, though...
“I’m the one who complained about you.”
The words are a constant loop in her mind. Actually, they’re more like a jackhammer. She doesn’t want to think about it but she can’t stop thinking about it. It feels like...like a betrayal. To hear that her best friend in the office—her best friend in the world—had gone to Toby and complained about her wedding planning? Yeah, okay, he said he’d taken it back immediately and that he didn’t know Toby was even going to make a report, but still. Still.
She pulls her feet up and tucks them underneath her body, trying to make herself as small as possible, because that’s how she feels: small. Like a wounded animal. It’s a hurt that’s deeper than she expected it would be, and that’s exactly why she doesn’t want to think about it. Thinking about it is like tiptoeing next to that line that she doesn’t want to acknowledge but that she’s intensely aware of. And she’s scared that if she thinks about it too much, she’ll step right over it.
Because it’s not like she hasn’t wondered what it would be like, to be with Jim. That line of thinking is dangerous, though. Dangerous because it throws her entire world for a loop. She recalls the times she’s caught herself daydreaming (mostly innocently, but not always) about Jim; about what it would be like to see him in jeans and a t-shirt on the weekends, to cook dinner and take walks and see movies and enjoy each other. It always seems like it’d be so easy, that they could make the transition from friendship to romance without losing a beat. There are reasons why they’re best friends, right? And what if those reasons are the same reasons why they’d be the best partners, too?
But. Those thoughts only seem to creep in when the waters of her relationship with Roy are troubled. And as far as she’s concerned, that’s pretty normal. Relationships are consistently hard work according to pretty much everybody, and she can’t be the only one whose mind has strayed a time or two when the going gets tough. And it makes sense that it would be Jim, because it’s not like she even knows that many men. Plus, there’s the fact that Jim would never be into her in that way. She can’t hold a candle to women like Katy in terms of looks or charm, so what does she even have to offer someone like Jim? So her fantasies or whatever it is they should be called are harmless.
She watches TV absently, barely registering what’s happening until she hears the beautiful bachelorette debating the pros and cons of two of the handsome and eligible men vying for her hand. “Max is great, he really makes me laugh. He seems like sweet and supportive guy. We have great chemistry. Cody, though, it almost feels like we already have a history even though we barely know each other. We were raised in the same area, have a lot in common as far as our backgrounds. There’s something to be said for that.”
Pam raises her eyebrows in surprise and her mouth drops open. She can’t find the remote fast enough. Once the channel has been safely changed to an innocent and non-relationship related show (something about aliens and conspiracy theories, she thinks), she regards the television with a look of contempt. She almost wants to say out loud “how dare you?” because it feels like Tina or Tiffany or whatever the bachelorette’s name is is holding up a mirror so that Pam is confronted with the very dilemma she’s trying to avoid.
There is definitely something to be said for having a history with someone, the way she does with Roy. Roy has been a presence in her life for almost half of it, and they’ve been a couple for more than a third. He’s been there as she’s grown and changed and learned who she is. He knows her fears and her secrets and her hopes. Sometimes he doesn’t understand them...sometimes she doesn’t understand him. But they’ve settled into something that’s familiar and comforting and she doesn’t worry about their future because she knows it’ll be the same as their present. And that’s a nice thought, right? To know exactly what you’re getting from someone because you can read it in their expressions, in their actions, the way she can with Roy?
It’s not like that with Jim. She knows him well enough that she can decipher his mood and his thoughts in an instant, just from the look on his face, sure. Most of the time. But sometimes she’ll look at him—or more accurately, he’ll look at her—with a look that has what seems like a thousand emotions hiding behind it, none of which she can put her finger on. It’s been happening a lot lately and it makes her uneasy, because most of the explanations she can come up for why he’s looking at her the way he sometimes does don’t just dance alongside that imaginary line, they hurdle right across it.
He looks at her sometimes and she thinks she sees despair and hope and heartache and—dare she even think it?—love. And she just...she doesn’t know what to do with that.
Because when she thinks the words “Jim” and “love” in the same sentence, it makes her feel a warmth in her stomach and a pulling ache in her heart. It makes her wonder. It makes her think of the way that he pushes her and encourages her and hopes for her to be more than she is. When she thinks like that, it makes her start to doubt if she really is fine with her choices.
Sometimes, late at night when it’s dark and still and the only sound is that of Roy’s heavy breathing and occasional snore, she admits to herself that there are times where she wishes that she chose differently. Those are the nights that she wishes she had done the corporate internship or signed up for art classes or done something instead of being lulled by security and familiarity and comfort and allowing herself to settle into a rut of her own making. Those are the nights that she hears Jim’s voice in her head, telling her that she has to take a chance on something sometime. Those are the nights that she convinces herself that she does see love in Jim’s eyes, love and want and need and everything wonderful and scary. It makes her wonder if that is the thing she should take a chance on.
But in the harsh light of the morning after, she crashes back to reality. Jim sees her as a friend and only a friend. The look she sees isn’t love, it’s probably something a lot like pity. Pity for the girl that’s stuck behind a reception desk at a failing paper company, who had dreams but is too scared to reach for them, who allows herself to be treated unfairly because she’s too meek to stand up for herself.
Because deep down, she knows. She hasn’t spoken her feelings into existence or given them more than a passing thought before cramming them away somewhere into a dark corner of her mind, but they’re there. She knows that there are things missing from her relationship with Roy, areas where she feels like she’s compromised more than her fair share. She knows that “Pam” outside of “Pam and Roy” doesn’t exist and hasn’t for a long time. Roy, on the other hand, doesn’t have that problem. He knows who he is, what he wants, and what his life is going to be like. He never questions it or his behavior or their relationship, because he’s confident that everything is going to turn out the way he’s planned it and will always stay the same.
And that’s exactly why she stays.
Well, it’s one of the reasons. The main one, at least. Because despite his brusqueness and his occasional dismissiveness and all the other things that make her start mentally inching for the door, she still loves him and she can’t bear to think of breaking his heart. At the end of the day he’s a big teddy bear, really, one that’s rough around the edges but that knows her and all her stories and can turn on the charm and makes her feel safe and wanted when he wraps her up in his big arms. He works hard and deserves to have things turn out the way he’s planned and she’s a big part of that.
They’ll be happy, she knows, and that’s what she tells herself to quiet the voice piping up in the back of her mind; the one that says “you deserve to have things turn out the way you’ve planned, too.” She’s good at doing that, at quieting little voices.
That’s what she’s doing when the door opens and Roy walks in. He stumbles a little bit on the rug in the entryway, and she can tell by that and by the way his cheeks are red and his eyes a little glassy that he’s two, maybe two and a half sheets to the wind. She starts to get annoyed, but his gaze lands on her and his face lights up and he just looks so sweet and boyish, so she lets it go.
“I got ya somethin’, Pammy.” His voice is thick, like his tongue is just a little bit too big for his mouth, and his movements are slow as he makes his way towards her perch on the couch.
“What is it?” He doesn’t answer, just comes to stand in front of her with a grin that could almost be described as “shy” on his face. She notices then that his hands are behind his back—he’s being playful. That almost never happens. It makes her heart flutter a little. She giggles and adjusts her position on the couch so that she’s on her knees, smiling up at him. “Really, Roy, what is it?”
“Close your eyes and hold out your hands.” When she does what he asks, she has a fleeting thought that he’s going to do something sexual or inappropriate and if he does she might snap, but he doesn’t. Instead, he places something soft and fuzzy into her outstretched hands. She opens her eyes to find a pair of teddy bears, one dressed in a tuxedo and the other in a wedding dress. They’re sweet and silly and Roy is beaming at her and she’s going to cry.
“You like ‘em, babe? They were in the window of the pharmacy next to a delivery. I thought you’d think they’re cute. Me ‘n’ you.”
“They’re really cute, Roy,” she says. Her voice comes out tiny and raspy and there’s a lump in her throat caused by the tenderness of Roy’s expression and the weight of the guilt she feels at the thoughts she’s been having all night. She stands up and wraps her arms around her fiancé’s neck so she can kiss him, partly to say thank you and partly in an attempt to still the nagging doubts in the back of her mind. It works, kind of. The doubts don’t ever really go away, but.
When she pulls away, he grabs her by the hand and leads her to the bedroom. She sets the bears on her nightstand, arranges them carefully so that they’re leaning on each other the way a married couple should be, and crawls beneath the covers where Roy is waiting. He takes his time, kisses her cheeks and tells her she’s beautiful, and after they finish he sighs like he’s the most satisfied man in the world. He probably is.
He’s asleep when she gets out of the bathroom, his back towards her. Pam stays awake for a little while longer. She curls her body against his and wraps one arm around his waist the best that she can. With her head against the broad expanse of his back and shoulders, she can focus on the sound of his deep, even breathing. It lulls her to sleep and the persistent little voice in her head is silent, for once.
She dreams of teddy bears when she finally falls asleep. Teddy bears in wedding outfits. They’re not the same ones given to her by Roy, but similar. The main difference is that the groom bear’s stitched on smile is a little bit lopsided. Looking at it makes her stomach flip and her heart pound and all those tell-tale signs of being in love. She hugs it to her chest, never wanting to let go.
When she wakes up the next morning, though, she doesn’t remember her dreams.
