Pammy’s little fashion show at lunch….that had to be for him, right? Because they were still doing that little push and pull, where she pretended to be moving on and he pretended to be OK with it. Where they met up every day at lunch and exchanged chicken and fish and he got to experience having her in his life for another fifteen or twenty minutes before she got whisked away or he got called back for another round of heavy lifting.
He was very glad she hadn’t really realized that he could easily have just given her half the food and stopped doing this little lunchtime exchange. She had a new place by now, it had to have a freezer—OK, maybe not a big one like the basement of the house he still lived in (he refused to call it “his house” or “their old house” or anything that implied that she no longer lived there, even if it was temporarily true)—but something that could hold a bunch of meals. He could just bring her like a week’s worth at a time or whatever (140 guests plus extra to make sure no one went hungry went a long way). And then they wouldn’t be doing this pantomime every day.
But he liked the pantomime, and by now he had come to assume that she did too, because otherwise why hadn’t she asked him to just bring her a bunch at once? She had to be enjoying this, and that meant that somewhere, maybe buried, maybe right near the surface, she wanted him in her life. And he was willing to wait.
He was especially willing to wait if she was going to reward his patience with extras like that fashion show. He’d not been happy when she first started transitioning her wardrobe from the stuff that she wore while they were together. He wasn’t going to pretend it didn’t hurt to see her acting like she was moving on. But this felt different. This time she was not just silently changing, but showing it off—showing it off for him. Sure, the rest of the office too, but what, she was suddenly interested in that fat accountant? If Halpert had still been around, sure, maybe he’d have worried. Hell, if Halpert were still around he’d have slugged that guy, because he could just imagine the way that thin asshole’s eyes would have been glued to Pammy’s tits. OK, maybe that was unfair. Who could blame the guy for looking? Roy looked himself, of course, but then he had the right. He’d put in the time. He’d been with Pammy for ten years, so he was entitled to stare a little.
And she had to know he was going to, right? It was a fact of life by now that he came up at lunch, and (no matter what that bitch Kelly thought) he had a right to come up and have a Coke now and then too. So she knew he’d be around. Putting on that provocative top was a signal. He could read Pammy’s signals. She wasn’t entirely comfortable doing this in the office—of course she wasn’t—so there must be some reason she was doing it. And that meant him, right? Why else would she be doing something she felt exposed or uncomfortable doing if not to signal to him—we’ll be OK, do you like what you see, aren’t I still your pretty Pammy?
And she’d thanked him when he said she looked nice. Of course she did. She looked like…what was it that their dumb boss had said that one time? Pam 6.0. Yeah. New and improved indeed. Vavavoom. But she’d been happy when he’d told her that, and uncomfortable when the fat guy and the two ladies complimented her. That meant she was looking for his approval, right? That had to be a good sign.
That reminded him, though. If he was going to win Pammy back (and he knew, deep in his heart of hearts, that she was waiting for him to do that—to convince her that she had been right to be with him all along) then he was going to need to do what she was doing. He needed a new wardrobe, but more than that he needed a new attitude. He needed to be not just a guy she could be happy with (he was pretty sure he was that already) but a guy it was obvious she’d be happy with. After all, Pammy hated going back on decisions—which meant that it had taken something for her to break off their engagement, but also that it would take something new to bring that engagement back on. He had to show her that the grass was greener right where she’d left it, and that un-un-doing their marriage was the best option.
He needed to get to the gym more. He’d used to go the Y for basketball and stuff like that; why had he ever stopped? And maybe he could see if the guys from high school were still playing pickup football on the weekends. That was the ticket—get back in shape, get back to the Roy he knew he could be. Maybe he’d grow like a beard or something. Chicks dug beards. Pammy’d like that. And hell, maybe he’d like it himself.
But the one thing he couldn’t do was get complacent. She might have made that little show for him, she might be waiting for him to make a big gesture, but he needed to get his act together to show her he’d noticed what she was signaling. She’d said when she broke it off that they weren’t connecting, that he wasn’t noticing her, that they didn’t communicate well. He couldn’t let this opportunity pass him by then. Show her you saw, show her you noticed, show her you can pick up what she’s laying down. It was time to get back to where he needed to be so she could get back to where she belonged—with him
He wondered if he could go get a fourth can of soda, or if Kelly would call him out again.
