Pam had never lived on her own, but living with just two other girls was nice. It was mostly because she rarely saw her roommates and practically didn't interact with them, so it felt like she was alone. 

They had found each other on the forum online; Pam knew almost nothing about them and vice versa, and that was just perfect. Karen was the eldest of them and worked somewhere in finances. She paid half of the rent for the apartment; that's why it was only fair that she took the separate bedroom when two others occupied the guest room. When Pam returned from the office to change and hurry to the restaurant, the door of Karen's room was usually closed, but her loud voice mixed with the sounds of a computer game shooting came out of it nevertheless. Pam had a strong suspicion that Karen despised both of her roommates, but had neither time nor intention to find out if that was true. Pam liked the other girl, Isabel, the most. She was easy-going and worked as a shop assistant in a mall nearby. Perhaps, under different circumstances, they might have been good friends, but Pam didn't seek friendship or even companionship. Besides, when Pam returned from her second shift, both her roommates were already sleeping. Sometimes, it was Isabel who came home in the middle of the night after her excessive parting and, trying to be as quiet as possible, waking Pam up nevertheless. Pam didn't care much about it, she usually fell asleep back just a minute later, barely registering her roommate's appearance. 

She was glad, really glad that her life now had a schedule. Woke up. Prepared for the first work. A thirty minutes ride by bus to the office. A terribly long and tedious workday, sometimes brightening with Michael's follies and Jim's jokes. A forty minutes ride by metro back to her apartment. Quick dinner. Change. A fifteen minutes walk to her other work. Five hours of greetings, taking calls, and polite smiling, that sometimes paid off with extra tips. The fifteen minutes walk home, where she fell on her futon and had a dreamless slumber. And in the morning — repeating the scheme all over again. 

She was truly grateful for her regime. It kept her equally busy and exhausted and didn't leave her time to think or feel anything. 

At the weekend, her regime crumbled a little. On Saturday, Pam had a full day shift in the restaurant, but even with that, she still had too much time; she spent it mostly on sleep. Sunday was usually dedicated to housing chores. Isabel was buying groceries, Karen cooking, Pam doing the dishes; Karen was paying the bills, Pam vacuuming and dusting, Isabel taking care of laundry. It was the day three girls communicated the most, and Pam was always slightly aware of it. 

She did the dishes as usual when she heard a stumbling sound and a soft cursing from the guest room. Then Karen appeared in the kitchen, holding the bag which Pam so carelessly had left on the floor. 

'If you keep leaving your stuff like that, I'll gather it and put it right into a trash can,' she said matter-of-factly and threw the bag on a kitchen chair. 

Pam didn't turn to face Karen; a plate she was washing dropped from her hands. She looked down, but instead of a sink, full of foam, saw only dirty melting snow, slipping through her fingers. 

A sob escaped from her throat, and she had to grasp on the counter to stay straight. 

'Whoa, Pam, no need to be so dramatic,' Karen scolded her, but soon, her voice changed to worry. 'Hey, calm down, I'm not going to do anything to your things.' 

But once unleashed, Pam's crying didn't stop. Isabel hurried to the kitchen to see tearful Pam and Karen, baffled with a sudden breakdown. 

'What did you say to her?' she asked Karen and gently put her hand on Pam's shoulder; from that simple touch, Pam's body started to shake even more. 

'Nothing!' Karen exclaimed. 'Just ask to watch her stuff.' 

'Doesn't look like 'nothing'!' Isabel retorted. 'There, there, Pam, shhh, that's okay.' 

She almost forcefully sat Pam on the chair and turned to Karen. 

'I'll be right back.'

She ran to the bathroom then and turned on hot water. When the bathtub started to fill, Isabel dropped a few drops of lavender-scented bubble bath. She considered it for a moment and poured it without a measure. 

In the kitchen, Karen awkwardly hugged Pam with one arm and muttered something reassuring without the visible result, though; Pam hid her face in her hands, crying almost hysterically. 

'Hey, let's take her to the bathroom,' Isabel suggested, and Karen nodded. They led non-resistant Pam to the smaller room, where they stripped her to her underwear and put her in hot bubbly water. Pam yelped at the first contact with a new surrounding, but that was all her reaction. The tears kept rolling down her cheeks, and she sobbed brokenly. Isabel kneeled on the rug by the bathtub, Karen sat on the toilet seat. All they could do was wait. 

Finally, Pam's sobs turned into the shuddering, hiccupy inhales and exhales; the well of tears seemed to dry up, at least, temporary. 

'I'm sorry you had to see all of… this,' Pam said apologetically, making an attempt to smile and failing. 'It won't happen again, I promise.'

'Hey, that's okay,' Isabel said reassuringly. 'Each of us sometimes just lost it, you know?' 

Pam looked at her with perplexity.

'So, what happened, Pam?' Isabel asked carefully. And that simple question broke the dam, that Pam had been neatly creating for the last few months. She had to press her palm to her mouth to shut herself, but her hands gripped her knees, and words flowed uncontrollably. 

She told them about Roy, about her engagement without any sign of a wedding, about his decision to move, her sabotage, and their break-up. Karen shifted uncomfortably when Pam described how she had returned home to speak to Roy and had recognized in the junk on the snow under the building her belongings, but she said nothing. 

'I just don't understand,' Pam repeated again and again. 'How could he do that? He was ignorant, yes, and too handsy sometimes — well, when he had too many shots, but he's never been cruel. He knew that my things were important to me, and I just don't understand… Probably, that's my fault. I made him…'

'Not your fault,' said Karen confidently. 'It was his choice to be an asshole, and you have nothing to do with that.' 

'She's right,' Isabel said. 'Don't be too hard on yourself. It just happens, some men were born jerks, and it's not our fault that we stumble over them on our way. Besides, could you imagine what might your life have looked like if you'd married that guy? If you'd had kids with him? You’re the lucky one to dodge the bullet!' 

Pam sniffed. 

Then Pam told them about her mom. She said as she had called her in tears, telling her about her distress and asking for advice. And though Mrs. Beesly had comforted her daughter a little, she had told her to be wiser, not to throw away eight years of relationships, to save the engagement and ask Roy to come back; she had repeated again and again how it had been necessary — to have a man in her life, even if he had been far from the perfection. Pam told them that it had pained her so much — to hear how her own mother had basically taken the side of her former fiance and had tried to convince her to return to him. 

'I've always been her girl,' Pam was on the edge of tears again. 'Penny has been all dad's, but I've been hers. She was so proud of me when I went to university. And when I got engaged, she couldn't stop bragging about my success. And now I turned out to be an ungrateful child who broke her mother's heart. Twenty four years old, no husband, no fiance, no kids in the near future, and her neighbors don't get tired of rubbing that in her face.' 

'Have you ever thought that your mother tried to live through your life?' said Karen carefully. Both Pam and Isabel looked at her with confusion. 

'What?' Pam asked. 

'Okay. Did your mother have a degree?'

'Um, no,' said Pam uncertainty. 

'And your father?..'

'They divorced when I was fifteen,' Pam looked at her folded hands. 'He found another woman and I don't know where he lives now. We lost touch.' 

'So, the next year after he'd gone, you met a kinda decent guy your mom totally approved, right?' Karen went on, and Pam nodded. 'Well, that should be expected.' 

'What expected?' Pam still didn't get Karen's point. 

'Look, just don't take it personal, okay?' Pam nodded again, and Karen continued. 'It seems that your mother has a plan in her head about what you should achieve to have your life complete. For your mother, that means some education, family and — the most important — to be like everyone else. Don't give a reason for others to think ill of you and your family. And you were fulfilling her wishes, so, when you stopped doing that and chose something you needed instead of what she wanted — she started to push on the guilt button.' 

'How did you learn all this stuff?' asked Isabel, amazed. 

'Let's say, I've had a lot of practical studies,' Karen smirked darkly. Pam and Isabel said nothing. 

After that, Pam told about the day when Roy had jumped into her office and received a good portion of pepper spray in his face. And she cried again, remembering the phone calls that had followed — from her mom, and Roy's mom, and some of his friends, and from unknown numbers. In these calls, the world' hussy' had usually been the most decent. The water in the tub cooled down, and the bubbles ceased, but Pam kept talking. 

'I hate the idea that someone out there hates me. I think if they got to know me, they wouldn't hate me. But all of them — my mom, and Roy, and his mom, and his family and friends — they all know me, and they hate me so much.' 

She made another broken sob. 

'I just… I can't do this anymore. I work on two shitty jobs only to afford my existence — but what's the point? I am a failed daughter, I have failed as a fiancee, and I am even failing to be a nice girl I've always been. I'm so weak and tired, and I don't know who I am anymore.' 

'Why do you think you're weak?' asked Karen. Pam laughed mirthlessly. 

'Well, for a start, I'm sitting in the bathtub and crying my eyes out…'

'But you got out of unhealthy relationships and didn't allow yourself to be dragged back,' Karen said. 'You escaped the crab bucket, and that couldn't be possible without inner strength.'

'And you survived the shitstorm on your own and didn't end up in a psych ward,' added Isabel. 'I think that's awesome.' 

'Do you really think so?' Pam looked at her roommates, torn between overwhelming gratitude and desire to weep a little more. 

'Of course,' said Isabel, smiling. 'And now, why don't we get you out of the bath and have some wine?' 

They brought Pam her fluffy pink robe and then sat in the guest room, drinking wine from tea cups since none of them had bought proper glasses yet. In an attempt to cheer Pam up, Isabel started to tell them her own story about her short-lived marriage. And even though it wasn't a lighthearted tale, the way Isabel spoke about her extremely feckless ex-husband made Pam stifle giggling a couple of times. Pam appreciated Isabel's sense of humor and thought that she really should try to make friends with her.

'So, I decided once and for all that next time if I want to clean after someone, I'll get a dog,' Isabel finished her speech with a dramatic swoosh of her hand and emptied her cup. 'I mean, dogs at least care about you. I doubt that my ex knew where I was working at that time, not speaking about actually giving enough shit to come and make a scene.' 

'Well, I don't think Roy would ever do what he's done, it just happened,' Pam admitted. 

'Happened? Really, Pam?' Karen asked sarcastically. 

'Erm… someone kinda slashed his tires,' Pam looked down, but quickly glanced up and added, 'It wasn't me.' 

Karen snorted, Isabel laughed, and Pam blushed slightly. 

'We know it wasn't you, silly,' said Isabel. 'But for sure, you have a crazy protective friend somewhere.' 

'More like a fucked-up friend,' Karen rolled her eyes. 

'Do you know who it was?' asked Isabel curiously. 

'No,' Pam lied. 

They emptied the bottle too quickly, and Isabel went out to buy more booze. While she was absent, Karen said quietly that she was sorry for her words. 

'That's okay,' Pam answered. 'You didn’t know.' 

She thought she was lucky that her roommates had turned out to be so supportive and understanding. She suspected that if they had reacted in any other way, Pam would have been looking for a new place now. 

Two next bottles were finished almost as quickly as the first one, and Karen, keeping in mind that tomorrow all of them had to go to work, suggested cutting the drinking and switching to ice-cream and a movie. They took away the bottles — both empty and full — and Karen invited them into her room since she was the only one who owned a computer. Pam sat on Karen's bed and pressed her back to the wall; wine made her mellow and she couldn't stop giggling. 

They were watching 'Spirited Away' (Karen's choice), and she kept rolling her eyes every time Pam or Isabel commented on the film. 

'Oof, that's the perfect illustration of my life!' exclaimed Isabel when a wooden step of extremely steep stairs broke under the leading heroine's foot, and she ran down, screaming in panic. 

'Mine too!' giggled Pam when the heroine's run ended up with her smashing into a wall amain. 

But then Pam started to watch the film with more attention and even cut her remarks. Either she sobered up a little, or the movie turned out to be more compelling than she expected, or, maybe, something was endearing in the way the heroine and her green-eyed friend were saving each other, but, in the end, Pam was teary again; the open-ended final was too much to bear. 

After the movie, Karen hinted that it was really late, and she had an important meeting in the morning, so her roommates left with theirs 'thanks' and 'good nights.' They got ready for bed, but even with the lights turned off, Pam didn't feel tired enough to doze off; today's events kept buzzing in her head. 

'It was fun today,' said Pam. 'I haven't had so much fun for a long time.' 

Isabel was silent for a moment and then chuckled. 

'We should definitely repeat this… next Sunday, maybe? But, you know, without the bathroom thing.'

Pam smiled in the darkness sadly and sighed. 

'Next Sunday I have to visit my mom in our village. And it'll be horrible. She'll keep nagging me about how I’ve managed to fail my engagement, and I'll keep my fingers crossed not to bump into Mrs. Anderson…'

'Hey, I have an idea. How about you don't?' suggested Isabel. 

'Huh?' 

'If you don't want to go, then just don't. You should do you, girl. What do you actually want from your life?' 

Pam stared at the ceiling for a while before she answered. 

'I want to live in a house with a terrace. I want to plant flowers and draw how they're growing. I want…' she swallowed 'I want to love and to be loved.' 

'Aww, these are good,' said Isabel. 'Well, you have to wait a little with the house, but others? Get yourself an album with pencils, and I’ll bring you a flower pot and seeds. And next time I go to the club, I'll take you with me. Let's find you a man, someone with money and well-endowed.' 

'Um… thanks, Isabel, but I don't think that clubbing is my thing,' said Pam carefully. 

'Well, how do you meet people otherwise? In the libraries?' Isabel smirked. 

'I don't think I want to meet people at all.'

'Um… so how could you meet your Prince Charming then?' asked Isabel. Pam didn't answer, and Isabel shifted on the couch to face her. 'Wait a minute! You've already met him, haven't you?'

If it weren't so dark, she'd notice a deep blush covering Pam's cheeks.  

'It's complicated,' Pam whispered at last. 

'Pam. Pam. Pam. I need more details!' Isabel was clearly excited. 

'It's nothing, really. I just know a guy, but it's hopeless, and nothing will happen with him.' 

'Oh, dear, why hopeless?' 

'Because,' Pam groaned quietly. 'He knows that I’ve just ended the eight-years-long relationships. And I'm scared, I'm scared so much… what if I'm falling for him just because I don't get used to living on my own and just desperately need someone in my life, and he's the closest guy I have?'

'Do you?' 

'I don't know. But if I do something — anything — about him, he'll think low of me, and I'll die from embarrassment if he thinks low of me. And now I try to stay away from him because he might find out that I'm not a cool girl he used to think I am but a complete mess. And when I'm around him I keep pretending that I'm fine when all I want is to curl into a ball and cry. It's exhausting, and I miss having fun with him, but I just don't see how I could change it.' 

‘So, you were already having fun, huh?’ 

‘Not in that way! I was engaged, remember? We were just making pranks and stuff.’

'So… Why is his opinion so important for you?' asked Isabel warily. 

'He's the best friend I've ever had,' said Pam with a sigh. 'And he's so nice. Witty and smart and thoughtful and…' 

'Uh-oh. Be careful with the nice guys,' Isabel didn't even try to hide her contempt. 'They might seem perfect, but when you're the most vulnerable, they'll try to shove their tongues down your throat. Or even worse.' 

'Jim's not like that!' exclaimed Pam. Isabel chuckled, and Pam added quieter 'He could never do such a thing, I know he couldn't.' 

'Well, if that guy is as great as you describe him, he'll understand your troubles. And if he's just another fake nice guy… it would be better to get rid of him now before that thing didn't go too far. Does it make any sense?' 

'Maybe. Maybe if I think about it more, it'll sound more convincing.' 

'Think about it. And hey! We have a plan for this week! You'll get yourself drawing stuff, I'll get you a flower pot… or, if you want to, I can find you another pot…'

'Isabel!'

'What? It also could help you to relax!' 

Pam giggled, and Isabel laughed. They exchanged 'good nights' then, and soon after that, Pam heard Isabel's steady breathing. But she couldn't fall asleep so quickly. 

Perhaps, she truly needed another point of view at her life. She had gotten used to looking at herself through her mom's eyes, and through Roy's eyes, and, probably, even through Jim's eyes. And every time she did that, she saw someone who wasn't entirely her. Today, she looked at herself through other girls' eyes and found out with a great surprise, that she could be weak and strong at the same time; moreover, that was absolutely okay to have flaws. 

Perhaps, one day she wouldn't need another person to see herself as she was. 

It was strange, strange to realize that the way she lived all these years was unhealthy and deficient at some point. Thoughts about that were swirling in her mind the whole week. Pam didn't notice before that she had imitated her mother's life; two months ago, she hadn't minded to follow her steps, but now she was scared of it. The way her mother lived, the way she thought and reacted, had stained her daughter's life deeply; the constant need of approval, the hiding of her true self behind the image of 'the nice girl,' the repressing of her needs and thoughts and feelings in an attempt to prevent the disappointment of others in the endless quest for perfection. All of these had become her second skin — she had to shed it; the way she lived had cursed her to be unhappy — she had to break this curse. 

Of course, it wouldn't be easy, and Pam knew it clearly and precisely. She couldn't just go to bed with determination to change her life and wake up the new person. Pam knew that for weeks, months she would still be looking back at the reaction of people surrounding her before she would finally rely on herself; she hoped that it wouldn't turn into years. 

On Friday, when Michael gathered all of them in the conference room to lecture them about leadership and other crap, she glanced at Jim, who caught her look and rolled his eyes at their boss' folly. And it hit her, it hit her so hard she clutched her notebook till her knuckles were white. 

She couldn't break her curse until she wasn't honest with her best friend. 

Pam was terrified. The idea to tell Jim everything made her stomach churn, and her heart dropped to the ground. She thought what Roy would say if she told him what she was about to tell Jim. Probably something like 'why are you saying this to me’ or 'well, that's your problem.' Of course, Jim wasn't Roy. 

Still, she had no idea how he would react. 

When the meeting was over, Pam went straight to her place. She had to calm down before speaking to him. Another sudden determination had been born then: if he was disappointed, if she ruined their understanding, she'd immediately go to Toby and write a resignation letter. She'd probably spend many hours in the bath, weeping over her imperfection, but, at least, she would be free from that uncertainty. 

Her unsteady fingers drummed on her keyboard. 

'Hey, may I talk to you?'

She raised her eyes to look at Jim; he raised his eyes at her and nodded. 

Pam stood up then and went to the stairwell; she had had a habit to toy with her ring when she was nervous, and now, when it had been long gone, she didn't know what to do with her fingers or with her hands. She felt as if she was melting; the tips of her ears burned, and she couldn't stay as if the floor had burned her feet as well. Something invisible and impalpable squeezed her lungs, not allowing her to breathe in fully. 

She almost jumped when Jim finally showed up. 

'What's up, Beesly?' he asked casually, and suddenly the words stuck in her throat. Pam coughed and hugged herself. 

Here goes nothing. 

'I just want to be honest with you,' her eyes were locked on his shoes. 'You're my best friend, and things are just like weird between us right now. And I don't want them to be like that.' 

Pam looked at Jim's face, who was visually tensed. 

'I know I told you that everything is fine. The thing is that it isn't.'

'Look, Pam,' Jim interrupted her, but she stopped him on his tracks. 

'Please, let me finish first,' Pam said, and Jim nodded, hiding his hands in the pockets and hunching. 

'So,' Pam continued. 'You know, the break-up with Roy was the right thing to do.' 

Jim looked at her with a new, slightly puzzled expression.

'But that break-up made my life far more complicated. I'm struggling with my jobs, have problems with my family, and basically can't allow myself to stop and take a break. Every day I want to cry, but after my shifts, I feel too exhausted even for a few tears.'

She bit her lower lip. 

'I'm tired of pretending that everything is okay when it's not. And I truly want to be a better person, a stronger and more independent one, but, apparently, it's harder than I expected. And while I’m not there yet, I’m stuck in this weird state not knowing who I am. ' 

She made a shuddering exhale and tried to smile. 

'Well, I guess, I may call this person Fancy New Beesly. Or, maybe, Permanently Petrified Pam. Haven't decided yet.'

Jim was silent for so long that Pam started to worry that he was going to just turn around and go away without any reaction. Finally, he spoke. 

'How aren't you dead already?' 

That was the question Pam hadn't been prepared for at all.

'What?' 

'How aren't you dead already?' His expression changed and was anything but a disappointment. 'How can you cope with all that stuff on your own, stay sane, and even be able to joke? I'd be dead if I had to deal with all of that.'

A force that was tightening her chest weakened, and Pam breathed in and out freely. 

'I don't know either,' she said shrugging. 'Muscle memory, I guess.' 

'You have awesome muscles then,' Jim laughed awkwardly. 'But seriously, can I help you somehow?' 

Pam shook her head. 

'I don't think so. You can't pay my bills for me or patch things up between my mom and me. All of this I have to do on my own.'

'Oh. I'm sorry you have a quarrel with your mother.'

'Yeah. She still can’t forgive me that I turned a good man into a revengeful asshole.' 

It was meant to be sarcasm, but Jim shifted uncomfortably, and his hand flew to scratch the back of his head.

'Um… about that. That thing with Roy's car… well, that was me. Sorry for bringing you more trouble.' 

'Well, I kinda figured that out,' Pam smirked and couldn't resist adding, 'My hero.' 

Jim laughed. 

'Rather an anti-hero then.' 

'Yep,' Pam agreed. 'In a slightly dented armor.' 

Both of them grinned, and Pam felt unbelievably lighthearted and even slightly lightheaded. 

That honesty thing was terrific. She should have tried it years ago. 

'Pam,' Jim asked, still smiling. 'Are you sure that there is nothing I can do for you?' 

And Pam heard Isabel's voice in her ears. What do you actually want from your life?

'Well, actually, there is something,' said Pam, and Jim glanced at her expectantly. 'I have one day off, on Sunday, and was thinking… I'd like to draw again but more professionally. But I've never studied, and, perhaps, still on the very amateur level... so… could you find some art courses for me? Something at the weekend and affordable. You could save me so much time...' 

'Yeah, sure,' Jim agreed eagerly. 'But, I have to say, I know nothing about the art, and I'm not sure I even know the difference between pastel and watercolor. There is a difference, right? They aren't different names for the same stuff?'

'Yes, the first is pigment pressed in the sticks, and the second is water-soluble paint,' Pam explained, smiling, 'but both are my favorite art mediums.'

'I'll keep that in mind,' Jim nodded solemnly. 'Hope you won't be disappointed with the courses I'll sign you up.'

'I'm sure I won't,' Pam said. 'I trust you.'