'Are you even listening to me, Pam?' 

It was Friday, and they were on the way to their home village, where at the weekend Roy's mother — Ma Anderson — had her sixtieth anniversary. On the way home, Roy cussed halfheartedly about morons who didn't know how to drive, about the bumps on the road, and about the traffic violation fines; his voice mixed with the loud music Pam didn't actually like (but, since Roy was driving, she thought that it would be fair if he chose the radio station). The heavy odor of gasoline, cigarettes, and pine air freshener made her queasy a little, and she felt drowsiness, not registering on time when Roy stopped complaining and started talking to her. 

'Huh? Oh, I'm sorry, I just don't feel well and doze off a little,' she said apologetically. He looked at her with a slight concern.

'Hey, if you want to puke, I'll stop somewhere. No need to do it in the car,' Roy suggested. Pam just smiled faintly. 

'I think I'll be fine, thanks. So… what are you talking about?'

'It's Kenny. He said he knew a guy who could offer me a fine job. You know, more money won't hurt.' 

'That's… that's great,' Pam smiled at him. 'What would you have to do?' 

'Oh, the usual stuff. Loading, driving, and so on. Nothing I didn't do before, but the payment is three times better than I have now. I'm sure there will be something for you as well. And this guy says we won't have problems with the visa, so…' 

He said something more, but Pam registered nothing after the word 'visa.' 

'Wait, what?' she asked incredulously. 'Visa? Like, for going abroad?'

'Well, yeah,' Roy answered. 'Where can you find a better paying job in this country?' 

'I don't know,' Pam trailed off. 'I mean, it's a great opportunity, but moving out… It's such a big step. I'm not sure we're ready for it.' 

'And that's it?' he said with disbelief. 'A great opportunity? Pam, people would kill for the chance to move out, and you're going to screw the solid deal!'

'Roy, please, let's talk about it later,' Pam begged. 'I need to think about it, and…' 

'There's nothing to think about,' Roy huffed. 'But whatever.'

Pam sighed and turned to the window. Just the thought about moving out, about starting her life from scratch, scared her, but Roy seemed to be into it very much, and that meant they unavoidably would have a fight. But tomorrow would be his mother's birthday, and Pam just didn't want to worsen his mood now; judging by the returning of his grumbling, one wrong word would make him explode. So she just closed her eyes, feeling nausea coming back. 

They reached the village when it was already dark. As it had been decided earlier, Pam would spend a night at her mom's house, and the next day they both would go to Anderson's. Roy stopped the car near the familiar fence, not turning the ignition off. 

'We are expected at one p.m., right?' Pam asked. 'Maybe, we should show earlier, to help with preparations or…' 

'Relax, babe,' Roy brushed her off. 'Ma would be offended if you offered her help. She has everything under control. Don't worry, we'll just show her that we're alive, and ditch the party.' 

'Right,' Pam said, fumbling with her seatbelt. Roy watched her with a smirk. 

'Why do you always do that? Don't you trust me or my driving?' he asked. His own seatbelt hung flatly near the driver's seat; he never buckled in himself and couldn't stop mocking Pam's habit. 

'Of course, I trust you, Roy,' Pam said tiredly. 'But you can't trust all those people you meet on the road.' 

'I'm just kidding, Pam,' he cut her off, kissing her with a loud smack on the lips. 'See you tomorrow. Oh, and say 'hi' to Mrs. Beesly.' 

'Okay,' Pam said, leaving the car and closing the door behind. 'Good night, Roy.'

Pam watched as the car slowly drove away — she waved Roy goodbye once more, but he didn't notice her gesture — and only then opened the rickety wicket of her parent's yard. A loud barking that had started as soon as the car had reached the lane turned into an excited woofing when an old dog recognized her. 

The door of the house opened up, and a woman figure appeared in the doorway. 

'Hi, mom,' said Pam, smiling and hugging her mother. 'I'm home.'

She acknowledged a fallacy of her statement the next morning when she took the liberty of lying in her bed in her childhood room before she had to get out of bed and take care of domestic concerns. She had grown up here, in this house she had spent, probably, the happiest days of her life so far, but now it was just the home of her parents, not hers. Pam stared at the ceiling; she had used to trace with her eyes the tiny cracks in the plaster and to see the patterns there, maps of unknown lands. But now she saw only the cracks on the ceiling. It upset her a little and brought her a sense that was very similar to guilt. This house had been built by her grandfather, for his large family; but all his children — except for his daughter-in-law — had left this place many years ago and all his grandchildren — except for her and Penny — had been born elsewhere. And now she didn't think of this house as of her home, and as far as she knew, her sister also had no intention of returning.

Perhaps, it was right in some sense; they had to build something of their own. Nevertheless, it felt like a betrayal. 

Finally, she got out of bed and dressed in a t-shirt, an old stretched sweater, warm pants, and wool socks. Her morning duties hadn't changed since her childhood: while her mother was milking their nanny-goat, she had to feed fowl and to make breakfast. 

If Pam wasn't totally awake before, the sharp cold air outside successfully eliminated all the remaining traces of her sleep; the January hoarfrost crunched under the soles of her boots. She opened the chicken coop and let the birds go out, throwing three handfuls of grain into a feeder; when the last hen left its sleeping place, Pam slipped her hand inside a small wooden box. She chuckled as her fingers found between the straw stalks an oval object that was still warm. As the hens returned to their nest, hiding from the winter's cold, Pam recalled a few days ago conversation and bit her lip, vividly imagining as Jim hunched before the chicken coop, trying to fish eggs out of it. Then she imagined his reaction on the especially aggressive rooster her mom had, and couldn't keep herself from giggling. For sure, he would make that 'What's so funny, Beesly?' face to her, because she would be laughing so hard at his panic; and then he would probably read her a lecture, something about birds being the closest relatives to dinosaurs, and then they would discuss feathered tyrannosaurus and stegosaur's steaks, and later…

It was funny, Pam thought when she sliced bacon, peeled onions, and scrambled eggs for an omelet, that she had all these inner dialogues with Jim. She didn't even remember when it had started, but whenever she did her chores or noticed something particularly odd or hilarious, she started these conversations in her head; even funnier was that when she mentioned this or that theme to Jim, he reacted the way she had imagined. Of course, she didn't tell him about this little quirk of hers; it was slightly embarrassing and weird. But, after all, it was so good to have such a good friend, who you knew probably better than anyone else in your life. 

Pam took a mental note to take a photo of the rooster. She didn't mind listening to the dinosaur lecture one more time. 

After breakfast and finishing with the rest of the chores, it was time to prepare for the celebration. Pam changed into a modest dress and took the thoroughly chosen gift for Roy's mom; her mother locked the doors, and they went to Anderson's — they lived less than a kilometer away. Though Roy had said that his mom didn't need help, Pam knew that it would be better if she came earlier than later or in time. 

Truth be told, Ma Anderson both amazed and scared Pam. The first word Pam would use to describe her was 'strong'; she was well-built and stocky, with rugged features and loud voice. Mrs. Anderson had buried her alcoholic husband almost twenty years ago and had raised six children on her own. And now the matriarch of the Anderson clan had well-deserved rest, surrounded by her daughters, and sons, and grandchildren; Pam sincerely admired how this woman had coped with all the difficulties that her life had been abundant with.

But, at the same time, each visit to Anderson's house was an ordeal for Pam. Mrs. Anderson had never said a harsh word to Pam and never insulted her, but Roy was her youngest, her dearest son, and for him she wanted only the best. She never was satisfied with the way Pam managed the housekeeping — the meals she cooked for Roy weren't good enough, the clothes she bought for him were wrong, and many, many other little things that created the unpleasant picture of a lazy housewife. Years of striving made Mrs. Anderson believe that only one opinion was valued — her own, and each time Pam heard 'Pam, darling, come here,' she shuddered, knowing well that she would receive an admonition, after which she would feel like dirt. 

This time wasn't an exception, though the birthday party started well, and Pam did her best to be out of Mrs. Anderson's field of view as long as it was possible. After she and Roy gave her their presents (a silk shawl and a promise to take Mrs. Anderson to the sea), Pam sat timidly near Roy at the banquet table. It seemed like half of the village had gathered here; the music, voices, cheers, and laughter all formed an almost palpable noise. Roy enjoyed the party, talking loudly to Kenny, who sat across the table, while Mrs. Anderson cooed over her younger grandson affectionately at the head of the table; even her own mother chatted animatedly with her neighbors. Pam thought that if she disappeared, no one would notice her absence. Usually, that thought made her feel miserable, but at this moment, she was perfectly fine with that.

And when Pam decided to excuse herself from the table and went outside to have some fresh air, a baby was taken from Mrs. Anderson, and her gaze fell on Pam. 

'Pammy, darling, why won't you sit with me for a little.' It was not even a question. Pam felt as her stomach twisted with a sinking feeling, but she smiled meekly and came to the older woman. Mrs. Anderson patted the chair near her, and Pam took a seat obediently. 

'You know, Pam, I've never nosed into my children's affairs,' she started, and that feeling in Pam's stomach worsened. 'But I have to ask, why haven't you got married already?'

'Um' Pam squeaked, but Mrs. Anderson didn't finish her speech. 

'It's time to tie the knot. How many years do you know each other? I said nothing when you were in university — I got it, you wanted to have an education before you started a family, and I said nothing then. But now? Pam, when I was your age, I'd already been married and had two children. What are you waiting for?' 

Could Pam really say she wasn't married yet because Mrs. Anderson's beloved son didn't want to set a date? Because he made excuses, and even when Pam had suggested just to get a marriage license, rejecting her childhood dream of a big wedding, he had brushed her off? She couldn't, so she just said almost apologetically: 

'Well… we try to save for the wedding, but living in the city costs so much…'

'Yes, Roy told me the same,' Mrs. Anderson nodded. 'So I'm glad you decided to move out. Roy told me everything.'

'Did he?' Pam said dumbfounded.

'Of course! You can be secretive with your mother, but my kids tell me everything. So, between you and me…' 

She leaned to Pam and said in a hushed tone. 

'When you're there, try to get pregnant. It will help you to get a residence permit, and who knows, maybe even citizenship,' Mrs. Anderson patted Pam's hand patronizingly. 'You've always been a good girl, Pammy. Take the chance into your hands, and don't let it slip away. And now go, go. Have some fun.'

She let Pam go, and Pam went away, moving mechanically, feeling humiliated. She threw a short glance at Roy, but he still was engaged in conversation with his brother, that became louder with every new shot of vodka. Surely, he didn't even notice that her mood changed as she returned to her place near him. 

She knew Roy well, and she knew that he was the kind of a man who needed to have a final word in every decision. She was okay with it; it lifted a burden of responsibility from her and left her only with job tasks and housework. But could he have made such a life-changing decision without listening to her opinion? Could he? 

He could, Pam realized, and that realization stuck like a lump in her throat. 

'Well, it was fun, Ma, but we need to be in the city by night,' said Roy, getting out of the table. 

'So soon? Why? Stay till tomorrow and go when it's light outside!' Mrs. Anderson exclaimed, but Roy just shook his head with a grin. 

'Thanks, Ma, but we have great plans for tomorrow, right, Pammy?' 

Mrs. Anderson looked at Pam and pursed her lips as if it was she who had persuaded Roy to ditch the celebration that early. Could Pam really say that 'great plans' meant nothing but her cooking for a week and him spending all day in a sauna with his warehouse buddies and beer? 

'Oh, always in the plans and business,' she scolded him lovingly. 'Don't forget your old mother, sometimes show in the week.' 

'I'll try,' he said lightly, kissing his mother on the cheek. 'Let's go, Pam.' 

Pam barely had time to say goodbye to Mrs. Beesly before they had to leave. 

On the way back, Pam was watching Roy out of the corner of her eye. He was in the perfect mood; a few shots he'd drunk mellowed him, and he hummed along to the radio. Pam hated to bring the theme that would ruin his humor, but her own dread, anxiety, and incomprehension ate her alive; she couldn't keep them at bay any longer. 

'I thought we would discuss it,' she said in a small voice. 

'Huh?' Roy turned his head to her. 'What are you talking about?' 

'Moving out. It seems like you've made your mind up already.' 

'Well, yeah,' he shrugged. 'It would be stupid to mess up with the chance to get out of the cage.' 

'And what about my opinion?' she raised her voice slightly. 'What if I don't want to go anywhere?' 

'Why wouldn't you?' Roy started to lose his patience. 'Tell me, Pam, why?'

'I have a life here, you know? I can't just throw it away!' she was almost screaming. 

'A life? What do you have so special that you won't have elsewhere, huh?' he was yelling at her as well. 'Working for a crazy boss? A cramped flat with mold and without hot water? Or is it our shitty neighborhood you don't want to lose? What holds you back?' 

'I have a family here!'

'So am I! And you know what? They're excited that we could get out! Think of your mom and how you could make good money and pay for the renovation of her house. Or about your sister and how you could help her find a better place than that dorm? Think of them and stop your bitching!' 

He made the radio louder, showing that the conversation was over. Pam turned to the window, defeated. 

Roy was right, as usual, she thought, but it didn't make her feel any better. Perhaps, if she pondered more about the idea, it would look more desirable. Maybe, if she spoke with her mom or Jim, they could talk her into Roy's plan. 

She thought about Jim then. For sure, he would be glad for her; he always wished her only the best, and he would definitely find something that would change her mind about moving out. And yet… 

Pam remembered her classmates, which she had considered her best friends, with which she had shared all her secrets and dreams, with which she had allowed herself to be both silly and serious. She remembered how they had sworn to keep in touch with her when she had failed the entrance exam for the master's degree and had had to move out of the dorm and to find a job. She remembered how the calls had become shorter, the conversations less and less meaningful until they had stopped at all. 

It would be the same with Jim. They would call each other firstly, and she would send him lots and lots of postcards, but then would come a moment when she would stop understanding the gist of his jokes, and he would involve someone else in his shenanigans against Dwight. Perhaps, it would even be a new receptionist. 

Pam rolled the side window down, and cold air instantly bit her heated face. She hoped that the wind could wipe her tears that uncontrollably rolled down her cheeks; she didn't want Roy to notice her state and ask unnecessary questions. Pam didn't want to tell him lies, and yet she wasn't sure she could explain to him the reason for her crying. 

She wasn't sure she could explain it to herself.