The clock struck midnight, and a tear rolled down her rosy cheeks. How long had tears flowed down her, and she’d been in another world? Pam couldn’t recall when they’d begun, but she sniffed and wiped them away quickly before grabbing a lighter to light the two 3-0 candles on top of the raspberry chocolate cake she’d grabbed from Wegmans on her way home from the office. She quietly sang happy birthday to herself at her makeshift dining table, a card table from Walmart. Her new apartment was empty and sad apart from a few pieces, including the tattered plaid couch her parents had given her, a sad look on their faces as they did when she moved in a few weeks ago. The walls were bare, decorations not wanted right now, a tragic reminder of the home she’d once had. Pam was well and truly depressed, and her living situation showed it. The dresser was hardly filled as she mostly lived out of her suitcase, unable to do much or get out of bed unless she had work.
The wax dripped down the candle, seeming to cry before pooling at the base. She stared at the fire, remembering when she still had fire herself. Like a candle, she could only stay lit for so long before going dim. As she finished her birthday song, she wished her thirtieth year would go better than her twenty-ninth. Any small improvements would surely stand out compared to the train wreck in the last twelve months. She watched the fire dance in her dark kitchen, the only light coming in from the streetlight outside her kitchen window, the shadow of a tree waving on her wall as it poured rain outside. She quickly blew the candle out and stared at the cake, no longer interested in taking a bite. Her stomach felt acidic like it did so often these days. With a quick hand, she removed the candles, covered the cake with the plastic cover that screamed in the silence as it sealed the box, and put it into her nearly empty fridge, an expired mixed berry yogurt container and a half-empty bottle of orange juice next to the expired, wet kale, the only items she had.
She trudged towards her bed, the only haven she felt these days. The linen comforter one her mom had gifted her with a sad smile on her face. Something that was her own that didn’t have his scent on it. One that they hadn’t talked about the future in, the dreams they’d had, the place where they tried to create something more, constantly failing, leaving her feeling like a disappointment in the wake.
The linen felt like a warm embrace on her body. It was still toasty from her deeply snuggling into it all day, equally dreading and feeling almost hopeful as thirty loomed closer. Her twenties had not gone the direction she’d once imagined as a twenty-two-year-old bride to her high school sweetheart, Roy. They’d once understood one another, once been on the same page, and once in love. This last year displayed whatever love may have existed was far gone. The divorce, while a sad finale to the love story she’d imagined they’d have, the final nail in the coffin proving that romance can die if you no longer care, was also the beginning of a new life for herself. One where she could be the artist of her own free will for the first time since she was seventeen. While Pam didn’t 100% know who she was yet, the last year had taught her who she was not and what lengths she was willing to go to protect herself from a devasting future.
The tears came down, as they always did this time of night, the clock on her bedside table reading 12:31 a.m. This happened often. Pam found her thoughts would spiral, lost in her little world, disassociating from the rest of the population. The endless articles she’d consumed on dealing with life after trauma said this was a normal response. How time went quicker when she was lost in her thoughts was beyond her. If she was present, the day would slow down, one meaningless task after the other, until the day was completed, and she could crawl back into her ever-inviting bed and wait until the next day. As she lay now, the torment of what was, what could have been, and what was to come this next year ransacked out every positive thing her brain could consider.
Would she end up jobless again?
Would she ever find love?
Would she be able to have the loving husband and children she so desperately craved?
What would life look like had she gone with Roy to Arizona instead of staying in the house they’d purchased together?
What would their relationship have looked like if his family hadn’t made him doubt her, her love for him, and her loyalty to their marriage?
Had he decided he would never come back before he even left?
Pam sighed, jerking her head quickly to try to quiet her brain. The clock laughed at her: 1:05 a.m.
She turned over roughly, grabbing the pillow that was on the other side of the bed, and cuddled it near her like the Piglet stuffed animal she had as a child. How she desperately missed those days, the tear soaking her pillow again.
Five hours until her alarm would go off, and she’d get ready for her day, carefully picking out what cardigan she’d wear with the ugly gray skirt she always donned. The nice thing about having a uniform of sorts is she didn’t have to think; she could throw it on and leave to repeat her daily hell. She grasped the pillow harder, wishing for the sweet escape of sleep, a dreamland where she could consider a better life. She tossed back to her other side, taking the wet pillow, and reached for her phone to turn on her meditation app. She needed a distraction, something that would break the cycle of never-ending thoughts and give her the rest she needed. She clicked play.
The world gets heavy sometimes. Let’s focus on relaxing and preparing for a good night’s sleep.
She supposed she could always call in sick tomorrow. However, that would mean enduring Michael’s obnoxious jokes about how she went too crazy for her thirtieth and that she had to come in because they had a party planned for her (they didn’t – she was on the party planning committee). She’d done it on one of her better days, an attempt to set her on a better path.
…now tense the muscles on your forearm. One. Two. Three. Relax…
She was great at feigning enthusiasm for this job while at work. It wasn’t much, but it was better than being unemployed. The same week Roy served her divorce papers, her job as a receptionist at the Daily Scranton was eliminated. The job market proved to be horrendous, and she had spent four months in her childhood bedroom, jobless, husbandless, and torn apart. When Dunder Mifflin offered her a role when their previous receptionist quit, she snatched it up, even though the pay was lower. It meant she could move out of her parent's house and be miserable; she needed her space to start feeling like herself again. If that was even possible – she wasn’t quite sure these days.
…breathe in for three counts. Hold. Breathe out for three counts…
The divorce had gone precisely like she’d thought. Roy claimed she didn’t love him or value the family they were trying to build together. How could that be, she wondered, as his lawyer told hers exactly how screwed she was.
…imagine you feel the crisp, salty air drift across your face…
Roy had left her. Roy had up and left the house they had bought to chase his dreams in Arizona, light years from her. She’d naively agreed. Deciding this was a gamble, she would stay with their newly purchased house and keep her job while he tried something new. What she hadn’t realized, however, was that this wasn’t just him trying to chase his dreams; it was him trying to build a life without her. He’d never intended to come back home. He pushed her to sell the house, alone. He claimed that Arizona was better but still hadn’t reached his dreams out there. Pam was scared. Scared that moving would be a mistake. Scared to try and sell a house they’d only just purchased in one of the worst markets in recent history. She was scared to leave her job, the stability they both needed.
…great job, sleep well…
Pam had to wonder what had gone through her mind to agree. What a mistake, she thought to herself, to agree to her ultimate demise. Roy had taken everything and left her to deal with the house they’d bought to raise their non-existent family in, then left her to start his new life in Arizona without her, taking their entire saving with him. His lawyer had taken her to the cleaners, claiming his client was under the impression she would one day move to Arizona. He said things that weren’t true, and Roy knew it. Roy knew her reservations, and she’d thought they had been on the same page. He’d agreed to her staying behind while he tried this venture. At some point, it became clear he wasn’t coming back; she just wished she’d realized sooner.
Pam screamed into her pillow as she came back to the present. The meditation app had stopped, and the clock now said 3:57 a.m. She cried harder, wishing, praying for anything to stop the misery she felt and for her brain to shut up for an hour.
The sky began to lighten as Pam finally drifted asleep, not long before her alarm blared a fun tune that no longer interested her. She sat up in bed, still holding the sad pillow, a raging headache in full force. At that moment she didn’t care what stupid joke Michael would make. She was calling off work today and possibly tomorrow so she could have a four-day wallow in misery session.
Nothing said happy thirtieth birthday like thinking of everything you could have done differently to avoid being sad, alone, and thoroughly depressed.
