1. Chapter 1: I can't by nqllisi
2. Chapter 2: Alone by nqllisi
3. Chapter 3: Tomorrow by nqllisi
4. Chapter 4: Light by nqllisi
5. Chapter 5: Silence by nqllisi
I.
Pam kicks the blankets impatiently from around her feet. She feels confined, stifled, trapped…she’d like to blame the blankets, but she can’t. Her jerky movements cause Roy to jerk in his sleep, but he merely rolls over and continues his light snoring. He sleeps so soundly, he didn’t hear how late she finally crept in, her sniffling, stifled crying, or now, her restless thrashing.
Pam’s skin tingles as though it is still being touched, caressed, held…she’d like to blame him, but she can’t. She knows that the attraction is mutual. She knows that she’s indulged her feelings over these years, that in some ways she’s led him on, that he hasn’t misinterpreted anything. Pam rolls over again, gripping her pillow over her head as though she could block out the temptation she’d felt to stay in his arms. But she’s in a committed relationship. That means you don’t…you absolutely do not…
Their words, their actions, replay themselves through her head like a script. “I’m in love with you,” he’d said. In love. In love with her. And he’d kissed her and she’d kissed back, and it was like drowning and like flying. She licks her lips, remembering.
“Are you really going to marry him?” he’d asked. She had nodded. Yes. Yes, of course. She peeks from under the pillow at Roy’s sleeping bulk.
“I can’t,” she’d said. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. Pushing the pillow away, she stares at the ceiling and tries to decide what she means.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
II.
Pam sits straight up. She’s sure she heard something. That seems impossible now in the dead silence, but she’s sure…She gets out of bed and walks quickly into the front room, checking that the door is still securely locked. It is, and she sees nothing else that could have made a noise (the room is small and still sparsely furnished, so it is easy to tell). There’s no one there. She’s alone.
She should be exhausted- a whole day of moving and unpacking has left her sore through her shoulders and her back- but the strangeness of this new place has left her alert and watchful. This new place. It’s the very first place that is just hers. Hers alone.
In the moonlight, she surveys her handiwork. That chair was taken from her living room with Roy. He’d never sat in it. Those books have been on a shelf at her mother’s house ever since she moved out. It’s reassuring and familiar to see them here, reminding her that she had a life before Roy. It’s now after Roy and she’s alone.
She settles into the second-hand sofa she’d purchased the day before. It is against the wall, in front of the windows, and she thinks she'll be able to watch the sunrise. It's still so quiet, all alone.
This silence is her own fault, Pam knows this. She knows she could be at home (home is still with Roy, at least for now). She knows, had she made other choices, that she could be with…but it doesn’t matter. This is where she is. She lets the tears come. There’s no one to see her crying, she realizes, discovering the first benefit of being alone.
III.
Pam looks at her clock for what must be the thousandth time. She still has three-and-a-half hours to go before the alarm goes off, enough time for a decent nap if not a great night's sleep. It would normally be four more hours, but she's set the alarm ahead to give herself extra time to get ready in the morning. She smiles to herself, her cheeks warming as she thinks about that, but she clamps down on the feeling. After all, tomorrow might not be so great. She doesn't really believe that, though. She flips over, clutching her pillow, and closes her eyes. Sleep, come on, sleep, she tells herself. She remembers her mother's words from Christmas Eves past: Tomorrow will come faster if you sleep.
Her mind can't settle down, though. She's been filled with nervous energy ever since they had learned about the branch consolidation. Her eyes pop back open of their own accord, and she glances around the darkened room. In the glow from her clock, she can see the outfit she's carefully laid out to wear to work. It's casual and work-appropriate, but it is also new and flattering. She wants to be what he remembers, not too obvious, but she also wants him to see how she's changed. For the tenth time, she starts debating her choice, mentally reviewing her entire wardrobe. This is fairly easy, as she had just cleaned out and re-organized her closet the day before.
The closet-cleaning was just one step in the thorough make-over she had given the whole apartment over the last three days. Everything was spotless. New artwork that she'd created hung on the the walls. Fresh flowers adorned the small table. She had told herself that the cleaning was overdue- that it was keeping her busy- that she was enjoying it. Finally, she had confessed to herself that she wasn't so much cleaning as she was preparing. She was getting ready for a guest who was long overdue.
Pam yanks fretfully at the light blanket and smooths the sheets beneath her. They are soft and smell of sunshine, freshly laundered the night before. She blushes again and tries desperately not to think about anything but laundry. Even that betrays her, as she remembers fabric softener and a wonderful day, too long ago.
It has been a long time. The tiny voice of doubt speaks up again. It might be awkward. It might be too late. With another toss of her pillow, she again dismisses the idea. He's coming back tomorrow. She set him free and he has returned, which means he's hers to keep, right? She groans, laughing, at the trite expression. Her laughter sounds small in the empty darkness of her apartment, but she doesn't notice. She's getting a second chance. He's coming back.
She looks at the clock again. Three hours and fifteen minutes. Enough for a decent nap if she goes to sleep right now. She's not worried either way, though. He's coming back to her. Tomorrow is going to be wonderful.
IV. Light
Pam draws her feet up onto the couch. The soft bluish glow from her clock tells her that it is very, very late, but she doesn’t really expect to be sleeping any time soon.
Being reminded of the late hour, however, triggers a yawn, which echoes in the murky pre-dawn stillness of the apartment. It has been many months since she’s minded the silence. She’s grown to embrace it. It is the medium in which she has created a new version of her life. Regret and loneliness have added shadow and depth, but she is proud of the work she has been doing to become strong and self-confident.
She yawns again, and notices that her eyes feel swollen. She’s sure they are still red from her earlier tears, but she doesn’t mind. They were cleansing tears, honest and clear, perfect for rinsing away the mistakes of the past. She is done crying, now, though.
A noise in the other room catches her attention, and she turns toward it. She isn’t alarmed; she knows what the noise is. It is, incredibly, the simple, homey sound of someone filling two glasses with water. Hours of talking, laughing, and crying have left two mouths dry, two throats scratchy. A simple dinner date has turned into a night of revelations, of confession and apology and proclamation. There are still things to say, though, so her guest (long overdue) has disappeared into the darkness of the kitchen to get water.
She fights another yawn as Jim returns to the living room. He looks natural here. He matches and complements the furniture, the knick-knacks, the carefully-chosen artwork. It is as if she has left this negative space specifically for him to fill (and maybe she has). She realizes what the new creation of her life has been missing- she’s given it color and structure and shade, but with a smile and an invitation to dinner, Jim has given it light.
Pam glances at the clock again. It is very, very late- but she is immensely relieved to know that it is not too late.
Same disclaimer- own nothing!
V. Silence
Pam tries to stay very still. She barely lets herself breathe, but it doesn’t calm the turbulence deep within her. It almost surprises her that it doesn’t wake Jim, sleeping soundly beside her, his breath even and rhythmic like waves on the beach.
She’s been to the bathroom already. She has flipped her pillow to the cool side. She’s tried counting sheep, counting her blessings, even counting backwards from one thousand, but she can’t get to sleep. She has a million thoughts running through her brain, directly connected to the surging unrest in her belly.
It’s amazing how much has changed, and how much has stayed the same. The same furniture in a different bedroom. The same job, but a totally different outlook on the future. The same nighttime silence, but completely new worries and dreams filling it up.
Pam shifts her legs again, and sighs in frustration. This, finally, rouses Jim, who rolls toward her. “You OK?” he asks, his voice muffled by pillows and sleep.
“I’m fine,” she says. She knows he’ll understand.
He moves toward her, placing a kiss lightly on her shoulder as he wraps his arm around her. His hand moves under the edge of her t-shirt, the warm span of his fingers caressing her hip and around to her bellybutton in a smooth, practiced motion. It doesn’t take him long to find the spot.
“Hey you in there. Stop kicking and let your mommy get some sleep,” he says. She smiles and leans back against her husband. His touch and his voice work like magic; the baby inside her calms his relentless motion. Pam laces her fingers through Jim’s and settles in to sleep, thoroughly enjoying the stillness and the silence.