She just wants to be alone, so she can cry, really cry, like she hasn’t since everything fell apart just as the summer and her life were about to begin. But she’s never found a way to be successfully alone.

She sits, hunched over and letting the tears collect in her open palms. She hears footsteps approaching, but its not enough to compel her to move. A pair of black shoes appear. She looks up.

“Whoa.” She sniffles, wipes her hands on her skirt.

“Andy. Hey.” To her surprise, he sits down next to her, a long whistle escaping from his mouth.

“Soooo this is awk-ward.” For some reason, he sings the last part.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was just…” he cuts her off, wrapping a hand around her knee. His fingers are cold.

“No need to cry, Pamalama bang bang.” His thumb, at the hem of her skirt, begins to move in circles. She moves away.

“Right.” He straightens his tie.

“Listen, sweet cheeks, I’m sorry I didn’t call, but…” she opens her mouth to stop him, but he holds up a finger, continues. “You’re just not my type.” She leans back, away from him.

“You didn’t have my phone number.”

“Internet.”

“Oh.” She makes a mental note to unlist her number.

“You know, when I was at Cornell, I left quite a number of ladies just like you, crying in a corner.”

“I see.”

“Not that you aren’t special, milady.”

“Thanks.”

“In fact, if it would help you out, I would be willing to-“ she cuts him off this time.

“No! I mean, I think I just need to be alone now,” he nods, stands up, “with my feelings.”

“No problem.” He opens the door to head back to the warehouse. “You know where I sit if you ever need me, baby.” He winks and she manages a smile as the door closes behind him.

She sits in silence for a moment and almost laughs; then, remembering why Andy hit on her in the first place, she leans forward. She catches herself with the sleeve of her sweater because walking to her desk and finding a tissue feels too dangerous at the moment.

She just wants to be alone, so she can cry, really cry, like she hasn’t since everything fell apart just as the summer and her life were about to begin. But she’s never found a way to be successfully alone.

She cries. She can’t even make it to the bathroom, nearly collapsing at the end of the hallway; her knees buckling just as her eyes overflow. She hears the door open and freezes; she looks up to see Toby cautiously approaching. He halts nervously in front of her and drums his fingers absentmindedly against his thigh as she tries to stop.

“Are you alright, Pam?” She starts counting cracks in the floor.

“I’m ok.”

“Did Michael accuse you of stealing again?” She smiles, slightly, as she remembers the last time she cried in front of Toby.

“No. Nothing like that.” He glances away, clears his throat. She thinks he might sit next to her, but he doesn’t; he crouches in front of her, balancing his weight and looking into her eyes.

“Is it...Roy?”

“It’s nothing.” She catches her breath, and it comes out as a shuddering sigh. He flinches and nearly loses his balance.

“If you don’t want to talk about it – “ She cuts him off.

“It’s just a stupid thing I did. Again.” The last part is spoken under her breath, but she knows that he heard her. He stands up suddenly, a crack from one of his knees causing her eyelid to flutter. Fumbling in his pocket, he comes up with a paper napkin from a fast food place and hands it to her. Using the corner to wipe her eyes, she can smell French fries and fabric softener.

“Sorry I don’t have anything else.”

“No, it’s fine. This is a help. Thanks, Toby.” She looks at him and tries to smile, struggling to find the right expression. He removes his jacket and hands it to her, sits down. His knee shakes a little, and she places a finger on it to calm him. He moves his hand over hers.

“Jim?” She coughs.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He’s with Karen.”

“I know.”

“Oh.”

It suddenly dawns on her how he knows; they must be registered with HR as a couple. Jim is her superior, after all. The thought of that makes it final, makes it somehow legal, a piece of paper acknowledging their relationship. After two months. She was with someone for ten years, and she never had that. She starts to cry again. Toby holds her hand.

She’s not sure how long they sit there, but eventually Toby gets up and her face is dry. As he walks away, she calls his name. “Toby?”

“Yeah, Pam?”

“Can I redact my little crying fest?” He smiles.

“Sure.”

“Don’t send it to my permanent New York file.”

“That box is full, anyway.”

“Thanks.” He walks away, and as the door closes behind him she nearly slumps over; exhaustion has set in. She is so tired of everything. As she walks back to the warehouse, her legs feel like dead weight and she fights to keep her eyes open.

She just wants to be alone, so she can cry, really cry, like she hasn’t since everything fell apart just as the summer and her life were about to begin. But she’s never found a way to be successfully alone.

She’s huddled within herself, letting the tears run down her face. Licking her lips, she tastes salt. A flurry of footsteps and an exclamation jar her awake. She looks up.

“Pam! What happened?” Kelly stands before her, hands tightly clasped at her chest.

“Hey, Kelly. It’s nothing, really.” She swipes at her eyes as Kelly plops down next to her.

“Is it Roy? Is it Jim? Ooooh, is it both?” She has a hold on one of Pam’s hands now, the wet fingertips causing it to slide a little from her grip.

“Kelly…” The chattering continues, the hold on her hand tightening.

“Oh my God, did they get in a fight? Like, over you?!?!” Pam takes a deep breath.

“Kelly, I’m just…having a bad day.” It would be too easy, telling her. A part of Pam wants to tell Kelly everything, wait for her to tell Jim; in a perfect world he would leave Karen and come to her, kiss her like he did once in the darkened office. But she doesn’t deserve that. Thinking about it causes her throat to tighten again, and she can feel herself weakening.

“Let it out Pam, it will totally help.” Kelly places a hand on her back, patting rhythmically; it’s comforting.

“Thanks, Kelly.” She gives in, letting the tears come again until she realizes that she’s not the only one crying. “Kelly?”

“Other people crying is SO sad!” Her cheeks are overrun with black rivers.

“Its ok, Kelly.” She turns slightly, placing a hand on Kelly’s arm. Kelly clutches her hand, sobs.

“And this reminds me of all the times I’ve cried about Ryan!”

“That happens a lot, huh?”

“Yes! Oh Pam, you are so lucky that you don’t wear any make-up to make yourself look better!” Kelly takes a deep, hiccupping breath.

“I guess I am. Kelly, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why don’t you buy waterproof mascara?”

“Because it clumps! And looks so gross! I have to look good for Ryaaaan!” The last part of the sentence is nearly drowned out by her wail.

“Ok. Ok, Kelly. Why don’t we go to the bathroom and clean up?” Kelly nods, and Pam helps her up. As they shuffle down the hallway, Kelly turns, gives her a shaky smile.

“You are such a good friend.”

“No problem, Kelly.”

“Pam?”

“Yeah?”

“Where did they get in their fight? Was it in the warehouse, because I didn’t see anything. Oh! Was it in front of your desk, and you were like, sitting there, and they both kept looking at you. With love! And then they would pull some hair. Or, no, boys don’t pull hair. Maybe…”

She should have waited until she was alone at home, and could cry in the dark without interruption.

She just wants to be alone, so she can cry, really cry, like she hasn’t since everything fell apart just as the summer and her life were about to begin. But she’s never found a way to be successfully alone.

She presses her fingers into her forehead, as if doing so will stop the warmth from pooling in the corners of her eyes, overflowing and spilling down her face. She can hear the small clicks of approaching shoes, and knowing who it is makes her cry even harder. There’s a beat of silence, and she sighs and doesn’t look up even as she hears the same person retreating.

She becomes lost in her own thoughts until a handful of tissues appear under her nose. She takes them and looks up at Angela standing before her; arms crossed with an unidentifiable look on her face. She takes her time wiping her eyes and blowing her nose before speaking.

“Thank you, Angela.” Her blond head gives a short nod, and Pam shifts, wishing she would leave. She doesn’t.

“Is it about…” she pauses, looking uncomfortable, “…Jim?” Without knowing why, Pam can feel herself nodding.

“Kind of.” She looks up as Angela makes a face, tightening her mouth.

“I heard Karen,” she says the name like its road kill, “say something about moving in. With Jim. She talks too loud.” Pam blows her nose again, the loud burst causing Angela to jump.

“They’re not moving in together.” She can hear the defensive tone in her voice. Angela sighs, crosses her arms more tightly.

“I know that you have some…experience in living with a man. In sin.”

“I was engaged to Roy.”

“Engaged is not married,” a slight smile plays across her lips. “Though I can understand why you might have ignored that, and given into lustful thoughts.”

“Um, thanks?” Angela still looms over her. When she finally speaks again, it sounds fast.

“Don’t let those two heathens get to you.” Pam looks up, and for a moment almost wants to hug her.

“Thank you.” Angela turns to leave, then pauses, leans forward. Everything about her is normally harsh, hard; now, she looks nearly soft.

“I know that love can be…unforgiving sometimes.” She reaches out and pats Pam once, on the shoulder. Stunned for a moment, Pam can only watch her go. Gathering herself, she blows her nose one more, and walks toward the bathroom. She needs to splash some water on her face.

She just wants to be alone, so she can cry, really cry, like she hasn’t since everything fell apart just as the summer and her life were about to begin. But she’s never found a way to be successfully alone.

She sits at the end of a long hallway; the only sound is the echo of her crying, confronting her from all directions and intensifying the moment. The bench shifts under her as someone settles in, warm alongside her thigh. She knows without looking that it’s him, as his arm settles around her shoulder and she inhales his familiar smell.

He doesn’t talk, doesn’t need to, as he wraps his other arm around her and turns so she can bury her face in his neck. She feels safe, like they’ve never been this close before. She lets go, melting into him. He places a large hand on the back of her head and cradles it, rocking her slightly as she loses it.

When she’s finally done, hiccupping into his neck, he eases away. Placing a hand on either side of her face, he sweeps his thumbs over her cheeks, uses the cuff of his sleeve to dry her eyes. He meets her gaze and gives her a searching look as she reaches up and smoothes out the tears still clinging to his beard. Only then does he break the silence.

“Its not about me, is it?” She looks down, smoothing her skirt.

“No.” Her voice sounds so loud against the stark white walls.

“I didn’t think so,” he reaches for her hand, squeezes it. “Will you be ok?” She starts nodding, like she’s drunk.

“Yeah. Thank you, Roy.”

He grimaces slightly, and pulls her up, leading her back down to the warehouse. She notices, as she spends the rest of the evening listening to the sounds of Jamaica, that he stays close by, always in her eye line. She walks past him as she leaves, brushes his hand and nods her head so he’ll know she’s ok. She can feel his eyes on her as she walks out the door. She sees Jim and Karen leaving together as she pulls away.

She cries the whole way home. At one point she puts on her wipers, mistakenly thinking it’s raining. It’s not.