“Mom!” Pam sounded almost desperate. Taking a deep breath, she speared a piece of stir-fried chicken on her fork and tried again. “Mom, you know that I haven’t figured anything out. I’m just so, I don’t know. Confused?”
“Pam, you’re not actually confused, you know.” At her daughter’s questioning look, she tried to clarify. “You’re just torn.”
“Torn?” Now Pam was actually getting angry, and she never got angry with her mom. “I’m not ‘torn,’ mom, I’m confused! I have no idea what I need to do. And better yet, I have no idea what I want to do!” Wiping away more tears, Pam took a few bites of her salad.
“I think that’s what’s most important, Pam. Not what you think you should do, but what you actually want to do for yourself. And Pam, I think you’ve forgotten how important it is to think about what you want - for a long time now.”
Listening to her mom, Pam knew she was right. It was actually crystal clear, but for some reason, she’d just been refusing to think about it. Hell, if she wanted to be honest about it, she’d been refusing to think that she wasn’t worried about her own wants for almost six or seven years now. Maybe even longer.
“I…I guess you’re right. But, god, mom, what am I supposed to do? Even if I’m supposed to think about what I want, how am I supposed to know what that is?”
“That part’s up to you, Pam. It’s up to you.”
They finished their dinner without talking about it anymore, instead sticking with topics like how Pam’s older brother and younger sister were, what her dad had been up to, the new shoes she had bought the other day. Anything that didn’t have to do with work, the wedding, Roy, or Jim. Especially Roy and Jim. After dinner, Pam poured them more lemonade and went into the living room while her mom went out to her car to get something she wanted to show Pam. Pam curled up at one end of the couch, hoping desperately that it had nothing to do with table settings or bridesmaids’ dresses.
Pam’s mom came back into the house, closing the front door behind her. She found Pam in the living room, curled up on the couch, their lemonade glasses on the coffee table. Settling down into the armchair, she set something down next to their drinks. Pam looked up at her mom, and then down at the table.
“A photo album? Mom, what does this have to do with anything?”
Her mom smiled, and it was a smile that Pam was used to giving people – they both had that same smile when they were up to something. “Just look through it.”
Pam picked up the photo album, checking the spine for the date. ‘June – August, 1992.’ Pam had turned twelve that summer, in early June. She still couldn’t figure out why her mom wanted her to look through it. Starting to leaf through the pages, she knew instantly that all of these pictures had been taken by her younger self – they all had the artsy feeling that all of the pictures Pam took had. Some were taken on a slight angle, some focused on the sunset or the bright green leaves of the tree in their front yard or a single pebble in their driveway. Others focused on her brother Rick and a few other neighborhood kids playing basketball, her little sister Jill running through the next door neighbor’s sprinkler with their kids, some rounding the corner on their bikes. Pam smiled at the memories. Maybe her mom was just trying to cheer her up. And then, when she turned the next page, her heart stopped and she couldn’t breathe. Staring up at her from one of the faded disposable-camera pictures, staring up at her out of her past, was something that had to be a mistake.
Jim? There was no way. But there couldn’t be any mistaking it. It was Jim alright, and Pam knew exactly why her mom was showing her this. She just couldn’t believe that she’d never realized it herself. And when she was twelve, she thought she’d never forget. Apparently, she was wrong.
Author's Chapter Notes:
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.
