Pam doesn't set the alarm for the next morning, but she still wakes up at 7, like her body's programmed. There's spring sunlight streaming through the blinds, way too bright, and Roy is snoring beside her.
When pushing her face into the pillow and trying to remember what she was dreaming about doesn't work, she rolls over on her side and looks at him. He's stubbly, drooling into his pillow, and she can smell his morning breath from here. Asleep he looks younger, looks -- if not quite like the Roy she knew in high school, at least like the guy who used to come crash at her dorm in college when her roommate was out of town. She only had the dorm-issued single bed, and they had to sleep so close she'd wake up boiling hot and kick off the covers, lie there listening to him breathe, wishing the weekend wouldn't end, that he could stay over forever.
It's a weird memory to have. She hasn't thought about it in a long, long time.
**
It's like the whole world's upside down; she doesn't work at Dunder Mifflin. And Jim--
She needs to stop thinking about it. She can't stop thinking about it.
**
Pam comes downstairs in jeans -- the novelty of not having to wear work clothes still hasn't worn off all these days later. The phone number for Ryan's temp agency is tucked in the corner of her mirror upstairs and every morning she tells herself today's the day she'll call, if she doesn't hear back on any of her resumes. She still hasn't called.
Roy's by the front door, back from visiting Kenny at the construction site to see if there are any job openings, maybe meet with the foreman. It's strange to see him wearing a jacket and tie, like he's someone else, like she's engaged to someone who works in an office. He's standing in the dark hallway, looking through the mail, and she finishes pulling her hair back into a ponytail as he looks up at her.
"Anything good?" she says, trying to keep her voice light.
"Bills," he says, tossing an envelope onto the table. "Bills, bills," he adds two more. "Wedding stuff." He drops three RSVP envelopes and she reaches around him to grab them.
"Oh, more RSVPs," she says, and he puts a hand on her wrist.
"Yeah," he says. "Um, about the wedding." Pam stops with the envelopes in her hand and can feel her face going stony.
"What?" she says.
"Look, Pam," he says. "You know we can't afford it right now. How are we going to pay for everything? We don't even have jobs."
"My parents..." she starts and he shakes his head.
"Your parents already gave us as much as they could, and so did mine. And we've got, what, the whole VFW hall to pay for still, right?"
"We already put down the deposit," she says.
"Yeah, like 10%," he says. "And everything else, all that other stuff."
"I can't believe you're doing this," she says and he sighs heavily. Three years, they've been engaged, and he's still not her husband. She's still not his wife. The words don't even seem real.
"I'm not the bad guy here," he says. "What do you want me to do, make money appear out of thin air? We just need to take some time, save some money. Get married next summer or something."
Pam turns around abruptly and walks into the kitchen. She looks down at the envelopes in her hand: one from her mom's sister, one from Roy's cousin, one with no return address. Roy comes in behind her.
"Pammy," he says. "Come on, don't be like this." He touches her elbow and she jerks away from him.
"Don't," she says. "Just... don't."
"Look," he says. "Darryl knows a guy who can maybe find work for me, and you can keep looking at the want ads and stuff, and then we can figure things out."
This shouldn't be this hard. She shouldn't have to fight for everything. She's so tired of fighting every step of the way.
She carefully doesn't look at him but her voice still comes out all trembly.
"Maybe we shouldn't get married at all." There's a pause.
"You don't mean that," he says. "You're just upset."
She looks up at him.
"No," she says, and oh, god, the way he's looking at her.
