Pam Beesley sat in her apartment staring at the TV. She couldn’t tell you what inane reality show was on; it was simply background noise to her thoughts. She had a lot of time to think these days; after the documentary started airing on national TV, she didn’t really like to go out much. Too many questions…
“Where’s Jim?”
“Why don’t you get rid of Roy already?”
“What’s going to happen?”
What’s going to happen? That was the one that killed her. Because she knew. To the extent of the show, she knew what was going to happen. Jim would confess his love for her, they would kiss, she would reject him, and he would be gone for good. She would stay with Roy, but with “budgetary” issues, the wedding was postponed indefinitely. That was what the public wanted to know, what she knew. It was from there that things got fuzzy.
She was home alone a lot these days. When she told Jim “I can’t” for the second time on Casino Night, she hadn’t been blind enough to think that things would change between her and Roy. They would stay the same, which is what she wanted. It was what she wanted…
Things had gotten worse after the postponement. She introverted herself more, to everyone. Jim wasn’t there to talk to, why bother with anyone else. Roy didn’t like to deal with her “moods,” so most of the time he went out, leaving her alone in an apartment that didn’t look like it belonged to a couple, but rather to two separate people. Roy’s gym stuff sat in a bag in the corner, and his loose clothing was strewn about. There was painting stuff on a few shelves, hardly opened, except for one tube of black that Roy and his buddies had used for black-eye one time when they went paintballing. Pam smiled, remembering the rash it had given them all.
The sink was cluttered, and the trash was overflowing with pizza boxes from Boy’s night last night.
There was a pillow and blanket on the couch that looked as though they had been there for a while. They had.
He just snores too much when he’s drunk. Pam justified to herself.
And so on some nights, she…
And she wasn’t as bad as Meredith, she wasn’t. It’s just that when you sit around nights, contemplating your life, it’s a whole lot easier to do it drunk. Plus, the lack of motor skills keeps you from doing anything drastic. Like driving to the ocean, or in Scranton’s case, the Susquehanna River.
So there she sat, drink in hand, day-dreaming about…nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing happened to have transferred to Stamford after being rejected by her. Nothing left her feeling empty. Nothing was gone for good.
She was just drunk enough to think that referring to Jim as “Nothing” was funny, and she giggled a little to herself.
All of a sudden there was a knock at the door. By the time Pam stumbled to the entrance and open the suddenly very heavy door, the knocker was gone. Chalking it up to a teenage game of “ding, dong, ditch,” Pam moved to shut the door, but something silver on the doormat caught her eye. It was a blank CD in a slipcase. She didn’t remember it from before, and Roy hadn’t been home all night. Who ever knocked must have left it here. For me.
She shut the door, examining the disc to see if there were any signs of who had left it, but she could find none. Her drink sloshed in her hand as she made her way to the stereo, popping the disc in and settling, cross-legged on the floor.
If there was any shard of a heart left in her, this anonymous mix CD broke it. She figured it must have been a fan of the show (or a stalker, she shuddered), but how could a fan know her this well? The disc was all songs that so perfectly described her and Jim, it pained her to listen to them. There was a Snow Patrol song, one that vividly reminded her of her and Jim’s “date” on the roof (she conceded). There was a U2 song she remembered from Roy’s collection. It had never meant anything to her, until now. There was a song by that popular young guitar guy, Teddy something or other. She tried with all her might to remember his name, as if somehow that would stop the tears from rolling down her face.
It was until the last song that she truly unraveled. She recognized the singer’s distinct voice from Shrek 2, which she had watched with her niece recently. She couldn’t place the name, but it really didn’t matter. She was crying to hard to think clearly at this point, and she knew what she had to do. It was like that old episode of Friends. She needed closure, needed to see him again, needed to apologize. She didn’t know what would happen from there, but she knew she had to go. Because, now she understood, now she knew. She knew, she knew, she knew…
She didn’t bother with a note; it would be morning before Roy noticed she was gone. She just got in her car and went. She didn’t know where Jim lived, but she had the address of Dunder Mifflin Stamford from an irrational day at work, where she imagined what it would be like to send him a letter. She just drove. Drove to Stamford. Driving to Stamford. She couldn’t say it to herself, it sounded to ridiculous. Hi Jim, sorry I haven’t talked to you in months (months…), but I heard this song, and I needed to see you. She really had lost it. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered until she could see him, see the face that had haunted her, the face that wasn’t constantly in her peripheral vision any longer. The face she…
She kept driving.
By the time she reached the parking lot, it was late. Irrationally late and she knew she was a fool to think that anyone would still be at work at this hour. But as she pulled into the parking lot, she saw a car. A nice car. It’s a Corolla. Her mouth dropped in disbelief as she hastily parked her own car and jumped out to make sure it wasn’t really a mirage.
As she reached his car, suddenly there were headlights on her. She squinted and tried to make out the figures, there were two. As the car pulled in the spot too away from her, she realized. In the drivers seat was a girl, woman, beautiful with dark hair and a (slightly slutty) low-cut top. And in the passengers seat…
She bolted. Dear in headlights times ten. All that mattered was getting back to her car. He was here, but with her. It didn’t matter who, he had moved on, he was with this new girl, he never had to know she was there.
But as she wrestled with the driver’s side lock, she knew it was too late.
“Pam?”
(A/N: Thoughts? Should I continue?)
P.S. This is “The Song”
“I’m Going To Stop Pretending That I Didn’t Break Your Heart”
-Eels
I'm gonna tell you what you need to hear
And I'm a little too late
By three or four years
And it may not make much sense
Now that we are apart
But I'm going to stop pretending
That I didn't break your heart
You see I never thought enough of myself
To realize that losing me could mean
Something like the tears in your eyes
And I want to tell you I'm sorry
And it's too late to start
But I'm going to stop pretending
That I didn't break your heart
And it's Christmas Eve
Years down the line
Sitting here wishing I'd treated you better
When you were mine
And I have no way of knowing where you are
But I'm going to stop pretending
That I didn't break your heart
I didn't mean to hurt you
I didn't know what I was doing
But I know what I have done
Author's Chapter Notes:
Disclaimer: I don't own it. There are also some references to other songfics that are taken in the greatest respect and admiration from this rookie.
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