----
I was shaking all over when I hung up, and as angry as I’d been two minutes earlier, now I just felt kind of sick. Embarrassed beyond belief that I’d thought he might be covering up feelings for me, terrified by the knowledge that I’d ruined our friendship.
He doesn’t want me.
Whatever his reason for not wanting to be at my wedding, that wasn’t it.
”I’m always your friend.”
Oh God. Oh God. So humiliating.
I’d spent the evening trying to think of good, plausible reasons why my best friend, who’d never been out of the U.S. in his life, should choose to fly to the other side of the world two days before my wedding. The most obvious, of course, was that Jim did not like Roy. He’d never said so, not in so many words, but I knew how he felt. It was my own fault, really, for using Jim as a sounding board over the years. He only knew about the bad times with Roy, the stuff that drove me crazy. And I knew he wanted more for me than to be stuck behind the reception desk forever.
But it was more than that.
Ever since that weird incident in the kitchen three weeks ago, when Jim told me he’d had a crush on me—once, a long time ago—and now he was “totally over it”—there was an awkwardness between us that I couldn’t explain, couldn’t define. Didn’t want to define. Yet I’d caught that pained, melancholy expression on his face more than once in recent days, enough that I’d stopped discussing my wedding plans when he was around.
Then there was that remark Ryan made. “You’re inviting Jim?”
And I’d thought, maybe…
I buried my face in my hands and drew my knees further up into my chest. It was chilly out tonight but I didn’t want to go inside yet, even though Roy was still out at his poker game and I had the house to myself. I’d thought the cool night air would give me courage.
He doesn’t want me. He’s…totally over it.
The tears came abruptly, hot and fierce, and that made me angry all over again. What the hell was wrong with me?
I shouldn’t be crying. I shouldn’t be thinking about Jim. I shouldn’t be thinking about anything but my fiancé and the wedding I’d been planning since I’d first started writing Mrs. Roy Anderson in my spiral notebooks during second-year French.
So what if I had more in common with Jim. Jim didn’t love me. He just had a crush on me once. A crush that ended a long time ago. He was totally over it now.
Still, there was no denying the tension and awkwardness that had slowly infiltrated our friendship. And oh, God, the look on his face, in his eyes, on the boat that night. He’d wanted to say something and it didn’t look like let’s always be best friends. It looked more like…like…
Well. If he had feelings for me, he was going to have to say so. I couldn’t just throw my life away for maybe.
Roy loved me. I had a good life. Maybe it wasn’t exciting but it was real. It was dependable, comfortable. It was what I knew.
Those are good things, right? Isn’t that what I want?
Oh, God.
I wasn’t sure about anything anymore.
-------
Roy called at midnight (when he was supposed to be home) to say the game, at Kenny’s this week, was running late. “Another hour?” he said, a question, feeling me out.
“You should probably just stay over there,” I heard myself saying, glad of an excuse to be alone, to avoid having to put on a normal face. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Ahhh, not too much. I can drive,” he objected.
“Just be safe. If it goes too late, you should just crash in the basement.”
He chuckled. “You tryin’ to get rid of me?”
I forced a laugh. “I just want you to be careful, okay?”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” He coughed. “Tell you what, if I stay, I’ll call you, otherwise I’ll be home by one. One-thirty,” he amended.
“I’m going to bed, I think. Just make it a one-ringer if you stay over there, okay?”
“You got it. Love ya.”
“Love you too,” I murmured.
I was never so relieved at the prospect of Roy getting too drunk to drive home. So when my cell phone rang a few minutes later, I picked it up with a smile, glad he’d already made a decision.
Jim cell.
I stared at it for a long moment as it rang a second and third time, snatching it up just before it cut out during the fourth. “Hello.”
“Pam – don’t hang up.” His voice was rough, pleading. “Okay? Just – don’t hang up. Please.”
I pressed my lips together, waiting.
“Pam?”
“I’m here.”
He cleared his throat once, twice. “You wanted to know why I can’t watch you get married.”
I caught my breath.
“You kissed me once.” His voice was soft. “Do you remember?”
I closed my eyes, remembering his surprise, that brief moment in which he’d returned it, the chapped warmth of his lips. “Yes,” I whispered.
He was silent for a long minute before he asked, very quietly, “Did it mean anything?”
Yes. No. God, I don’t know. I wanted … Did it mean anything to you? Were you just indulging your drunk friend?
“Pam?”
He sounded so sad and confused and I wasn’t sure if I should be angry or despairing. The way he looks at me and totally over it. I don’t know who he is sometimes.
“Jim, I…”
I trailed off. I had no idea how to finish that sentence.
There was a long moment of silence before he cleared his throat again. “Yeah, okay. Um. I’ll, uh… I’m sorry. Just forget it. Bye.”
He hung up, leaving me staring at the phone.
-----
Author's Chapter Notes:
Frustration, uncertainty, misunderstanding. Fun times.
Same disclaimers apply. No copyright infringement intended.
Same disclaimers apply. No copyright infringement intended.
Chapter End Notes:
Weren’t there a lot of times you just wanted to shake these two and yell, “Speak! Say something!â€
No? Just me? Well, we’re close to a breakthrough.
Thanks for reading. I’d love to hear thoughts on this…Pam’s state of mind at this time has always been difficult to grasp.
No? Just me? Well, we’re close to a breakthrough.
Thanks for reading. I’d love to hear thoughts on this…Pam’s state of mind at this time has always been difficult to grasp.
