It hadn’t always been that bad for Pam. When they’d met and started dating ten years ago, Roy had been the perfect gentleman. A little rough around the edges, with big muscles and a letterman jacket, he’d swooped into Pam’s life, uplifting her from her seat behind an easel, and became her everything. Until she’d met Jim.
When Jim had come back to Scranton with a unknowing Karen on his arm and a smirk on his face, she’d been broken hearted. She’d started so many letters trying to explain how she’d left Roy, how she couldn’t have married him because Jim was the one she wanted. But nothing was good enough. She needed to tell him in person, but again, life kept creeping up and delaying the inevitable. A thunderstorm that cause down trees on the highway, her new car having a mysterious flat tire, a sickness that she became convinced was the bird flu kept her at home, when all she dreamed of was driving to his Stamford apartment, laying a huge kiss on him, and telling him that she’d been in love with him since the day he’d walked through the front door of Dunder Mifflin. On the day she’d finally gotten the courage to get in the car to go and get him, she found out that the Stamford branch had closed, and that he’d be coming home. Later that night, she drank a whole bottle of wine and sleep soundly for the first time since the night before his confession.
And then there was Karen. Petite and dark haired, she was the polar opposite of everything that was Pam Beesley. Confident and smart, snarky and witty, she was everything that Pam became sure Jim had wanted all along. This was why Jim stopped wearing his shirt sleeves rolled up, why he didn’t play pranks on Dwight, why he wouldn’t go to get a cup of coffee with her. It came to a head the night of Phyllis’ wedding, as Pam sat on the sidelines and she watched Karen score a touchdown with the man that she loved, slow dancing with him, sharing secret smiles, his hand resting on the small of her back and his lips – God, those soft, delicious lips – grazing hers. If her heart wasn’t officially broken before that, the way he looked up and stared hard at her, like he couldn’t understand why he’d ever loved her in the first place, was certainly a reason for it to break into a thousand pieces now.
Pam hadn’t meant to leave with Roy that night. As she stood in his arms, loosely, she looked up at his face, his eyes smiling down on her like she hadn’t seen in literally years. He wanted to try again, and after nine and a half years of being together, and six months of being apart, and seeing Jim as happy as he was on that dance floor, she didn’t have a reason anymore to disagree.
In the interest of being truthful, she had to tell Roy that she and Jim had kissed on Casino Night. He had told her of the two girls he’d kissed in their six months of being apart, and how they were just stupid girls at the bar with liquid lips and they giggled too loud. She had to tell him the same. When he’d thrown his glass at the mirror at the bar, she’d been scared, and when she left, she was determined not to go back to him. Of course, she was Fancy New Beesley, but she still was weak and distraught Pam.
He came to her apartment later that night with a bouquet of red roses (so cliché, she thought) and she let him in. Not just into her apartment, but officially that night back into her life and her heart. He loved her, and Lord knows he was trying. Something that she wasn’t used to with him. He started staying the night, being polite, making sure that everything was OK. Until that day.
She’d left her wet towel on the bed. She never thought about picking it up when she moved into her own place, because she knew where it had been, and not to sit in that damp spot. They were, ironically enough, getting dressed for church when he sat down in his good dress pants onto the towel, moisture soaking into the fabric quickly.
“Fuck Pam! You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” He yelled, shooting onto his feet, running his bands over his butt in some type of desire to make them instantly dry. Pam rolled her eyes.
“It’s not a big deal, Roy. Just throw them in the dryer for a second”.
His eyes blazed with her sudden self-confidence. “Are you serious right now?” He growled.
“Uhh, yeah. Come on, put them in the dryer. We’ve got to leave in like, fifteen minutes”.
Her nonchalance broke something in him as she sauntered by him towards the living room. As she passed him, he grabbed her wrist, his fingers digging into the pale flesh. She whipped towards him, surprise registering on her face quickly. As he raised his hand, she flinched enough to get him to recognize what he was about to do. He dropped his hand and let go of her wrist. They never made it to church that day.
After he saw what he had done, Roy broke down in tears. “I’m so sorry, Pam, oh my God, I am so, so sorry”, he blubbered. He sat carefully onto the bed, back onto the same towel that had caused the whole issue, and he grasped her hips. Drawing her between his thighs, he wept into her breasts, his tears drawing mustard stripes on her butter yellow t-shirt.
Roy was not one to weep. Hell, he hadn’t even cried when his beloved grandmother died, because he was a man, and men didn’t cry when little old ladies passed away in their sleep. And here he sat, sobbing into her shirt like he’d never cried before in his life, and it felt so good to allow the tears to finally rain down. Even after he’d grabbed her, bruised her, scared her, Pam took his head in her hands, softly stroking his hair, shedding her shirt so he’d cry onto her skin, drinking it in. She needed to feel his emotions physically, not just to see the hurt in his eyes, but to press his sentiment into her body.
“It’s ok, it’s ok,” she reassured softly, her index finger lifting his chin so their eyes would meet. As her lips met his, his hands moving easily over the naked skin of her back, she couldn’t understand why the moment she stared into his angry face, hand raised, she could see Jim standing before her in a dark room, her dropping a phone receiver back to its original spot, and wishing that the hurt she saw in his eyes would just disappear. She didn’t need to soak his tears into her body. Hers were enough for the both of them.
Author's Chapter Notes:
And a quick Chapter 2 because I can't get this story out of my mind.
Chapter End Notes:
Yes? No? Is this getting too weird? I like to think that Pam has more control over her life than what I'm portraying. Any advice?
