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My Best Friend
Chapter 4
It’s amazing the things I’ve committed to memory, while I’ve let other things just … fall out of my ears, never to be reached for again. I figure, if I can’t remember why I needed to keep it, then good riddance. Okay, so sometimes I let the wrong stuff go, like the time Pam had to remind me four times that on this Sunday we have to go to her cousin’s baby’s christening. I know she cuts me some slack there, it’s football Sunday, so really, for someone like me, involved in fantasy football, I don’t really focus on anything else on that given day other than teams, scores, stats… you know. The important stuff us men use as a way to annoy our wives once a week when our toddlers are standing around in nothing other than a diaper, our four year olds are running around the house doing God only knows what, and our wives want to shove the remote control where the sun doesn’t shine because we were all supposed to go to brunch with her father but I’m still sitting there staring at the television like it’s some sort of mystic creature – her words, said in that exact way. No breaths. I actually worry sometimes if she gets enough oxygen.
I’m not a bad husband – at least I’d like to think I’m better than most. I remember our anniversaries – both of them. The one in May – how could I ever let the details of our first date fade away? I can never go one year without celebrating it in our own quiet way. We always plan on going to a Bed and Breakfast somewhere, but so far for eight years now, we’ve come home and started to pack an overnight bag and ended up with two empty bags beside the clothes we were wearing that day, never moving from our own bed for almost two days.
We always talk about that first date then, staring at the ceiling with our eyes glazed over. We both always laugh when we get to the part of the waiter’s wide eyed expression when Pam moved to my side of the booth and kissed me right there between our appetizers and entrees’.
The funnier part, I think, is that we were still going over points we both wanted to make, and in the middle of her telling me that she was really hurt about something I had done a long time ago – telling her I was over my crush on her when I really obviously wasn’t. It was very serious talk and she was in the midst of making her point and she just stopped talking, looked at me, shook her head and got out of her seat, sat next to me, and touched my cheek. When I leaned in and she didn’t pull away, well, it was a really good thing we were in a public place. The waiter though, he tried to interrupt us a good four times, and I heard each time – but come on I’m sorry. The woman of my dreams was kissing me at the moment. I’m so not ending that kiss to acknowledge him asking if we wanted more water. Just fill up the glass.
That’s exactly what Pam said to him, with a half serious half humorous expression on her face when he asked the fifth time. I was so proud of her right then, I said, “That’s my girl,” and her response was just a simple hug and a grin. It felt so good to hold her in my arms and I never, ever wanted to let her go.
I still don’t. She’s the best part of my life, and every single thing I do is for her. Even when I don’t take off my dirty sneakers and walk through the house tracking dirt everywhere and she gets annoyed with me and gives me that look, I know she loves me. And when she accidentally throws away a bill we have to pay and I shake my head while I look through the recycling bag grumbling along the way, I still love her.
I will never forget that night though, that first date was just the epitome of every single thing I ever wanted it to be. We finally looked at each other for longer than a second, really absorbed one another features over those few hours. Among the things I learned about Pam that night – like she hated the sound of the refrigerator in her apartment, she broke her big toe trying to dance ballet when she was eight, she loves the fall because it gives her this new energy to focus on her art. And anytime I look at her, I smile. It’s like I can’t help it.
We talked, for the first time we really talked about things that night. She told me that she really had no idea that I wanted anything other than friendship because I was always dating someone. I told her that I originally had no intention of telling her how I felt, that I was actually coming to tell her that I was going to accept a transfer to Stamford. It struck us both then that if I had gone with what I originally planned, we wouldn’t have been sitting in that Italian restaurant together right then.
Trying to keep things simple between us lasted about an hour through dinner, but as we walked through the park afterward, she started asking tough questions. Why had I denied my crush on her when it wasn’t true? I asked her how she could have not seen it, that it was written all over my face.
We spoke in detail about the day I complained to Toby about her planning her wedding. I admitted it that night that I did it out of frustration, that I really couldn’t hear the details anymore because I was losing my mind. Like literally having nightmares at night that got so bad I actually dreaded going to sleep. I don’t remember the details of the nightmares now, but I remember the sleepless nights. There were about two years worth of them over the five years we played that cat and mouse game we’re reviewing on the documentary.
The thing is though; we only really got the air clear on the events that lead up to me transferring. I’ve been sitting here for the past few minutes while Pam is upstairs checking on the kids, wondering why she never told me just how rough this year was for her. I know she did tell me that she used the year to grow and become a stronger person. She worked on her art and found herself as her own person. She told me that being with Roy for so long never really allowed her to mature and be self reliant.
The thing that amazes me is that she never complained about any of the things I had done wrong, and from what I’m seeing – I was pretty … well, I was pretty much a jerk to her. I’ve fast forwarded and rewound this one day twice so far, searching for this one part of the afternoon that apparently, according to my television, never happened.
But it most certainly did happen. I asked Pam to come for coffee with Karen and me, she declined, and then told me she won an art contest. For an instant I forgot about all of the … drama, I suppose is the best word, and just felt so honestly happy for her. And it’s the crux of what I was going through then. Fighting off these little instances of me forgetting for a second that my heart was broken to pieces and I was still trying to put it back together popped up all over the place back then. That was the one I remember the most because I was truly so happy for her and I remember I couldn’t stop thinking about how pretty Pam looked when she told me she won. I was so proud of her that she went an extra mile with her talent, finally, after years of me trying to encourage her as best I could as a friend, she finally did something.
But according to this, it’s just a plain old day where the sales team went out on sales calls together in groups of two. I ended up going on a call with Dwight – and for all of his … unique qualities that drive me to the twelfth level of pure insanity – we actually make a good sales duo. This was also the day that Karen finally found out about Pam and me from Phyllis while they were on their call. And that began the great inquisition by Karen – a period of time that I’d honestly forgotten about until about ten minutes ago.
I keep rewinding this because I know it’s in here somewhere, but it’s not. It jumps from Karen asking me to go for coffee to Dwight talking to Michael. I rewind it one more time and pause it again because I think it’ll just magically appear. Maybe I’m just being too obsessive about this. The same thing happens when I’m trying to find my keys and Cece’s standing in the corner of the kitchen with her ‘I didn’t do it,’ face of innocence. And every time, in walks my little Alyssa – the real innocent one, holding my keys in her hand as she shoves her fist in her mouth. I’m sure that kid’s going to end up in the emergency room one day with some kind of lead poisoning because her older sister keeps giving her my keys.
I let out a sigh and feel Pam walk into the room – I don’t even need to turn my head to know she’s there. I can’t explain it. It just is. I’m sure that explanation is going to make my blood pressure sky rocket when Cece starts using it. She’s four, but I can already see her turning into a little wise cracking child much like I was when I was a teenager.
Pam sits next to me then, cutting me short from drifting further into a future where she and our kids are the only certainty, and asks, “What are you doing? You look crazed.”
“Yeah, it’s … here. Look,” I say, pressing play. “See here? How I’m going to coffee with Karen one second and the next… see? There’s Michael and Dwight.”
“Mm-hmm, yeah I remember that.”
“No, not me going out with Karen,” I say, knowing exactly what her tone means. “I mean, this is … isn’t this day… you won that art contest. I don’t get why they’re not showing it.”
She shrugs and folds her legs under her as she sits next to me. “Yeah, that was a big moment,” she says partially sarcastically.
“It was,” I say automatically, turning to look at her. “I was so proud of you.”
She just nods and widens her eyes just a little bit, the way she does when she completely doubts what I’m saying but won’t say it out loud until I’m proven wrong. “Anyway,” she says, clearing her throat. “The girls are sound asleep. But that could change at any given moment.”
“Hey, I was,” I tell her. “I was really so happy for you. And it’s really bothering me that they’re not showing it here.”
She shrugs again, I raise my eyebrow to ask her what, and without a word between us she just sighs, takes the remote from me and moves on to the next show on the list. I nudge her and tilt my head and she takes a breath and puckers her lips, her cheeks beveling.
I raise my eyebrows again, trying to egg her on, trying to tell her that we don’t keep things from one another anymore.
She lowers her head and finally says, “You said you wanted to see it when you got back and then you just completely ignored me the rest of the day.”
The next words out of my mouth are going to make me sound about as mature as my four year old, but I say them anyway. “It was Karen’s fault.”
“Did she tie your hands behind your back until you promised you wouldn’t talk to me,” she says chidingly, with her lips pouted to mock me. “Look, I don’t want to argue about this. It’s nonsense. We’re past it.”
“I know,” I tell her. “It’s just, look,” I say, taking the remote and moving to the part I saw before of Karen and me at the coffee place. “That’s why,” I say as I press play just as Karen is asking me if I had a thing for Pam.
“Well, I get it now,” she says, ignoring the fact that I completely downplayed my feelings for her. She just clears her throat and says, “But back then, all I saw was you flip flopping between talking to me and not talking to me. It really drove me insane, especially that day.”
“Can I see the painting now,” I ask, pausing the screen again.
“I don’t know where it is, I’d have to look for it. Kids are sleeping,” she says, pressing fast forward on the remote. “Let’s just finish these so we can go to bed.”
She’s tired. I can tell, completely. When Pam gets tired, she gets a little … tiny bit cranky. I should probably say forget it, let’s stop watching this and go to bed. But she said this is the only night we’re doing this, and I know she meant it so I just sit back and let her zip past this one.
I can see it, and remember it all, even though the images are going by in double time. This was the day that Andy drove me so utterly insane, I had to get him back somehow. My self imposed ban on talking to Pam in front of Karen lasted all of two hours. I still blame Karen for that one – she didn’t want to play along and help me get back at Andy. Dwight had quit, and his accounts were split up, and she said she was too backed up with his work to be distracted. Ryan was too good for… everything and everyone. I did what anyone would do.
I take the remote from Pam’s hand and press play as the part where I walk up to her desk comes on the screen. I can’t stop myself from shaking my head as her eyes light up as we set our plan in motion. It was amazing, even back then when we weren’t on the best terms, we were still so in synch with one another. All I had to do was hand her Andy’s cell phone and she knew what to do.
“It’s was nice being your third choice,” she mutters, rolling her eyes.
For someone who was so calm about things before, that’s a pretty big statement for me not to acknowledge.
“You weren’t. I was like … under intense scrutiny back then. She watched every single thing I did.”
“I know. All because you admitted you used to have feelings for me,” she says, using air quotes.
I try to ignore the snarky fingers next to her head and swallow my comment and just shrug. “Back then, it made sense in my head. You weren’t a third choice. Ever.”
She rolls her eyes and motions her head back to the television. We watch me toss Andy’s phone in the ceiling. There’s a look from Karen in there – never saw that. Pam laughs next to me, and I want to ask her what that was for, but I’d be a dumbass if I actually said that right now. I can just hear her yelling at me in my head already so I shut my mouth. I may be stupid in some areas, but I know when to keep my mouth closed, especially when it’s nearing bed time. Sometimes I don’t and we bicker, but tonight I don’t want to fight.
But I can feel her getting edgier as on screen we’re giggling with one another, wearing sombreros for Oscar’s welcome back party and admiring our handy work – Andy managed to actually punch a hole in the wall between Michael’s office and the conference room. It was a fun moment, one that stayed with me so much so that it actually got me through those long talks with Karen – the knowing I still had that connection with Pam.
She speeds up the show a little – and still, I think it’s weird to call my life a show. I want to refer to it as a home video, but what we’re watching is anything but homey so far, overall.
She stops at the point where I’m sitting alone in the conference room and Karen walks in. Of course these assholes would include this and not show Pam winning an art contest.
The voices in my head scream even louder, asking me why I needed to watch this as on screen, Karen asks me if I “still have feelings for her,” and I say, “Yes.”
The screaming gets louder and I can’t even hear over my own thoughts as Pam drops her head, purses her lips, hands me the remote, stands up and walks out of the room without a look in my direction.
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Chapter End Notes:
More soon, thanks for all of the lovely support. I'm having a bad week so far and didn't think this would be done as soon as this. Turns out, writing is actually therapeutic.
