Ice-skating was not the balm for her soul that she’d hoped. Or rather, watching ice-skating wasn’t, and she wasn’t about to venture out on the ice in front of all those strangers. She was—barely—able to put her phone call with Roy out of her mind as she watched a couple of tow-headed little rascals spinning themselves across the ice by sheer force of will, but then their parents took them in hand and all she could do was silently agree with their little pouting faces as they started back up on the basic skating routines they were apparently there to practice. The rest of the time she just let her eyes glaze over and watched the pretty swirling shape of the people on the ice: a galaxy, she thought, whirling across a blank white sky, or a Jackson Pollock on a tilt-a-whirl. She identified patterns in the motion, spots where little kids tripped themselves up consistently, or where the most talented skaters would burst into motion, spinning or leaping before rejoining the throng. Actual competition jumps were prohibited during the free skate, but this didn’t seem to include all movements that lifted the skater off the ice, only those with a high probability of falling. She noticed knots of people form and reform as children sought out their friends and more adult partners paired, split up, and repaired again. An older couple skated by, drawing her specific attention by the sheer slowness of their progression down the ice: she with her head resting on his shoulder, he with a fearsome face of concentration steering them both around the occasional stationary child or panting amateur taking a breather by the rail. The poise of his body reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on who: not Roy, although the tenderness and care for his partner he evinced by a single crook of his arm around her sent a thrill of longing through her, wishing her fiancé would be that unthinkingly considerate. She watched them closely until they chose to exit the ice, the gentleman—for so she now thought of him—gesturing his lady before him with a low bow, and she in turn accepting with an almost regal nod of her head.
As her eyes returned to the ice, they were caught by a spinning figure towards the center of the rink, with one leg extended gracefully behind: as Pam watched, the figure reached impossibly back and grasped the edge of the skate, drawing their leg up behind them and intensifying the spin, sending their red hair spiraling out. A moment later and she—for it was undoubtedly a woman—was out of her spin and sliding languidly along, a picture of controlled perfection. Pam felt a pang of envy for the ease with which she moved and the self-confidence which allowed her to show it off in public. Then she felt an additional pang as the skater’s hair whipped back and allowed her a clear view of the woman’s face: it was Katy. Worse, it seemed she was taking the moment of her glide to look up into the stands, because their eyes locked in the moment before Pam was able to tear her own away.
Cheeks burning, she desperately looked around the rink for something else to focus on, and found herself eagerly perusing the list of upcoming hockey games. Just what she needed: a reminder of her most embarrassing dating moment at this exact moment. She burrowed deeper into her coat and sighed. This was definitely a waste of a day.
Or something worse. A hand reached out and touched her coat, and she almost jumped out of her skin before turning and meeting a pair of blue eyes looking down on her with innocent simplicity.
“Pam? I thought it was you!” Katy squealed before sliding down onto the bleacher beside her. “I thought you were in the Poconos? That’s what Jim said, anyway.” She pulled Pam into a side hug, still encumbered by her skates. “It’s so good to see you! Jim talks about you all the time.” She released Pam, but only momentarily before sliding an arm inside hers and sidling up like they were long-lost buddies. “You have to let me pick your brain about him. He’s soooo difficult to figure out. It’s like, don’t get me wrong, when we’re together he’s the absolute best, and you know, soooo cute, but then sometimes I worry he doesn’t even think of me at all. I’ve been trying to get him to go out this weekend but he said something about a rec league basketball tournament at the Y—do you know anything about that?—and then visiting his parents…do you think he’s planning to invite me to see his parents? That would be amazing.”
Pam was extremely used to dealing with this kind of one-sided conversation from her friendship with Kelly, so she had ample time to process her own feelings about what Katy had to say, though at times in Katy’s breathless exhortation she wished she hadn’t. She began by wondering when Katy and Jim had last talked, since Jim had known for a full week that she wasn’t in the Poconos with Roy—then she wondered why Jim had even been mentioning her and Roy’s plans to Katy, before detouring to ponder how it was possible that Jim was hard to figure out. Jim was simple, straightforward, easy: he was the best. Roy could be difficult and frustrating and annoying, but Jim was understanding and kind and thoughtful. If he said he had a Y rec league he probably had one; and if he wanted to invite Katy home for Christmas (a thought that gave her a distinct twinge that she very deliberately chose not to investigate further, not for any reason, just because she didn’t want to thank you very much) he would tell her. She said as much, and that unleashed another set of exclamations on how confusing men were, which hadn’t been her point, but which she found herself agreeing with—again, not with reference to Jim, but to Roy. Maybe this was just what men were like in relationships, she said, and Katy agreed vociferously, before giving her another hug and telling her not to be a stranger and to tell Jim if she saw him that she was totally free all weekend, then rushing back down to the ice.
Pam was left with the general sense that a very kind tornado had blown through her afternoon: but again, she was friends with Kelly, so she knew how to rebuild. She sat there in blessed silence for a few moments, collecting her thoughts. She was still uncertain why Jim talked to Katy about her—she so rarely talked to Roy about Jim, after all, and wasn’t that a bit strange now that you thought about it, given how much time she spent thinking about Jim in a given day?—and she wasn’t sure what to do with the conflicting information she’d just gotten about his and Katy’s relationship. Not that she meant to pry or anything, but he was her best friend: shouldn’t she know how he felt about Katy? No wonder Katy thought she’d have some insight into the situation. But she didn’t. She had no idea whether Jim Halpert wanted her to come over for Christmas—Katy-her, not Pam-her, she quickly clarified in her head—but why was it that Jim had suddenly come over all hot and cold on Katy? They didn’t seem to have had a real talk in at least the last week, because if they had Katy would have had to know that Pam was in the office, if Jim really talked about her as often as Katy implied; but they’d also talked about his plans for the weekend, which suggested otherwise. It really wasn’t any of her business, but…she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Which was a bad sign, because she was about to go home to an empty house and an empty fridge with nothing but her own frustrations with Roy to distract her from thinking about this all night.
A quick visit to Sheetz fixed the middle problem—no need for anything in the fridge if she had a tater tot burrito in her hands! Never mind that the burrito was more than she usually ate in a day and a half, it was warm and inviting and had no complicated questions to ask her about relationships so she was happy with it—but did nothing for the empty house or the head full of questions. She fell asleep that night in front of the TV, watching old Bob Ross re-runs and wishing she had an easel set up somewhere in the house so she could follow along: maybe the act of painting would have distracted her more from her worries. As it was, she couldn’t help but watch Bob draw two friendly little trees “because everyone should have a friend” and think of Jim, or color in a mountaintop with snow without remembering that Roy and Kenny had spent her romantic trip to the mountain-view lodge without her. It was a long time before she fell asleep, and her dreams were troubled.
