Pam took out her eraser and removed the beginning sketches of what was supposed to be the Dunder Mifflin break room from the paper. It was Friday, her project was due Monday, and she had discovered Marla’s advice to “draw a mistake” didn’t do much to narrow down her topic. She started off drawing herself leaving Marywood University to show she dropped out, but somehow that didn't feel like a very significant mistake. There were certainly plenty of Roy-related mistakes to pull inspiration from, including the mistake of rekindling their relationship, fooling herself into thinking it was somehow going to be different. 

She flipped through her sketchbook and stopped on her most recent sketch. Yesterday, the entire sales staff went out for a team building lunch, but he was able to weasel out of it under the guise of having some very important client calls. And he did make a handful of calls, but from what Pam could make out they were hardly important and hardly took longer than a few minutes. She had the small hope that once off the phone he would come to her desk and start talking about Michael’s strained metaphors from the last conference room meeting or asking if she had any ideas for a prank on Dwight. But his stayed in place, his head lowered and focused on the papers on his desk. So Pam pulled out her sketchbook and started doodling the view in front of her.  

She studied the outline of floppy hair and broad shoulders, then picked up a pencil and started filling in the shirt, leaving the collar, until it looked like a black sweater over a white dress shirt. Pam gazed into the mirror set up beside her easel and knew what she needed to draw, knew the moment that was a catalyst for many if not all of her mistakes of the last year. 

Standing slowly, she almost felt like something besides herself was taking control of her body and guiding her to her bedroom, to the bottom draw of her dresser. She opened it slowly, and ran a finger over a small embroidered flower before taking the dress by the shoulder straps, lifting it out of the drawer and laying it on her bed. Removed her jeans and shirt, she then took the satiny fabric in her hands, unzipping the side and stepping into it, remembering getting ready that night last May. She recalled Roy peeking in the bathroom as she put on lip gloss and fussed with her hair, blushing when he asked who she was getting herself gussied up for.

She pulled the zipper up and walked back out to the living room. Standing before the mirror, she pulled out her low ponytail and finger-combed through her hair, pulling half of it back up. She dropped her hands slowly, studying the lavender fabric, and a rush of cold came over when she heard what she could have sworn was a truck speeding off outside. 

A week after the wedding was supposed to happen, Pam received a package from her favorite aunt with what was going to be her wedding gift, a new digital camera. “To new memories,” her aunt wrote with a smiley face. While she hadn’t taken photos of any new exciting memories, Pam had been using the camera to take snapshots of anything she found interesting and wanted to refer to for a drawing later. 

After setting a timer, she propped the camera on the cross bar of her easel and press the shutter. The camera beeped and Pam lower her head, remembering that night how she clutched the ring on her finger, how it suddenly felt so tight and heavy on her hand, as the footsteps behind her grew further away.

The camera clicked several time and Pam scrolled through the pictures, her chest tightening and her mind racing trying to talk herself out of this. But she ignored the voice in the back of her head telling her this was a bad idea and went to her computer to print out the photo. With all her reference pictures laid out on a side table and the dress still on, she stood before the easel and started sketching out a new scene. Once her figures were outlined, she picked up the light purple out of her pastels case and after several deep breaths she set it to the paper.

* * * * *

“Okay everyone,” Marla said adjusting the lights shining on the display area. “Let’s get started with our mid-term critique. You know the rules, we’ll go in order of who volunteers, and once we’re out volunteers I start to pick in the order of how uncomfortable you look.” The class chuckled and Marla took her seat in the back. She couldn’t help but notice Pam also in the back, slouched in her chair. Marla was afraid she would be in the “not volunteering” group and wasn’t looking forward to having to call on her.

The first few students were the usual group of eager volunteers, and they stood up proudly next to their pieces, basking in the praise from their classmates and graciously accepting any criticism, though Marla could see them clenching their jaws at anything that wasn’t a glowing review.

Marla lead a small round of applause after the third critique and jotted down a couple quick remarks in her gradebook. “Okay, who would like to go next?” 

Her eyes were on the student she suspected would volunteer and was surprised to hear a small voice just a couple desks over. 

“I‘ll go next,” Pam said, her hand raised. Marla nodded and Pam stood with her portfolio in hand and walked to the front of the classroom.

“Great, more office supplies,” Marla heard one of the students whisper, and a couple others giggled in response. Marla made sure to put a mark next to each of their names. Pam careful pinned her piece to the display board, and when she stood back all the chuckling students were silenced.

It wasn’t like anything Marla had seen from Pam; a pastel drawing with a figure with a purple dress standing in the middle, her head lowered and her fingers twisted together. Behind the woman in the dress was the outline of a man walking away, his white color and cuff popping against the mostly black background. Pam nervously returned to her seat and there was continued silence before Marla asked what people’s impressions were of Pam’s method.

“Your negative space is very strong,” one student replied.

“Keeping the figures to one side rather than centering them creates a nice tension.”

“Your stroke is very expressive.” 

Marla couldn’t help but feel pleased as the students gave Pam actual constructive comments. In the past the other students seemed to have little to say about Pam’s pieces, but today they didn’t stop talking.

“So, what feelings do you get from this piece?” Marla asked.

“Regret,” a student chimed in quickly. 

“Fear,” another said.

“What do you mean?” Marla asked.

“She’s letting him walk away, she’s too afraid to go after him,” the student said. 

Marla took a quick glance to Pam to find her biting her lip and holding her sides. Marla opened her mouth ready to try to steer the group away from the emotional aspect when the student who made the comment about office supplies looked back at her.

“But she’s not looking back.”

“That's true, she's not. What could that mean, do you think?” Marla responded. 

“Maybe she's letting him go."

Marla turned to Pam and could see a tear roll down her cheek. “Okay, thank you everyone. Let's take a five minute break before we start our next critique.” As every started to stand and move around, Marla quickly walked to where Pam was seated. “I’ll go grab your piece, don’t worry,” Marla whispered. 

Pam sniffed and nodded. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

Carefully removing the pins, Marla carried Pam’s drawing to the table where she was collecting projects. She turned to walk back to the desk with her gradebook and was surprised to see a small group gathered around Pam. As she walked toward the group she could hear the other student showering Pam with compliments, remarking on her color use and asking what techniques she utilized. Marla took a seat and opened up her grade book to make a note next to Pam’s name. “Great reaction to Pam’s piece, most comments and questions she’s received all term.” Marla smiled to herself and wrote down one more note. “Piece displayed great courage and honesty.”

* * * * *

For the rest of the term, Marla was pleased to see Pam continue to experiment and improve with her projects, working with bright colors and bold strokes. Critiques of her works continued to be lively and she was much more social with her classmates.

Before Marla knew it, it was May, Even after 15 years of teaching, Marla always had a very bittersweet feeling about terms end. She was happy to see how the students have progressed, excited to imagine what they would do with their art next. And yet she always a little sad to say goodbye, sad to realized she wouldn’t get to watch these student work and grow week to week. The final session was just students coming in to fill out evaluations and pick up their final projects, and Marla especially had that bittersweet end-of-term emotion when Pam walked in. 

There was something different about Pam, her cheeks looked rosy and her gait was light and easy, and Marla felt herself smile when she handed Pam an evaluation sheet.

Slipping her finished evaluation into the envelope, Pam looked at Marla’s smirking face. “What?”

“You just seem to be in a good mood, maybe got a little sun,” Marla replied.

Pam laughed nervously, “Oh yeah, we had this work thing at the beach yesterday. I did get a little sunburned, but…” Pam looked off at nothing in particular for a moment then smiled brightly, “It was a good day.”

“Well, hopefully the good feelings continue with this,” Marla said, handing Pam a folded paper with comments and a grade on her final project. Pam took a peek at the paper, her eyes widening at the high score. “I’m so proud of the work you did this term Pam. I know it was a little tough at the start but you really had a breakthrough.” 

Pam blinked a few times and looked up with shiny eyes, “Thank you Marla. For everything.”