Don't Get Lost

Pam drove through the darkness. She concentrated on driving smoothly, changing lanes only when she had a lot of space, keeping a good distance from the car ahead of her, braking gently and only when taking her foot off the gas wasn't enough. She listened intently to Jim's even breathing. The darkness and the car's motion had finally lulled him into sleep. But it wasn't a good sleep, that she knew. She could feel his agitation with every little jerk of his head or twitch of his arm or leg. It was probably the only sleep he was going to get for the next 48 hours, though, and Pam was fiercely protective of it.

She waited as long as possible and pulled over to turn on the GPS that Justin had insisted she borrow. She'd printed Google Maps for the route but she did have to agree with Justin … she wouldn't be anywhere near peak mental function by the time they approached D.C. And she definitely had to agree that Jim did not need the added stress of getting lost tonight.

Justin had programmed the hospital's address and showed Pam how to use the GPS. He assured her that it was ok to keep the device, for as long as she needed it. Pam thought about how lucky she was that she'd gotten to be friends with Justin as well as Julia. He was such a guy friend – always pragmatic, clear eyed, solution oriented. When Pam had called to cancel their movie the next night, Julia had been lavish in her sympathies, saying innumerable variants of "Poor Jim." Pam heard Julia explain the situation to Justin and his immediate response, "I'm taking the TomTom over right now." He was dry and matter of fact as he explained how to use the TomTom. No cooing. No sympathizing. His mission was to ensure that Pam and Jim wouldn't get lost tonight.

Pam smiled to herself as she pulled back onto the highway and the TomTom began to direct her in a lilting Aussie female voice. The voice was so congenial. Pam tried to imagine the woman who belonged to it. Twenty-five or so, she decided. Thick auburn hair. Tall and self-confident, she was sure. Beautiful in a mother nature kind of way. Funny as hell. Sexy and seductive.

Pam still thought sometimes about Jim's trip to Australia. She always wondered how many beautiful women he'd had sex with – she was sure they were all beautiful. How many women he'd had meaningless sex with. She drove him to that, she knew, and she hated herself for it. Now that she was on the receiving end of the treatment, it astonished her that she ever could have been so thoughtlessly cruel to him. For the past five months, she thought she had some understanding of the hell she'd put Jim through. Watching him and Karen every day was horrible. Some days she felt nauseated for the entire work day. Eight solid hours of churning. She thought she finally understood the frustration she'd made him live with for years.

She knew better now though. It wasn't until after Phyllis' wedding that Pam really understood the crushing emptiness and despair she'd subjected Jim to. He'd flirted with her at the bar, for God's sake. "I'm such a dorky dancer." He'd smiled her smile. Checked. Her. Out. "Yes. And it's very cute." She'd still felt elated when he left her at the bar. Her body was humming with excitement. Cute! He said she was cute! She couldn't help but hope that, deep down, he still felt their connection. So when she saw him with Karen in his arms, smiling warmly down at her, it felt like the bottom fell out of her stomach. She couldn't tear her eyes away from them – but she was sure that, if she continued to watch, she'd vomit in her lap.

So she'd fled, feeling Jeff's camera trailing her as she hurried to the women's room. Once she reached the safe, cameraman free zone she camped out in the handicapped stall. She sat there, staring at the toilet paper dispenser and willing herself not to cry. Amazing. Here she was at her own wedding, with a 50-year old, overweight woman playing her part. And what was driving her to tears? The fact that Jim had given her this teeny glimmer of hope that he might still care about her – and then snuffed it out moments later. He had no right to fuck around with her mind like this. If he didn't want her, he sure as hell shouldn't flirt with her.

Pam's anxiety heightened as she tried to imagine a clean escape from the reception. She couldn't let Jeff find her. He'd try to get her to do a talking head and no way she could do that without breaking down. She couldn't let Jim find her. She'd totally lose it if he flirted with her again. If she saw Phyllis, she'd have to rip her headpiece off. Then she'd heard him, "Hey, Pammy – you ok? You been in there a long time now. You have too much to drink? I've been waitin' for you to come out for a while now. You ok?"

She'd felt overwhelmed that Roy was the one who noticed her escape, that he was the one who cared enough to stand watch outside the women's room for 20 minutes, that he was the one wanting to take care of her. She knew Roy wasn't what she wanted but she danced with him – and she went home with him. Dammit, she used him. And then, like always, she couldn't even own her actions. Rather than admit to herself that she'd used Roy, she tried to convince herself that she really wanted to get back together with him. But it was never right. Roy could never fill the hole that was in her heart.

For a long time, whenever Pam thought about Phyllis' wedding, the only phrase that came to mind was He had no right. She mentally recited it – like a mantra – as her anger built to a deafening, unsustainable crescendo. For, even as she condemned him for leading her on with his little flirtation at the bar, other images would come to her mind, unbidden and unwanted. Jim, you can tell me anything … You have very nice teeth … Now you have it coming! … You were such a dork! … Swaying isn't dancing. … Her anger would suddenly evaporate and she'd be left with a quiet, sad realization. I'm a bitch, I'm a total bitch. I toyed with him for years. I'd flirt all day long and then leave him like he meant nothing to me. In these days after the wedding, Pam finally understood – and accepted – what she'd done to Jim.

Lost in her thoughts, Pam responded automatically to the lovely, lilting Aussie voice. Again, she didn't notice Jim start to rouse. Didn't register when he started talking to her.

"– GPS?"

Jim lightly poked Pam on the arm. "Hey, are you ok? You still awake?"

"What? Oh, yeah, just thinking I guess. Did you ask me something?"

"Yeah. When did you get a GPS, Beesly? Been taking a lot of road trips lately?"

"Oh, that. It's not mine. My –" Pam hesitated as she started to say "My friend's boyfriend." Justin wasn't just a friend of a friend, dammit. "My friend, Justin, lent it to me for the trip. He wanted to make sure I didn't get us lost in D.C. in your fancy Saab."

In the darkness, Pam couldn't see Jim's frown.