She opens the envelope in the parking lot and watches Jim drive out. He gives her a small wave without a smile, his lips pressed into a line. That bothers her more than she wants to admit.
She knows what it is before she takes it out, but she still covers her mouth and gasps when she actually sees it. A ticket. To Australia, and back, along with an itinerary of where Jim's staying and when. She notices the price on the ticket and is floored. $3000. After a couple of seconds, she starts to get angry. How could he? What did he think was going to happen? How dare he put this kind of pressure on her?
And she can hear him in her head. You've got to take a chance on something, sometime, Pam.
Maybe I could, she thinks. No, maybe I SHOULD.
She slides the ticket and itinerary back into the envelope and leans back against her car, not trusting herself to stay standing without a little help. She notices the blood on the envelope and the stinging in her finger, and absently sticks the cut finger into her mouth. The copper taste is enough to snap her out of her reverie. She gets into the car and starts it.
Maybe I will.
But she knows she won't. She'll do what she always does. She'll go home, like the good girlfriend, and she'll have the laundry folded and put away and a snack ready for Roy when he gets home, because he's always starving after a night out with the guys. And she'll probably have really boring sex with him, because he's always horned up after a night out with the guys, but usually too drunk to care about whether or not she gets off. The one consolation is that it's usually pretty quick. Not that sex with Roy is bad, it's just not much fun on nights like these.
And she'll get married on Saturday, like she's always wanted. She'll have the life she always wanted, the guy she always wanted, and the job she always, well… settled for.
Except maybe I don't want that anymore.
Five hours later, Pam sits on the couch in front of the big screen television that Roy bought himself for Christmas this year. Not that she minds. She likes television as much as he does, and it's pretty nice to be able to watch movies in widescreen, the way they're supposed to be seen. Roy always turns the widescreen function off because he hates letterboxing. No amount of discussion will convince him that he's not missing the top and bottom of the picture, and that it's actually better. Pam watches a lot of movies alone.
When eleven o'clock rolls around and he's still not home from his night out with Darryl, she starts to get annoyed. His bachelor party is on Thursday and he doesn't need to be out all night tonight. She's also a little relieved, because she's got a lot of stuff on her mind, none of it close to being anything she wants to talk to Roy about. She needs to talk to Roy about it, but she doesn't want to talk about it.
She runs her palms over the envelope in her lap. Push. She can hear Jim's voice in her head, and feel his hot breath in her ear and a shiver runs down her back. She feels her face flush and is suddenly less annoyed with Roy for not being home.
At the sound of the key in the door, Pam jumps up. The envelope. Crap
She heads into the spare bedroom where her suitcase is already half packed for the honeymoon, and slips the envelope under the swimsuit and cover up she's packed. Roy hasn't even started packing yet. He'll probably expect her to do that for him too. Her dress is hanging in the closet and she can see it because she's left the door open. She runs her hand down it and sadness washes over her. She feels the hot sting of tears and forces them back.
"Hey babe! You up?" Roy calls from the living room.
"Uh, yeah. Just working on packing. Did you have a good time?" She tries to compose herself before she goes out to greet him.
Roy grabs her in a big bear hug and drags her down onto the couch with him. "What's on tv, babe?"
He kisses her, and he tastes like beer and smoke. She likes the way he tastes when he's been out drinking, as long as he doesn't drink scotch. She knows it's a little weird, but she likes the taste of beer on him. But this time, when his tongue invades her mouth, it feels different. It feels like…cheating. She recoils a little, but manages to recover before he notices. She remembers how Jim's mouth felt on hers, and it helps her warm up a little, but it still feels wrong kissing Roy.
This isn't right. I shouldn't be feeling this way.
"Roy?" She starts. She knows better than to discuss anything serious with him when he's drunk, but he's not a mean drunk. If anything, he's even less of a jerk when he's drunk. It's just that he won't take anything seriously and will try to blow it off in the morning. But she can't wait. She has to know.
"Why did you set a date?"
"What? What are you talking about?" He has a quizzical smile on his face, as if he thinks she's nuts. "Oh, look, American Chopper's on!"
"Seriously Roy, why did you finally decide to set a date?" She's getting irritated now, because she really wants to talk and he's not listening. She knows it's her fault for the bad timing, but she can't wait.
"Why are you asking me that? It's what you wanted."
Hot anger rises in her throat. She grits her teeth and presses her lips tightly together.
"What I wanted? What about what you wanted?"
Something in her voice finally tells Roy to shut off the television and pay attention.
"What's going on with you, Pammy? Of course it's what I want." He looks worried.
"Is it?" She snarls through her teeth. "Is it really what you want?"
Roy looks at her, desperately trying to figure out what she's getting at before he really screws up something and she completely blows up at him. It doesn't happen often, and she usually gets over it pretty quickly, but he doesn't want to deal with it tonight. Tonight he just wants to have a quickie and go to sleep. He has to be up early. But Pam wants a fight.
"You hesitated! Dammit, Roy. Why don't you just tell me the truth?"
Too late. He's in for a long night now, he knows. He sighs and settles back into the couch.
"The truth is, Pam, I love you. Of course I want to marry you. You want to get married, and I want to make you happy. Why is this a big deal?"
She blinks at him. She thought she'd be angrier, but she's just sad.
"I'm sorry, Roy," she says. "I thought it was what I wanted. But you don't want to get married, really, do you? You only set the date to keep me happy. You'd have been happy staying the way things were forever."
"Come on, Pam, that's not…"
"It's ok," She interrupts him. "I don't think I want to get married anymore. I don't think it's working."
I think I just got used to the idea of us, and never thought about the reality of us.
She sees him visibly relax. It's not going to be a big fight after all, and he's relieved. She's not sure how she feels about his reaction. She didn't think she wanted to fight, but now that he's not fighting she's disappointed. She knows she's the one being unreasonable, but she can't stop herself.
What is wrong with me?
"Do you get what I'm saying, Roy?" She searches his face, and she doesn't see any anger there. She feels a pang of guilt. She shouldn't have done this while he was drunk. He might not even remember it in the morning.
"You think I don't want to marry you, but I do. It's cool, Pam. We can talk about it in the morning. I have to go for a tux fitting before work, so can we just go to bed?"
He rolls over and starts snoring pretty quickly, so she's spared the joyless quickie that she normally expects. When she's sure he's good and asleep, she slips out of bed and goes to the spare bedroom. She takes out the envelope, sits on the bed, and holds the smooth white paper against her chest, hoping that somehow the answers will all come easier. She doesn't even notice that she's crying until the tears roll down the tip of her nose.