Onsra - the bittersweet feeling that love won't last (Boro)

Valentine's Day 2013

"I just wish you told me that I had upset you that much," Jim said, sitting on the bed with his fingers laced. "I don't want you to be afraid to tell me things."

"I don't want you to be afraid to tell me things either," Pam replied, leaning against their dresser. But you are, she wanted to add. There were a lot of things she wanted to add, but it was already half-passed-nine and they had been at this since dinner.

He stood and took her hands in his, rubbing his thumb over her wedding band. "It's going to get easier. And I'm going to do better, okay?"

She nodded, "Okay, I am too." She smiled but it felt nothing but unsure.

A cry came on the monitor and Pam eyed the door. "It's okay," Jim said quickly, giving her arm a squeeze, "I'll get him."

She watched his shadow leave the room and disappear down the hall, and her hands met, the fingers on her right hand twisting the ring on her left. She remembered doing this often with her first ring, and thought she had broken the habit once and for all. She dropped her hands and walking into their bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

Once she got the water to the right temperature, she stepped into the shower and after a moment sank to the floor. It was odd, she had cried so much the last few weeks but now that she wanted to cry, wanted to feel the frustration and sadness, nothing would come. It felt like the person she knew better than anyone was becoming a stranger to her, and Pam wanted it to hurt more than it did, but all she felt was a strange numbness, a resignation.

There was a knock and she stood back up as the door creaked open. "Just a diaper, he's already out like a light again."

"Thank you," Pam said. She watched the shower curtain as his shadow got closer. "I can be finished soon, if you want to shower."

There was a long pause before he spoke softly. "I was kind of hoping to join you."

Her instinct was to say no. He had become very good as distracting her recently, at coming back from Philadelphia either way too late or way to early, getting his lips on hers before she could tell him how many tantrums Cece had thrown while he was gone, his hand slipping between her legs before she could inform him what percent of Phillip's dinner had ended up on her clothes and in her hair. Then again, she let him distract her like that, it was the only time he ever felt there anymore, felt present. The rest of the time he was home he may as well be across the state.

But she peeked out the shower curtain and half-smiled, and he half-smiled back as he started to unbutton his shirt.

At first they don't really face each other, he stepped under the shower head and started scrubbing himself with soap, she faced away and ran conditioner through her hair. They turned at the same time, her eyes landing on his chest before she looked up to his face. His hair was wet and pasted to his forehead and Pam felt her eyes sting as she thought about how he kind of looked like he did the day he proposed. She remembered being so happy, so hopeful about the future they were going to build together. Now, some days she wondered, always briefly but never-the-less strongly, if that future still had a place for her.

Stepping closer, she wrapped her arms around his middle, her cheek on his bare chest. He lifted his arms, putting one hand firmly on her back, the other on her head. She let out a quiet sob and he held her tighter. "It's gonna be okay," he whispered, "we're gonna be okay."

She wanted nothing more than to believe him, to be comforted by him holding her and stroking her wet hair, but everything about them, about the life they built together, felt like it was slipping through her fingers like water.