Well, Roy was home.

It was 11:32 AM. In contrast to her normal Saturday morning routine, she had only been awake for thirty minutes. Usually, she let herself sleep in until about 8:30 before she began the weekend chores that she and Roy "split" (more like she did 85% of the work and he complained about her vacuuming being too loud during the game). But this morning, she let herself succumb to the delicious slumber that had overcome her body at 4 AM. Waking up at 11 o'clock had been wondrous.

But now, Roy was home, and the few minutes of peace that she had been drowning in while engulfed by the covers in the middle of the bed, were gone.

It was as if Roy had woken up still drunk, stumbling in the house and knocking into things like it was 3 AM and not almost lunchtime. She sighed and rolled her eyes, which she found was quickly becoming a habit when it came to Roy, and let herself save one more moment of serenity before facing him.

As she closed her eyes, she tried to choose a peaceful image to pocket for the day and pull out during the inevitable spats that they'd have as the day wore on. She found herself surprised when the flash of a memory came back from not a few hours prior: Jim.

She had been trying to conjure up an image that would calm her. Usually, picturing herself sitting on a terrace with a paintbrush or sketchbook in hand would do the trick. But as soon as her lids closed over her tired eyes, it was Jim's warmth, the comfort of his shoulder, that unexpectedly crept into her consciousness.

At first, her eyes popped open, and she pulled the covers up under her chin, glancing around the room to make sure Roy hadn't seen. It took her a moment to realize that she was alone. Jim wasn't there. Hadn't ever been in her bed. They had fallen asleep for an hour while watching tv. What was so wrong with that? Why was she embarrassed?

Why was the image of Jim wrapped around her, his hair flopping on the pillow beside her, suddenly flashing before her?

And who had turned the thermostat up to 100 degrees?

Her trance was disrupted by Roy's cloppy feet trudging down the hallway. She sat up in bed and prepared herself for what would ultimately be a day of nagging, bickering, and annoyance, with a constant soundtrack of college basketball.

"You're still in bed?"

His hair was disheveled, clothes wrinkled, eyes still bloodshot.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is the man I'm marrying, she thought, as he belched loudly, the stench of beer and pretzels wafting throughout the room. Maybe she should suggest he start leaving a toothbrush at Darryl's.

"Yeah, I was tired," she shrugged, feigning indifference. Maybe if she did it long enough, he'd go away.

"Tired? Didn't you stay in last night?" His scoff only served to further piss her off.

"Doesn't mean I didn't stay up late," she retorted, a hint of annoyance teetering at the edge of her words. "You don't have to go out partying to have a good time, ya know."

As she spat the last sentence at him, throwing the covers off of herself and hurling her body out of bed, she noticed two things:

The first was that she found herself actually letting Roy's nuances get to her. There had always been things that bothered her about Roy. When they were in high school, it was that he partied after football games instead of hanging out with her in her parent's basement watching movies. He drank in parking lots rather than going through a drive-thru and sharing a shake and fries. He smoked the occasional joint instead of spending any semblance of quality time with her. Of course, everyone at Valley View did that sort of thing-the illegal activities, anyway. But Roy would often ridicule her for not joining in. His incessant, "Come on, Pammy, will you lighten up?" and "Everyone's doin' it; just loosen up and try to have a little fun, will ya? You're embarrassing me in front of my friends," eventually got to her, so she'd participate in the occasional beer or two just to shut him up. She always returned home with guilt tattooed on her forehead.

As they grew older, the criticism came more about who she was as a person instead of what she would or wouldn't do. More often, it had become about her passions and what she wanted to do with her life. He frequently ridiculed her dreams of becoming an artist, teasing her about buying a paint by numbers set from the toy section of the store, and asking her when she was going to graduate from kindergarten. Now, she hid her easel and art supplies away, only bringing them out when he was gone.

Of course, there were other things about him that bothered her: He left his clothes on the floor next to the hamper, left dirty dishes in the sink or stacked on the counter, and left the toilet seat up (forgetting to flush it half the time). He drank obscene amounts of alcohol, was the most indecisive and indifferent man she'd ever encountered, and still refused to buy tampons for her when (if) he made a trip to the grocery store for them ("C'mon, Pam! That's chick stuff!"). When they were out in public, he refused to ever hold her purse, but insisted that she put his wallet and keys inside.

All of a sudden, the list seemed to be a mile long.

Or, rather, it had always been a mile long. She just chose to fold it up and keep it buried. Now, for some reason, it was bothering her.

The second thing she noticed was the voice in the back of her head, which had been buried under a pile of "Roy's Terrible Habits." As she tried not to notice Roy, standing just inside the doorway, digging in his nose-he didn't even try to hide it in front of her anymore-that little voice was wondering aloud about what Jim would be up to at 11:30 on a Saturday morning.

Pam passed right by Roy, not in the mood to talk, and headed straight for the kitchen. Her midnight bowl of Rocky Road had worn off and she was in need of some sustenance. The sound of his padding feet alerted her to his presence as she melted butter in a skillet. She had a sudden craving for grilled cheese.

"So uhh, how was your night then?" Roy was standing on the side of the breakfast bar opposite her, hands in his pocket, head cocked to the side.

Keeping her focus on the bread and cheese that she was putting together, without throwing a passing glance over her shoulder, she replied, "Fine." But as she really thought about the the question that he had asked, she reflected on the previous night-or rather, the previous morning. A sly smile crept its way across her face. "It was fine. Great actually. I had fun being home alone. It was really nice."

"Oh. Well, good." Roy's expression was at first shocked, and then pleased, as he swung his legs over a barstool. Not the same one that Jim had sat in just hours ago. Oddly, that pleased Pam.

"Judging by your current appearance," she said, gesturing at his misbuttoned shirt, "it looks like you guys had a pretty rowdy night."

She slid a plate of grilled cheese across the counter to Roy and stood opposite him, munching on her own sandwich. Unconsciously, she stood next to the spot where she had stood earlier when she and Jim had shared their ice cream.

As he took a bite, he chuckled gaily. "God, we so did! I mean, we had each downed a good 12-pack each by about 11:30. It god wild, Pammy. I'm almost sorry you missed it."

She caught his "almost" loud and clear, and her eyes drifted downward, focusing on the crust that she was now picking off of the sandwich.

"I'm glad you had fun though," he picked back up. "Alone time was good, huh?"

"Yeah, it was," she trailed off, reminding herself that she hadn't actually been "alone."

"Good, good," Roy began. "So...you wouldn't mind being alone for a little while longer today then? Kenny just got a new 4-wheeler and he wanted to do some work on it this afternoon. Would you mind?"

His eyes were pleading, but his tone said otherwise, like he knew he'd get his way regardless of her answer. And usually, he would. But today, Pam was annoyed. And Roy had just about pushed her over the edge.

Dropping her sandwich, to her plate, her eyes rolled, half lidded behind her glasses, as she spoke. "Seriously, Roy? You've been home for 5 minutes and you're already about to duck out again?" Her arms were crossed, head cocked to the side, as she observed his reaction.

She had never really done this before.

Stand up for herself, that is.

She was so surprised by her retort that she jumped back a little bit, tightening her arms a bit more. She almost apologized, but something inside her stopped the words in her throat as soon as her mouth opened.

"Well...I mean...c'mon, Pam, it'll only be a few hours. Besides, you just said you liked being alone!"

Most days, she would have given in, succumbed to whatever it was that Roy wanted to do. Part of her wanted to fight. But today, she just wanted to be alone.

"You know what, Roy? I don't have the energy to argue with you right now. Go. Have fun with Kenny. I have errands to run anyway."

She dropped her dishes into the sink, leaving his behind on the counter. She was in the shower, warm water streaming down her body, before Roy could even respond. The plan was to take as much time cleansing herself as it would for Roy to leave. Something about her just didn't want to deal with him today.

As she worked the shampoo into a lather, she heard his booming voice through the door, over the water. "Hey, babe, you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'll see you later," she shouted back, wanting desperately for him to be gone.

"Okay. See you later. Love you!"

She heard his footsteps retreating before she could respond, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Her thoughts floated in and out as suds dripped down her back. She saw visions of Roy doing backflips on a 4-wheeler, herself painting on a terrace, Jim with his feet propped up on her coffee table, her head fitted perfectly into the crook of his arm.

Once again, she startled herself.

Why was Jim entering her thoughts all of a sudden? Sure, Jim was her best friend. Of course she loved spending time with him. But what was this?

As she toweled off and ran product through her damp curls, her emotions were swirling between conflicted and peaceful. Jim Halpert had been in her house last night.

Jim Halpert, her best friend, that guy with the goofy grin who she shared all of her joys and pains with, who had fixed her toilet, and shared a bowl of ice cream with her.

Jim Halpert, the man with whom she'd shared a questionable moment with on Lake Wallenpaupack just weeks prior, a moment that had left her questioning almost as much as she was now, had fallen asleep on her couch while they watched old Boy Meets World reruns last night.

And she'd fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder.

What in the world was happening?

Although she had just stepped out of the shower into the chilled bathroom, her cheeks were suddenly brimming with warmth. She shook out the spinning thoughts, dressed, and gathered her things for a day out in Scranton. She hadn't lied to Roy-she truly did have errands to run-but the mundane tasks that she was setting off to complete were honestly just an excuse to get some fresh air.

Grabbing her purse and her keys, she ventured out into the cold February air.

She made it down the three aisles at Wegmans before he crept back into her consciousness.

Grape soda. Jim.

She hadn't even come down this aisle with a purpose.

Part of her was afraid, and part of her laughed. What in the hell was her brain doing today?

It was just a grape soda! He drank them every day, for crying out loud!

So why was the stupid six-pack screaming at her from the the shelf?

Out of spite or frustration, she couldn't tell, but suddenly she was back in her car with nothing but the six-pack of grape soda in her trunk. She returned home, downed an entire can, and set to work on cleaning the house like she usually did during Saturday afternoons.

Without Roy there to distract her, Pam had gotten into a rhythm, with a load of laundry each in the washer and dryer, suds soaking in the shower, and the vacuum humming quietly as she jammed out to pop radio. Cleaning without Roy was great. Why hadn't she tried this before?

She saved the dishes for last, scrubbing burnt edges from her griddle and setting each dish carefully onto the drying rack. Suddenly, she was at the bottom of the sink, where two empty bowls were all that remained. She smiled, catching her reflection in the suds that filled the bowl. Jim always had a sandwich at lunch-ham and cheese to be exact. She had never really seen him work with a bowl and spoon before. She had never known that when he ate ice cream, he liked to swirl and mash it into the bowl first, making the entire bowl smooth rather than eating from the individual scoops. She found this quite endearing.

Especially since Roy tended literally eat his ice cream by the scoop.

In fact, there were several things she had noticed about Jim that were in stark contrast to the way Roy behaved.

For one, Jim had fixed the toilet, while Roy enjoyed leaving it broken.

She rolled her eyes, stacking the last of the dishes in the drying rack before settling into her clean couch to enjoy her clean house.

Trashy television did little to keep her mind from wandering more.

Her body had taken its spot back on the middle cushion of the sofa. With the ghost of Jim's lanky frame to her right, her thoughts danced away again. When Jim perched on the couch, he didn't argue with her about what they were watching. Didn't roll his eyes when she wanted to choose the show. He even engaged in conversation, never once letting a hint of aggravation or annoyance fill their passing words.

With Roy, if she so much as hinted that he change the channel during halftime, she wouldn't hear the end of it.

Roy never wanted to just sit and talk, even if it was during commercial breaks. Jim had given her his full attention. He had even given her eye contact.

Roy's large, stocky frame was uncomfortable when he pulled her against him.

Jim's shoulder seemed to be made to cradle her head.

Her thoughts were shifted slightly by the sudden change in theme song. Boy Meets World echoed through her house and she was hit with a sudden wave of sadness. Jim should be here. He should he laughing along with her. What was he doing right now anyway?

She reached for her phone, then retracted. What was she doing? Jim couldn't come over. She was engaged to Roy.

But wait, why did that matter? She could have friends. He was out with his brother. Why couldn't she have a friend over?

But wasn't she just thinking about how comfortable he was to sleep on?

Ugh! What was she doing?! Why was she so confused all of a sudden?

She didn't have time to think about it. The front door was opening. Roy was home. With a bouquet of flowers and a bag of Chinese take-out.

He still surprised her sometimes.

She smiled sheepishly. He shrugged, embracing her as he set his packages down on the breakfast bar, whispering, "I'm sorry you were so upset, Pammy. You know I love you."

"Yeah, I know," she replied, mind still mangled.

That night, instead of having wine with her dinner, she had a can of grape soda.