You should break up with him.
The words hammered between her ears as Roy paced in front of her, arms flailing, anger trenched in the deep creases of his forehead.
She honestly wasn't catching every word that darted off his tongue. By the way his lips were articulating, she could tell his words were sharp, biting, riddled with negativity. But amidst his shouts of Why didn't you call? and I was worried sick, Pammy! were hazy glimpses of I'll eat all the pizza right in front of your cute lil' face, and that's enough of your sassiness, little lady.
And, He doesn't treat you like you deserve to be treated.
"You could've at least had the decency to pick up your goddamn phone!"
God, Pam, you deserve so much more.
"I didn't fuckin' sleep at all last night, Pam!"
You should break up with him.
"God!"
Whether the daze that she was dancing through stemmed from the quickness with which her early morning had begun, or from the alcohol that still clouded her brain, she couldn't tell. But the response that she returned was so robotic, so mechanical, so utterly impersonal, that she almost felt remorseful.
"I'm sorry, Roy. I really am. I left my phone in the car. We fell asleep. I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well, sorry doesn't make up for the fact that I was up all night."
You deserve so much more.
"Now I'm gonna go to work on almost no sleep."
You should break up with him.
It almost felt as if she were out of her body, standing and watching from above. Like she was watching herself in a dream. If her head wasn't so clogged, so muddled, she would have told him off.
An army of responses waited in line like children at the circus.
"You were up all night? Should we count the nights that I've stayed up waiting for you without a phone call?"
"I go to work on almost no sleep at least once a week. Haven't complained in ten years."
"You could have had the decency to spend some time with me on Valentine's Day!"
Instead, she felt an overwhelming sense of calm. From where, she couldn't quite pinpoint. She only knew that, in her heart right now, she had no desire to fight, no hunger to nitpick his every word. She wanted to end this discussion as quickly as she could, and wander back down the path that got her lost in her thoughts.
The oaf who stood in front of her, arms flailing, forehead bulging, skin positively glowing tomato red may have been her fiance, but the lean, lanky, goofball, with his last name on his t-shirt, whose arms she had found herself wrapped in this morning, held her thoughts captive.
She had some major sorting out to do.
And for those purposes, she needed Roy calm, collected, and out of her hair.
"I'm sorry," she repeated, a more genuine tone to her apology this time, her eyes casting downward to the fingers tangled in her lap.
"I think I'm just gonna head into to work. We'll finish this later." His tone still exuded anger and frustration, but it had quelled a bit. His hands had moved from where they waved expressively above his head to clenched behind it in the same way that he might cool down after a long run.
"Do you want me to wait for you or…?" His eyes searched hers, running slowly over the clothes that she had been wearing when she left last night. An outfit he had never seen. One more suggestive than what she had worn to work, even. He would find answers to those questions later.
She shook her head, eyes closed at both the movement that made her lightheaded, and the silent wish for him to just go.
"I...I think I'm gonna call in late, actually. Be in by ten or something."
He wanted to make some sort of remark, a dig about her being too hungover to go into work, when he was about to do the same. But he refrained. He didn't want to start this again. They could have it out later. He threw her a curt, "Okay, see you later," and was out the door.
With the click of the latch, Pam let their living room couch absorb her, head falling back into the plush cushions. The faint LED of the cable box read 7:32. She put in a call to Toby's line, knowing he was probably the only person responsible enough in their office to take care of arrangements for her until ten o'clock, sought out a bottle of water and a few aspirin, and headed to the shower.
She always did her best thinking in the shower. It used to happen late at night as she was drifting off to sleep, but when Roy was added into that equation, her moments before sleep were often filled with kisses, shed clothes, awkward grunting, and a scramble to make up for lost quality sleep time. As the steaming water pattered at her bare skin, her pores opened, and along with the dirt and grime that slid down her body towards the drain, her emotions, too, rushed out.
You know what you should do?
Jim had been drunk, right?
You should break up with him.
They had both been drinking, hadn't they?
You deserve so much more.
Then why, in the sober light of day, were his words resonating so strikingly with her?
She saw his face, illuminated by the television lamp, looking so utterly sad for her. Was that real?
You should break up with him.
But Roy was all she knew.
You deserve so much more.
What did he mean by that? She knew what he meant,but why was she suddenly questioning his deeper intentions?
He had come over, at a moment's notice, to fix her toilet for crying out loud. A moment that had occurred in the middle of the night, at that.
He had sat on her couch more than once now, listening to her worries, her joys, her dreams. And what had she offered in return, aside from cheap snacks?
When Roy had spent the night at the bar, he had spent the night buried in her sketchbook, his comments so personal and awestruck.
While Roy drank his buddies under the table, he had shared popcorn and pranks and genuine laughs.
When Roy chose to spend Valentine's Day without her, Jim had insisted (even cried, according to his friends) on being with her.
But he was her best friend. Wasn't he?
Then why had she felt so comforted, relieved even, by his invitation to spend the night with him and his friends? Why hadn't she felt more remorseful when her fiance had been pacing before her, not twenty minutes prior?
What had possessed her to cuddle their feet together, more than once, the night before? Certainly the alcohol had played a part in the stunt. But as she allowed herself to let her true emotions run their course, she knew that somewhere deep down inside, she had wanted it. The memory of their intimate moments brought a warmth through her body that mirrored the steam that filled the shower.
Rapid flashes of their bodies tangled on the floor.
Her head cradled into his chest.
The way he so possessively gripped her waist, drawing her body closer.
How his face was folded towards her, giving her his undivided attention even in unconsciousness.
Closing her eyes, she willed her body to remember the way that his body had molded into hers, feet lost in an endless tangle, the scent of spice still lingering from where her cheek had lain warm against his beating heart. For the first time, she succumbed to all that she had been suppressing. All of the "what's" and the "why's" disappeared down the drain with the suds that ran off her body, as she let this newness overcome her.
You should break up with him.
Initially, the words had scared her, thoughts of leaving Roy driving her to memories of her twenty-first birthday, the first and only other time that thought had ever crossed her mind. Towards the end of the night, when she hadn't wanted to take anymore shots because she didn't want to lose control on her first "official" night as an adult. He had grown angry, slamming his fists down on the bar, insulting her, calling her names, driving her to tears. He had humiliated her in front of all of their friends. She had called a cab to take her home, not wanting her mother to be upset with him. She had cried all night, well into the dawn, formulating her next steps. The next morning, with no hangover and a clear head, she had every intention of telling him that she deserved better. Even when he had shown up equipped with flowers, tears in his eyes, and a big speech. She deserved better. But as the apology rolled off his tongue, tears hitting the knee that he was bended upon, she realized that he was truly all she had ever known.
Why leave comfort, when comfort was so secure?
But now, as that memory faded, dozens more began to take its place.
The first time he had left her waiting at home, all dolled up and ready to go, foregoing dinner plans to spend his night at the bar with the new guys from work. Of course, it would be the first of many nights where her makeup would go to waste, sliding away with silent tears, as his midnight apologies brought fresh ones to the brink. When Kenny got his first set of jet skis, and she had initially been so excited, anticipating an invitation to head to the lake, when really it was Roy who would be attending to the fun, and Pam who would be staying home, beach bag hitting the floor, as the stocky brothers let the door click behind them on their way out.
Or the time, mere hours ago, when he had chose drinking with the boys over spending Valentine's Day with her.
He may have been all she'd ever known, but suddenly the reality of "all she'd ever known" was quickly becoming years of relentless letdowns. Did she really want to continue that pattern for the rest of her life?
She returned to Jim's words, You should break up with him.
All those times, she had chosen comfort, stability, loyalty, time and time again, when he had been throwing all of it away as quickly as she could hand it to him.
What was she doing?
Eyes opening for the first time, she suddenly realized that Roy wasn't an obligation. Roy was a choice. One that she had made time and time again, when he hadn't done the same for her.
As she stepped out of the shower, fog on the mirror beginning to dissipate, she saw two choices clearly staring back at her.
One was stability, routine. But it was also bland and mechanic. It was often degrading. It was slowly eating her away inside.
The other made her smile when she wanted to cry, made her want to chase her dreams instead of lock them in a closet.
The other felt joy when she felt joy, and felt pain when she felt pain.
The other brought her ice cream on Valentine's Day.
She had a choice to make.
But as she pulled on a fresh outfit and checked her appearance in the mirror, she realized that she could absolutely be overthinking everything she had just assumed about Jim. All of the conflictions that had come to resolve in the shower suddenly froze within her.
She thought she had a choice to make, when in reality, she had a lot of information to process.
The conversation with Roy was inevitable. He had said they'd "finish this later," but the implications of that were so much greater now.
The conversation with Jim? That had to happen today.
