friday updates will be resuming now! i think there's just a few more chapters of this left, depends on the plan. it's crazy that there's already over 50k words of this - it's the longest project i've ever written, and i just want to thank you all for sticking with it and reading so far! :))
title taken from: "i exist i exist i exist" by Flatsound
Her phone pinged in the middle of the night, just a couple of hours after she had finally managed to get to sleep, after she was able to stop the constant words swimming in the forefront of her mind: "Will you marry me? Will you marry me? Will you marry me?"
It woke her up, as she was sleeping lightly, and she groggily threw a hand to the bedside table, groping around until she felt the cold plastic back. Once it was safely in her hand, she swung it back to the bed, clicking the phone on and immediately wincing at the brightness. Yikes.
Half-blinded, she somehow slid the brightness lever down to the lowest setting, but even that was too glaring, so she shielded her eyes with her hand while she checked her notifications.
Facebook - (1)
God. She made a mental note to block the sender if it was nothing but a game request.
It wasn't, though, and she wished it was.
Jim Halpert liked a post you were tagged in.
Her stomach flipped a little at his name, so she tapped the little box linking her to the post.
But.
The post was made by her clueless father. Captionless, with only two people tagged in it, one of whom's name was spelt incorrectly.
Roy Anserson. Pam Beesly.
The image was a little blurry, obviously taken in the heat of the moment, but it wasn't hard to work out what exactly it was portraying.
She felt sick.
Roy on one knee. The ring box was half-open. You couldn't see her face, obscured from the angle, but it was clear that the photo was commemorating a proposal.
She could only imagine what people thought.
There was already a few likes. Ryan being one, her cousin the other, and Jim the last.
The irrational, panicked part of her wanted to storm into her parents' room, grab her father's phone and just delete the post, make sure no one ever saw it again.
The more logical part knew that the major damage had already been done.
So instead of overthinking it, she decided to simply let herself sleep for now, and deal with it all in the morning.
(As it turned out, she didn't end up getting much sleep, anyway.)
After a 20-minute tense conversation with her father about the photo, after which he finally took it down, (though, of course not until she had painstakingly relayed to him the exact technological steps involved in removing a picture) Pam was slumped over the dining table, watching the steam tumble up out of her coffee mug.
"We're going out Christmas shopping today." Her mother commented faux-casually from across the table.
"Oh?"
"We were wondering if you would like to come with us."
"'We', being…?"
"Myself, and your sister. Your dad's running errands for most of the day."
Pam considered it. It would probably be better than staying at home, wallowing over dumb Facebook notifications and implications, wouldn't it?
"Sure."
Her mother smiled like it was a relief.
Christmas shopping passed largely without incident, and Pam had almost all of her presents bought by the end of the day. (It was easier this year, considering the only people outside immediate family who were arriving on Christmas morning was her grandparents and lone cousin who lived near enough to warrant making an appearance.)
At some point in their meandering around the shopping centre, someone had suggested that they go for coffee afterwards, and so that is how she found herself jammed between a wall and a mountain of shopping bags, straining her ears to hear her mother over the loud chit-chat of the overcrowded Starbucks.
"Sorry, what?" She asked, raising her voice as loud and clear as she could whilst not shouting.
"I was asking," her mother replied, just as loud. "If you are excited for Christmas this year."
"Yeah, 'course."
"Haven't been going to any crazy college Christmas parties?" Emily asked with a knowing smirk.
"Um," her eyes widened. "I don't know." She decided to fake nonchalance. "I mean, a girl in my Art History class threw a small… Gathering, just before we left."
"Fun?"
"Yeah, I guess." She shrugged the shoulder not currently pressed into the wall.
"Anyway," Mrs. Beesly interjected, side-eyeing both daughters individually. "Christmas should be a little better this year than last, what with you not having to worry about applications anymore."
"Uh-huh." She sipped her coffee, only wincing slightly as it touched her lips. "But then it's back to school."
When she was a kid, Christmas Eve was often just as, if not more, enjoyable than Christmas Day.
Now, however, it was full of nervous anticipation and a grudging acceptance that the following day would be tiring and perhaps even a little exasperating. There was the food to help her parents prepare, and her grandparents to keep comfortable, and a cousin to attend to.
The meal preparation began in the mid-afternoon. Her mother selected a cheesy playlist from Spotify and danced around the kitchen while they waited on the oven to ding, and Pam thought that maybe everything would be alright.