1.

She was nine years old and on her way to sleep-away camp for the first time.

She knew that her parents had made some financial sacrifices to give her this opportunity. They wanted their daughter to get out of Scranton, ride a pony and breathe some fresh air at least once in her young life.  She didn’t want to go, though. She thought longingly of the flier that her art teacher had given her about a summer program at the museum for young artists. That’s what she was…a young artist.  She didn’t want to canoe or cook hotdogs over a fire. She just wanted to draw. She had tried to tell her parents that, but she wasn’t good at telling people what she wanted. They didn’t hear her in their excitement to tell her how much fun they had had at camp when they were young, and now she was on this stupid bus on her way to camp KiKoMahMe.

The rickety green and yellow bus bounced along the country roads and the other campers already seemed to know each other. They knew every word of every song that was sung as well as the elaborate hand gestures and clapping patterns that went along with them.  Pam could feel the distance between herself and her pretty yellow bedroom get farther and farther.  She clutched her backpack in front of her and the tears started to roll down her face.  She didn’t want to cry….didn’t want to be the girl that everyone made fun of because she cried on the bus, but she couldn’t help herself. Soon her face was wet with tears.

“Hi. Can I sit here? My name is Carly. I’m one of your group leaders. You must be Pam,” said the khaki-clad, bucket hat wearing counselor that sat on the seat next to her.

“How…how do you know my name?” Pam sniffed.

“It’s on your backpack. That’s a really pretty name tag. Did you make that?” Carly said pointing at the tag.

 Pam was proud of it and was glad someone had noticed. She had spent a week practicing different ways to write her name and had chosen an extra curly version.  She had spent hours adorning her three letters with dragonflies and flowers in purples, greens and blues. She had carefully applied the glitter and sequins and attached the ribbon that held it to her backpack. She nodded back at Carly.

“Well, someone as talented as you will have to spend a lot of time in the arts and crafts cabin.” Carly handed Pam a green bandana.

As Pam wiped her face, she thought to herself that maybe camp wouldn’t be THAT bad.

2. 

Pam was freezing.

The driver had the air-conditioner in the bus set to arctic (all the blue-haired ladies had complained that they were hot) and all she had on was the little sleeveless black dress she had carefully chosen for what was supposed to be a romantic weekend with Roy.  They never did anything like this….took a trip together to a romantic destination.

She had spent the last week at work daydreaming about eating in fancy restaurants and strolling hand-in-hand down the boardwalk. She thought it would be fun to go gambling together. She’d blow on the dice for luck and he’d kiss her in front of everyone when he won big. Pam should have known better. This was Roy after all.

It had started out great. They had driven to the beach in Roy’s truck, listening to cheesy country-western music and singing along. When they went through the McDonald’s drive in, they had both gotten happy meals and chocolate shakes. He even seemed like he could be convinced to set a date for the wedding.

When they arrived in Atlantic City, though, everything changed. Instead of a romantic getaway, Pam discovered that Roy’s entire softball team and half of the guys from the warehouse were here for a weekend of debauchery to “celebrate” Chuck’s divorce. Instead of a wine-list or tickets to a show, Roy had handed her two rolls of quarters, slapped her on the ass and told her to go get lucky on the slots with the promise that they’d go out to dinner Saturday night.

She had spent the day alone, sketching people on the beach and then had gone back to the hotel to dress for her special evening with Roy. She had wanted a weekend, but she’d take an evening. She dressed carefully, telling herself that if she curled her hair, put on some extra makeup and applied Roy’s favorite scent to all of her pulse points, he would turn back into the guy she fell in love with and they could salvage this. She felt pretty.

He stumbled into their room at seven….drunk and reeking of cigar smoke.

“Pammy, why are you dressed up?”

“I thought….I thought we were going for dinner. You promised me that---“

“Yeah, Pammy. We’re meeting the guys at the buffet. They’ve got crab legs tonight and we’re betting on how many Lonny can eat. It’s going to be fun. And maybe after, we can come up here and I’ll show you a really good time.” He was leering at her now and suddenly she felt naked and stupid instead of beautiful and special.

“Roy.”

“C’mon, Pam…don’t ruin this weekend. You’re the one always bitching about how we never do anything.” Something in her snapped. She couldn’t be here in this room with its promise of romance any longer.

“Roy. I’m leaving. I’m going back to Scranton”

“How are you going to get back to Scranton? I’m sure as hell not taking you.”

“I’ll take the bus or something. I’m not staying here.”

“Fine. Have it your way….always have to make this about you, don’t you Pam.” He slammed the door on his way out. She called for a cab to the bus station, grabbed her overnight bag and a handful of bills Roy hadn’t gambled away yet and headed out into the warm Atlantic City night.

Now she was here on this nasty-smelling Greyhound, curled up in her seat crying silent tears as she watched the lights of Scranton appear in the distance.  It was four in the morning and she had no idea how she’d get home from the bus station.  Maybe she could call Jim. He’d come and pick her up.

She was crying for a lot of reasons. She cried because Roy didn’t appreciate her. She cried because she should have known better. She cried because she was back in Scranton instead of somewhere where the air smelled like sea-salt and taffy.

Mostly, though, she cried because she knew that come Monday, Roy would be back with flowers, a sheepish grin, an apology and dinner at Anna Maria’s. She cried because she knew that this was her life.

3.

What had she been thinking?  Did she really think that this wild-hair impulse of hers would turn out okay?  Did she really think that Jim would have forgotten the way she had rejected him….the way she hurt him? Did she really think that she was not too late?

It was June 20th. Ten days after she was supposed to have gotten married. She had finished moving out, sent back all of the gifts she could and sold her wedding dress on eBay. She had been sitting in her apartment that morning, surrounded by cardboard boxes and crinkled up newspapers and all she could think about was that she needed to talk to Jim. She needed to see him.  She needed to hear him tell her that it would all be okay. She wanted him to tell her again that he loved her, because this time she knew that she could say what he wanted to hear.  She wanted to go to Stamford.

She didn’t have a car yet. She was working on detangling her finances from Roy’s and until they did so, she didn’t have enough for a down-payment. Angela had been driving her back and forth to work and Kelly had taken her shopping a couple of times.  She could have rented a car for this trip, but she wanted time to mentally prepare and she was secretly hoping that she’d be staying for at least a few days. So, she bought herself an open-ended bus ticket and told Michael she was taking vacation and headed off to Connecticut.

She had spent the trip rehearsing her speech…how she’d tell him that she was in love with him too and that she and Roy were over…because of him.  She was hoping for another kiss, but she’d settle for a hug if he needed time. She would give him time.

When the bus pulled into the Stamford station, she caught a cab and had the driver take her to the Dunder-Mifflin offices. It was 4:30, so she figured she’d catch Jim coming out of work.

They had run into a little rush-hour traffic and were just pulling into the parking lot at quitting time. She was afraid that she had missed him, as she didn’t see is Toyota in the parking lot.

At  5:10, though, she realized she wasn’t too late. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw him walk out of the building. He looked….good. His suit was new and he was smiling. She was about to hop out of the cab when she noticed that he was talking with someone…..he was laughing with someone and she was gorgeous.  She had forgotten just how big Jim’s smile could grow, but there it was, directed at someone who wasn’t her. She felt a wave of jealousy rise from her gut and for the first time, she understood Angela’s impulse to call someone a hussy.

Maybe she was wrong to come here. Maybe she wasn't. Maybe this person was Jim’s friend. Maybe she was more. They were making finger guns and pretending to shoot each other. Maybe…..maybe she wasn’t too late.

She realized that she should have thought this through better. She pulled out her cell phone and found the number that she’d gotten from Toby before she left. She had decided now that she’d call him, let him know that she was in town and ask to have dinner or coffee or something...anything.  She dialed the number and watched as Jim pulled his phone from his pocket. She watched as he flipped it open, read the caller ID information. In just a second he’d be smiling and she’d be talking with him like old times.

Then she saw him close the phone. She read his lips as he told the hussy, “Nothing.”  Saw him keep laughing with her and follow her into her car.

Wow.

Seriously bad idea.

That’s why she was now locked in the bathroom of a Greyhound, somewhere between Stamford and Philadelphia, sobbing her heart out.

She was too late.

4.

It was really dark out here in the in middle of nowhere. Pam leaned against the window and watched the vague shapes of trees whiz past her as the bus made its way back to Scranton. This return trip was a lot quieter than the song-filled journey this morning. She suspected that this somber turn was largely her fault.  People didn’t like to be awkwardly confronted with things…even if they were the truth.

She could hear Michael snoring loudly a few seats behind her as well as the occasional whoosh of Kevin dealing a new hand of cards, but even Kelly’s voice was silent. There were tears in her eyes, partially because her feet hurt like hell and partially because her adrenaline high had slowly dissipated and she was left wondering if in the shock of little, mousy Pam speaking her mind, she had actually been heard and understood.

She felt a weight settle into the seat next to her…heard a throat clear.

“You were very brave today, Pam. That took a lot of courage.” She shifted in her seat and looked away from the window. He was staring straight ahead, as if he’d catch something if he looked at her.

“Thanks, Dwight. You were very brave too. We were the only ones to actually walk through fire.” He took off his glasses and rubbed them with a corner of his shirt.

“You were much braver, though. You actually said how you feel. Out loud. In front of Michael and everybody.” He cleared his throat again. “ I should point out, though, that had we been attacked by a bear or a troop of ninjas, I would have surpassed you in bravery.” He was smiling now, as if he was in on every joke she had ever made at his expense.

“I know Dwight. I have no doubt about that. I also know that you don’t need to worry about being brave in other….um areas. Maybe some secrets are more fun being kept.”   She thought back to the time when Jim’s feelings for her were a secret as were hers for him. Despite all of the unrequited emotions, they had at least been friends. They were nothing now. He hadn’t said a word to her after she told him how she felt. Tears started to form again in the corners of her eyes.

Dwight sighed loudly. “I don’t know why you don’t keep a handkerchief with you, Pam. You may use mine again, but this time I expect it to come back washed.” He whipped out his monogrammed cloth with a gentlemanly flourish. She noticed then that he was holding a small jar on his lap. “Oh, and Angela wanted me to give you some of her aloe butter. It’s all natural and it works wonders on burns. She…she thought you were very brave too.”

“You’ll have to thank her for me.” Pam leaned over and gave Dwight a kiss on the cheek. It was dark, but she knew he was probably blushing.

“Just know, Pam….you have two friends in the office. I can’t guarantee we’ll be fun…but we’re there.”

“I know.” She leaned back in her seat and she and Dwight rode together in companionable silence. She must have dozed off for a few minutes, because she was startled awake by the sound of someone else clearing his throat.

“Hey, ah, Dwight….could I sit there for a few minutes? I’d like to um….talk to Pam.” His voice was low and scratchy….the way it was back on Casino Night.

“I think that is highly inappropriate, Jim. Haven’t you caused enough trouble today? Betraying Michael and…and….” Pam cut him off and put her hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Dwight. I can handle it. I’ll know where you are if I need you.” Dwight got up and relinquished his seat. Instead of heading back to his single seat in the back, though, Pam was glad to see him head up front to sit with Angela. At least someone would end up happy tonight.

As Jim settled into the seat next to her, she felt the warmth of his body and a curtain of tension. His baseball cap was pulled low over his face and it was impossible to read his eyes…to know what direction he was going to take this in.

“Look, Jim….you don’t have to….we don’t have to do this here.”

“Do what, Pam? Point out all my failings as a friend and a human being?” He sounded more hurt than angry. “Wait….I’m sorry…that’s not…that’s not how I wanted this to start.”

“Jim, I’m not going to apologize for what I said. I meant every word of it. You’ve been a shitty friend. I’ve been trying…I really have. I gave you that prank on Dwight for Christmas; I stuck up for your girlfriend countless times…even incurring the wrath of Angela. I even tried to apologize to you and you….you were a complete and total dick about it. It hit me today…watching you and Karen act the way that we used to, that what I regret the most about the way I handled things last May wasn’t not ending up with you…it was that we weren’t friends anymore.” Her voice was getting a bit quivery, but all she had to do was press her foot down and irritate one of her blisters. The pain and the memory of her walk through fire kept her from losing it completely. She was ready for him to lash out at her and tell her how she had handled things wrong…bring up her little ‘we’re friends…we’ll always be friends’ speech from the day of the merger. She could handle it...for the first time she really felt like the Fancy New Beesly he had once told her she was.

His voice was soft. “I know. I’m sorry. Things are weird….they do suck and they’re complicated. ”He gestured his head almost imperceptibly toward the front of the bus where she knew Karen was sitting. She started to speak again, but he cut her off.  “Wait.” He reached over and put his large hand over hers and gave a slight squeeze. “But Pam…..we’ll figure this out. I promise.”

“Jim….it’s going to be….it’s going to be hard.” She felt childish and petty for testing him like this, but she needed to know if he was sincere.

“That’s what she said.” He chuckled slightly and squeezed her hand a little tighter. She let out all of the air she had been holding in her lungs and felt 200 pounds lighter. She knew that she was sitting next to her friend. They had a lot to work through, but she had hope that they could work this out and come through it stronger and better than before. Maybe they’d end up together, and maybe they wouldn’t. Either way, it would be okay.

But for right now, his hand was on hers, her head was on his shoulder, and they were hurtling through the darkness….together.

She was sitting on the same kind of bus they had been on that night after Michael’s ridiculous beach games and her fireside confession (except this one had a solar battery). Some things were the same.  Jim was still next to her, his hand still over hers, squeezing occasionally. There were still tears in her eyes.

Some things were different, though. She was over (sixty!) and Jim’s baseball cap was covering a pretty bald head and a few wispy strands of grey hair.  She thought it was cute, though, how they still managed to stick up in all directions and make him look boyish. They both wore glasses now and she was pretty sure he had black socks on with his sandals, but she was happy. They were happy.

He had told her that night long ago that they would figure things out…and they had. After a few rocky bumps, they figured out how to be friends again….and then how to be more than that. They had built a life together, one she wouldn’t trade for anything…and that’s why her eyes were moist.

The bus was filled with the sounds of their children and their grandchildren mingled with a few of their co-workers who had come along for this historic (she laughed whenever anyone called it that) trip. She and Jim had been named one of America’s Top 100 Television Couples of All Time (sandwiched between Sam & Diane and Hiro & Claire) and Bravo had insisted on including them in their special. At first she wasn’t sure she wanted to revisit the old days and all of the angst when every emotion was captured and broadcast. Eventually, though, she decided that the documentary was a part of their story. It could be fun and it would be good to see everyone again.

The producers had created an itinerary for a weekend of filming in and around Scranton at the places made famous in their television romance. They had been interviewed at Chili’s and the skating rink and they had climbed back up to the roof of the Dunder-Mifflin building to re-enact Jim’s proposal. Today, they had insisted that their family come along for a picnic (courtesy of Bravo, of course) at Lake Scranton where they would revisit the night that she decided to be more honest.

It had been a great day full of swimming and hotdogs (someone else had cooked them) and reminiscing. Dwight and Angela were there with their grandchildren and Karen and David Wallace had flown in from London. Ryan and Kelly were there, but Pam wasn’t sure if they were together or not this week. She didn’t know how they had managed to keep an on-again-off-again romance going for close to thirty years….but they had.  Nobody knew where Creed was and Stanley had passed away a few years ago (a stroke while gardening. This time Toby was there with his much younger girlfriend. The only person really missing was Michael (and Jan, of course), but the managers of Sandals Jamaica just couldn’t get away during the busy season. Michael sent a video greeting instead. Pam was certain the children would need counseling after watching it.

Jim eventually pulled out his ear-buds and squeezed her hand.

“Hey, come on…no crying.”

“I’m not crying….not really…it’s just…”

“Yeah, I know. I saw it too.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Didn’t you notice our granddaughter holding hands with Gunther Shrute?  That’s enough to make anyone weep.”

“Stop it.” They laughed and he patted her hand and leaned in for a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Jim, this has been a pretty amazing couple of days. We’re so blessed, you know that?”

“I know.    Believe me, I do.  So….those are tears of joy? I shouldn’t be worried? Shouldn’t get out the shotgun?”

He hadn’t lost his sense of humor, that’s for sure. As she took in the scene around them, she remembered another time in another life when she curled up on a bus seat and cried because the thought she knew exactly what life held for her. She had been so very wrong.

“Tears of joy, Jim….I guess I’m crying because this….” she gestured to the noisy commotion on the bus. “…and this….” she ran her palm across his cheek. “This is my life.”