I've told myself time and again that it's not possible that it happened. It's just not possible. It can't be. For a start, the guy's dead. How could I have run into him over and over again if he's been dead for over three years? I mean, unless he faked his death and is now living in a penthouse on the upper east side with Elvis and John Lennon, there's no way it could have been him. And even if by some remote possibility it was him – not that it could have been! - how did he manage to show up everywhere? I mean, no surprise he was on the radio, even if it did seem like every time one was turned on it played one of his songs. But to see him at the toll booth and then at the hotel, and later at the mic at the club Karen dragged me to? On top of all that, there was his mysterious appearance in the Dunder Mifflin lobby, and even as I had decided to leave, he was the valet that brought my car around! God, just writing that all down makes it clear that not only could it not have been him, but I am completely insane to even consider that it could have been.

It had to be my imagination. It's the only logical explanation. My imagination running overtime because of all the stress I was under. It's not a stretch to say I was probably heading for a nervous breakdown. I was feeling pretty overwhelmed at that point, feeling like my life was just running away from me in more than one direction and not having the slightest idea which way to follow it. So maybe it wasn't him. I mean, no – I know it wasn't him. But I've been thinking that it might be a good idea to write down exactly what happened when Karen and I drove down to New York to interview for the corporate job. Well, what I thought happened. What I experienced. Because I can't stop thinking about it, and it's already been well over two months since it happened. I just can't seem to let it go, mostly because I can't wrap my head around it.

I don't think I could tell anyone this story and not have them worry about my mental health. I can't even tell Pam, at least not yet. She's probably the only one I'll eventually tell this to, because let's face it: it was hard enough to keep things from her when we were just friends. Now it hardly feels right if she's not the first person I share everything with. Still, I think I need to write this all down first. Try to make sense of it before I try and explain what happened to her. She probably should really know after all, I guess. You could argue that it's a big reason we're finally together. I mean when Barry White follows you around New York City telling you to go back to the girl you've always loved, what else can you do but listen to him?

It sounded far off and fuzzy at first, but as I felt myself waking up, it was clear what I was hearing was real.

....I can easily feel myself slipping
in more and more ways
in a simple world of my own
Nobody but you ... and me
We got it together babe

My first, my last, my everything.
And the answer to all my dreams.
You're my sun, my moon, my guiding star.
My kind of wonderful, that's what you are.

I hit the off button and sat up. Karen hadn't even moved, so I decided to jump in the shower first and give her a few more minutes of sleep. That song was still playing my head as the hot water hit me. Damn him, I thought irritably. Now he's starting to play dirty. Of his entire collection, that particular song was one I have to admit I like. And yes, there's no denying it: it always reminded me of Pam. It's even on my iPod. And now it was stuck in my head on the day where the last thing I should be thinking about was Pam. I had to give him credit. Barry White clearly was not messing around.

As I showered, images from the night's dreams started filtering in. First I was at the beach - the same one Michael took us to the week before. It was night already, and Pam was talking in front of everyone. I recognized parts from what she had really said: how she missed me, and how she shouldn't have been with Roy, and in the dream I felt a little dizzy at the implications of it all. But then she was saying that she'd follow me no matter where I ran, and suddenly it was her and me on the beach alone. And the rest I remembered did not include any running away. Pretty much the opposite in fact.

I shook the thoughts from my head. Reliving wet dreams in the shower while my girlfriend was still asleep in the next room was probably not the wisest way to start the day. Especially seeing as the dreams didn't include her. I have to admit turning the shower to cold definitely does take your mind off of things.

When I finally stepped out of the bathroom, Karen was sitting up, her legs swung over her side of the bed. She looked unhappy, but I said nothing. I had learned over the past few months that she wasn't a morning person at the best of times.

By the time Karen was done with her shower, she was still quiet and a bit grumpy-looking. I had made the effort to get completely dressed while she was in the bathroom, and now that she was drying off and putting on her clothes I stood by the window, staring firmly at the sunrise over the buildings.

I don't know why I was suddenly feeling uncomfortable at the thought of seeing Karen naked; I'd certainly witnessed it often enough by this point. Maybe it was the feeling of guilt over the dreams, of not being able to get Pam out of my mind. All I know it that I was feeling terribly awkward and uncomfortable, as if I'd walked into someone's bedroom uninvited. I told myself it was the stress of upcoming interview. It was, after all, a potentially life-changing day - although just how life-changing I couldn't have possibly imagined at that point.

“Coffee?” Karen finally spoke.

“Definitely,” I agreed, anxious to get out of the room. Being out in a crowd where I didn't have to dwell on my own thoughts sounded like a very good idea.

We walked across the street to the nearest Starbucks. At eight in the morning there were plenty of people in line, but I didn't care because we'd purposely given ourselves plenty of time to get to corporate. After finally ordering we were able to grab two chairs along the counter that faced out onto the street, and sat in silence as we both let the caffeine do its magic. She was over halfway through her venti latte when Karen gave me her first real smile of the day.

“What?” I couldn't help but grin back. She looked like she'd just discovered something wonderful.

“Listen. It's Barry White again.”

Sure enough, I noticed that there was a faint sound of music in the shop. It was easy to miss over the cacophony of customers and coffee machines, but it was there. And as I listened I heard the same song I'd woken up to.

I know there's only, only one like you.
There's no way, they could have made two
You're all I'm living for,
Your love I'll keep for evermore,
You're the first, you're the last, my everything.

“I think he's stalking us,” she fake-whispered when she could see I'd heard it too.

You have no idea, I thought.

We were not that far away, and the morning's weather was pleasant, so we decided to just walk to the corporate offices. The sidewalks were full of people, and I wondered whether or not I'd enjoy such a human traffic jam every day. Say what you will about Scranton, but if you're waiting in line for more than ten minutes anywhere either there's been an accident or the demolition derby's come to town.

I felt Karen's hand pull firmly on my arm. “Watch out, Halpert!” She cried. “You nearly got run over.”

It was true. I had started walking out into the street without realizing it. But I had a good excuse. I saw a woman on the opposite side of the street that for the briefest of moments, looked exactly like Pam. My instinct had to been to hurry up to see if it was really her, even as I knew it just couldn't be. Not that I mentioned any of that to Karen.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I guess I'm just distracted.” Understatement of the year.

“Well be careful,” she replied. “I need you to stay in one piece. You've got a lot of heavy lifting to do after I get this job.”

I nodded wordlessly, her assumption that I'd be moving down here forming knots in my stomach. As we walked on I didn't see that Pam lookalike again, but I was painfully aware of how much I was looking out for her.

Michael was already waiting in the headquarters lobby by the time we arrived. He immediately jumped up and grabbed me into a bear hug. “I was so worried you wouldn't make it,” he said.

“Well, here we are,” I replied, extricating myself from his embrace. “We're pretty early, actually.”

“Of course you are,” he said, finally sitting back down in his chair as Karen and I took the couch near the windows. “You had to be here to wish me luck. Not that I need it, of course. It's really all a matter of formality. Jan said it's in the bag.”

“Then why are we here interviewing?” Karen asked, and I could already hear the aggravation in her voice. No matter how many times I tried to explain Michael to her, she couldn't seem to understand that taking him at face value was always the wrong thing to do. That's because most of what Michael says is wrong or mixed-up or just utter nonsense. You have to learn to filter, I'd tell her. Karen usually opted for confrontation instead.

“Well, of course they have to cover their bases,” Michael said, not bothered at all by her question. “And just in case I decided to turn it down. Or maybe they need to fill a quota.”

“I think we all have a fair shot,” I interjected quickly. “Let's just take a moment to relax and get ready for this.”

“You are so right, Jimbo,” Michael nodded. “And that's why you are my number two. It's time to put the game face on.”

Not that Michael shut up after that, of course. But I had distracted him enough that he moved on to topics less irritating to Karen, and shortly after that he was called back for his interview. By the time I was finished pretending I was reading the Kiplinger Financial Review, the receptionist told Karen she could go back to Wallace's office.

“Good luck,” I said, and I meant it. I already knew she'd be so much happier if she could get back to the New York area.

It wasn't very long after Karen left that Barry White appeared. I heard the lobby doors open and looked up from the Wall Street Journal I had moved onto, and there he was, dressed as typical as any New York businessman. He gave me a nod, and walked over to the reception desk.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he smiled warmly at her. “And how are you this fine morning?”

“Fabulous as always, Barry,” she grinned. “You can go right back.”

Barry? Did she just call him Barry? I couldn't hide my surprise. Barry looked over at me and smiled.

“What would we do without such a great receptionist?” He asked me. “I'd surely miss her if she wasn't around.” He tapped the counter in a manner I found very familiar, gave a little wave and headed down the hallway.

I couldn't resist asking. I just had to know. I walked over to Grace. “Did you call him Barry?” I asked, aware how ridiculous I sounded. She smiled up at me.

“Oh, that's just what I like to call him because he looks so much like Barry White.” She gave me a teasing once-over look. “Though I imagine you are much too young to even know who that is.”

“No, I know who Barry White is,” I replied. I was stopped from saying anything else by the sound of the phone ringing. As I sat back down on the couch, Grace answered.

“Dunder Mifflin, this is Grace.”

How weird it sounded to hear her say Grace and not Pam. I don't think I recognized how deeply ingrained that phrase had been dug in my brain until then. In Stamford my desk wasn't close enough to reception to hear Loretta talk, so I never heard her say the infamous phrase. In a fill-in-the-blank exercise, if someone said “Dunder Mifflin,” I would automatically reply “This is Pam.” I wouldn't even have to think about it.

And then I knew why Barry had appeared. He'd said it himself - I'd surely miss her if she wasn't around. He wasn't talking about himself or Grace, just pointing out another fact I already knew but had successfully avoided thinking about for nearly a year: how much I missed Pam. Sure, I saw her every day at work since returning to Scranton, but how often did I really see her? I was all about focusing on moving forward, I couldn't let myself dwell on how empty I was without her in my life.

I heard Pam's voice in my head, repeating the words she'd said last week on the beach and last night in my dream: I called off my wedding for you, and now we aren't even friends anymore. And things are just weird between us, and that sucks. I miss you...I really miss you. She'd been brave enough to speak the words I'd been feeling but denying. (Well, except for the calling off the wedding part, but I guess that's obvious.) If I was being honest with myself, there were literally hundreds of little things about her - about us - that I missed. Missed desperately. And yet here I was attempting to win a promotion that would take me away from Scranton - away from her. Did I really think I'd stop missing her if I left again? It hadn't worked so well the last time I tried.

I think I was close to finally, totally, being honest with myself when Karen walked back into the lobby. The look on her face told me something more than her interview had happened. Soon I was surrounded by the chaos of Jan's public departure. I don't think anything could have prepared me for that. Things calmed back down after Jan and Michael left, and I encouraged Karen to go meet her friends instead of waiting there for me. I guess her easy dismissal of Jan as a basket case stung a little. Even though I clearly didn't know the whole story, I couldn't help but feel badly for Jan. She'd always been nice to me.

And then it was my turn in David's office. It was easy talking to him, and I started the interview actually feeling like maybe I did want this job. Or maybe I could learn to want it. I liked the guy; I always have. I have to admit that I think he would have been fun to work with. There are just so many things we agree on, notwithstanding our basketball team rivalry. But then he asked for the copies of my sales figures, and a little pink piece of paper changed everything. No, let me correct that: a little pink piece of paper with a gold foil yogurt lid attached changed everything.

When the memo fell into my lap, I have to admit that I thought Barry had put it there. Let's face it, the guy had already proven he was capable of doing just about anything. But I recognized Pam's writing and my heart just stopped for a minute. It was as visceral a reaction as if she'd walked into the room. It took a minute to remember David was talking to me, and I know I gave some asinine answer about liking New York because of the buildings or something. I tried to cover with a joke about it being nice not to be in a city that closed down at eight o'clock, but all cared about at this point was looking at the note.

I couldn't keep my eyes off the memo. It was only a short message - Don't forget us when you're famous! - and she'd only signed with her name, but it might as well been a twenty page love letter for as much at it meant to me. It has always been the little things she does that make me fall in love with her, over and over again. David Wallace asked me where I saw myself in ten years, and I didn't know where to start to answer that question. The only thing I could see for certain was that in ten years time I would still want to be with her - I wanted to be with Pam.

That little question, that final push was like the crack that broke open the dam. Everything in my mind fell into place. Where I wanted to be - hell, who I wanted to be - was not hinged on what was going on in that office. Nothing in my life would ever make sense if I didn't go back to Scranton and make things work. She'd said that night at the beach that she'd wished I would come back. I was finally willing to admit that I wanted that, too. I had no choice but to go back. Everything that mattered was in Scranton.

I have to say that the rest of the interview was a bit of a blur to me, and I'm not convinced that David Wallace didn't believe that I had a nervous breakdown right in front of him. I never did directly answer his question about long term, instead just standing up and thanking him for the opportunity, but that I had to remove myself from consideration. I probably sounded like Michael had a half hour ago, but maybe in a sense I was doing it for the same reasons Michael had. The only thing I really remember is carefully folding the note from Pam and putting in the inside pocket of my jacket. It was like a lifeline to me.

Barry was conspicuously absent when I met Karen at the park and tried to explain my change of heart. I could have used the support but I probably deserved the harshness of standing alone. It was probably one of the worst moments of my life; I'm certainly not proud of how it ended, or honestly why it started in the first place. And I'm probably more than a bit of a bastard because I pictured Pam in the back of my mind the whole time I was talking to Karen. Karma is a bitch, but it's not like I've been living this whole time pain-free either. And if I'm ever going to be a better person, it's because I have Pam to help me be one. Nobody inspires me like she does.

Unsurprisingly Karen had no interest in returning to Scranton with me, and I have to admit I was relieved. I knew she'd be okay with all her friends there to support her (and bash me), so I made my way back to the hotel to pick up my car. So guess who brought the car around?

He got out of my car with a smile that made it clear he'd felt like he'd won. “Looks like you are in a hurry,” he said.

“Yeah, don't gloat too much,” I replied, unable to resist laughing. I was too hyped up on adrenaline and hope and excitement to be angry at him. “Are you going to follow me all the way back to Scranton?”

Barry raised an eyebrow sceptically. “Do I need to?”

I shook my head. “No. No, I think I got it from here.”

“Good.” He held the door as I got in the car. “Just tell her the truth, Jim.”

The rest of the story is pretty much history - I did drive back to Scranton that afternoon, right back to Dunder Mifflin. I walked into the office and saw her in the conference room being filmed by the documentary staff and I hesitated. Wondered what I was going to say and how long she'd be in there. Then I figured I'd spent entirely too much time waiting, and barged in on them. Looking back I probably could have done it a bit cooler; I have no doubt I'll look like an idiot on tape. But she said yes, and I guess that's all that matters.

So there you have it. Page after page of a crazy man's interpretation of what happened. Was it really Barry White? I still don't know. But somehow writing all this down has been cathartic. I remember every detail of that trip so vividly it's a relief to have it somewhere else than in my head. Maybe I can start to let it go and focus not on if it happened, but why it happened. Or maybe I can just forget the whole thing and just focus on how things are finally right. It's been too long in coming, I will say that.

As for telling Pam, I think I've got that figured out too. Because no matter how crazy it sounds, something tells me she'll believe me. Or at least she'll want to believe, and that's good enough. But first I think I'll pick up a copy of Barry White's Ultimate Collection DVD to bring with me. There's a song I really want her to hear.