“Hey Beesly,” Jim said smiling as he walked into the office stopping at reception to place his coat on the hanger there, “you ready for this weekend?”

She smiled warmly at him. “Yeah, I’m really excited.”

He nodded and walked to his desk. He knew that Pam was really excited for the upcoming county art festival the coming weekend. She had been looking forward to meeting some local artists, and potentially finding out about art classes in the area. Jim had strongly encouraged this, saying it would be a really great opportunity for her when she initially expressed hesitancy with the idea. So now, the day before the festival, she seemed thoroughly excited, and Jim was excited for her. She was finally allowing herself to branch out a little into something that she genuinely loved to do.

Around 11:00, right as Jim was planning on making his way up to Pam’s desk to steal a jellybean, Roy walked into the office, heading for reception. Jim stayed rooted to his chair, endeavoring to stay focused on his computer screen. He generally tried to avoid overhearing their conversations because eavesdropping often caused him unnecessary pain, but his ears perked up at Roy’s raised voice.

“Babe, I promised Kenny that we’d go with him up to the lake this weekend.” There was a pause before Roy continued, pleadingly, “Jamie will be there two, you two can hang out.”

“Roy, you knew I really wanted to go to this art festival. You’ve known about it for weeks,” Pam returned in an exasperated voice.

“Yeah, but I thought maybe you could go next time. I mean, aren’t they like, every few weeks?”

“No,” Pam retorted, clearly growing more and more exasperated, “this one is only once a year, and it would be a great opportunity for me to get some information about those art classes I’ve been wanting to take, not to mention meet some other local artists.”

“Pammy, I really don’t understand why you need to take art classes, especially since the art thing probably isn’t going to pan out long term anyway. Plus, I know we’ve really wanted to get away for a while, so a weekend at the lake would be perfect.” Roy said in a semi-pleading, semi-patronizing tone as he leaned over her desk.

There was silence. Jim knew that Pam was on the verge of tears of anger and sorrow at Roy’s insensitivity, but he didn’t dare look up. Rage at Roy welled up inside of him. How could he so quickly toss aside something that she was so obviously passionate about? How could he be so ignorant of her desire to be more than just a receptionist for the rest of her life?

“Fine,” Pam said, in a small, defeated tone, “we’ll go to the lake.”

“Awesome! I’ll go call Kenny right now. He’ll be so pumped. It’s gonna be sweet Pam!” Jim heard the sound of Roy walking out the door to the elevator, no doubt on his way to call Kenny and celebrate.

He stole a glance over at her desk. She hung her head, and he couldn’t see her face, but he knew that she was probably fighting back the urge to scream or cry. God he hated Roy for doing this to her. How could he not realize what his words meant to her?

Knowing that she would want some time to regroup, he looked back to his computer screen and continued to work on getting the numbers up to date on his sales records though his mind was engaged with thoughts of what types of pain and torture he might inflict on Roy, given the opportunity.


Later that day, he had found her in the break room, staring blankly at the can of coke on the table in front of her as she absentmindedly pulled at the chain around her neck.

“Hey” he said.

“Hey” she responded, her head snapping up toward him. He could see the evidence of her defeat all over her face and it nearly broke his heart. God he hated Roy right now.

“You okay?” Jim asked, knowing full well that she wasn’t, but that she’d probably deny that anything was wrong.

“Yeah, I just…” she paused, as if contemplating how to phrase the rest of her statement, “I’m not going to the art festival this weekend,” she finished.

“Oh,” Jim said, trying to sound surprised, asking “why not?” though he knew the answer.

“Just, well, Roy made plans with Kenny to go up to the cabin, so we’re doing that instead” she said, trying to sound nonchalant and unaffected, but Jim knew her well enough to detect the pain in her voice.

She lowered her eyes to the table again, “plus, I mean, there’s no reason to think that this will really help me in the long run.”

Jim wanted to shout out, ‘You are an artist! Roy is an ass for ever suggesting that you couldn’t achieve what you wanted! Don’t ever let him make you feel less than you are!’

But instead he just responded: “Oh”.

Pam continued to fiddle with her necklace, pulling it back and forth along the length of the chain, while she stared at the table as if inspecting it for any speck of dust that might be present. Then Jim noticed her face contort as if she was trying to hold back a fresh onslaught of tears. His immediate impulse was to run over and put his arms around her, tell her it was alright, but instead he just sat down in the chair next to her, feeling powerless to stop her tears. She sniffed slightly, and Jim decided he couldn’t take it anymore, and extended his hand and placed it over hers on the table. Her head snapped up, and her eyes found his, as if she was shocked by his gesture. Jim didn’t care.

“Hey” he said gently, “You are an artist. You sketch like crazy here at work, and I’ve seen that enormous pile of post-it notes you’ve stashed in your desk, so don’t even try to tell me you aren’t constantly spending the time you’re supposed to be answering phones on your sketches instead,” he said, his lips curling into a slight smile. Though he had wanted to hug her and tell her everything would be okay, he knew had to resort to humor instead to try to alleviate her pain.

“Trust me, I would not have anyone else to be responsible for so artfully crafting and designing the exquisite examples of my own professional handiwork of putting all of Dwight’s office supplies in jello.” He said cocking his head to the side, giving her a small wink.

At this, Pam smiled a little. Jim thought he even heard a little laugh. He paused for a moment, sensing in the space between them, a growing tension at her recognition that he really did understand, and that he was there to support her, regardless of what Roy thought. In those moments of growing tension floated all of the things that he couldn’t bring himself to admit to her. Things he thought she knew, but he knew could never be uttered.

With a small smile on her lips, she pulled back her hand and said, “Thanks, I should probably get back to work.” And with that she wiped her face with her hands, stood up and strode out of the room.

Pam sighed heavily and pushed the pound sign on the phone a little too vigorously as she replayed the message for about the fourth time so far. She just couldn’t make herself focus on Mr. Schmidt and his long list of complaints about how his paper supply needs just were not being met and demanding answers. The whole afternoon she had been replaying her conversation with Roy in her head, and the more she thought about it the angrier she became.

She just didn’t understand him sometimes. She loved him, and he loved her right? So why was it so hard for him to understand that she wanted to go to the art festival and it hurt her that he had blatantly scheduled something else on top of her plans without any regard for how she might feel?

She hung up the phone a little too loudly, and Jim looked up from his desk a questioning look on his face. She forced a small smile and he returned to his work.

She stared blankly at her computer screen, trying hard not to think about how angry she had become over the past few hours. It was like Roy just didn’t care. Like he didn’t even think about how his decisions might affect her. ‘But why should he?’ she thought cynically, ‘we’re only engaged after all.’ And why should she have to be the one to change her plans because he messed up and scheduled two things for the same weekend? She didn’t even like Jaime, and the thought of spending an entire weekend with her instead of going to the art festival made her want to throw her pencil cup at Dwight’s head.

She sighed and rubbed her temples with her fingers, trying to calm herself and focus on the afternoon ahead.

“Hey,” Jim said, breaking her reverie.

She looked up, responding with a simple “Hey”.

He nonchalantly grabbed a jellybean from the dispenser, “You have a headache?”

“What? Oh, no,” Pam responded distractedly, “My eyes just feel a little strained,” she lied.

“Ah,” Jim responded, clearly unconvinced, but not willing to push the subject. He gave her a lopsided grin and returned to his desk, her eyes following him.

Why was it that Jim always know exactly when to push, and when to leave her be? Why was it that he was always supportive of whatever she wanted to do, regardless of how pointless it might seem, when Roy couldn’t manage to avoid double booking the one weekend that was really important to her? And in the break room earlier, Jim had showed her more support than Roy had in a month. Obviously he was a great friend, more than she deserved, but there was a part of her that wondered why he understood her some days better than Roy ever could.

A small, yet disturbing voice in her head responded: Because he really cares.

The thought startled her. She had had similar thoughts before, but never in such a direct manner of comparison with her own fiancé. She was obviously angry at Roy, and that was why she was thinking these things, it didn’t really mean anything. Jim was her best friend; that was certain. Still, sometimes she wondered if maybe, there was something else…

Pam stopped that line of thought immediately with a quick shake of her head, chalking it up to ridiculous musings of a slightly enraged state of mind, and turned back to the telephone, determined to get all of Mr. Schmidt’s complaints down this time.

*****
Later that afternoon, still annoyed, though perhaps less visibly angry, she wandered into the break room to get a can of soda to help her survive the remainder of the day. While she stood there at the machine, still thinking about her disappointment and frustration, she suddenly had the insane idea to tell Roy that she was staying in Scranton for the art festival.

She quickly tried to shush the idea with thoughts of the fight that would undoubtedly ensue, but the same small voice that had encroached on her consciousness earlier in the day returned with vigor and growing strength, egging her on. Why couldn’t she tell him that she wanted to stay? She had told him weeks ago about the festival, it wasn’t like she was cancelling on him last minute for something that ‘just came up’. She knew he wouldn’t really like it, but in that moment she didn’t care. He had hurt her today, and she knew that she deserved more than that from the man who supposedly loved her enough to want to commit to spend the rest of his life with her.

And with her thoughts growing in strength and determination, she strode resolutely out of the break room, threw a small smile at Jim as she passed his desk, and walked quickly out the doors, heading down to the warehouse.

It didn’t take her long to find him, relaxing with Daryl in the warehouse office, the TV blaring ESPN—she made a mental note to ask Jim how in the world the warehouse guys had managed to get cable. She was willing to bet it had to do with Michael doing or saying something stupid leading to a bribe to keep all the warehouse workers from quitting.

“Roy,” she began, her resolve faltering slightly now she was actually facing him.

“Hey Pam, what’s up?” He responded, not looking up from the TV.

“Can I talk to you…it’ll only take a minute?”

“Can you hold on just a minute, they’re recapping the game we missed last night”

“Roy, I need to talk to you…now.” She said, her anger starting to seep into her voice.

He looked up, looking somewhat bewildered at her more defiant tone.

“Uh, alright,” and he stood and walked out of the office, shooting a look at Daryl and rolling his eyes. She ignored his not-so-subtle eye roll, and followed him into the warehouse.

“Roy, I want to stay here this weekend. I really want to go to the art show,” she began, almost pleading with him to understand. She really didn’t want to fight with him anymore.

“Babe, I already called Kenny and told him we were going to the lake with them. I can’t cancel now.” Roy looked annoyed that she was bring this up now.

“No, you don’t have to cancel, I just won’t be coming with you,” she started slightly at the strength of her own words.

Roy also seemed taken aback by her calm, yet stern tone. “Pam, we can’t just back out on this, we promised Kenny…”

She felt herself lose her last bit of waning control. “You promised Kenny! Without talking to me! Without asking if I had anything else planned!” She felt herself yelling all the things that had been pent up inside her all day. “God Roy, you just don’t get it.”

“Whoa,” Roy responded, looking even more bewildered at this outburst, “I get it Pam. Geez if you don’t like Kenny, just say so.”

“This isn’t about Kenny. This is about you. You knew I had this art festival! I thought you knew that this meant a lot to me. And you scheduled over it anyway, without talking to me first!” Pam was trying to keep her tone under control, just trying to make him understand why she was so upset.

“Fine,” he responded, starting to raise his own voice to match hers, “you go to your little art festival then. I’ll just go on my own.”

He really sounded like a petulant 3 year old, and if Pam weren’t so angry, she probably would have smiled. “Okay,” she responded tersely, trying to calm down. It appeared she had won, though she felt worn and weary. Roy looked her in the eye for a moment, and then started to walk away.

“Um, bye…” Pam called after him.

“Yeah, I’ll see you when we get back” Roy retorted, clearly still upset, striding back to the warehouse where Daryl and the TV were waiting.

Pam felt slighted by his hasty goodbye, but knew she couldn’t hope for much better with him right now. She had made him mad. And she felt horrible, as she always did when the fought. But deep down, she knew she was justified, and that little voice in her head was rejoicing that she had finally stood up for herself, even if it was just a little bit.

She climbed the stairs back up to the office, feeling exhilarated and yet exhausted at the same time. She could go to the art festival. That thought almost made her giddy. But she knew she would have major damage control to attend to when Roy got back from his trip. But until then, she was determined to enjoy her weekend.

She returned to her desk to pack up her things as it was almost time to go home. Her thoughts were full of all of the things she could do this weekend, without Roy. She smiled to herself, pride at her determination welling up inside her.

“You look happy,” Jim commented, attempting nonchalance, as he pulled his coat off the coat rack.

“Yeah,” Pam responded, looking up at him, “I am. Turns out I’m going to the art festival after all,” she paused momentarily, struck by Jim’s questioning, yet proud look, “Roy’s going up to the lake without me,” she said simply.

Jim tried to hide his smile, but Pam saw it pull at the corner of his mouth, “Cool.”

“And actually,” she began, the words just tumbling from her mouth, “I could really use a friend there. I always get nervous at these things, stupid I know. I just…I mean, if you’re not busy, I think it’d be kinda fun.” What was she thinking? She couldn’t believe she had just asked Jim to come with her to art festival. Especially after fighting with her fiancé. But she pushed that thought aside and continued, “I mean, I completely understand if you have much better things to do with your Saturday than wander around a silly art fair” Now she was babbling. She sounded like a 16 year old girl. Fantastic.

Jim smiled genuinely. He was quite shocked at her sudden change in demeanor, and even more stunned that she had asked him to go with her to the art fair. While Roy was out of town. But he pushed that thought away. “Hmm, let me think,” he said, pausing for only a split second before responding “…nope, I’ve got nothing.” She returned his smile. “What time does it start?”

“Well it’s both tomorrow and Sunday, but I think tomorrow it’s from 10 to 4 or so” she replied.

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them: “Would you want to get lunch and then head over there?” He realized immediately it sounded like he was asking her out, and he tried to backtrack “I mean, if you want we could just meet at the fair too, whatever.”

“No, lunch would be great,” she responded, smiling sincerely. It was as if she was being driven by the elation at her personal triumph, as well as her frustration at Roy, to do things she might normally do. Like go on a lunch date with Jim. But it wasn’t really a date. And even if it sort of was, she didn’t care. She was happy.

“Okay,” Jim responded, “what about noon at Cuginos?”

“I’ll see you there,” Pam said nodding.

“Great, see you tomorrow Beesly,” Jim said, unable to wipe the silly grin off his face. Even in the elevator on the way down to his car all he could think about was the fact that he was going to spend the next day with Pam.

“So how many people do you think there are here? I had no idea this would be so big,” Jim said, looking down at Pam, his eyes wide. Jim had never been to an art fair before, and was shocked to find out that there were dozens of local artists willing to set up a booth for the weekend to try to sell their work, and hundreds of people who wanted to buy it.

Pam laughed at his child-like awe at the expansiveness of the fair. She had also been a little surprised, and somewhat intimidated by the extensive collection of booths scattered around the local park. “I have no idea, but the next time around you can keep count.”

“I’ll get right on that,” Jim responded as they continued to meander through the maze of art booths.

They had been wandering around the festival for about 45 minutes or so, but Pam had insisted that they get a feel for the whole fair experience before stopping to look more closely at individual booths. Jim was both intrigued and amused by her very specific game plan for their day at the art fair. When they had met for lunch at Cugino’s all she could talk about was the very particular way in which to enjoy such an art fair. He had joked that she had probably spent the entire previous evening planning it out, to which she merely rolled her eyes rather sheepishly.

Jim could tell from the moment he met up with her for lunch that she had a certain lightness about her today. She seemed brighter and happier than he could ever remember seeing her at Dunder Mifflin. Her cheeriness was contagious and soon he found he had to make an effort to keep himself from grinning like an idiot the whole time. They had joked most of the way through lunch, mostly about the likelihood of seeing one of their coworkers at the fair. They had debated on either Angela or Phyllis as being the most likely people they would run into today, with Pam making the very good point that Phyllis seemed the type to be interested in arts and crafts whereas Angela would be more likely to show up at a tractor show than an art festival where such “whorish” colors abounded. Pam had also very patiently explained to Jim the difference between Renior and Rembrant after he had admitted to always getting them confused with one another.

“Wow, now I feel stupid,” Jim had said after Pam had explained that one was a 17th century Dutch painter and the other was a 19th century French artist.

Pam had giggled lightly, shaking her head. She enjoyed being able to talk about art with him, even though he was clueless.

“No need for the laugh,” Jim had said, teasing her.

After lunch they had made their way to the local park where the booths were set up. Jim was surprised not only by the number of booths, but of the variety of different types of artwork. There was pottery, glasswork, paintings, photography, sketches, knitted items, and many more things that he couldn’t put names to.

They were now on their second pass through the arrangement of booths, which according to Pam’s very specific game plan meant that they could approach individual booths and look around more closely. Jim followed Pam’s lead, enjoying watching her excitement continue to grow as they continued to stroll along together.

“Hey, what about that one over there?” She pointed to a nearby booth with a variety of oil paintings, where a young woman sat, watching the fair-goers look through her paintings.

When they reached the booth, Pam began looking through the various landscape paintings. Jim hung back slightly, looking more at Pam than at the paintings. She seemed so at home. Her face was etched with peaceful joy, her eyes scanning the paintings before her. She seemed more content than he could ever remember seeing her, and he couldn’t help but smile to himself.

She looked through the bin of paintings, occasionally pulling one out to look at it more closely. She had felt so nervous about coming to the fair earlier that morning, but now she was at ease, enjoying just looking at all the beautiful things that other people had created. It made her wish that she could make things just as beautiful someday. Toward the back of the pile she pulled out one painting and gasped slightly.

“I love this one,” Pam said quietly. Jim moved behind her and looked over her shoulder at the landscape in her hands. It was a beautiful oil painting of a small black gondola floating along on a canal in Venice. Vibrant red and orange colors highlighted the sunset sky. “I wish I could go there,” she said absently. She longed to see the real place that had inspired such an incredible painting.

“It’s beautiful,” said the young woman sitting in the corner of the booth, not far from where they stood. “I painted that one a few years ago when I was in Venice.”

“Wow,” Pam responded, “I’ve never been to Italy, but I want to go someday.” She had always wanted to go abroad, but it had somehow just never worked out. Roy wasn’t much of the traveling type.

“It’s really an incredible place, especially for an artist. There’s so much material, so much to see, you know?” The woman paused, studying Pam briefly before asking “Are you an artist?”

“Oh, um, no not really. I mean I do some sketches, but nothing too serious,” Pam responded hastily. She had not been ready for that question.

“Actually she’s really good,” Jim jumped in. He wasn’t about to let Pam be self-deprecating when she had such a great opportunity to make a connection with another local artist. “I mean, I don’t know anything about art at all, but I think her stuff is great.” He smiled at Pam encouragingly. She returned his smile warmly, feeling a slight flush rushing to her cheeks.

“Well I don’t know if you’d be interested at all,” the woman continued, “but I’m actually giving a class in oil paintings starting in a couple of weeks if you’re interested.”

Pam’s eyes lit up. “Really? That’d be really great. Oil painting is something I’ve never really tried much of, but I’d really like to learn.”

“Great! Here’s the information,” she said, handing Pam a small blue flier, “I’d really love to have you in the class. It meets once a week in the evenings…”

As the woman continued to explain about the specific details of the course, Jim began wandering through the rest of the booth. He wanted to be sure Pam didn’t feel like he was intruding.

Pam felt rather than saw him walk away, but her focus was more on the woman explaining what sounded like an incredible class. She had never down much oil painting before, and would love to get some experience and training, especially from someone who clearly had some talent.

Jim wandered through the rest of the booth, looking at the different paintings from all over the world. He thought of Pam traveling to all of these places to paint and how happy she would be. But he also knew Roy would never go for it, would never support her in her desire to become an artist. Jim couldn’t help but think how much he wanted to give her all that she wanted. And how much, if given the chance, he would be different. He would be better than that.

“Hey,” Pam’s voice pulled him from his reverie. Her bright smile immediately pushed away all the dark thoughts clouding his head. He smiled in return.

“So…” Jim said questioningly.

“This class looks really cool. It’s only once a week, so I could totally manage it with work, and I’ve never done oil painting before, and, I’m just,” she paused, a huge smile lighting up her face again “I really want to do it.”

“Good.” Jim responded nodding, “You should.”

“Okay then.” Pam laughed, “Now we’ve got to keep moving or we’ll never get to round three.” She nearly skipped ahead of him out of the booth, more confident than she could remember being in a while. She was going to do those art classes, she didn’t care what Roy said. It was not lost on her that Jim supported her unquestioningly, though she tried to put that under another one of his wonderful best friend qualities.

They continued walking through the various booths and stalls, Pam talking excitedly with more than a few of the vendors while Jim wandered through looking at the various sketches and paintings displayed there. He didn’t mind that he was left to wander while Pam talked, he knew this was exactly what she needed. Though he didn’t know anything about art at all, he was surprised by the end of the day, how quickly he was able to pick out items that he knew Pam would love, and ones he knew she would hate. It was like he had picked up her tastes. Not that he minded.

Even though most of the booths had closed up by 4pm, Pam had continued talking with a man about his watercolors until about 4:45. As they walked back to their cars, Pam talking animatedly about all the people she had talked to and artwork she had seen, Jim listened contentedly, happy to hear her talking so passionately about something she clearly loved.

He took advantage of a small pause in her discourse, saying, “So I take it you hated it. Completely.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Sorry, I’ve been rambling, I’ll stop.”

“No. It’s great to hear you so excited Pam. I’m really glad you enjoyed yourself.” Jim said genuinely.

“Thanks,” she paused, stopping so Jim had to turn to face her, “Really Jim, thank you so much.” Her gaze was intense, full of something Jim couldn’t describe, but had only seen very rarely in her eyes. “I really,” she paused, looking down, trying to find the words strong enough for what she was trying to convey, “I really couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Jim said quietly, as if mesmerized by her intense gaze. There was so much in her eyes, so much she had not said with words, but that she conveyed with that look. Eventually she broke their gaze and continued walking toward her car.

“Hey,” she said, her tone lighter, “Would you maybe want to get some dinner? I’m starving”

Jim smiled, slightly giddy at her suggestion, “Wow Beesly, you just ate what, like four hours ago.”

“Shut up, I’m hungry,” she said smiling.

Jim just nodded with pursed lips, trying to hide his grin.

“You could come to my place. I could cook.” It slipped out of her mouth before she could truly realize the implications of her words. It appeared that her feelings of boldness were taking over her mouth now.

Jim looked at her quickly, shocked at her suggestion, but she chose to play it off as merely a mock look of terror at the thought of her cooking.

“I’ll have you know I’m a very good cook,” she said, her eyes challenging him, her lips betraying a smile.

“I have no doubt,” Jim began, proceeding carefully, “I just, um, it’d be kind of weird, wouldn’t it?”

“Roy’s up at the lake, he won’t be back until tomorrow,” she said. Then suddenly realizing the implications of her statement, again chiding herself for letting her brashness go unchecked, she quickly amended, “besides, he wouldn’t care. I’m just cooking for a friend as a thank you.” She had tried to play it off, and knew she had failed miserably.

Jim contemplated this for a moment. He had caught the underlying implications of her words just as quickly as she had, and he wondered about the truth of her statement that Roy wouldn’t care if she was cooking dinner for another man in his house. He didn’t want to get the crap beat out of him, but then again, she had said that Roy wouldn’t be back until the next day. Still, he’d rather be safe than sorry.

“I don’t know Pam, it’s just…” he struggled to find the right words, but she jumped in before he could continue.

“Come on Jim,” she said more seriously, “It’s just dinner. Besides I really want to do something nice for you since you had to put up with me wandering around being Miss Blabbermouth all day.” She smiled at this. She wasn’t sure why she kept pushing this when he was obviously uncomfortable, aside from the fact that she just wanted to do something for him for being so supportive today. But she knew there were plenty of other ways to do that aside from inviting him over for dinner…but she pushed that thought away.

He really wanted to protest, say it was not a good idea. But her smile. It got him every time. There was no use saying ‘no’ to that smile.

“Alright.” He said, giving in.

“Great!” she responded, “you can just follow me in your car.”

About fifteen minutes later Jim found himself pulling up to a small house, which seemed to be fairly well kept, but not the most friendly place he had ever visited. Pam had explained to him once that she and Roy were renting for now and trying to save money for a nicer house once they got married.

As he walked toward the front door, Pam joined him saying “So this is it. I can’t believe you’ve never actually been here before.” She felt nervousness creeping into her stomach.

“Nope.” Jim responded simply. Truthfully he knew where she lived and had driven by on occasion, but he decided not to relay that information to her at the risk of sounding stalker-ish.

“Well, there’s not much to it, but we like it,” Pam continued, fiddling with her keys, “so what do you feel like for dinner?”

“I don’t know, what are you offering tonight at ‘Casa de Pam’?”

Pam smiled. It was incredible how he could always diffuse tension with a joke. “Well, I’ve got chicken, fish, pasta, pizza, your choice.”

“Chicken sounds good to me,” Jim responded.

“Great!” Pam said cheerily, opening the front door and leading him inside.

Jim was met with a small living room off to the right of the doorway, and a hallway leading to the left where he guessed the bedroom and bathroom were. Pam led him through the living room toward a doorway that led to the kitchen. He took in the sight of the living room as he walked through. It screamed of Roy, and he couldn’t really see signs of Pam anywhere. There were Sports Illustrated magazines splayed out on the glass coffee table next to the Lazy Boy recliner and in front of a brown leather couch that looked as though it had seen better days. There was a large tv that sat in one corner across from the recliner, complete with an entertainment center full of game systems and other electronics. There were a few pictures on the walls, mostly groups of family photos, with the exception of one watercolor hung in the corner of the room.

“So as you can see, this is the living room,” Pam said waving her hands around the room. For some reason she was so nervous to show him around. He knew her better than just about anyone, so he would notice the little things about the place that were so not her. She felt incredibly exposed, like her whole life with Roy was under scrutiny.

Jim nodded, “Nice.”

“It’s not nearly as exciting as the next room on our tour,” Pam continued, walking toward the doorway off the living room, eager to put that room behind them “here we have the marvelous wallpapered kitchen.”

Jim was immediately overwhelmed with the bright yellow and green patterned wallpaper covering the kitchen walls and had to make a real effort not to cringe. Pam noticed his discomfort, “yeah, don’t worry, I still have that reaction,” she said. “It’s pretty terrible wallpaper. Apparently the tenants before us talked the landlord into doing a little remodeling…”

“Wow, bad choice for the landlord,” Jim responded still unable to pull his eyes away from the hideous wallpaper.

Pam chuckled, “No kidding. He said we could change it if we want to. Roy just hasn’t gotten a chance to yet,” she said, looking away, somewhat embarrassed by this statement. Roy had just never wanted to go through the hassle of changing it, so she was stuck with hideous wallpaper.

At the mention of Roy’s name Jim could feel the tension in the room grow. It was as if they both knew what Roy would really think if he ever found out about this, but didn’t want to acknowledge it. Jim also noticed that Pam’s demeanor had changed. The happiness and joy of earlier in the day had virtually disappeared, discomfort and unease beginning to make their way into her demeanor.

“So what can I help you with?” Jim asked, attempting to relieve her discomfort.

“Oh you don’t have to help, I’m cooking dinner for you remember,” she said, glad for a change in topic away from Roy.

“Nope, I insist. What are my first instructions Beesly?”

She smiled up at him, clearly happy at his insistence to help her. She pointed him in the direction of the pans and they began pulling out all the ingredients for the chicken recipe she had in mind. They continued to chat about little things with Jim trying to get a laugh out of Pam every few moments. She kept threatening to throw him out of the kitchen for making her laugh while she was adding crucial ingredients, but eventually they got everything prepared and into the oven.

“Do you want some wine?” she asked him nonchalantly while digging through one of the kitchen cupboards. She wasn’t sure what made her say it, but she was feeling bold so she didn’t immediately take it back like she might have normally.

He was startled by this suggestion, and was glad she was facing the other way so as to prevent her from reading his somewhat shocked expression. He forced away the thoughts that this was definitely a bad idea and responded tentatively, “Uh, sure. That sounds good.”

Pam poured two glasses of white wine, handing one to Jim and then plopping down at the kitchen table. He followed suit, sitting next to her at the small round table. He couldn’t help but think about the fact that he was sitting beside Pam, drinking wine, having just put a home cooked dinner in the oven, in her fiancé’s house. But he quickly pushed that rather menacing thought away and took a rather large sip of wine.

Pam began talking about the art fair again, recounting her favorite pieces of art she had seen there. She felt so comfortable here, talking to Jim about the one thing she was really passionate about. She continued on about how excited she was for the oil painting class and about the possibility of really trying out her skills and stretching herself. Jim listened intently, a smile on his face. He was content to listen to her talk about this all day if she wanted to. He was just happy to be the one who she told.

Pam paused to take a sip of wine, then her eyes lit up and she said excitedly, “So this is totally random, but do you want to make some cookies?”

Jim gave her a quizzical look and smiled. “Cookies?”

“Yeah, you know, those things round things that come in assorted varieties, some with chocolate chips, others with peanut butter…” she trailed off a mischievous look on her face.

“I totally deserved that,” Jim said shaking his head, his grin growing wider, “But yeah, sure, what kind do you have in mind?”

Pam rose from the table and made her way to the cupboards, Jim following suit.

“Hmm, I’m not really sure what I have, but I think we could do chocolate chip,”

“Mmm, my favorite,” Jim responded.

“Chocolate chip it is then,” Pam said and began digging out the necessary ingredients.

“So what brought on the sudden desire for cookies Beesly?” Jim asked as she handed him the canister of flour and pointed to the chocolate chip cookie recipe on the back of the Nestle Toll House bag.

“I don’t know, it just sounded like fun,” she said, grinning at him. That was only part of the reason however. Truthfully, she loved baking, it was her retreat (beyond sketching) when she couldn’t stand being near Roy anymore. She had always baked with her mother when she was younger, and it was something she knew that Roy would never intrude on. It was something she could always count on doing alone. For some reason she had the overwhelming urge to share this with Jim, and since she was following her urges today without question, here they were, trying to squeeze enough drops of vanilla extract out of the virtually empty bottle.

Jim laughed the concentration Pam focused on process of coaxing enough vanilla out of the bottle into the little teaspoon, wondering to himself why she had suggested baking. He had never been much of a fan of baking, unless it was his mom doing the cooking and he and his brother doing the eating. He was curious why she had wanted to make cookies with him all of the sudden, but figured it didn’t matter much because they were having fun, and she was smiling. That was what really mattered.

He proceeded to crack an egg on the side of the bowl and removed the little bit of shell that had fallen in. He had hoped Pam hadn’t seen, but he was not so lucky and she chimed in, “Wow, you really suck at cracking eggs Halpert.” Her tone was teasing, her voice light.

He gave her a look of mock consternation, though not having any reasonable response to her comment, he threw the shell in the trash and moved to rinse off his hands. He rinsed his hands for a moment and then realized the perfect payback.

When the splash of water hit her, she was caught totally off guard. She blinked and let out a small squeal, shielding her face from further onslaught. She backed away across the kitchen to the other counter, laughing merrily. She grabbed a handful of the flour from the canister which was still sitting open there.

Jim laughed mischeviously, grabbing the sprayer connected to the sink and pointing it at her.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Pam said, challenging him. Yet she knew he would dare and in a moment she’d be soaking wet if she didn’t strike first. So she lunged at him, attempting to throw the handful of flour into his face, but his reflexes were too quick and he grabbed her arm pulling her hand away from his own face and pushing it down toward her own. Pam yelped and ducked, clutching the flour tightly, though still feeling light sprinkles of the white powder rain down on her face.

Jim laughed, loosening his grip slightly on her wrist. Pam stood back up and glowered at him, trying to prevent her smirk from showing. She then moved much more quickly than he was expecting, grabbing at the sprayer in his other hand, she managed to twist it to face him and pulled the trigger to produce a short spurt of water which managed to hit him mostly on the side of the head. He let out a yell of his own, strengthening his grip on the sprayer, pulling it from her grasp. She laughed loudly, trying to get away from him because no doubt he would retaliate immediately, but he still had a firm handle on her wrist.

She released the sprayer and tried to bolt out of his grasp, but his hand still held her wrist firmly so she didn’t make it very far before he caught her. He pulled her toward him and suddenly he spun her around and into his arms so her back was to his chest. He held her firmly there with his one arm while he reached for the flour on the opposite counter. She squealed and squirmed, knowing she was about to get flour in the face, but he wouldn’t release his grip at all. She tried desperately to come up with another way to free herself, but was unsuccessful and soon she felt Jim’s fingers wipe flour all over her cheek. She laughed, still squirming slightly, though admittedly putting up less of a fight than she probably should have.

“So, what was that you were saying about my egg cracking skills?” Jim said into her ear in a way that sent shivers down her spine. Suddenly this had gotten a whole lot less innocent, but it was like she was being driven by her daring side.

She laughed, “Okay fine, you win, you’re the champion egg cracker.”

“Good I’m glad we agree,” he returned, loosening the grip on her arm, but not immediately letting go. She lingered for a moment too long, but then turned to face him.

There was a smile lingering on his lips, but in his eyes was a look more intense than she was ready for and it took her slightly off guard.

He tried desperately to cover the intensity that he knew was present in his eyes, but it took more of a struggle than usual. He knew she had seen it, he had seen her startle a little when she met his eyes with her own.

He looked away and grabbed a towel from the counter, and moved to offer it for her to wipe her face, but she made no move to take it.

She didn’t know why she couldn’t lift her hand to take the towel he had offered, but it was as if she was frozen, making it impossible to grab the towel from his waiting hand. It felt as though a sudden streak of boldness had taken over her body and was egging him on.

There was a slight pause, when the towel lingered between them and Jim searched her eyes, trying to read if she wanted him to brush the flour off her cheek. They had just been practically wrestling in the kitchen, but to him the act of wiping the flour from her cheek was so much more intimate. He didn’t want to be overstepping his bounds and go too far. And the voice in the back of his head reminded him that he was in Roy’s house of all places.

After what felt like an eternity of agonizing over what to do, but was probably only the span of about a second, he lifted the towel to her cheek and brushed away the excess flour. She smiled and looked down to the floor. She could feel the blush rising to her cheeks, shocked at her own willingness to let him touch her like this. She moved her eyes to meet his again, and said softly, “Thanks.”

He held her stare, knowing that her soft appreciation was for more than wiping away a little flour. He searched her eyes deeper, wanting to find so much more in their depths. So much more about what he meant to her, who he was to her. He wanted to see himself in her eyes.

She could feel the intensity of his gaze deepen, and she knew they were treading into dangerous waters. She could see in his eyes so clearly what this meant to him, and it frightened her. Not because she didn’t feel it too, but because she did. She didn’t know how to deal with all of the emotions that flooded her when he looked at her like that. It was all just so there, filling the space between them faster and faster every second. She knew she had to lighten the mood, bring the focus back to the cookies, or the chicken or something, but she couldn’t force the words from her mouth.

Then she heard it. The front door of the house opened and closed. She looked quickly to the entrance to the kitchen and then back to Jim with a shocked, slightly panicked look on her face. He returned a similar slightly petrified look. Roy was home.

“Pam!” he shouted from the living room, “Are you here?” Jim could hear Roy’s heavy footsteps coming through the living room toward the kitchen. He was so surprised to hear Roy’s voice that it took a moment to realize how bad this was about to be. Here he was cooking dinner, drinking wine, and standing way too close to Pam, and yet too paralyzed to move in time.

“Hey babe,” they heard him say as his footsteps through the living room became louder, “It smells good in here did you make me dinn…” the rest of the sentence died on his lips as he entered the kitchen to see Pam and Jim standing there, looking at him with thinly veiled expressions of utter shock.

“What the hell…” Roy started, clearly surprised to see Jim in his house.

“Hey,” Pam said moving toward Roy, frantic to placate him before things got out of hand, “I didn’t know you were coming back today…”

“What the hell is he doing here?” Roy said, his voice growing angrier by the second. As she approached she could smell the familiar scent of alcohol on his breath. She knew this would not be an easy confrontation.

“He came with me to the art fair today, so I offered to cook him dinner as a thank you,” Pam said, trying to make the whole thing sound as innocent as possible. She glanced back at Jim, her eyes pleading for him to show his assent to her description of the events. He nodded in response, more at her than at Roy, who just glared at him coldly.

“Why are you home so early? I thought you guys were gone until tomorrow,” Pam asked turning back to Roy, trying desperately to change the topic.

“Nope. Kenny wanted to come back today because Jaime bailed since you weren’t coming. We got back this afternoon so I went to the bar with Darryl,” Roy explained hastily, eyes still focused on Jim, his voice still angry, “so it’s great to come home to my fiancé cooking dinner for another man,” there was a pause as Pam tried to craft a sufficient response.

“I mean what the hell Pam?!” He was clearly angry now, and began to shout loudly, “I leave for a night and you run off with Halpert to some art show, and then cook him dinner, in MY house?!”

She knew this was going no where good fast. She could almost feel Jim bristle behind her and the tension in the room had just increased tenfold. She quickly recovered, “Roy, really, it was nothing.” She knew she didn’t sound particularly convincing because she herself was not certain in this assertion. Why had she really invited Jim over for dinner…perhaps there was more to her motivation than just a pure desire to express her thanks. She quickly pushed that thought aside. She had to fix this, and that meant she had to deal with Roy. Alone.

Roy fell silent long enough for Pam to turn back to Jim. She gave him a look hoping he would pick up on her silent cue for him to take the initiative and say that he needed to get going. Jim returned her gaze with a look of his own. It was as if he was questioning her if she’d be alright if he left. There was no way he was leaving her here with an angry Roy if he knew she was in any danger. She gave him a small, quick nod.

He dropped his gaze saying, “Yeah, I should probably get going anyway. Mark’s having some people over tonight.” He began to head toward the door only to realize that Roy was still blocking the doorway. Roy moved aside slightly, allowing Jim enough room to squeeze past, though not comfortably. It was as if he needed to make Jim aware of his presence.

Jim hated leaving Pam in this situation. He wanted to stay, to protect her from the things Roy might say and do in his current state. But he knew he’d get his face rearranged if he didn’t make his way to the door pretty quickly. As he moved through the living room, he heard Pam’s voice behind him. “Thanks, Jim. I guess I’ll see you Monday.”

He turned to face her, making tentative eye contact again, fully aware of Roy’s seething stare. “Yeah, see you then. Bye Roy.”

“Yeah.” Roy responded gruffly.

Jim turned and strode the rest of the distance to the door, opening it. He faced Pam again, she had her arms crossed protectively around herself, and her shoulders were slightly hunched, as if defeated. He hated seeing her like this and knew she deserved so much better. He shot her a small, tentative smile before he walked through the door, closing it behind him.

Pam closed her eyes, mentally preparing herself for the onslaught of Roy’s rage. Deep down she knew Roy had a right on some level to be upset. She’d be livid if she came home to find him having dinner with another woman. Yet she was still feeling somewhat angry at his lack of awareness of her own feelings of frustration at his blatant refusal to give up a weekend at the cabin in favor of the art festival. She had a right to be angry with him too. She had always given up so much to be with him, but his unwillingness, or inability, to care about something she wanted was suddenly so apparent to her.

The silence stretched between them. It was as if they were both preparing for battle in their own minds. After a few moments, she turned slightly to face him. She was met with a harsh, yet patronizing glare.

“What the hell was that Pam? And don’t tell me it was nothing, I don’t believe it.” Roy began, shaking his head as he spoke.

Pam laughed mirthlessly, and shook her head. “God Roy, it was dinner. I was trying to do something nice for a friend who took time out of his schedule to help me out. But I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that would you,” she spat out that last sentence with more anger than she meant, but it felt good. She could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, its sweet, smooth power filling her and fueling her every word and action.

His expression changed to one of slight shock at her outspokenness, then quickly transitioned to one of anger. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that you couldn’t plan to spend the weekend with me doing something I wanted to do, something you’ve know I’ve been wanting to do for months.”

“God, is this about that stupid art show?” Roy returned incredulously.

She felt like he had slapped her in the face, but she recovered quickly, her anger energizing her. “Stupid art show. Yeah.” She shook her head.

“God, how can you be so oblivious,” she raised her arms in a questioning gesture, “I don’t want to be a receptionist at Dunder Mifflin for the rest of my life. I know that may come as a shock to you,” she said sarcastically, “but I want more than that. I want to be an artist Roy. After ten years, I would have thought you would have figured that out by now.”

She began pacing the length of the small living room, his large frame still positioned in the doorway to the small kitchen. This felt good. She was finally voicing what had been pent up inside of her for so long.

“I want to take art classes, I want to learn how to be a good artist. I want to travel to Italy.” She paused briefly. That was a new urge, she hadn’t even truly thought through fully, but she indulged in it.

“This ‘stupid art show’ is going to help me with that.” She turned back to face him, his expression one of bewildered shock. She realized in that moment that he really didn’t understand. He didn’t get that she didn’t just want to draw little pictures at work. He didn’t understand that she longed to be great at something.

Pam continued, needing for him to understand. “Jim went with me today because I asked him to. Because you wouldn’t go,” she said pointedly. “He’s my friend Roy. I just wanted to thank him for going with me today.”

She studied his face as he processed this information. She realized she had been a bit harsh, but it had felt so good finally saying the things she had been yearning to say to him for so long.

“I don’t like the way he looks at you.” Roy said bluntly.

“What do you mean?” Pam returned, trying desperately to suppress the flush that was inexplicably creeping into her cheeks at his words.

“I don’t like the way Halpert looks at you.” It was said as a challenge. As if he wanted her to contradict him. Here he was, making it all about Jim, when really it should be all about her. It was as if he was trying to change this into something outside of Pam, that could be changed, rather than dealing with her confession of her longtime desire to be an artist. His lack of understanding of the situation served just to increase her frustration.

“Roy, this isn’t about Jim. It’s about me.”

“No, it has everything to do with him,” He protested. “You never used to be like this Pam. You never used to be so…” he trailed off, as if searching for the right word.

“Driven?” Pam interjected, her anger building again. “He’s encouraged me in my art. He’s helped me out with things like the art fair. He’s my friend Roy.” She was getting exasperated at having to repeatedly explain this to him.

She was surprised when he dropped his gaze to the floor. A silence stretched on between them. She looked around the room absently, her mind trying to process all that had been said. Why was he refusing to understand that this was about her? That she needed more than just a receptionist job at Dunder Mifflin to feel fulfilled? That she wanted desperately to pursue her dream? This had nothing to do with Jim, though he had pushed her to think about what she wanted in life, and encouraged her in her art. And truthfully, he was really the reason she began thinking seriously about being an artist. She was suddenly struck by the realization that maybe it was more about Jim than she had thought. That without his influence, she never would have had the strength to say what she had said tonight.

Roy’s voice pulled her from her reverie.

“I can’t believe I never saw it before.” She was perplexed by his words, uncertain what he could mean.

“What?”

His gaze met hers, challenging her. “Now who’s oblivious,” he said mockingly.

“Roy, what are you talking about?”

“Halpert. He’s in love with you,” he spat out.

Pam was taken aback. This she had not expected. Her mind reeled with all the implications of his statement, but she tried to push that away and focus on the current situation.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” Pam tried to sound innocent and naïve, but deep down, she had wondered if this might be true.

“Yeah. You do Pam. And I think you’re into him too” he challenged, shaking his head angrily, beginning his own pacing around the room. This was starting to get out of her control very quickly.

“Roy, what are you…?”

“Stop it Pam!” Roy wheeled to face her, his anger clearly getting the better of him “I’m not stupid! I’ve seen the way you look at each other! It’s like there some little secret that only you two know about. Like no one would ever be smart enough to figure it out. Well I’ve figured it out Pam, so stop trying to tell me you’re not…” he stopped, as if he couldn’t bear to say ‘in love with him’ out loud.

She felt like she had been punched in the gut. Her fiancé had just accused her of being in love with another man. She couldn’t process her emotions or her thoughts at that moment. She felt tears begin to sting her eyes, but she wasn’t sure what they were for. She looked up at him, shock and pain clearly evident on her face. He shook his head and turned his back to her. This spurred her to action.

“Roy,” she began softly, moving toward him, “I’m with you…I…” she couldn’t find the right words to say.

“Stop.” He said holding up a hand. She halted immediately, shaken by the coldness with which he spoke. He turned back to face her, tears forming in his own eyes. “Pam, I can’t believe…” he paused, shaking his head in frustration, running his hand through his hair, “God Pam, I trusted you.”

“Roy I’m not…”she trailed off. She found she couldn’t complete the sentence. She couldn’t tell him what he wanted to hear. And that’s when it hit her. Roy was right.
She couldn’t honestly say she didn’t have feelings for Jim.

“I’ll come get my stuff in the morning,” Roy said gruffly, moving toward the bedroom down the hall, “I’ll just pack what I need tonight”

“Roy, no. Wait.” Pam protested. This couldn’t be happening. Suddenly Roy was leaving. It was more than she had ever anticipated happening that night. She had never planned for this. She had just wanted him to understand why the art fair was so important to her.

But tonight he understood so much more than she ever had.

She followed him to the bedroom, protestations on her lips, but he acted as if he didn’t hear her. It was the coldest he had ever been to her. Her emotions became more raw and shredded with each unsuccessful plea. She needed him. He was what she had. They knew each other. He couldn’t leave. This couldn’t be happening.

“I’ll be at Darryl’s” Roy said, turning to leave the room.

“Roy. Please,” she said, pleading one last time.

He turned to face her. He opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it, and turned and left the room. She didn’t follow him this time. She heard the soft click of the lock in the door, sat down softly on the bed, and held her head in her hands.

She sat there motionless for what felt like hours, but was probably only the span of a few minutes. She had lost all sense of time as she held her head in her hands and stared blankly at the floor. This couldn’t be happening. Roy had left. He had accused her of having feelings for Jim, and had left. Maybe he had just had too much to drink. She knew he was reading way too much into things. She knew she had to fix it, had to explain to him that Jim was just her friend; would always be just her friend.

She felt her throat begin to close up, tears welling in her eyes. She forced them back with determination. No. She would fix this, she had to fix this. She had to make Roy understand the truth.

But then that nagging voice in the back of her mind began whispering softly to her in her reverie. Maybe at least some of what Roy said was right. She had often wondered whether Jim might have some deeper feelings for her, but she never let herself entertain those thoughts more than a mere few seconds. It was silly to wonder whether another man was thinking of her when she should really be focused on Roy and their future.

But now, she allowed herself to reflect on the idea and it began to take root. She thought of how Jim had always been supportive of her and her desire to pursue her dream of becoming an artist. She thought of how he could make her laugh in a way that no one else could. She thought of how they had their little inside jokes and pranks on Dwight, and how they cherished those shared moments of private glee after a successful prank. She thought of how he often spent more time in a day at her desk than at his own during the course of a day. She thought of how he comforted her when she was upset about something with Roy or her job. She thought of how she often caught him looking at her from his desk with a look she could never quite describe because he would so quickly hide it with a grin or a wink.

Suddenly, a shocking revelation coursed through her mind.

Roy was right.

All the signs were there.

The realization that Jim quite possibly had deeper feelings for her than mere friendship crashed upon her, like hungry waves on an empty beach. The thoughts pounded on and on, searching for a certain confirmation where none could be found, but were fed by the little moments that made it seem a more distinct possibility. Soon, a deep, incessant longing began to grow within her. She had to know for certain. She told herself she needed to know in order to explain the situation to Roy, but there was a deeper, nagging desire to know for more reasons than that alone. She quickly hushed that thought, focusing on her need to fix things with Roy. He was what she really wanted. They had a future that she needed to protect.

She stood up, suddenly driven by a purpose. She moved quickly down the hall, grabbed her keys and headed for the door. She was going to fix things with Roy. She had to; he was her life. She wasn’t ready to let him throw it away without a fight.

As she got into her car, her hands were practically shaking with the rush of adrenaline coursing through her body. She started the car and began to drive, tears beginning to sting the corners of her eyes again, but she pushed them back. The thought that she was being reckless rose through the cacophony of warring thoughts in her mind, but it was like she was being driven by something she could not control. She had to know. Just once.

~~~~~
“Thanks man, we’ll see you next week.” Jim closed the door after the last of Mark’s friends. When Jim had arrived home earlier in the evening, after driving around pointlessly for about an hour debating with himself whether or not he should have left Pam’s house in the first place, he found a bunch of Mark’s friends piled in the living room watching the football game. He had made an effort to join in with the other guys commenting on the players, refs, and occasional decent plays, but his thoughts were meandering along different paths. He was worried about Pam, and wondered whether or not it would make things worse if he called her. He just wanted to make sure everything was okay. As much as he generally detested Roy, he truthfully didn’t want to cause trouble between them because of the effect it would inevitably have on Pam.

He had known deep down how much of a bad idea it had been to go to her house in the first place, and an even worse idea to let her cook him dinner. At the time he had pushed those thoughts away with consoling ones like “Roy’s not going to be home until tomorrow, he’ll never know”. As it turned out, he should have heeded those initial impulses.

Jim sighed and returned to kitchen where Mark was cleaning up. The two maintained an easy banter as they cleaned up their place, throwing away all the empty beer bottles and washing all the dishes encrusted with various snack foods. They had always enjoyed hosting game night, even though it did require some extra cleaning at the end of the evening. It was getting late; Mark was finishing the last few dishes in the kitchen and Jim was in the living room, wiping off the coffee table when the doorbell rang shrilly.

“Who could that be?” Jim called out to Mark.

“It’s probably Dane, he always forgets his crap here on game night” Mark called from the kitchen.

“Yeah, probably,” Jim responded, smiling as he strode to the door to swing it wide open.

His heart stopped. His smile was immediately replaced with a look of shock.

“Pam” he managed, though the surprise of seeing her here on his own doorstep was clearly evident on his face. Then it registered that she was visibly upset, almost shaking.

“Oh my God, what is it?” he said, his voice laced with pure, deep concern and affection as he stepped toward her on to the doorstep, pulling the door closed behind him.

Upon seeing his concerned reaction, she mentally kicked herself for not preparing what she would say to him. It wasn’t like she could just go up to him and say “Hey Jim, I was just wondering if you’re in love with me”. The shock of her earlier confrontation with Roy had not worn off yet, and she was at a loss for how to continue.

“I…” she began, unable to process what she would say next. Feeling a wave of helplessness crash over her, she felt her face crumple as she forced herself to fight back the tears threatening to fall down her cheeks for the third time in the last half an hour.

He was lost. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted so much to pull her into his arms and tell her that everything was okay, no matter what stupid thing Roy had done this time. But he knew given the earlier run-in with Roy, it might be best to keep his distance for now. Instead of embracing her, he settled on extending his hand to her arm, squeezing it gently.

Her eyes found his at his touch and she blinked a few times, as if to clear from her eyes the tears that were so present.

“Jim…I…” she looked straight ahead, eyes boring into his chest, staring intently at the pattern of threads so carefully constructed to make up his t-shirt. It was proving difficult to even begin to explain what had happened in the time between when he had left and now as she stood on his doorstep. But this was Jim, her best friend, she could tell him anything. She needed to tell him, ask him, everything. So she decided to start with the basic facts, and work from there.

“He left” she managed, her jaw setting after her last words as she looked away, straining to keep control over her emotions that were again threatening to take over. Somehow, saying the words out loud made it all seem more real to her. Roy really had walked out. Roy had left.

Jim felt like he had been slammed into a concrete wall. He couldn’t process what she had just said: ‘He left’. Did that mean Roy? Surely it did, but why? Did Jim’s presence earlier really cause such a hasty decision on his part? Or did Roy suspect him? Was he on to the fact that Jim had a crush, to say the very least, on his fiancé? Suddenly Jim realized a long pause had stretched out after her declaration as he tried to sort through his own shock.

“Um, God, Pam, what? I mean, I’m sorry,” he paused, making a mental note to attempt to more coherent on his next attempt at speech, “What happened?”

She shook her head, her eyes trained on her feet. The reality of the situation continued to push on her from all sides. She found she couldn’t even bring herself to look at him without the dam holding back her emotions shattering into a million pieces around her. She had to reign in some control and resolve before she could continue.

“Hey,” he started, finally realizing his manners, “why don’t you come inside? It’s warmer in there, and we can sit down” he turned back toward the door when she stopped him with a hand on his arm. She knew she would lose all her resolve if they went inside. She had to ask him now or she never would. She quickly gathered all the confidence and determination she could muster and forced herself to continue. She had to know.

“Jim,” she began, and he looked back at her, seeing a blazing look of confidence in her eye like he had never seen before. “Are you in love with me?”

His whole world stopped moving. She had asked the one question he thought she’d never ask him. The one question he had never really prepared an answer for. So he stalled, “Come on, Pam, let’s just go inside, we can talk about it” and he turned toward the door again, anxious to escape, knowing that he couldn’t lie to her.

His unwillingness to answer her question fed the unquenchable beast inside of her that needed to know, once and for all. She persisted, heedless of the list of possible consequences that would be brought on by her insistence to push this.

“Jim,” she reached out and touched his arm lightly again, and he turned back to face her, immediately wishing he hadn’t. Her eyes were pleading, hungry, as if her entire life depended upon his answer to this most important question.

“I have to know. Do you love me?”

Again he felt trapped. He just looked back into her eyes, attempting to convey confusion at her question, but he knew that she could read him and that he wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding his true feelings from being revealed in his eyes. He found himself beginning to protest again, trying to convince her to come inside so they could talk.

She felt her aggravation at his unwillingness to answer her question rise again, feeding the bold monster inside of her. It pushed her on, as if determined to make her do something that would make him answer her.

“Let’s just go inside. We can…”

But suddenly, her lips were on his, soft yet insistent. And for the second time that night, the whole world stopped moving, and the air was sucked from his lungs. She kissed him softly at first, but then deepened her kiss, her hand moving to the back of his neck, the other laying gently on his chest. He felt himself respond, losing himself in the reality that this was really Pam. And she was kissing him. He pulled her closer, one hand on her face, fingers laced through her hair, the other pulling her hip closer to him, as if needing to feel the warmth of her body.

His tongue darted out, searching for hers, and she responded willingly. She couldn’t control her own impulse to deepen the kiss even further. It had taken a few moments for her mind to catch up with her actions. Suddenly she was very aware that she was kissing Jim, and her mind was screaming at her. She needed to stop. She needed to regain control over the situation. She needed to somehow undo all the damage she had just caused. But it felt so good to be in Jim’s arms, kissing him. It was as if somehow, despite the wreckage this act would undoubtedly leave, life made sense in that moment.

It took all her strength for her to pull away from him. He stood there a moment with his eyes closed, his hands still resting on her as her hand slid down his cheek. His eyes fluttered opened slowly, to find her looking at him with an awed expression. But deeper in her eyes he could see her searching him, yearning to find an answer to the question he never thought he’d have to answer.

And before he was aware it had even happened, as if he was unconsciously trying to ease her pleading and pain, a single word escaped his lips in a whisper.

“Yes”

~~~~~~~~~~
She stood, transfixed, unable to comprehend anything about the world around her, aside from one little word. Yes.

She felt like she had been punched in the gut, and found she couldn’t remember how to breathe. Yet, at the same time, that maniacal, impulsive monster inside her roared in triumph. She couldn’t even begin to comprehend what this might mean, but the thoughts were beginning to flood into her head again after their momentary halt at his simple proclamation. He said yes. He loved her. How? When? What? Roy. God, Roy. Engaged. Panic. Run.

He was pretty sure he saw shock, confusion and terror all flit across her face. He wanted to take it back the moment the word had escaped his lips. He desperately wanted to pretend that he hadn’t just permanently altered their relationship with one little word. This was not how he had envisioned himself telling her how he felt. He had thought through it many times, and none of those times had involved her kissing him.

He searched her face, desperate for some clue as to what to do now. He tried to think of the right words, but none came. Nothing he would say could sufficiently diffuse this situation. He felt trapped, panicked. He was pretty certain she felt the same.

She tore her eyes away from his stare. There was too much in his eyes she was not ready to confront. She couldn’t handle this, she needed to get away; she couldn’t face this tonight, not after everything. She needed to get away before she irreparably damaged anything else in her life. She could feel her eyes start to well with tears. She tried desperately to cling to her composure for just a few more moments, until she could be alone.

She pulled away from his embrace and he felt immediately empty. It was like she had taken all of him with her as she left his arms. He wanted to grab her, to pull her back, to make her understand. But, she looked frantic, desperate to escape, and he knew her well enough to know that he couldn’t push this. She was like an animal backed into a corner, frightened and alone. He knew he had to let her go, even though it killed that little flicker of hope he had nurtured lovingly over the years.

She turned to leave, her breath shaky and shallow as she stammered, “I…I’m…I need…I have to go.”

“Pam.” The sound of his voice uttering her name stopped her momentarily. He had managed to pack so much emotion into his expression of that once syllable. His voice was laced with pain and concern, fear and passion, hope and desperation. Her back was to him, for which she was glad as she would not have been able to handle seeing his face. She closed her eyes, gathering what shreds of courage and determination she had left, and forced herself to make the final steps to her car.

She was behind the wheel, engine humming before she looked to his face. It tore at her heart to see what she had done to him. Hopelessness, sadness, disappointment were all etched on his face, and she had caused it all. It took all her strength to pull away from the house and drive away.

He stood there for what seemed like hours, staring blankly at the sidewalk where she had just stood. There it was. He had said it. It was out there. She knew now. She knew, and the first thing she did was run. It was like being slapped across the face. His mind tried to convince him that he should be angry with her. But he couldn’t muster the strength required for anger. As the shock of the encounter began to wear off, he felt it replaced with a weighty sadness. It was like he had grown ten years older in a matter of moments. He found he couldn’t, and didn’t even want to move. It was only when he heard the door opening behind him that he put forth the effort to turn his head.

“Hey man, who was it?” Mark said nonchalantly. His expression changed immediately to one of genuine concern when he saw Jim’s face. “Whoa, what happened? Are you alright?”

The last thing Jim wanted right now was to talk about what had just occurred. He need time to feel, think, and process what had happened. He moved toward the doorway, shrugging his shoulders, “It’s nothing. Really.”

Mark gave concerned, yet understanding nod as Jim passed him and headed up the stairs toward his room. Jim was thankful for Mark’s reluctance to push the issue. Once he had shut the door to his room, he dropped down on to his bed and stared blankly at the ceiling. He didn’t want to think or feel right now. He was perfectly okay with the numbness weighing down his body. He knew that soon the thoughts would come, but for now, he needed just to be still.

~~~~~
Pam drove nowhere in particular, just content to let her body take over the motions while her mind tried to reconcile what had just happened.

She was in complete shock. Though she hadn’t known what to expect when she appeared on Jim’s doorstep, she hadn’t expected this. She had told herself she was going to try to figure out if Roy was right, so she could deal with the situation with him. Yet she had ended up flat out asking Jim if he was in love with her. Surely she could have been more tactful. What had she been thinking? She felt the anger at her own stupidity rise up inside her. Had she really thought harassing Jim was the answer to her problems with Roy?

But then it occurred to her, that if she was honest with herself, completely honest, she had to admit that she had gone to Jim’s to also satisfy her own curiosity. Entertaining the thought that he might have feelings for her was too intoxicating and had taken control of her better judgment. She felt even more horrible at the thought that she had gone just to entertain some sick pleasure of her own. She felt slightly nauseated with the thought that she had ruined the best friendship she had ever had because of some sick desire to entertain curiosity. Then the memory that she had indeed been the one to initiate the kiss rolled over her consciousness. What the hell was she thinking? She felt her self control waning, the tears beginning the cloud her vision, her throat tight. The thought of the torturous pain she had just caused Jim was unbearable. The shame at her cruelty filled her with self-loathing. She had truly, irreparably messed everything up.

Yet suddenly, she was met with the startling realization that she cared more about the fact that she had quite possibly ruined her friendship with Jim, than the idea that she had ruined her ten year relationship with Roy. In fact, what this would probably mean to Roy had not crossed her mind once since she had left Jim’s house. Instead of getting evidence to prove Roy wrong, she had confirmed everything Roy had said. Jim was in love with her. He loved her.

As these thoughts traveled through her mind, a calming, soothing feeling began to pour over her. Jim loved her. And she found that less alarming than she knew she should. Instead, she found the thought comforting, even exciting. In those few brief moments, she pieced it all together, and for the first time, she truly allowed herself to realize the truth: she loved him too.

She felt a horrifying awakening happen within her. She was in love with Jim. But she was engaged to Roy, and cared about him, about their future. But she knew that what had happened on Jim’s doorstep would be impossible to hide from Roy, nor would she be able to explain away everything in the way she had hoped. She felt panic begin to take control again. She had ruined her friendship with Jim and had thrown away a ten year relationship. She was paralyzed in a sea of warring thoughts and emotions, losing control of her life.

So filled with complete desperation, she drove to the only place she had left in the world. It was as if her body was on autopilot because she was halfway there without even realizing where she was going. And when she pulled up to the small house, full of so many memories, she found herself struggling with a new wave of nostalgic emotions. She climbed the front steps with energy she didn’t know she possessed, rang the bell and waited. She knew it was late, but she rang it again anyway, knowing eventually someone would come to the door.

Soon she heard the shifting of the lock, and a soft click as the door opened revealing her father standing there in his night robe, a confused and concerned look on his face. The look only deepened when he took in the expression on Pam’s face. She knew she must look terrible, but she was past caring about appearances.

He opened the door wider. “Pam, honey, what’s wrong?”

She stepped over the threshold and feeling all her energy leaving her in that instant, she collapsed into her father’s arms. She felt his arms encircle her, holding her upright. In that moment, when the whole world was collapsing around her, Pam felt the strength of her father’s arms supporting her. Here was the one man who would unconditionally love her through everything, no matter what she had done. And it was with this realization that her tears finally begin their course down her cheeks, sobs wracking her body.

Pam awoke the next morning, her head aching and eyes swollen. Her chest felt tight and her muscles heavy. She lay there for a moment in her childhood bedroom, staring up at the ceiling. She didn’t want to move, think, or feel, but she knew she had to face the day eventually.

She had scared her parents half to death showing up in the middle of the night, crying hysterically, but they had taken her in willingly, letting her cry herself to sleep. They certainly deserved an explanation for the state of her appearance on their doorstep.

She stumbled out of bed, grabbing her old tattered robe she used to wear in high school, and headed down the stairs. As she made her way to the kitchen, she thought about how much in her life hand changed in one day. The more she thought about it, the more her head ached, so she determined to push those thoughts away until she found some coffee.

“Hi sweetie,” Her mother said, greeting her gently as Pam stumbled into the kitchen, “how are you feeling this morning?”

Pam didn’t quite know how to respond. She felt better in the sense that she wasn’t bawling her eyes out, but she felt completely physically and emotionally drained.

“I’m okay,” she said, trying to sound stronger than she felt.

Her mother smiled gently, handing her a much needed cup of coffee. There was a pause as Pam took a large gulp, savoring the warm liquid as it traveled down her throat, pulsating energy through her almost immediately. Pam swore that sometimes she felt the effects of caffeine instantaneously.

“I’m sorry I came so late last night,” Pam began, looking down into the mug in her hands, feeling somewhat sheepish.

“That’s fine, we’re glad we can help,” her mother responded. Pam could tell her mom didn’t want to pry, but she was dying to know why her daughter had ended up on her doorstep in the middle of the night crying about something horrible she had done.

“I really screwed up mom,” Pam said, sitting on the nearby stool, setting her mug on the countertop. Her mother followed suit, as if bracing herself for any discomfort her daughter’s tale might bring.

After some slight hemming and hawing, Pam told her mother everything that had happened the day before. Pam told her about going to the art fair with Jim, offering to make him dinner as a thank you, Roy showing up and getting angry, Roy’s accusation, her going to Jim to find out if what Roy said was true, how horribly that had backfired, and how she had realized that she was in love with Jim. Pam explained it all to her mother, seeking her mother’s ever present guidance and wisdom for how to repair the damage she had caused.

“I’ve ruined everything mom,” she concluded, feeling her throat close up, “And I don’t know what to do. I’m just so confused and lost.”

Her mom grabbed the nearby Kleenex box and plopped it unceremoniously in front of Pam, offering a small, sad smile.

Pam offered a mirthless laugh in return, swiping a tissue from the box and blowing her nose.

Cynthia Beesly knew her daughter well. In fact, she suspected she knew her daughter better than her daughter knew herself on occasion. From the first moment that Pam had mentioned Jim, she had known her daughter held him in high regard. Pam had always spoken of him warmly, and not a weekly phone call went by without a tale on something humorous Jim had done. Cynthia had been a little concerned that her daughter might be developing feelings for Jim, regardless of her engagement to Roy.

Though Cynthia had always liked Roy, she had some reservations about the couple that had developed. Though she knew Roy was, at least on some level, committed to Pam, she was less certain about his ability to fill her needs and allow her to be the person she wanted to be. Though her daughter was by nature quiet and reserved, she knew the passionate fire that had once glowed brightly within her. It had waxed and waned over the years spent with Roy, and Cynthia mourned the loss of the part of her daughter that was driven to pursue her dreams. She had feared that that passion might be permanently snuffed out, but over the past couple of years, she had seen it start to grow again, little by little. Pam talked more now about maybe taking art classes, wanting to meet local artists, or little paintings she had done. Cynthia wondered secretly if this small growth in Pam’s determination should be attributed to Jim’s influence in her daughter’s life.

As Pam rehashed all the details of the past day’s events, Cynthia began to realize a very important, but very delicate truth. Roy didn’t understand or truly appreciate her daughter, and Pam was beginning to realize it. But Jim did understand her daughter, and Pam was beginning to realize that too. She also knew, even before her daughter had uttered the words that Pam was in love with Jim. Jim provided everything that Roy lacked. Jim was the one supporting her. Jim was the one she really needed.

Cynthia knew that she had to pick her words carefully. She had to advise, but not demand; guide but not steer. Pam had to come to her own conclusions on her own time, Cynthia’s role was just to point her in the right direction.

“Pam, honey,” she began, “you know that I love Roy, I do. He’s always been good to you. You two have a long, wonderful history together.” She paused, waiting for her daughter to meet her gaze. Pam looked up, a little uncertainly.

“Pam, you need to figure out if spending your life with Roy is what you really want. If he’s the one you want to be with you when wonderful things happen in your life. If he’s the one you want beside you when your world falls apart. You need to decide if Roy is someone who will love you for who you are, even in your ugliest, worst moments.”

Cynthia’s heart swelled with sadness as she watched her daughter’s face crumple. She knew she wasn’t saying anything that Pam had not thought about in the deep recesses of her own mind, but Cynthia also knew that sometimes putting voice to those thoughts made them more horrifically real. She reached out and squeezed her daughter’s hand gently.

“Pam, ultimately this can’t be about Roy. It can’t be about Jim. It has to be about you, and what you deserve; what you want from your life.”

“Mom,” Pam said, choking back the sob threatening to break through her defenses, “I just don’t know…” she trailed off.

“I know. I know it’s hard. But you need to think about you. About who you want to be, what you want to do. And then you need to decide if Roy Anderson is the man you want beside you through it all. If he’s the one that will make you stronger when you feel weak; make you smile when you are unhappy.”

Pam looked up at her mother’s honest eyes. She had known it would come down to this. Somehow her mom always knew the words to say. They didn’t always make her feel better, but ultimately hearing the uncomfortable truth was better than a thousand placating phrases.

She nodded solemnly at her mother. A silence stretched between them, and though it probably should have taken her days if not months to really think through all of her hopes and dreams, she found it was surprisingly easy to call to mind what she wanted from life. And she also knew virtually instantaneously who she wanted beside her through the peaks and valleys ahead of her.

And the answer was different than it had always been before.

But it was right.

“Mom,” Pam began after a few moments of silent reflection, “I need your help.”

“Anything.” Cynthia held her breath as her daughter continued, hoping for strength to shine through in her daughter.

Pam met her mother’s gaze with a confidence she didn’t know she possessed, “Can you help me cancel the wedding? And I’ll need to find another apartment.” Pam felt slightly sick with fear at actually saying the words out loud. She wasn’t certain she had the strength to do this, but she knew it was what she needed.

“Okay.” Cynthia replied simply.

She smiled genuinely at her daughter then, knowing Pam was going to be okay. She knew that Pam was going to reclaim her lost passion, and with a man who loved her for it.

“Mom,” Pam said softly, her voice faltering slightly, “I’m really scared.” She felt a wave of sadness wash over her at the thought that the last ten years she had spent building a life with Roy were about to be brought to a close. She felt fear and uncertainty clouding her path as it never had before. She felt distressed at the thought of Jim’s anger and pain, all brought about because of her folly.

“I know. I know it may not feel like right now that you’re going to be okay, but you are. Your father and I will help you in whatever way we can.” Cynthia squeezed Pam’s hand again, trying to convey the comfort and support she knew her daughter needed now more than ever before.

“What about Jim. How do I fix…” Pam began, but her mother cut her off before she could continue the thought.

“If he really loves you, which I know he does, he’ll understand.” Cynthia said simply.

Pam nodded slightly. She knew her mother was right. Jim would understand, as he always had before. It was who he was. It was part of why she loved him.

Pam took a deep, rejuvenating breath. She would do this. She would be strong. She would start again.

And deep down, she knew she would not be alone.