Pam let the small cardboard box fall to the floor with a resounding thud, the sound reverberating throughout the tiny studio apartment. Ratty old sketch books and framed family photos peeked out from inside.

“It’s kind of small,” Angela Martin stated, dropping a larger box full of dishes and flatware onto the bare kitchen counter. Her eyes scanned the room, which couldn't have been larger than your average walk-in closet.

”It’s cozy.”

”It’s cramped. And the paint on the walls is chipping,” Kelly Kapoor complained as she made her way into the apartment empty handed.

“It has character,” Pam insisted.

Ok, so Pam knew the apartment was pretty small. And cramped. And hot and stuffy, and she was sweating in places she hadn’t known existed, but she was not about to let any of that discourage her.

Deep inside, Pam loved her newly acquired, single-bedroom apartment. It was on the tenth floor of an old red-brick, gothic-style, 23-story building in the heart of the South Loop of Chicago. And it was hers. The very first residence she could call her own.

She had moved to the city from her parents’ house in the outer West suburbs of Chicago seeking a fresh start.

And she was scared, although she refused to admit it.

At 23, she had finally ventured out onto her own, leaving behind a worrisome mother and father, a younger sister fresh out of high school, her beloved 11-year-old Golden Retriever, Sadie, and Roy Anderson, her high school sweetheart.

Roy was mostly the reason why she needed to get away. After a rocky, on-and-off seven-year relationship, he decided to propose to her over dessert at an Applebee’s restaurant with a white gold ring that in no way could have cost anything over a hundred dollars. The whole proposal was tacky and cheap and ridiculous, and she said no, much to the astonishment of the thirteen people who also happened to be dining there at 4:15 on a Wednesday afternoon.

Roy was upset and confused, and Pam understood. She never gave him an actual reason as to why she couldn’t marry him. Even though she had jotted down an entire list of reasons in her head, she knew none of them would make sense if she told him. She just knew in her heart that she absolutely, positively could not marry Roy Anderson.

(Reason #1: She could not become Pamela Anderson.)

And so she left.

Now, she was enrolled as an art student at Columbia College. School started in just a couple of days, and she was living on campus in a 600-square-foot efficency apartment in a building called The Buckingham. After an unsuccessful 4 year stint at a 2-year community college in Wheaton, Illinois, she finally felt like she was doing something right with her life. Even if her friends thought she was crazy for moving into an air-condition-less apartment in the middle of August in an enormous city all by herself.

“It’s so hot in here, you guys. I’m seriously about to die,” Kelly groaned as she collapsed onto the couch.

That stupid, hideous, faded blue couch with a grotesque floral pattern that had been in Pam’s family for years. Pam’s mother had recently splurged on a nice leather sofa set, relinquishing the unsightly couch to the basement. Now, it was hers. But, it was the only piece of furniture currently occupying her living room, so in a way, she was grateful to have it.

Her parents didn’t understand why Pam had given up a career in medicine to study art. Of course they didn’t. Her father was a pediatrician at a small, wealthy suburban family clinic and her mom was a nurse at Edward Hospital. Her sister, Hannah, aspired to be a surgeon and planned to enter the Pre-Medicine program at Illinois Wesleyan University. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until after 68 hours of uninteresting liberal arts courses and nauseating human anatomy classes and nursing labs that Pam realized she wasn’t destined to follow in her parents footsteps like her sister. And maybe, just maybe, her little-known artistic talent could actually take her places, instead of lying hidden in the hundreds of sketchbooks that had accumulated underneath her twin-sized bed since grade school.

”No. Kelly, no lying down! We still have more boxes downstairs,” Angela insisted, pulling at Kelly’s arm as she attempted to lift her off the couch.

”I can’t move. I think I have boob sweat,” Kelly protested.

”That’s disgusting,” Angela said, making a sour face.

Despite all of the complaining, Pam was grateful to have the help of her two closest friends. They had been friends since high school, and couldn’t be more different from one another.

Angela still lived at her parent’s two-story house, a short distance away from Pam’s family in Naperville, Illinois. She was an Accounting major at Lewis University, a Catholic school in Romeoville. She was somewhat cold, judgmental, and uptight, but she was honest, and Pam loved that about her. She could always count on Angela to tell the truth, no matter how much it hurt to hear it.

They had met in ninth grade. Having lived such a short distance from each other, they rode the bus together to school, and being the only two people who strayed away from the rowdy kids in the back of the bus, they eventually started chatting it up and soon became friends. Angela and Pam had been through everything together. Angela helped ease Pam into her first date with Roy, the Varsity quarterback of the All-State Naperville North football team, and Pam saw Angela through the beginning and end of Angela’s bittersweet relationship with Dwight Schrute, a nerdy pop-culture and sci-fi buff who graduated a year before them. Dwight was a Mathlete and President of his Senior class, a know-it-all that didn’t get along with any of Angela’s friends, but he was sweet and caring and he and Angela were completely inseperable. That was until Dwight was accepted into Brown University and that whole long-distance thing just didn’t work out.

Pam knew Angela still had a special place in her heart for Dwight after several failed attempts at dating, including her most recent tumultuous relationship with Andy Bernard, a co-worker of Angela’s who worked in the electronics department at their neighborhood Super Target. They broke up only a couple of weeks ago, but Andy continued to follow Angela around the store and haunted her on her lunch breaks, continuing to ask her out. He was annoying, and Pam couldn’t stand him. It made her miss Dwight.

Kelly was Angela’s polar opposite. She was flirty and outgoing, and she dressed in outfits from Forever 21, clothes Pam was starting to feel much too old to wear. Guys loved Kelly, and she loved them, never seeming to be able to keep a boyfriend for longer than a week. She was currently subletting an apartment from an old Jewish couple on the city’s North side. Pam wasn’t exactly sure how Kelly was able to afford an apartment in such a prestigious area, especially since she only worked as a personal shopper at Bloomingdales, and she never asked.

Kelly gave up on college after her first semester, ultimately deciding it just wasn’t for her, even though she aspired to be queen of the fashion world “just like Rachel Green on Friends”. To be honest, Kelly did have the talent and the know-how to make it up the diamond-encrusted corporate ladder in the fashion industry, and she was about 1/8th of the way there, under her current job title.

“Angela’s right,” Pam said, glancing at her watch. “The truck is due back at four and we still have a bunch of boxes to bring up.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Kelly groaned, heaving herself off the couch in a dramatic fashion as they prepared for a second trip downstairs.

“So do you like it?” Angela asked as they made their way out the door and down the long, narrow hallway towards the elevators. Kelly dragged her feet a couple of paces behind them, her feet shuffling across the faded gray carpet. The hallway was even hotter and stickier than Pam’s apartment, if that were possible. Pam’s pink camisole clung to her skin and she was starting to realize it was a very, very bad idea to be wearing jeans. But she would never be caught dead in the overly-revealing tank top impossibly short track shorts Kelly was wearing.

“Yeah, I do,” Pam said. “I mean, it’s not that bad. I’ll stop by Target. Pick up a couple of things. Abuse your discount.”

“Did you lock your door?” Kelly chimed in from behind them as Pam pressed the button for the elevator. “Because I saw this thing on TV about college guys who sneak into girls’ apartments that are left unlocked, and then the guys rape and murder them.”

”Kelly, I thought we agreed you weren’t going to watch Oprah anymore,” Pam sighed.

”I’m not, it comes on way too early anyway. I saw it on The View,” Kelly replied as the elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. “Also, I read in Cosmo about this thing they’re calling ‘party rape’-“

”Yeah, I think we got it, Kelly,” Angela said, shooting Kelly a look.

”I left the magazine downstairs. I’ll leave it for you to look at,” Kelly nodded at Pam.

“Ok,” Pam smiled wearily. She was already tired from the heat and the one-hour drive into the city from her parents' house.

Within the next two hours, the rest of the boxes were brought upstairs, the truck returned at the Budget Truck rental place a couple of blocks away, and the girls retreated to the Panera Bread Café located downstairs from Pam’s apartment for dinner.

After polishing off their tuna sandwiches and iced green teas, it was time for Angela and Kelly to go home.

“I guess we’ll be seeing you,” Angela said as they stood just outside the bakery on a bustling street corner. Men and women in business suits maneuvered around them, heading towards their cars or bus stop or train station to begin their long journey home for the day. The sun was slowly beginning to droop in the sky, casting a faint orange glow around them. The ends of Angela’s blonde hair sparkled in the twilight as the wind tossed it around her shoulders.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll see you guys at my birthday party, right?” Kelly asked.

”Yeah, definitely,” Pam nodded, not wanting to acknowledge that Kelly’s birthday was in October, a whole two months away.

”Well, good luck,” Angela smiled warmly, wrapping her arms around Pam. Pam held tightly onto Angela, her fingers sweeping across the back of her long-sleeved satin blouse. Only Angela would wear long-sleeves and satin in the middle of summer.

“Good luck, Pam,” Kelly said, giving her a quick hug goodbye.

”Thanks you guys,” Pam said, crossing her arms across her chest, tears stinging in her eyes as she refused to let them fall. “And thank you for all your help today. It really meant a lot.”

“No problem,” Angela said. “If you need anything, just give me a call.”

”Ok,” Pam smiled.

”Bye,” Angela blew a kiss at Pam, and Pam shyly waved as Kelly and Angela turned and zipped across the street holding each others hands, off to catch their trains back home.

Pam slowly turned and entered her building and stepped inside the elevator, riding the long, slow ride back up to the tenth floor. The elevator dinged upon its arrival and she stepped out, her white Keds softly padding across the floor as she made her way down the long, ill-lit hallway towards room number 1017. She shoved her key inside the lock and opened the door, stepping inside and closing it behind her. She leaned against the door, the smooth, cool metal providing temporary relief to her scorched, sun-burnt skin. She let out a sad sigh and finally allowed a few tears to fall from her eyes as a passing el train rattled the building from overhead, her lights slightly flickering on and off.

She was starting anew. Clean slate. In a brand new home she could call her own.

And she was alone.

Pam awoke to the sound of car horns and police sirens, certainly a noticeable change to how she used to wake up in her old bedroom. The one with the pink walls and the unicorn wallpaper where the sun would beam straight down onto her bed and the birds would chirp in the Willow tree just outside her window, as if they were about to burst into song like they did in those Disney movies. The sun was still shining, but the light was dimmed by the towering brick buildings across the street.

Gone were the smell of freshly-cut flowers her mom would always sit on the nightstand beside her bed, and the lingering aroma of bacon and pancakes and orange juice rising from the kitchen downstairs, and the sound of her father humming as he gathered his things for work.

She didn’t miss it.

She turned over at the sound of her alarm and switched it off. It was 8:45 on a Monday. The first day of school.

It had been three days since Pam had moved in. She had managed to de-clutter the place, having unpacked all of her boxes and picked up a couple of storage bins at a nearby store. There wasn’t a Target for miles, so she had to make do with the drug store down the block, a Wal-greens, which for some reason were located on practically every corner of the city. Their stuff wasn’t as cute or as cheap as Target’s, but they had everything from laundry baskets and TV dinners to lip gloss and deodorant, and their prices were somewhat reasonable.

Ok. So, Target was one thing she would miss.

Pam lied in bed for awhile, staring at the ceiling. She didn’t want to get up. She was nervous about her 10:30 class, a course in ceramics, and her arms and legs were still sore from all of the moving and heavy lifting over the weekend. She listened to a couple of voice messages on her cell. There was one from her mom, left only a couple of minutes after their hour-long conversation the night before, reminding her to be safe and buy pepper spray, and a second message from Kelly.

“Hey, hoe. It’s Kelly. I met this guy today and he is totally cute. He’s throwing this office party this weekend and you have to come with. I sent you and Angela a Facebook invitation so be sure to RSVP. Talk to you later, biatch.”

Pam hung up the phone and struggled out of bed and into her bathroom, the checkered black and white tile cold beneath her feet. She brushed her teeth, showered and dressed, and threw a couple of things into her book bag. Student planner with campus map, check. Pen and paper, check, check. Colored pencils, check. Pepper spray, she rolled her eyes as she tossed it in her purse. Check.

Pam rode the elevator downstairs and walked a couple of blocks down to the Starbucks that stood across the street from the building that was home to her first class. She had walked the route several times, making sure she wouldn't find herself lost on the first day. She stepped inside the shop, the little bell on the door signaling her entrance.

“Hey Tyler,” Pam smiled at the older gentlemen behind the counter. The store was quiet, as most of the morning rush had filtered out and gone on about their day. What little sunlight that had somehow managed to get in bounced off the counters, shining into her eyes.

”Hey, Pam. Ready for your first day of school?” Tyler gave Pam a mischievous grin. It had only been three days, but Pam had already turned the coffee shop into her second home. She was there at least twice a day to steal their air-conditioning and take comfort in their oversized leather chairs.

“I guess so,” Pam shrugged. “Can I get a-“

”Venti soy Chai with cinnamon?” Tyler guessed.

”You got it,” Pam smiled as she lay a five dollar bill on the counter and made her way down to the other end of the bar, moving out of the way of the gentleman behind her. As Sally, the barista, got to work on her drink, the sound of milk frothing filling the restaurant, she felt her phone buzz twice from inside her purse. She pulled out her cell and saw she had received a text message. It was from Roy.

“Heard today’s the first day. Best of luck! Call me.”

Pam sighed as she stared down at her phone, debating weather or not she should reply. She heard a cup plop down on the counter in front of her and she blindly reached out for it, accidentally brushing hands with the man who had been standing behind her in line.

“Sorry,” Pam said, looking up into the man’s eyes before quickly glancing down. She shyly glanced back up, needing to do a double take when she realized how handsome he was. He smiled down at her.

“Sorry, but I think that’s my drink,” he pointed at the small cup Pam had in her hand.

”Oh, sorry,” Pam apologized, handing it over to him, her voice shaking nervously. She stared into his eyes, unable to look away. He was lanky and tall, hovering a good seven or eight inches above her. He had shaggy brown hair that stuck out in all directions from underneath a black Chicago White Sox hat. His green eyes were smiling and warm.

”Sorry,” Pam apologized a third time. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

”It’s ok,” he smiled, taking his coffee from her. “So do you go to Columbia?”

”Yeah. Today’s my first day,” Pam replied as Sally placed her coffee on the counter.

“Here’s your Chai, Pam,” Sally said cheerily.

”Thanks, Sally,” Pam retrieved her drink from the bar.

“Well, I’m Jim. I’m a Senior,” he held out his free hand and Pam shook it, her palms sweating. God, she hoped he didn’t notice.

“Pam,” she smiled, nervously pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Nice to meet you, Pam,” Jim smiled. Pam noticed he smiled a lot. “Nice shoes."

Pam looked down at her plain white Keds, but laughed when she noticed he happened to be wearing a similar pair in black.

"I actually have to go, I have a class at 9:45, but I’ll see you around," Jim said.

”Yeah,” Pam replied, giving him a small wave goodbye. “See ya.”

She watched Jim sprint out the door, his long legs practically carrying him across the street.

“He was cute,” Sally announced from behind the bar. “Looked like he came straight out of a J. Crew catalog.”

Pam couldn’t help but laugh.

”I’ll see you guys later,” Pam waved as she made her way out the door and into the same building Jim had just entered. She couldn’t help but wish she would run into him again.

Pam had two three-hour classes on Mondays, and they went by much quicker than expected. Both teachers released class a few minutes early, only going over the syllabus and informing them of what textbook they would need for the fall semester. Pam made a quick stop at the student bookstore after her Intro to New Media class for her books, picked up a salad for dinner at Panera and headed home.

Later that evening, Pam was sitting in bed with her laptop, a small glow shining down on her from the small desk lamp on the night stand as she replied to a couple of emails. The faint sound of music and cars streaking by from the street below played softly through the window behind her. She sent one last email off to her sister and decided to log on to Facebook before calling it a night. She had one new alert from Kelly, the event invitation she had mentioned earlier, and a couple of wall posts from some friends back home.

Pam ignored those and scrolled down the page to the “Find Your Friends” feature and clicked on “Find Friends from Columbia College.” She blushed slightly as she simply typed in, “Jim”. The search result immediately flashed on her screen, “1-10 of 500 results”. Columbia had somehow managed to enroll over 500 Jims at her school.

”Fuuuuuuuuck,” Pam groaned in frustration. Even narrowing it down to the class of 2009 didn’t help. She clicked through the first couple of pages before giving up. Her phone buzzed on the night stand and she flipped it open.

”Hello?”

”Hey slut, did you get my message?”

”Yes, Kelly, I’m RSVP-ing as we speak.”

”Awesome. How did your first day go?”

”It was alright. I really like my Ceramics teacher. He’s weird and eccentric, but really nice. He’s traveled a lot, so he has a lot of cool stories-“

“Blah, blah, blah, you know I don’t care about any of that. Did you meet any cute guys?” Kelly asked.

”Um… well there is this one guy-“

”Spill it, what’s his name?” Kelly practically squealed into the phone.

”Uh, Jim.”

”John?”

”No, Jim,” Pam repeated into the phone.

”Nice. So, does this Jim/John have a last name?”

”It’s Jim, and I didn’t really get a chance to talk to him. I met him at Starbucks when I accidentally-“

”Hey, Pam, I have to let you go, my stupid little sister is on the other line. I’ll call you back tomorrow, ok?”

”Alright. Bye-“ Pam’s phone beeped in her ear, signaling Kelly had already hung up. She sighed and tossed her phone back on the nightstand, ready to close her laptop when she saw she had one new friend request. She clicked on it and immediately gasped as a small thumbnail image of Jim smiled back at her.

You have a friend request:

Jim Halpert.

You have no friends in common.

Pam quickly clicked on “confirm”, not able to keep from smiling as she loaded his page and scanned his profile. His “about me” page made her laugh out loud.

“I make about two million a year. I body doubled in the movie 300, but they put someone else’s face on me. I can make the light turn green on command. When I cook, I get awards. I have a black corvette. And a blue one. And a black and blue one. I’ve broken three mirrors just by looking in them. My dog hates me. A lot. And I hate her too. I have a GSX-R. And a tricycle. With red tassels on the handlebars, and a horn that plays “Bad” by Michael Jackson. I once sang backup for Madonna. Calvin Klein bottles my breath for cologne, and my sweat for a new line of body wash. Oh, and if you take yourself too seriously, you will probably not like me very much.”

Under music, he lists a bunch of bands Pam’s never heard of, but all of a sudden wants to get to know: The Pixies, Joy Division, Arcade Fire, Rush, Echo and the Bunnymen, Concrete Blonde… the list goes on. She smiled to herself as she made a quick note of his birthday. September 7, Virgo. She quickly thinks back to high school when astrology and numbers all meant something and she remembers Pisces and Virgos are supposed to be very compatable, but she quickly shoves that thought to the back of her brain and opens up a new message as Craig Ferguson’s Scottish accents fills the room from the small tv on the floor. It was getting late.

”Hey, stalker,” Pam typed. “Glad to see you found me. Cheers to friendship!”

She sent the message and finally closed her laptop, turning Craig off and going to bed.

The first couple of days at Columbia passed by in a blur, and before Pam knew it, it was Friday and she had survived her first week of school. She thoroughly enjoyed all of her classes, and was fortunate to have a light load of homework assigned for the weekend. She was thrilled at the prospect of finally doing something she was passionate about, something that didn’t deal with science and biology or anatomy and blood and dissecting things. Ceramics and pottery and digital illustration were definitely easier on the stomach.

Pam had heard from Jim twice, both replies to messages she had sent him over Facebook. The first:

”Actually, I may have changed my mind. I’m not sure I can be friends with someone who claims Journey is one of their favorite bands.”

Pam read his response and blushed, slightly embarrassed as Journey’s “Wheel in the Sky” flooded through her ipod and into her head. She sent a reply later that evening:

”Such a stalker! And for the record, Journey is awesome times awesome. They’re awesome squared. So suck on that, Halpert.”

Jim had responded early the following day.

”Wow. Is that trash talk from Pam? And I’m not stalking. I was just perusing your musical preferences. They could use some work.”

Pam sent a quick reply back:

“I hardly even know you, and yet you’re insulting my taste in music? You have no class, Halpert.”

She had sent the last message two days ago, and he hadn’t replied since. She barely noticed, as her class assignments kept her busy throughout the week. Only, she had noticed and it kind of bothered her. But only just a little.

Late Friday evening, a loud knock sounded on Pam’s door. She rushed out of her bathroom to answer it, struggling to zip up her dress along the way.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Kelly asked, a scowl on her face. Kelly looked like she had stepped straight out of Sex & the City, the movie, in her sparkly purple gown while Pam wondered how on Earth she managed to afford something like that. That must have been some Bloomingdale's discount.

”Yes, why? What’s wrong with it?” Pam asked, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. She didn’t know how Kelly managed to make her feel so awkward and uncomfortable in her own clothes.

“Nothing, just I’m pretty sure that’s the same dress you wore to our high school graduation over four years ago,” Kelly said as she made her way over to Pam’s overstuffed closet. Pam was still trying to get used to the fact that she had a closet in her kitchen.

“My God, Pam, you and I really need to go shopping together. How is it that you have a closet full of nothing even remotely wearable,” Kelly sighed.

”Wow, thanks Kelly. Did I ever tell you that you would make a great motivational speaker?” Pam asked as someone else knocked at her door. She walked across the room to answer it.

”Are we ready to go?” Angela asked impatiently as soon as Pam flung open the door. Angela was dressed like Angela, in a flowered chiffon blouse with puffed short sleeves and a matching skirt that skimmed her knees.

“We would be, if Pam had something decent to wear,” Kelly said.

”Seriously, what could possibly be wrong with what I’m wearing?” Pam asked, taking a moment to study her reflection in the floor-length mirror that hung from her bathroom door. Her hair sat in big curls around her face, the length skimming the top of her soft lavender dress.

“Isn’t that your high school graduation dress?” Angela frowned as she moved across the room to stand beside Kelly in front of Pam’s closet. “How do you have nothing else to wear? Am I the only one who sees the woman’s department of Macy’s in here?”

Pam sighed, frustrated.

“I like what I’m wearing. I like this dress.”

”Here, wear this,” Kelly tossed something colorful and bright on a hanger at Pam. Pam immediately shook her head in disapproval.

“No. No way, that’s the dress I wore when Roy proposed to me. It needs to be set on fire.”

”You wore that to Applebee’s?” Angela asked, one eyebrow raised in disbelief.

”It was our seven-year anniversary. I’m sorry if I expected he would take me someplace fancier than Applebee’s Neighborhood Grill and Bar,” Pam scowled.

”It’s the only decent dress you own,” Kelly insisted. “Just wear it.”

Pam sighed, knowing there was no way she was winning this argument.

”Fine!” she said bitterly, quickly changing dresses. She pinned her curls back, put on some lip gloss and they were on their way.

They took the elevator downstairs and hailed a cab, cramming themselves into the back seat. Some kind of Middle-eastern music played through the radio, and the cab driver insisted on singing along in a language Pam didn’t recognize. The sun had set and the bright lights of the city whizzed around them, warm air filtering through the windows.

”So where is the party?” Pam spoke up from in between Angela and Kelly.

”It’s at a restaurant at the Hancock building. I heard it has an amazing view of the city,” Kelly replied.

“Cool,” Pam smiled.

“At least it isn’t far away. This cab reeks of body odor,” Angela winced, her petite frame squished up against the door.

“Angela,” Pam warned.

”What?” Angela asked innocently. “He needs to know. For the greater good of the city and anybody else who gets inside this gas chamber.” She pulled a small bottle of perfume from her purse and proceeded to spray it towards the front of the car.

”Oh God, Angela,” Pam immediately closed her eyes and let out a sneeze, the pungent scent sweeping over her senses. “You got it in my eyes!”

”I can’t breathe!” Kelly choked out from beside her, struggling to roll the window down more.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the bottom of the John Hancock Center and made their way into the building through the expansive lobby towards the bank of elevators and up to the 96th floor. As they stepped outside the elevators, Pam’s breath was immediately taken away.

”Wow, Kelly,” Pam breathed out. “You weren’t kidding. The view is amazing.” The entire floor was a spacious lounge made up of only glass windows, the lights of Chicago sprawling endlessly around them. Pam kicked herself for not bringing her sketch book and attempted to store a mental picture in her head.

”I know, right?” Kelly beamed in excitement. “Come on, I want you guys to meet Ryan Howard. He’s the one I’ve been telling you about.” She grabbed Pam and Angela’s hands and led them through a small crowd towards a frightened young man who looked somewhat panicked at the sight of Kelly. Ryan was somewhat standoffish and arrogant, and Pam soon found herself dragging Angela away and towards the bar.

”So how is everything?” Pam asked Angela as they took a seat on a couch by a window overlooking a dark and gloomy Lake Michigan.

“Ok, I guess,” Angela replied. “I ran into Roy the other day. Or, he ran into me I guess.”

Pam’s cosmopolitan suddenly tasted very sour.

”Really?” Pam asked, trying to seem uninterested. “What did he say?”

”He came through my line when I was at work. He asked about you,” Angela said.

“Oh,” Pam nodded.

“I said you were doing great, and he said he was happy for you,” Angela finished.

”Hmm. That’s nice of him.” Pam smiled as she anxiously toyed with the twisted orange peel on her martini glass.

“I slept with Dwight,” Angela said and Pam nearly choked on her drink.

“I’m sorry, what?!”

”I slept with Dwight,” Angela said again and Pam shook her head.

”No, I heard you, I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t suddenly transported back to the tenth grade. When did he move back into town?”

”Some time over the summer.”

”Wow,” Pam shook her head in amazement.

”I just needed to tell you,” Angela said. “Just don’t tell Kelly. I don’t need her judging me. Like she of all people should judge anyone.” Pam just nodded. “So what do you think?”

”I think its great, Angie,” Pam smiled.

”Really?” Angela asked, a small grin tugging at her lips.

”I always told you, you two are great together,” Pam said, and Angela’s smile grew wider as Kelly and Ryan made their way over.

”Hey you guys! Ryan’s going to take me downstairs to see his place. I just wanted to come over and say bye,” Kelly said, practically hanging off Ryan’s arm.

“Kelly, we just got here,” Pam said.

”Oh, don’t worry, he said it’s totally cool if you guys want to stay. Right, Ryan?” Kelly looked up at Ryan, her eyes twinkling.

”Yeah, sure. It’s cool,” he nodded, looking eager to get Kelly downstairs.

”I’ll call you later. Bye, hoochies!” she turned on her heel, leading Ryan towards the elevators.

”Well, that seems about right,” Pam sighed. “Do you want to get out of here?”

”Yes, please,” Angela said, already standing up. Pam chugged the rest of her drink and they made their way downstairs, through the quiet, ornate lobby and out the double glass doors back onto the street.

“Do you want to share a cab?” Angela asked as she stepped out to the curb and quickly flagged one down, the yellow car screeching to a halt in front of them.

“No, actually I think I’m just going to walk back. My place is only a couple of blocks from here,” Pam said.

”Do you have your pepper spray?” Angela asked, shooting her a worried look.

”Yes, mom, I’m fully armed,” Pam laughed. “Sorry you had to take the train all the way out here for such a lame party,” she frowned, giving Angela a hug goodbye.

“It’s ok. I mean, it is Kelly. I didn’t expect much,” Angela smiled, pulling away. “I’m just glad I got to see you again. I don't like it, you being so far away.”

”I know,” Pam pouted, pushing a strand of hair behind Angela’s ear. “I’ll call you when I get home.”

”Ok. Love ya, P,” Angela smiled as she climbed into the back of the cab and closed the door behind her.

“See ya, A,” Pam waved from her perch on the sidewalk and watched as the cab driver sped off, disappearing into an endless sea of red traffic lights. The street suddenly seemed much quieter. She sighed and turned around, heading home.

So, Roy was still around. Trying to reach her by reaching out to her friends. She did miss him, even if she didn't like to admit it. Roy was Pam's first and only boyfriend, and for the longest time it was all she knew.

A sudden feeling rushed over her and Pam pulled her cell phone out of her purse, punching in a number that was all too familiar.

“Hey, Roy,” Pam breathed into the phone. “It’s me.”

”Heyyyy ba-… Pam,” Roy said and Pam cringed, glad he had stopped himself short of calling her ‘babe’. “How’s life in Chi-town?”

”It’s good,” Pam replied. She thought she would instantly regret calling him, but it felt kind of nice to have some company on the long walk home. Besides, she felt pretty bad having ignored him ever since that whole Applebee’s incident over the summer.

“How is school?” Roy asked.

”Good. I really like my classes,” Pam replied, making her way past an empty Subway restaurant. “All of my teachers are pretty cool. And the work is easy.”

”That’s awesome, Pam.” Pam smiled. Roy was always very supportive of her as an artist. Even when her family wasn’t.

“Anyway, I just wanted to call and say hello. Hey, how’s the Fire Academy going?” Pam asked.

”It’s going pretty well,” Roy replied. “I should be able to take my written exam pretty soon. And once I get the job, I’ll finally be able to buy my parents’ house so they can retire.”

Pam glanced down at her shoes uneasily as she waited to cross the street, and she remembered. Roy's parents' house. The small but charming residence on the corner of Country Lakes Drive, with the huge black shutters and the bright red door, and the enormous backyard. The same house she and Roy were supposed to move into when they got married. It had a huge kitchen and a gorgeous balcony that extended off the second-story bedroom. Pam absolutely loved that house, and Roy had spent the whole summer pulling up carpet, laying down new floors, and tearing wallpaper from the walls to turn the house into a home they could call their own.

And she wondered why he couldn't afford a better engagement ring. Just thinking about it frustrated her. Because every time Pam thought she had finally come up with a legitimate reason why she couldn't marry Roy, he kept making her realize that maybe she should have.

Pam shook her head, forcing those nagging thoughts out of her head.

“That’s really great, Roy,” Pam said, and it was true. She was really happy for him. “Well, I’m almost home, so I guess I’ll talk to you soon.”

”Alright, Pammy. Take care of yourself, alright?”

”I always do,” Pam replied. “Bye, Roy.” She shut her phone and shoved it back into her purse.

(Reason #2 – He always called her Pammy. She hated it when he called her that.)

Pam folded her arms across her chest, the streets getting darker and darker as she neared her building.

”Well, this is safe,” Pam thought to herself as she sped up her walk and practically ran the rest of the way home.

She entered the small lobby of her building and saw the elevator doors were just about to close.

”Hey! Wait up, please,” Pam called out as she sprinted the short distance towards the elevator, knowing it would probably be another thirty minutes before she was able to catch the next one. A hand stuck out through the doors, causing them to slide back open and Pam’s breath caught in her throat.

”Jim,” she gasped, realizing she was still out of breath from her unexpected jog across 12 city blocks.

“Hey, Beesly,” Jim smiled, stepping back to allow her inside the cramped elevator. It was only the two of them, and yet their arms were practically touching as she turned beside him and faced the doors. Pam smiled at the use of her last name. At least he didn’t call her Pammy.

”You’re going to ten?” Pam asked, noticing the light lit on the switchboard beside her floor number.

”Yup. I live in 1020,” Jim replied as the elevator doors closed.

”1017,” Pam said.

”Seriously?” Jim asked.

”Yup,” Pam smiled as the elevator began its slow descent up to the tenth floor.

”Wow,” Jim smirked. “That’s pretty weird.” Pam just nodded as it grew silent and she suddenly found herself speechless. She was usually pretty good at this whole talking, speaking, making conversation thing. Why couldn’t she think of anything to say now???

“So, uh, what’s with the dress?” Jim broke the tension, glancing down at her pale yellow dress.

“Oh, this old thing? I wear it all the time. You know, grocery shopping, cleaning the house, going for a late-night sugar run at Dunkin Donuts…” Pam offered, notcing the Dunkin Donuts coffee cup in his hand, and Jim laughed, thank God. Even she knew it was such a lame attempt at a joke. “No, uh, my friend invited me to this fancy party.”

”And how was it?” Jim asked, his eyes gazing intently down into hers as if he was actually very interested in her response.

“Kind of lame, actually,” Pam admitted. “I was only there for about five minutes. But I did get a free drink and another excuse to wear this dress.”

“Score,” Jim smiled and nodded and Pam laughed. “Well, you look really pretty.”

Pam looked over and blushed, unable to tear her eyes away from his.

”Thanks,” she replied meekly as the elevator came to a sudden stop and the doors opened up to their floor. Jim and Pam quietly walked side by side down the long, narrow hallway as Pam scrambled to find something to say.

“So. Journey, huh?” Jim finally spoke.

”What do you have against Journey?” Pam laughed light-heartedly.

“Nothing, except I’d rather listen to a cat being strangled than having to hear Steve Perry sing,” Jim replied jokingly.

“Really? Big talk coming from the guy wearing a cardigan,” Pam teased back, tugging at the sleeves of his black sweater.

“For your information, cardigans are very much in style right now.”

”I can’t remember a time when cardigans were ever in style for men,” Pam argued.

“Kurt Cobain wore cardigans,” Jim said, pretending to take offense.

”Whatever you say, Fashionista Jim. But when the producers of ‘What Not to Wear’ show up at your doorstep, just know that I had nothing to do with it.”

Jim let out a God-awful laugh, something that fell somewhere in between a snort and a snicker and Pam smiled, glancing down at his black, slip-on Keds, pleased that he at least appeared to appreciate her sense of humor.

“Well, this is me,” she turned to face him, coming to a stop in front of her door.

“Oh,” Jim nodded. “Well, thanks for walking me down this long, scary hallway. It creeps me out sometimes.”

”Are you sure you can make it the rest of the way alone?” Pam asked, a look of worry crossing her face.

”Well, it gets really scary by 1018, but after that I’m fine,” Jim said and Pam laughed. “Well, it was good seeing you again.”

”You too,” Pam nodded.

”Good night, Beesly,” he turned and headed towards his apartment.

“Hey,” Pam called out, causing him to turn back around. “I was just going to say if you’re not busy this weekend, maybe you’d like to grab a cup of coffee or something.”

”Yeah,” Jim nodded and smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

”Cool,” Pam smiled. “Well, you know where to find me.” Jim just threw another prize-winning grin her way. “Good night, Jim.”

”Night, Pam.”

Pam turned her key in the lock and disappeared inside her small, desolate apartment, and flicked the lights on. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so alone anymore.

It was the middle of the semester and Pam was beyond frustrated. It was a shame, really, because it was nearing the end of November and the fall season was usually her favorite time of year. People on the streets were bundling up in trench coats and scarves, the trees were a sea of vibrant oranges and yellows and, perhaps best of all, her apartment was no longer a sweltering 120 degrees as the temperatures dwindled down, day by day. And yet she couldn’t take the time to enjoy it.

Pam wasn’t sure how her teachers had tricked her before, but her classes were not as easy as she initially thought. She had three projects due before Thanksgiving break and had yet to start on any of them. And to make matters worse, she had just been told that she was failing her Intro to Media class. For some reason her skills as an artist refused to translate into a stupid Macintosh computer.

Despite living right down the hall from each other, she had only seen Jim a total of six times. Jim was a journalism major, so he kept himself busy working as Managing Editor of the school newspaper and with writing assignments while Pam took up residence in the small art studio in the basement of her building.

The studio was more spacious and offered much better lighting than her small, cramped bedroom upstairs, and they had easels and long wooden tables, and cabinets and drawers, and paint splattered across the hardwood floors. Plus, she would always find a fellow art major working there, and they would occasionally set up their ipod on the set of speakers the students kept inside the room, offering an inspiring soundtrack for Pam to paint or sketch along to. One day, Pam found herself tapping her toes to Interpol, the next it was Kings of Leon, then The Strokes, then Modest Mouse and Rilo Kiley and The Appleseed Cast and Calvin Harris. It wasn’t Journey, and it was nothing like the music she listened to, but she did like it a lot.

Pam had finally allowed Kelly to take her shopping. On the first Friday of September, they met each other in Wicker Park, an artsy, European village on the city’s West side, and rummaged though a couple boutiques and vintage clothing stores. Kelly refused to buy anything, but Pam snapped up a couple of scarves, long necklaces, t-shirts and skirts, and she found a cool, light weight khaki jacket that was in decent condition and went with nearly everything she had bought, so it wasn’t a total waste. After their little spree, Pam went home and cleaned out her closet, finally saying goodbye to the drab sweaters and button down shirts she had been holding onto since high school.

Pam wore her new jacket the second time she and Jim hung out. It was September 7, and Pam had taken him out for his birthday to an Irish pub called Kitty O’Shea’s. The restaurant was loud and crowded and strings of white Christmas lights hung from the ceilings. They had found a somewhat secluded spot in a dark corner at a high top table where they chatted for hours, having to almost scream at each other over the loud bar music. Jim found out Pam was a Cubs fan over their third round of beers and insisted on giving her a hard time for it.

“At least I can say I saw my team win a World Series in my lifetime,” Jim boasted.

”Hey, we’re doing pretty well this year,” Pam insisted. “Our pitching is strong and we have a good line-up.”

Jim just shook his head.

”They’ll break your heart.”

Pam got her revenge when she pulled their waitress aside on her way to the bathroom and she had the entire restaurant send over a birthday parade of waiters and waitresses to sing a very jovial version of “Happy Birthday”.

”I hate you,” Jim mumbled as the large group dispersed and went back to their jobs, the restaurant returning to its normal noise level. His wide smile disagreed with him.

“Whatever, you know you secretly love me. And the Cubs,” Pam smiled, taking another large sip of her Miller’s Light.

“I will never, ever support the Cubs,” Jim said, shaking his head.

”If the Cubs were to beat the White Sox in the World Series, how much havoc do you think would break out in Chicago?” Pam asked.

“Well, first of all, the Cubs would have to make it there. Which I hate to break it to ya, but its not gonna happen. And second, if by some miracle they do make it to the World Series and manage to win, there would be fights,” Jim said.

“We’d set the Sears Tower on fire,” Pam nodded. “Toss cars off the bridges, into the Chicago River.”

“It would be like the Berlin wall all over again,” Jim agreed and Pam grimaced.

“And there goes Chicago’s Olympic bid.”

“Are you kidding? We’d automatically move up to first place,” Jim laughed, his legs accidentally brushing against hers underneath the table. She looked down and saw his feet were easily touching the floor, while her flowered Keds barely made it to the second rung of her stool.

The next time they hung out was towards the end of September. Pam met Jim outside his editorial room and they went out for lunch at a Japanese place across the street from their dorm building, and Pam tried sushi for the very first time.

“It’s raw fish!” Pam protested, holding up a clump of rice topped by a flank of raw tuna between a pair of wooden chop sticks.

”Just try it. It isn’t going to kill you,” Jim insisted.

“It’s raw fish, it could totally kill me.”

”It’s not going to kill you, I promise,” Jim laughed.

”Fine. But if I get a tapeworm or some other sort of parasite from eating this, you’re paying my medical bills. Oh, and I don’t have health insurance.”

“How do you not have health insurance in a family full of doctors?” Jim questioned suspiciously.

”Well, I don’t live with them anymore, and I don’t work. And the school’s health insurance is way too expensive,” Pam said.

”Well what about life insurance?” Jim asked.

”I do have life insurance,” Pam said.

”Guess it’ll just have to kill you, then” Jim shrugged.

”Shut up,” Pam laughed. She squeezed her eyes shut and finally took a bite. She opened her eyes and slowly chewed, looking up at Jim who stared down at her, awaiting her response.

”It’s actually not that bad,” Pam finally conceded.

“Really?” Jim asked and Pam nodded. “Damn. I was hoping for a better reaction.”

Pam ate there every other day for the next three weeks, until she started worrying she was actually developing a tapeworm.

The next time they ran into each other was the first Sunday of October. Pam was sitting at a table on the outdoor patio of The Artist’s Café, suffering from a horrible hangover due to Kelly’s birthday party the night before. The party was held at Ryan’s “condo” that Kelly was always bragging about, which turned out to be a studio apartment that was barely twice the size as Pam’s. Of course Kelly invited way too many people, all of whom Pam had never met, so she was forced to spend the night glued to a wall nursing bottles of Watermelon-flavored Smirnoff Ice, Kelly’s favorite, as she watched everyone attempt to move around the overcrowded room as some horrible, techno music blared from a small set of speakers over Ryan’s bed.

“The system is down. The system is down,” some alien-sounding voice repeated over and over again, drowned out by pulsating beats and sharp whistles. The music was giving Pam a terrible headache, and Angela was otherwise occupied, her and Dwight whispering conspiratorially in each other’s ears in a corner across the room. After her third or fourth drink, Pam shoved a couple of Smirnoffs in her purse and made a mad dash out of the apartment to the elevators, heading downstairs to flag a taxi back home.

The following morning around noon, which was way too early to be functioning, Pam found herself seated before a shortstack of chocolate chip pancakes and a mug of coffee, the smell alone making her nauseous. She pulled out her sketchbook and attempted to draw… something, but she wasn’t concentrating very well with the constant pounding in her head and incessant ringing in her ears.

“What’s up with the Ray-Bans, Top Gun?” a voice sounded from behind her. Pam looked up from her sketchbook, over the rims of her aviator glasses as a smiling Jim walked around the table and sat across from her. He was freshly showered in a white t-shirt and jeans, his long hair slicked back. He had a bit of scruff going on, obviously having skimped on the razor the past couple of days.

“I know you couldn’t have been partying after the Cubs were swept out of the playoffs last night,” Jim teased, his eyebrows raised as he sipped his coffee, the white ceramic mug dwarfed by his giant hands.

“I’m so not caffeinated enough to spar with you right now,” Pam sighed, taking a sip of her own coffee and making a face. It tasted like saw dust.

“I have a proposition for you,” Jim announced.

”What?” Pam asked, catching a whiff of Irish Spring and Tide laundry detergent.

“My old room mate scored tickets to the White Sox game tonight,” Jim said. “You should come along.”

Pam squinted up at him from behind her sunglasses, her face scrunched in disbelief.

”Seriously?” she asked.

“Seriously,” Jim smiled. “It’ll be fun. And I know you only bleed Cubs colors, but try to refrain from wearing any blue or red unless you want to get shot.”

“I like to live on the edge,” Pam smirked.

Later that afternoon, Pam dressed neutrally in a purple hoodie and met Jim and his old room mate, Mark, in the lobby of their building. Jim was dressed in a black zip-up hoodie and faded jeans, wearing the same baseball cap from when they first met.

”Who are you supporting?” Jim had asked.

“The color purple,” Pam stated matter-of-factly.

"Nice. Let me see your shoes," Jim said.

"Why?" Pam asked, looking at him oddly as he hiked up her pants leg and peeked at her bright pink shoes.

"You just always wear really cool shoes," Jim smiled.

"Foot fetish much?" she teased, smiling up at him.

"Not until I met you. Now there's a whole other world out there."

They walked to the train station and took the el to U.S. Cellular Field. The subway car was packed so they were forced to stand, both clinging to the metal pole between them for dear life as the train twisted and turned down the tracks.

“Looks like rain,” Pam said as she peered out the window. The sun had disappeared behind the clouds and the sky was close to turning a certain shade of green.

”Hmm,” Jim nodded, sticking an ear bud in his ear.

”You have new music?” Pam asked.

“Yeah,” Jim smiled as Pam simply held out her hand. He offered her the other ear bud which she promptly stuck in her ear.

“I know this song!” Pam gasped as a familiar tune filled her head.

”Of course you do. It’s The Ramones.”

”Really? I only remember it from that Carpool movie with Tom Arnold,” Pam shrugged.

”Wow. It is so sad that you know that,” Jim shook his head.

”Yeah,” Pam agreed solemnly. “You know for the longest time, I had no idea what they were saying. I always thought they were singing ‘I want a piece of David’.”

“And it just got even more sad.”

”Shut up,” Pam smiled.

By the time they reached the stadium it had already started to rain, but the game was to go on as scheduled. Pam's fancy pink shoes splashed through puddle after puddle as they made their way through the ballpark towards their seats, high in the upper deck and situated directly underneath the what appeared to be the darkest rain cloud. Pam tried to tough it out at first, but finally relented to purchasing a rain poncho, frowning as she dropped it over her head, “SOX” emblazoned in huge black letters across her chest in Old English Script. Pam was secretly proud of being able to recognize the font.

”Traitor,” Jim laughed.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about it. Why can’t I root for both? I mean, the Cubs and the White Sox are in separate divisions. Chicago is Chicago,” Pam reasoned.

”Are you trying to get me killed, woman?” Jim asked.

“Hey, you’re the one who brought along a Cubs fan. If I go down, I’m taken you down with me,” Pam said.

”Fair enough,” Jim agreed.

Later in the game, the rain had eased up to a light mist. Pam’s clothes were soaked, and strands of hair had escaped the elastic of her ponytail, frizzing around her face, but she couldn’t have had a better time. The atmosphere was a huge transformation from what she was used to at Wrigley Field. The fans were rowdier and more diverse; rude without being too disrespectful. She loved it. She found herself standing and cheering with every home run, and even joined Mark in a rendition of “Let’s Go, Go-Go White Sox”. They beat Tampa Bay handily, 5-3.

The three of them hopped on the red line back home, fortunately able to find room to sit this time. Pam was bouncing in her seat beside Jim, singing that dang fight song over and over again, “White Sox! White Sox! Go-Go White Sox! Root-root-root for the White Sox!” Jim had his head on her shoulder, his legs spread out in front of him ready to trip whoever was next to walk through the doors onto the train and he laughed softly, the sound rumbling through Pam’s spine.

“I don’t think you can call yourself a Cubs fan anymore,” he smiled, closing his eyes.

”Like I said, there is nothing wrong with rooting for both.”

”In that case, you can’t call yourself a true Chicagoan either,” Jim said.

“Who said I was? I was born in Cleveland,” Pam said.

”That brings up a whole other set of issues we’re not even going to get into right now,” Jim mumbled into her shoulder and Pam chuckled. Pam looked out the window as the train noisily click-clacked its way down the tracks, the Sears Tower coming into focus.

“Now approaching Roosevelt,” the now-familiar voice boomed over the loud speaker as the train decelerated and screeched to a stop. Pam affectionately referred to the robotic voice as “CTA Guy”.

“Only two more stops,” Pam announced.

”Mmm-hmm,” Jim softly agreed, his eyes still closed as his head weighed down on her shoulder.

The last time Pam saw Jim, she finally told him about Roy.

After that Sunday, they rarely saw each other as mid-terms came around and Pam found herself struggling to keep up with her 17 hours worth of classes. The White Sox went on to lose to Tampa Bay, 3 games to 1, causing Pam to lose her faith in Chicago baseball and take up basketball instead... Until the Bulls lost five out of their first eight games and she decided to quit sports all together.

“You can always take up hockey,” Jim messaged her one night over one of their many Facebook chats.

“They lost their last two games AND they just fired their head coach,” Pam typed back. “That can’t be a good sign.”

Pam carried her laptop everywhere, staying logged into Facebook, but hiding her online status until she saw that Jim had signed on. She’d wait a couple of minutes before sending him a cheery, “Hello.” Not like she was purposely waiting for him or anything. His reply was always the same. “Whatcha up to, Beesly?”

After a couple of weeks went by without seeing each other, they finally agreed to meet down in her art studio so she could finish her ceramics project while they spent time catching up. Jim sat on a stool at one of the long tables with his Macbook, typing up an article for the school paper and Pam was busy putting the finish touches on her white ceramic house. She was going over the door a second time with a bright cherry red, when her phone rang. She pulled her phone from her pocket and sighed when she saw who was calling.

“I take it that’s somebody you don’t want to talk to,” Jim said, not bothering to look up from his computer.

“You could say that,” Pam said bitterly and Jim finally looked over at her as she carelessly tossed her phone on top of her book bag, a look of irritation crossing over her face.

“You okay?” Jim asked.

“It’s just my ex, Roy,” Pam said.

”Oh,” Jim nodded. He didn’t bother to prod any further and they continued to work in silence.

“He proposed to me back in July,” Pam finally said. “And I said no. Obviously. He just moved into his parents’ old house he spent the whole summer renovating, and he’s been begging me to go out and see it.”

“Oh,” Jim repeated. Pam realized he had stopped typing and was staring intently at his computer screen. “Are you going to go?”

”I don’t know,” Pam shook her head. “Things between us are just… awkward. We dated for seven years. So I can’t say that I didn’t see a proposal coming, it’s just… I don’t know, when he asked, it still felt so surprising to me. Like I couldn’t believe he thought that was the future I wanted… But how was he supposed to know?”

Pam looked over and saw Jim’s computer screen had turned dark and he was watching her with great interest.

”I’m sorry, am I rambling? I feel like I’m rambling,” Pam sighed, turning back to focus on her project.

”No, you’re not rambling,” Jim said and Pam smiled to herself.

“We started dating sophomore year of high school. And after seven years I just realized… who I was in high school is not who I am now or who I want to be. Not that I thought Roy didn’t appreciate me for who I had become, he did, it’s just… He always said that he would take care of me, and I wouldn’t have to work, and he was… Buying a house for me. And I didn’t want any of that. I like working. I like being able to take care of myself. And there was so much I wanted to experience. I wanted to study art, I wanted to live in the city to see what its like and it turns out… I love it here. I’d love to live downtown and grow old here, and do all my grocery shopping at the drugstore and shop in Wicker Park, and Roy just… doesn’t fit into any of that,” she finished with a sigh and Jim just nodded, understanding. “And he is a really good guy, I just… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to unleash all of that on you. I know it probably didn't make any sense”

”Made perfect sense to me,” Jim said.

”Well, what about you?” Pam asked.

”What? Me? Oh, no. No ex-boyfriends,” Jim said and Pam laughed, feeling like a fifty-pound weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She loved how Jim was always able to lift her spirits with his goofy sense humor, no matter how ridiculous or depressing she sounded.

“Have you ever been in love?” Pam asked.

”Nope. I haven’t,” Jim replied breezily.

“Seriously?”

”Seriously.”

“But you have dated women before, right?” Pam asked.

”Oh, yeah. In eleventh grade, I-“

”Oh my God!” Pam laughed. “You have to go back that far? Come on.”

“No, I was just going to say my longest relationship was with this girl named Sarah. We started dating in eleventh grade, but we broke up right after graduation.”

”And you never loved her?”

”Well, I was never in love with her, there’s a difference,” Jim said, spinning a paint brush between his fingers. “I did care a great deal about her, but things just didn’t work out. Then there was the whole restraining order…” He rolled his eyes and Pam laughed.

“You’re a funny guy, Halpert,” she said, moving on to give her bright red door its final coat of paint. Jim just smiled and went back to typing.

The Monday before Thanksgiving break arrived. The campus was quiet and deserted as most students had skipped out of town early. Pam was in her Intro to New Media class, playing around with the Illustrator program on her computer as their professor walked around the room, handing back mid-term projects.

Jim had already wrapped up his classes for the week and had left early that morning, taking the el to his parents’ house in Hyde Park for the holiday. Pam was taking the 6:45 train back home to Naperville that evening.

The professor finally made his way to Pam’s row, and her stomach churned as she started feeling very anxious. Her teacher had some weird last name, a Polish name made up of 17 letters that she could never pronounce correctly, so Jim helped her come up with their own private nickname to call him. She wasn’t sure what her professor had thought of her mid-term project. Her regular grades weren’t anything to brag out, and he informed her the week before that she was in danger of failing for the entire semester. He finally made his way over to her computer, scratching at his long, scraggly beard as he squinted down at her grade. He silently shook his head.

“I don’t know Pam,” he said. “Your thumbnails look great. I’m just not seeing it in your final composition.”

He dropped her stack of papers on top of her keyboard, a huge red D stared back at her.

Pam really, really hated Professor Beardy.

Pam shoved her mid-term papers down into her bag, not caring if they were crumpled or not, and she was out the door before her teacher could say class was dismissed. She shoved open the staircase door and walked the six flights down, her white Keds pounding against the pavement, the sound echoing loudly in her ears.

“Worked three Goddamn weeks on that stupid coffee logo,” she kept repeating angrily in her head as she flew down the stairs. “I hate fucking computers.”

She pushed open the door leading out to the street and rushed the short couple of blocks home, walking through the downstairs lobby and taking the elevator upstairs, silently cursing herself along the way. She reached her apartment and saw a small manila envelope tucked inside the small crack underneath her door. She pulled out the envelope and brought it inside, tossing it aside on her kitchen counter.

Her packed suitcase stood in the middle of the floor and she angrily kicked it over, flopping herself down on her creaky twin-sized mattress. She pulled out her cell phone, flipping it open and fiddling through the menus until she found the name of the person she wanted to call.

”Hey Angie,” Pam said into the phone, her tears finally starting to fall.

”Pam? What’s wrong?” Angela asked.

”Nothing… Except, only everything,” Pam wailed.

”You’re not making any sense,” Angela said. “You’re still coming home today, right?”

”Yeah,” Pam nodded. “Yeah, of course I am. It’s just… I’m failing my Intro to New Media class because my stupid teacher hates me and I don’t even know his name! And I don’t know how to draw on a computer, which is stupid because I can draw perfectly fine by hand, and I don’t know this whole graphic design thing just seems like a big mistake.”

”Pam,” Angela’s soothing voice carried through the phone as Pam cried, not even bothering to wipe away her tears. “Pam, it’s just one class. Besides, you still have a whole three weeks left. I know you’ll make it up on your final project. I promise, you’ll be fine.”

”Yeah,” Pam sobbed, toying with a loose thread on her flowered purple comforter. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

”I’m always right,” Angela insisted. “Now bring your ass back home so we can make cupcakes.”

Pam laughed, finally swatting away at the tears streaming down her face.

”The ones with my favorite sprinkles?” Pam asked.

”Those were for Halloween!” Angela exclaimed. “You can’t have Halloween sprinkles on Thanksgiving.”

“And why not?” Pam asked and Angela sighed into the phone.

”I just don’t understand why you always have to sabotage things, Pam.”

Pam just laughed at her friend.

”I love you, Angie.”

”I love you too, even if you are mentally deranged,” Angela laughed into the phone. “I’ll see you tonight.”

”Alright. Bye,” Pam closed the phone and sighed. Angela was right. Everything would work out in the long run.

She stood up from her bed and walked over to the kitchen counter, picking up the manila envelope. It simply read, “Pam” across the front in permanent black marker. She carefully opened it and pulled out a piece of folded white paper and a blue CD case, a blank disc tucked inside. She unfolded the paper and smiled as she realized who it was from.

”Happy Thanksgiving, Beesly. I hope you have fun on your trip back home. Tell the family I said hello. I’ve included some music to help you endure that God awful train ride. Consider this your official introduction to some other genres outside power ballads of the 80s. See you soon, Jim.”

She smiled and slid the CD into her laptop, turning the volume up on her speakers as a bouncy rhythm filled the room, accompanied by a ringing guitar.

I threw darts at a spinning globe/Swapping out passport photos/I walked west to the setting sun/Every single step I grow another second young

Pam shimmied to her bathroom to change outfits, bouncing along to the beat. Before she knew it she was dancing in the middle of her apartment like Molly Ringwald danced in 80s movies, her arms frantically moving, legs kicking and fingers snapping, her soft curls whipping around her face.

All my hair grows in/Wrinkles leave my skin/But still don’t fade/I’ll be back again when the tide is in some day.

Pam loaded the CD onto her computer and seamlessly transferred them over to her mp3 player before grabbing her suitcase and coat and heading out the door. She flagged a taxi outside her building.

”Union Station please,” she told the cab driver, sticking her ear buds in her ears, sounds of the Pixies flooding through her brain.

The cab sped off, nothing but green lights leading her closer and closer to home. Store holiday displays whipped by with their Santa Clauses and reindeers and gingerbread houses. Twinkling white Christmas lights hung from lamp posts. Oranges and yellows were replaced with bright reds and greens, roses and carnations switched out for poinsettias and wreaths made of pine.

With your feet in the air and your head on the ground/try this trick and spin it, yeah/your head will collapse if there’s nothing in it and you’ll ask yourself/where is my mind/where is my mind/where is my mind?

She arrived at Union Station and boarded the Metra, opting for a seat on the second floor so she’d have a seat all to herself. The train left promptly at 6:45.

I want it now/I want it now/not the promises of what tomorrow brings/I need to live in dreams today/I’m tired of the song that sorrow sings/And I want more than I can get/Just trying to, trying to, trying to forget

The strains of “Nothing Lasts Forever” by Echo & the Bunnymen played in her ears as the train churned away from the busy city streets and daunting skyscrapers. The sky was dark and gray, and Pam remembered the weather man saying there was a strong chance of snow later in evening.

The buildings soon disappeared, nothing left of the Sears Tower but two bright blinking red lights as the scenery outside the windows changed to flat plains and open fields and Pam gently closed her eyes.

Pam awoke and sat up, grabbing the back of her neck and wincing in pain. She looked around the room, slowly taking in her surroundings. She knew that she was obviously in her parent’s living room. The television was on, but she had no idea how it had ended up on the Discovery channel. She grimaced as she watched giant ants attack a poor defenseless crab, in all her television’s High-Definition glory before quickly turning it off. When had she fallen asleep on the couch?

The entire house was quiet and dark except for soft music and mumbled voices filtering in from the kitchen. She slowly got up to her feet and wandered toward the sounds.

Kelly and Angela were standing at the island in the middle of the room. Cookie cutters, rolling pins, icing, cookie sheets and bags of and flour were spread out haphazardly around the kitchen. Music was coming from her open laptop atop the dining table.

“Who invited Susie freakin’ homemaker?” Pam asked, rubbing her stiff neck. She could barely turn her head.

“Your mother’s oven isn’t tempered right, so everything we bake comes out as a beverage or burnt,” Angela sighed as she dropped a muffin tray full of 12 very crispy-looking cupcakes onto the counter. She wiped her hands across her apron, flour covering the skin on her arms. She looked frazzled.

”That sucks,” Pam yawned. “Where is everyone anyway?”

”Your mother was called into work, your dad is at your grandparent’s watching the game, and your sister is off at some friend’s house,” Kelly listed off as she cut star shapes into a blank canvas of cookie dough.

”Gosh, how long was I asleep?” Pam asked.

”About two hours,” Angela said.

“Ugh, I feel so groggy,” Pam said. It was Thanksgiving Day, Day 3 of her Thanksgiving Break. Her family ate dinner around one that afternoon and apparently all of the food and turkey and tryptophan had knocked Pam out cold.

“What are you guys making, anyway?” Pam asked, biting into a unfrosted cupcake. “Oh, ew. Ew.” She immediately spit it back out. “That is not done.”

”I told you, it’s your oven. No wonder the turkey was so dry,” Angela sighed.

“It’s not my oven,” Pam mumbled.

“Oh my God, what the hell are we listening to?” Kelly asked, her eyebrows narrowed in disgust. Pam peered over at her computer.

”This is Modest Mouse,” Pam said, reading from the play list on her computer screen.

“This music is so depressing. Seriously, I want to kill myself. I’m going to jab this cookie cutter into my neck," Kelly said. "Don’t you have anything else we can listen to?”

”For the record, Jim made this CD for me,” Pam said, walking over to her computer to change the music.

“Yeah, well I don’t care how hot this Jim/John guy is, his taste in music sucks,” Kelly said and Pam gasped.

”You did not just say that! I like his music,” Pam said, switching it up to Paramore to make Kelly happy.

“You only say that because you want to have sex with him,” Kelly said. “You’re driving the ‘I want to have sex with him’ truck, and it has a huge blind spot.”

“That’s from How I Met Your Mother. I watch that show, too, you know. And that is not true,” Pam said.

“Just because it’s on TV doesn’t mean it’s not true,” Kelly said.

”That’s not what I meant,” Pam said as strains of Rhianna’s “Disturbia” floated in from the living room.

“Ooh, dance party!” Kelly started bouncing up and down, her head bobbing from side to side. Pam bobbed her head and grooved towards her cell phone where the music was coming from and laughed as she remembered Jim teasing her relentlessly for her ring tone of choice. She immediately stopped smiling when she saw Roy’s name flash across the screen.

“Ughhhhh…,” she groaned, walking back into the kitchen, the phone left unanswered in her hand.

”Roy?” Angela asked.

”How did you know?” Pam asked.

”He’s only been calling you every hour of every day since you got here,” Angela said. “You should just answer it.”

“I already know what he wants, and I don’t want to talk to him,” Pam said.

“He’s not going to stop calling you,” Angela said pointedly.

“I know,” Pam sighed.

“Just go see his stupid house. I told you, we’ll come along if you want,” Kelly said, tossing another tray of cookies into the oven.

”I know, I just… I’ll talk to him when I’m ready.”

”So, what’s up with you and this Jim/John, anyway?” Kelly asked. Pam had taken a tube of red icing and was drawing private parts on a burnt cookie shaped as Snoopy.

“Jim. His name is Jim,” Pam corrected her.

”Whatever, I don’t care what his name is. All I want to know is if he has a big package,” Kelly said, causing Pam and Angela to gasp and stare at her in horror.

”Kelly, that’s disgusting,” Angela groaned.

”Oh. My God. Kelly!” Pam shook her head.

“Says the one drawing penises and testicles on my Snoopy cookies,” Angela screamed, yanking the tube of icing from Pam’s hands.

”Hey!” Pam protested.

”Ok seriously, Pam, you can’t tell me that you haven’t wondered the same thing,” Kelly continued.

”I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” Pam shook her head and glanced down at the counter bashfully.

”Because you know it’s true. Slut,” Kelly laughed, tossing a ball of flour at Pam causing her to yelp.

”Hey! What the… hell!” Pam put extra emphasis on hell as she tossed a handful of flour at Kelly, the debris getting into Angela’s eyes.

”Hey! You bitch!” Angela screamed as Pam and Kelly broke out into a fit of giggles.

Later that evening, Pam had showered, washing the clumps of flour from her hair from the huge flour/cookie dough fight that had erupted downstairs and changed into a fresh pair of clothes. She couldn’t help but wonder what Jim was doing; what traditions he and his family had on Thanksgiving. Did they hold hands and pray around the table or did they take turns saying what they were thankful for? Did they eat turkey or ham? Was his mother a good cook? Was he watching the game or playing football in the front yard with his brothers? She thought about calling him, but decided against it figuring she would just send him a message over Facebook later.

Before she could make it back downstairs, her phone rang again. She glanced at the display. Roy. Sighing, she gave in and flipped the phone open.

”Hey, Roy.”

”Hey, Pammy. I’ve been trying to reach you all week,” Roy’s voice and all of the memories that came along with it flooded over her.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’ve just been real busy,” Pam lied, biting her lip.

”Oh. Well, alright,” Roy said, obviously not believing her. “Hey, I was wondering… I mean, if you’re not busy doing anything tonight, maybe you’d want to come over and see the house. I know your dad usually goes to his parents to watch the Cowboy game.”

Pam sighed.

“Ok,” she said. “I’ll drive over there. I can be there in probably… 20 minutes?”

Pam hung up the phone and scurried downstairs. Kelly and Angela were sprawled out across the living room floor playing with Pam’s old BeDazzler, putting sequins all over Kelly’s pink socks.

“Ok. Not even going to ask. Angela, can I borrow your car?”

Pam climbed behind the wheel of Angela’s Ford Focus, her chest smashed against the front of the steering wheel.

“How on earth does she drive like this?” Pam wondered out loud, adjusting the seat back about two feet and turning the heater up as high as it could go before pulling out of the drive way and taking the familiar winding roads that led to Roy’s house. The land was flat and the streets were dark, businesses closed for the holiday. She missed the bright lights and the endless energy of the city.

When she arrived, he was standing outside on the front porch, waiting for her. The porch light was on and the house was decorated in twinkling red and green lights. Santa Claus and his reindeer were galloping across the front yard. She climbed out of the car and he walked towards her.

”You’re not supposed to turn on your Christmas lights until the day after Thanksgiving,” Pam frowned. Roy ignored her, bringing her in for a giant hug.

“It’s good to see you, Pam,” Roy said, slowly pulling away and gazing down at her, his eyes smiling.

”Good to see you, too,” Pam said nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Can we go inside? I’m freezing.”

”Yeah,” Roy said, opening the front door and ushering her inside. The house already looked completely different from what she had remembered. The hideous shag carpet in the living room had been removed and replaced with beautiful hardwood floors. Their old 12” television set with the bunny ears was gone, and Roy’s 48” flat screen was displayed proudly on a brand new TV stand.

“Wow,” Pam said quietly. “It’s really nice.”

”Here, take a look at the kitchen,” Roy said. She removed her coat and tossed in on his new leather couch, following behind him with her arms crossed across her chest.

“I know you loved everything about this kitchen except the wallpaper, so I tore it all down,” Roy said, flicking the lights on. The ugly blue floral wallpaper that he remembered her despising so much was gone and the walls were coated in a fresh shade of yellow paint.

”I like the color,” Pam smiled.

”It reminded me of you,” Roy shrugged. “I was trying to match the color of that dress you wore on our anniversary dinner.”

Pam just nodded silently.

”Come on, I’ll show you upstairs,” Roy said, grabbing her hand and leading her up the carpeted staircase. Pam was really starting to regret coming here.

He flicked on the lights in the first bedroom. It was bare, minus a queen-sized bed that sat in the center of the room against a wall and a huge lamp that was nearly three times the size of the bedside table underneath it.

”I haven’t done much with this room yet, but I’m thinking of painting the walls in here. Maybe taking up the carpet like I did downstairs,” Roy said as Pam’s eyes slowly scanned the room. She looked up and saw Roy was staring down at her, a million questions in his eyes.

”It’s nice,” she simply stated, quickly looking down. Her toes were pointed inward, her glittery red shoes sparkling in the light.

“Alright, now it’s time for the highlight of our trip. The master bedroom,” Roy said, leading her out of the second bedroom and across the hall to his parents’ old room.

”Isn’t a little weird? Sleeping in your parents’ old bedroom?” Pam asked as they stopped just outside the door.

“I never thought about it that way but thanks for bringing that up, Pam,” Roy smiled and Pam let out a quiet laugh as he opened the door for her and flicked on the lights. She stepped inside and slowly looked around. The walls were still eggshell white like the bedroom before, a large king-size bed taking up most of the room, a night stand on either side. An old photo of Pam and Roy taken at Disney World the summer after graduation sat in a frame on Roy’s dresser alongside several other framed photos of Roy’s family. She smiled, thinking of all the memories they had made together, and turned towards the master bathroom, suddenly coming to an immediate stop. Her face fell and her body completely froze.

Roy was in front of her on one knee, an engagement ring sitting inside a black velvet box in his hand. It definitely was not the same ring he had proposed with the first time.

Behind Roy, written across a blank white wall in black paint, Pam’s eyes watered as she read:

”Pam, I love you more than anything. Will you marry me?”

She looked down at Roy, nothing but love in his eyes.

”Pam… I know things have been… Different for us these past couple of months. But, I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I want to spent the rest of my life with you, I just… I really hope you feel the same way…” Pam stood motionless as he lifted the ring out of the box, taking her left hand into his.

”Pam?” Roy asked.

”Roy...”

”Will you marry me?”

Pam sat on her bed, staring at her hands that were placed in her lap. Her room was quiet, filled only by the low hum of the refrigerator and the sounds of cars and snowplows on the street below that filtered in.

It was a cold and miserable Tuesday morning. Pam should have been sitting in Art History class, but she hadn’t felt like going. She was still dressed in her faded old gray senior Naperville North t-shirt and sweats from the night before. She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there just staring at her hands and thinking, but she knew it had been awhile.

A soft knock sounded at her door.

“Come in,” she called out and Jim popped his head in.

”Hey!” he immediately smiled at the sight of her.

”Hey,” she said, shaking her head and slowly blinking out of her thoughts.

”I haven’t seen you in over a week, I just wanted to check in and see how you were,” he said, stepping inside. “Are you okay?

”Huh?” Pam asked quizzically. “Oh… Yeah… Yeah.”

“Are you sick?” Jim asked.

”No,” Pam shook her head. “No, I’m just kind of tired.”

”Oh. Well if this is a bad time, I can come back,” he said, turning back towards the open door.

”No! No, you can stay. Come on in,” she smiled timidly and he shut the door, scanning his eyes across her room.

”I think this is the first time I’ve been in here,” he said, looking around. “This is really nice… I really like what you’ve done with your space.” Pam smiled.

”Thanks. Here. Sit,” she padded the spot beside her on her twin bed and he sat down next to her, the mattress bouncing underneath his weght, his legs awkwardly dangling off the edge. Pam inhaled deeply, breathing in his familiar scent of clean soap and laundry detergent.

“So… You wanna… talk about it?” Jim asked.

”Talk about what?” Pam asked.

“Whatever it is that’s bothering you,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers.

“No. No, I don’t want to talk about it,” Pam shook her head.

”Ok. But when you do… I’m here,” he shyly waved. She smiled.

“How was your Thanksgiving break?” Pam asked.

“It was good,” Jim said. “It was nice to see my brothers, they came back into town. And I have a new nephew. I met him for the first time which was pretty exciting." Pam smiled at the thought of Jim cradling a newborn in his arms.

“That’s pretty cool,” Pam said. “Did you get to eat a lot of good food?”

”Oh yeah,” Jim said, a smile sweeping across his face just thinking about it. “Yeah, the women in my family can throw down a dang good Thanksgiving dinner. Put Rachael Ray out of business.”

“Wow. Impressive,” Pam nodded.

“Yeah,” Jim smiled, his eyes traveling down to Pam’s mouth; her lips were full, smiling. She just sat there nervously, a big silly grin on her face, her eyes anxious, hands in her lap as she tried desperately to think of something, anything to say. Her eyes trailed down his face to his neck, and then over his shoulders, his black long-sleeved shirt showing a hint of definition in his arms.

She suddenly realized he was leaning closer towards her and she closed her eyes, feeling his warm breath against her cheek, the smell of soap infiltrating her senses. He leaned even closer, their noses grazing slightly, before she felt him slowly pull away.

She opened her eyes in confusion, already missing his warmth, and cautiously followed his gaze, his eyes narrowed and staring at an opened black velvet box on her nightstand.

She turned to face him, her jaw dropped. She didn't know what to say.

“Jim-“

He slowly took his eyes off hers and glanced down at the flower pattern on her comforter.

“I should go,” he finally said.

“Jim, I-“

He silently lifted himself off of the mattress and across the room, softly closing the door behind him.

***

“He proposed to you again?” Angela asked incredulously.

“Wow, this ring is amazing,” Kelly gasped, holding the small velvet box in her hands.

“Give me that,” Pam snatched the box from Kelly’s hands, sitting it back on her nightstand as she flopped on her bed.

“What did you say?” Angela asked.

“I told him I had to think about it,” Pam said.

”And then what did he say?” Kelly asked. She and Angela stood side-by-side in front of Pam's bed with their arms crossed looking like two menacing goal posts.

“He said… Ok,” Pam answered.

”Well, do you want to marry him?” Angela asked.

“I don’t know… No.”

”What?!” Angela suddenly looked very angry. “If that was the case, then why did you tell him you wanted to think about it? It’s okay to say no if you don’t want to marry someone! It’s people like you who are shooting America’s divorce rate through the roof!”

“I don’t know, I already said no the first time. I just didn’t want to hurt his feelings… Again,” Pam frowned, realizing how ridiculous the words sounded coming out of her mouth.

“Maybe you should stop talking,” Angela rolled her eyes. “Just when I think you can’t sound any more insane, you say something even more stupid.”

“It all made sense before,” Pam said, shaking her head. “I mean, you should have seen what Roy did, it was ridiculously romantic. It's like I was tricked into his spell or something. And now I’ve messed things up with Jim, and-“

”Wait, what happened with Jim/John?” Kelly asked, suddenly interested.

“He came over this morning, and we were talking and all of a sudden he leaned in and our noses grazed-“

”Oh my God, you kissed Jim/John?!” Kelly squealed.

”No, just our noses touched, that’s all," Pam said.

"Oh my gosh, this is just like When Harry Met Sally, when Harry told Sally that guys and girls could never be friends because they would always be attracted to each other," Kelly smiled.

"No," Pam shook her head. "This is... Nothing like When Harry Met Sally, Kelly. Please stop comparing everything to that movie."

"Well what happened after you guys almost kissed?" Kelly asked.

"Nothing. He saw the engagement ring on the night stand and then he left and then I freaked out and I called you guys over for an emergency meeting.”

“Ok… But the engagement ring was in a box, its not like it was actually on your finger,” Kelly said.

”I know, but I should have told him about it. I can understand why he would be upset,” Pam said.

“Ok, well forget about all that. What was it like when your noses grazed?” Kelly asked as Angela stared on in disbelief.

“Oh my God. It was so intense,” Pam smiled. “Our eyes were closed, and I could feel his breath against my cheek, and his hands were-“

”Ok, please. Stop talking,” Angela interrupted, taking a seat beside Pam on the bed. “Sweetie, you have to forget about Jim right now. What are you going to say to Roy?”

”I have to tell him I don’t want to marry him,” Pam said, surprised that the answer was all of a sudden so easy.

”When are you going to tell him?” Angela asked.

”Tomorrow,” Pam said, plans already formulating in her head.

”Alright, well if you’re going to wait until tomorrow, you cannot talk to Jim until you talk to Roy,” Angela said.

“Fine,” Pam agreed. She really wished she could talk to Jim first. And continue that kiss...

“Anyway,” Angela spoke up. “While we’re on the topic of weddings… Here.” She shoved a small piece of blue cardstock into Pam’s hands.

“What is this?” Pam asked as Angela handed one to Kelly.

”It’s a save the date,” Angela said.

“What?!?” Pam squealed. “You and Dwight are getting married?”

”Yes,” Angela answered flatly.

”What?!! When did you two even start dating again?” Kelly asked.

“Angela! Oh my God,” Pam threw her arms around Angela. “Why did you let me go on and on about my problems without telling me?”

“You wouldn’t stop talking,” Angela said as Kelly glared at her.

“What the hell? I though we were supposed to be friends. What else are you two whispering about behind my back?” Kelly fumed.

”Kelly, I didn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t be supportive,” Angela said. “You’ve made it very clear how you feel about Dwight.”

“Of course I’m happy for you, bitch, you’re getting married!! This is like the best thing to ever happen to any of us, oh my God, I’m going to be a bridesmaid!”

”Ow! You’re on my hair!” Angela screamed as both Pam and Kelly squealed and wrapped their arms around her. Kelly pulled away, looking at her save the date.

“Why are you getting married on July 4th?” Kelly asked.

”I don’t know, it was just easier and everything’s cheaper because it’s a holiday… And Dwight’s cousin, Mose, is flying in. Apparently he likes fireworks,” Angela said.

“Oh my God. You’re getting married,” Pam said, raising her eyebrows.

”Yeah. I am,” Angela finally smiled.

"Aww..." Pam threw her arms around Angela again, pressing her face in her hair.

"Aww, you guys, me too!" Kelly whined, throwing her arms around Angela and Pam from behind Angela's back.

"Ow. Why am I always the one who gets squished in the middle?" Angela groaned.

***

Later that evening, Pam flipped opened her computer and logged onto facebook, immediately noticing that Jim was online. She opened up a new chat window, and quickly typed her usual, "Hello," accompanied by a smiley face emoticon, but before she could hit send, he had already signed off. She jumped back as her laptop sharply flipped closed and glanced up. Angela's face scowled back at her, one eyebrow raised. Dammit, Pam had forgotten she agreed to let her stay the night.

"What are you doing?" she asked sternly.

"Just checking my email," Pam lied.

"Uh huh," Angela said, taking Pam's laptop into her hands. "You'll get this back tomorrow. After you talk to Roy."

"I don't like you," Pam pouted, tossing back her covers and climbing into bed. She looked up and saw Angela staring back down at her again.

"What?" Pam asked.

"Move over," Angela hissed.

"You can't be serious. In case you haven't noticed, this is a twin bed."

"There's no way I'm sleeping on that couch, it's disgusting and covered in dog hair... And it smells like moth balls. Move over," Angela insisted.

"Ugh!" Pam groaned in frustration.

"I'm a petite woman. You won't even notice I'm here," Angela said, climbing into bed beside her and turning to face the night stand. Pam was practically spooning her.

"This is just weird," Pam mumbled.

"It's not weird," Angela said. "You're weird."

Pam rolled her eyes and tried to get comfortable.

"Hey, Angela?"

"Yes."

"When you picture your future with Dwight... What do you see?" Pam asked.

"I don't know. Big family. Four, maybe five kids. Three girls, and two well-behaved boys. I'll be a stay-at-home mom. We'll live in Dwight's big ranch house on his family's estate. Send my kids to a good school. A nice school, one where they have to wear a uniform. And every holiday, we'll invite everybody over our house. All of our family and friends. I'll cook for everyone and Kelly will take the girls shopping. Which I won't really mind because I would just want Kelly out of my house, away from all the older males in the family," Angela said. Pam laughed.

"You have it all figured out, don't you?" Pam asked, stroking Angela's hair.

"Not really. Just... things I've thought about," Angela said. "What about you? What do you see in your future?"

"I don't know," Pam said.

"Well. When you look at your future, do you see yourself with Jim or Roy?"

"Why does it always have to start with a guy?" Pam asked.

"Because. It's your fairy tale. Fairy tales always start with a prince," Angela said, her eyes closed.

"I know Roy isn't my prince. I don't know if Jim is my prince," Pam said. "How could I possibly know? I've only known him for three months."

"When you know, you know," Angela said, her voice hinting at sleep.

"Yeah," Pam replied softly, closing her eyes.

"Pam?"

"What?"

"Why didn't you just say no?" Angela asked.

"I don't know," Pam said, opening her eyes and staring at Angela's back. "I was scared... Roy's the only person I've ever been in love with. It just feels weird... The thought of loving someone else."

"Well, tell me what you see in your future. Forgetting about your prince for now," Angela said.

Pam closed her eyes and sighed. She thought really hard about her future.

"I buy a house in the city. A brownstone, one of those houses like the one Heathcliff Huxtable lived in on the Cosby show. One with a yard that my dog could run around in. I'd work as an art teacher at a private school in the city. But not one that required stupid plaid uniforms, that can stay in your dream. My husband would be a teacher at the same school. Maybe an English teacher. We would have summers off so we could travel. We would fly down to Disney World, and I could finally go to California and see the Pacific Ocean. Maybe we'd go to Europe. Visit Paris or Italy," Pam finished.

"Well, you're right about one thing," Angela said.

"What's that?"

"Roy definitely isn't your prince," Angela said.

A small smile passed over Pam's face.

"Good night, Pam."

"Night, Angie," Pam said, and it was the last thing she remembered before she finally fell asleep.

Chicago turned into an entirely different city during the winter. The sidewalks were empty and the streets went eerily quiet, the below freezing temperatures forcing everyday pedestrians to flee onto the city trains and buses. Snow and slush blanketed walkways, and Pam was forced to trade her favorite shoes for a more practical pair of rain boots. She hadn’t seen a drop of sunlight in over a week. It made sense, since the dark clouds and gloomy skies coincided with her current emotional state.

The day after Pam had decided she was going to come clean with Roy, she took the long train ride back home. She had thought about simply telling him in an email or over the phone, but eventually decided that it was only right to give Roy her answer in person.

Angela accompanied Pam on her journey back, Pam practicing her speech three, four, five gazillion times while Angela would nod in encouragement.

”Just speak from the heart,” Angela had advised her before leaving Pam to face Roy on her own.

It was hard, saying no to Roy. Again, he just couldn’t understand and Pam couldn’t seem to find the words he needed to hear so that he would just get it. They argued for over two hours in Roy’s living room. They sat across from each other, Pam in Roy’s leather recliner, Roy on the couch. Sometimes he would stand up, gesturing animatedly. Roy would ask why she couldn’t marry him, Pam would try to explain why. Roy begged and pleaded for her to change her mind, Pam tried to convince him that she wouldn’t. It was horrible, and Pam couldn’t help but think that this was so not what she needed to be dealing with the week before finals.

Pam hadn’t heard from Jim in six days. Although, not for lack of trying. She had attempted to catch him at home, knocking on the door when she knew he should be there but to no answer. She sent him two messages through Facebook four days ago, and he hadn’t replied. At first she was sad. He was the only person she had grown close to since moving into the city, and she missed having someone to talk to. And she really missed having him around to make her laugh. She hadn’t had a good in laugh in a really long time.

Now, Pam was just angry. She just didn’t understand anymore. What right did he have to be upset, anyway? She had just painfully terminated a seven-year relationship with the only man she had every loved in her whole life. She’s the one who should be upset. Not Jim. And seriously, why the hell hadn’t he replied to any of her messages?!

“He still hasn’t replied to any of your messages?”

“Thank you! Exactly what I’m saying,” Pam said, pointing at the expression on Sally’s face. She had been the only customer at the Starbucks on campus in the past thirty minutes, and she was using the opportunity alone with her two favorite baristas to vent at the front counter.

”I can’t believe he hasn’t at least called you yet,” Tyler said, shaking his head solemnly. “That’s just rude.”

“I know! You’d think he would at least come over so we could talk about it OR he could at least reply to one of my freakin’ messages!” Pam said, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation.

“Aww, I’m sorry sweetie,” Sally pouted, twisting at the ponytail in her long red mane. Pam sighed, her shoulders hunched over in defeat.

”Well, if you guys see him can you just tell him to call or something?” Pam asked.

“I would, but I don’t think he comes in here anymore,” Sally said.

“Haven’t seen him,” Tyler agreed.

”Well, thanks anyway,” Pam said. “Thanks for listening to me vent. I haven’t really had anyone to talk to lately.”

”I don’t mind,” Sally smiled. “If you weren’t here, I’d just have to listen to Tyler complain about what people were saying about him while he got his pedicure.”

”Wow,” Pam laughed. “A pedicure, Tyler? Really?”

“Ok, number one, some of us prefer not to look like Hugh Jackman as Wolverwine, thank you. And two, I know those women are always talking about me. I swear I’m going to start taking Chinese language courses just so I can find out what they’re saying,” Tyler said. “They offer Chinese class at your school, don’t they?”

”Um, I think so,” Pam said. “But do you seriously want to pay $800 a class, just to find out if some old lady accused you of painting your nails?”

”I don’t paint my nails! I just like my toes clean and healthy. The massage chairs are just an added bonus,” Tyler winked at Pam and she laughed, pulling her pink hat over her loose curls as she prepared to head back outside.

”Bye you guys,” she waved.

“Good luck on your last exam!” Pam heard Sally call out on her way out the door.

Pam had one last final to take before she was done with the semester, but it wasn’t until the following afternoon and she had the whole rest of the day to study. She didn’t feel like going back to her quiet apartment alone, so she walked across the street to the building that housed the English and Journalism departments, figuring she would just use one of the open computer labs to write a couple of emails. Maybe check her Facebook to see if Jim had finally replied to one of her messages.

She made her way into the building and walked the two flights upstairs, picking up a school paper in the lobby as she passed by the newsstands. She entered one of the open classrooms, one that coincidentally sat across the hall from the school newspaper’s editorial department, and jotted her name down on the sign-in sheet, quickly finding a seat at a computer that faced the doorway. There was a little part of her that hoped to catch a glimpse of Jim walking by, even though the newspaper staff was probably ready to shut down for the semester.

She sat at her dark computer and flipped the newspaper open, skipping the pages until she landed on page 17. Jim’s articles were always on page 17 in the Arts & Entertainment section. Her eyes glanced over his staff photo she had grown all too familiar with. She had used the photo several times to help with portraits of Jim she had sketched out, otherwise relying only on memory.

Jim had one lengthy article at the top of the page, an interview with a local indie band from Columbia, and a couple of album reviews. She carefully read over his articles, making a mental note to be sure to check out the latest Deerhunter and Ryan Adams CDs, and folded the paper up, clicking the mouse to wake up her computer and typing in her school login.

Thirty minutes later, she had completely zoned out from reality, busy sending holiday “Pieces of Flair” all over Facebook. She was sending Angela a “I triple dog dare you,” piece of flair from A Christmas Story when she heard him.

“No! No, it was you,” the voice said, followed by a familiar laugh. Pam blinked out of her trance and looked up towards the door. The voice was coming from the editorial room across the hall.

Pam quickly logged off and grabbed her things, nearly sprinting out the door before slowing her pace as she turned the corner and into the room the voice had bellowed from.

“You found an atheist Christmas card?” the deep voice said, definitely belonging to Jim. Pam stepped inside and immediately spotted him. He was sitting behind a desk, reclined back in his chair, legs atop his desk and his arm flexed behind his head as he chatted happily into his desk phone.

“That’s too funny,” Jim replied to whoever was on the line, various eyes around the room landing on Pam curiously. There were maybe four or five people in the room, milling around. A girl with long blonde hair stood at a copy machine. She looked up and flashed Pam a friendly smile. Pam offered a timid smile back and refocused her eyes on Jim, realizing he had noticed her presence. She felt somewhat self-conscious as his eyes slowly watched her as she made her way over to his desk.

”Hey, can I call you back?” Jim asked, tearing his eyes away from her for only a quick second. “Ok… Alright… Bye.”

He dropped the phone into its receiver, his eyes back on Pam.

”Hi,” Jim said, standing up and walking around his desk.

”Hi,” Pam said, awkwardly clutching her book bag, papers, and jacket and scarf in her hands.

“How have you been?” he asked, leaning against the front of his desk.

“Good,” Pam smiled. “You?”

”Good,” Jim replied, nervously looking around. “Just… busy.”

”Yeah,” Pam nodded. “Yeah, no, me too.”

Jim’s eyes shifted to his feet.

“I’m glad to see you’re still alive,” Pam teased. “I’ve been trying to reach you for awhile. I was starting to get worried.”

”Oh, yeah,” Jim said, letting out a nervous laugh. “Sorry, things have just been kind of crazy.”

Pam just nodded and it was awkwardly silent for the next couple of seconds.

”Um,” Pam started. “I was going to ask… I mean, I have some studying to do tonight, but I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go out for a drink and catch up, or-“

“Oh,” Jim said, a slight frown crossing his face as he shoved his hands into his jean pockets. “Actually, tonight- no. Uh, I can’t tonight. I’m heading back home for break.”

”Oh,” Pam said, obvious disappointment in her voice. “Ok.”

Jim nodded and exhaled deeply, turning towards his desk and picking up a stack of papers.

“I actually have to run these down to turn in to my copy editor, but uh… I’ll catch up with you later,” Jim said, standing upright.

”Yeah, ok. Have a good break,” Pam called out to him as he walked out the door, not looking back. Pam sighed and dropped her stuff on his desk, reaching around to put on her jacket.

“You must be Pam,” the blonde girl from the copy machine suddenly appeared in front of Jim’s desk. Interesting, Pam thought. How had she known her name?

“I’m April,” the girl said, extending her hand.

”Hi April,” Pam said, shaking it.

“I’m having a small little get together for my birthday tonight,” April said, handing Pam a flyer. A girl named April, born in December, Pam thought. Sure. That made sense.

”I was going to throw a party over the weekend, but I know a lot of people will be out of town for the holidays so I’m celebrating tonight. You should stop by,” April said cheerfully.

“Thanks,” Pam said. “I have a lot of studying to do tonight but, um-”

”Well, no pressure. Although…” April leaned in and whispered. “I’m pretty sure Jim will be there.”

Pam just nodded.

”Ok, maybe I’ll see you tonight,” Pam said, fighting the urge to punch something. Hard.

*

“Hello?” Kelly’s voice sounded over the phone.

”Ok, get this,” Pam spit into the phone as she spun through the revolving door out into the bitter cold. “So I finally talked to Jim today.”

”Yay!”

”I went to his office in the journalism department, and we had what was probably the most awkward conversation of all awkward conversations,” Pam said, her weight fighting against the wind as she pushed towards her apartment building.

“And then, I asked him if he wanted to go out for a drink tonight, since he apparently didn’t have the balls to do it himself,” she continued. She didn’t care how bitchy she was behaving at that point. She was pissed.

”Anyway, he turns me down, says he’s leaving tonight to go to his family’s house for winter break. Then he just walks out. Without even saying goodbye or anything.”

”Ok…” Kelly said.

“Then some girl walks up to me and invites me to some birthday party she’s having tonight, and she says to me, ‘You should go. I’m pretty sure Jim’s going to be there.’”

“What?” Kelly asked.

”He lied! He totally fucking lied!”

”I don’t get it, why would he lie and tell you he’s going out of town?” Kelly asked.

”I don’t know, but I’m fucking pissed! And now, I totally want to go to this party so I can tell him off which is why I’m calling you to tell you that you have to come with me,” Pam said.

”What’s this slut’s name?” Kelly asked.

”Her name’s April,” Pam said. “Which, by the way, is the stupidest name ever! I mean, she was born in December. December isn’t even close to being in the spring! Or in April!”

Pam realized how stupid she sounded, and she didn’t care. She was too angry to care.

"I'll cut her face," Kelly said.

Pam reached her apartment after hanging up with Kelly, tossing her cell phone and book bag on her bed. Kelly had agreed to meet at her apartment in about an hour, which gave Pam a little time to change and form some type of plan of what she would actually say to Jim tonight. She couldn't think about anything clearly at the moment; she was beyond irritated.

Pam exhaled loudly and stomped over to her closet, determined to find something to wear to April's stupid birthday party.

With hearts on fire, I reach out to you tonight

The music thumped loudly, the floor vibrating rhythmically under Pam’s feet as she made her way through a small crowd to an elongated table consisting of a small buffet of a wide assortment of chips and beer. Pam could swear April said this was only going to be a “small get-together type thing”. Looking around, she sensed that was not the case as April’s party had stretched way beyond a small gathering of friends.

“Have you found Jim/John yet?” Kelly asked, while Pam wondered when Kelly would finally drop that stupid nickname.

”No,” Pam sighed. “Maybe he wasn’t lying. Maybe he told April he would show up just to be nice.”

She grabbed another beer from the tub of ice on the table. Was it bad that she already had three Miller Lights before leaving her apartment?

“Ooh, they have karaoke!” Kelly pointed across the dim-lit room. “Pam, you should go up there when you find Jim and go all Alanis Morissette on him and get all up in his face like, ‘You! Oughta know!!’”

“No way am I doing that,” Pam said, rolling her eyes as she chugged down her fourth beer, already feeling a little woozy. She scanned the room again and again. It couldn’t have been that hard to find Jim in the crowd. The man was a giant.

“I don’t think he’s here,” Pam said.

”Well, he’ll show up eventually,” Kelly said. “Come on, let’s go outside and get some air. It smells like a bunch of potheads live in here.”

Pam glanced around the room one last time before following Kelly to the balcony outside, the music drowning out behind them.

Hearts on fire, I reach out to you tonight.

Pam pulled her jacket closer to her chest, her arms hugging herself tightly from the cold.

”It’s freezing out here,” Pam complained, her teeth chattering. The city of Chicago illuminated around them, police sirens sounding from below. The Sears Tower loomed over head, the top of the building lit up a vivid red and green.

“So have you figured out what you’re going to say?” Kelly asked.

“I think so,” Pam said, her toes going numb. “There might be yelling.”

“Good, he deserves it,” Kelly said. Pam just nodded, not sure if she agreed with her.

“How are things going with Ryan?” she asked, eager to get her mind off Jim for awhile.

“They’re ok,” Kelly replied. “He’s a total douchebag sometimes, but we do have fun when we’re together I guess.”

Pam just nodded.

”I’m sorry, I can’t stand out here anymore. My ears feel like they’re about to fall off,” Pam said.

Two ravens in the old oak tree/one for you and one for me/
Bluebells in the late December/I see signs now all the time

Pam walked back inside the apartment, clinging to her navy wool jacket and rubbing her arms as she struggled to return her body to normal temperature.

“This is such a depressing song for a party,” Kelly noted, the sound of bells floating through the air, emitting from a small stereo in the corner of the room. Pam would have had to agree with her if her mind wasn’t focused on something else.

Pam stood frozen in the middle of the room, her eyes fixed straight ahead. Jim was leaning against the wall. He looked happy and relaxed, wearing a loose-fitting jeans and a checkered red and white button-up shirt, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His hair was getting so long and it stuck out like crazy in all directions. Pam watched as he laughed at something and sipped from a red plastic cup, a small group of three or four guys huddled around him.

“Pam?” Kelly tapped insistently on Pam’s shoulder.

”What?” Pam asked, blinking her eyes and turning around.

”I said I’m going to go to the bathroom. Will you hold my jacket?” Kelly asked.

”Yeah, sure,” Pam said, grabbing Kelly’s pink leather coat from her hands. She turned around and Jim was gone. She quickly looked around and spotted him again. He was over by the karaoke stand holding a book, presumably glancing through song titles.

I could sleep forever these days/because in my dreams I see you again
But this time fleshed out fuller face/in your confirmation dress

Pam took a moment to compose herself and inhaled deeply, slowly moving towards him, his back to her. She got within a couple of inches of him and hesitated.

”Hey,” she spoke up and Jim turned around, clearly surprised to see her.

”Pam. Hey,” he said, dropping the book out of his hands and onto a table.

”Your parents really know how to party,” Pam threw out sarcastically, quickly glancing around the room in an exaggerated fashion.

”Pam, I-“

”I’m not here to yell,” Pam said. “Although I have thought about it. Yelling at you. I just… I just can’t yell at you.”

She looked down nervously, her sparkly brown Keds peeking out from underneath her khakis.

”Roy proposed to me over Thanksgiving, and I told him that I had to think about it,” Pam said, looking back up into his eyes. “That’s why you saw the ring on my night stand. I felt like I didn’t have any answers, and I was confused. It wasn’t until I saw you again that I realized how easy it was to figure out.”

I was so upset/so upset

“I told Roy that I couldn’t marry him. I thought about it, and I figured out that I just didn’t see myself having a future with him. And, I have been trying to tell you that for the past six days, but you’ve been ignoring me. And that’s… fine, it’s whatever, I just… I really like you, Jim. Like, listen to that stupid CD mix you gave me over and over like you. Trying to figure out if any of the songs have any hidden meaning where maybe you’re trying to tell me that you like me, too like you.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head at herself, her loose curls shaking around her head.

I see signs now all the time/that you’re not dead you’re sleeping
I believe in anything/that brings you back home to me

She looked back up, his expression remained unchanged: Totally and completely unreadable. She bit her lip, struggling not to cry.

“Anyway, I should go, because I have this stupid final tomorrow and I should be at home studying for it, so…”

She held onto his stare for one last second before turning around and walking away.

I see signs now all the time/that you’re not dead you’re sleeping

I believe in anything/that brings you back home to me...

Pam grabbed her Photoshop tutorial book and carried it into bed, flipping on the bedside lamp and crawling under the covers. She snatched a hairclip from the floor and pinned her hair up out of her face, opening the book to where she had last left off, a Spongebob Squarepants bookmark holding her space on page 73. She really didn’t want to study stupid Photoshop tutorials, but she really needed to pass this final exam tomorrow.

She had returned home about an hour ago, her face washed free of makeup, her clothes tossed in the hamper in exchange for a comfortable pair of sweats. Kelly took a train home from a station across the street from April’s building. Kelly had consoled Pam on the sidewalk, having come out of the building looking for her and finding her crying on the steps. Pam hadn’t bothered to explain what had happened, just kept muttering over and over how stupid she was.

God, she was so stupid.

She sighed, unable to concentrate on Ctrl, Alts, Deletes and random keyboard shortcuts and pulled out a small sketchbook, hidden between the pages of her textbook. She flipped through the pages, landing on a portrait of Jim. She remembered sketching it over Thanksgiving break, after Roy had proposed. She had sat in her childhood bedroom with the pink walls and unicorn wallpaper, drawing a portrait completely from memory, astonished that she had could accurately remember all of his facial lines and features.

She softly brushed her fingers across his face, over his eyes and lips down to the veins in his forearms and sighed softly, thinking back to the first day they spent together, inside a coffee shop on a bright and early Saturday morning.

“I can’t believe you have Britney Spears on your play list,” Jim laughed, his fingers brushed around the buttons on her ipod as he browsed her music collection.

“So I haven’t cleared out my ipod in awhile,” Pam defended. “I used to listen to her all the time back in the day.”

“Fact, this is an ipod nano. Third generation. Meaning it was just released last year. Meaning you put Britney Spears on your play list very recently.”

She was caught.

“Alright, fine, let’s see yours,” Pam said, grabbing his ipod from his lap. The store was quiet and empty, most people probably sleeping in on the weekend. They had sat beside each other in two oversized leather chairs, a small wooden table separating them. She heard Jim laugh again.

“You have The Macarena on your playlist," Jim stated. He was clearly enjoying this.

“Oh yeah, well look what I just found on your play list, Mr. REO Speedwagon,” Pam proclaimed, swinging his ipod back in forth in front of his face.

”I am not at all embarrassed by that. ‘Keep On Loving You’ is one of the best songs, ever,” Jim said, continuing to flip through her music player.

“Fine,” Pam muttered, continuing her search, hoping she would find N’SYNC under “Guilty Pleasures” or something.

“The Backstreet Boys?” Jim laughed again.

“Alright, stop it,” Pam fumed, reaching for her ipod. “Give it back!”

“A MTV TRL Christmas?” Jim continued to read. “Clay Aiken?!?!”

Pam finally managed to grab her ipod from his hands, promptly shoving it into the pocket of her sweat pants.

“Oh, come on,” Jim moaned. “I was just getting to the good stuff.”

“I hate you,” Pam shook her head, tossing his ipod back into his lap.

“Don’t worry,” Jim said, sliding an ear bud in his ear. “As your friend, I feel it is not only my duty, but my personal responsibility to introduce you to some better music.”

“Aww,” Pam smiled.

”What?” Jim asked.

”We’re friends?” Pam asked sweetly.

“Well, first we need to find where you lost your taste in music, then we’ll see how the whole friends thing goes,” Jim smiled and Pam slapped him playfully on the arm. “It’ll be like Madonna, and the whole reinvention thing.”

“Ooh, Madonna. I think I have her on here, actually,” Pam said, pulling her ipod out of her pocket as Jim shook his head with disappointment.

Highway run/Into the midnight sun
Wheels go ‘round and ‘round/you’re on my mind

Pam blinked out of her thoughts, coming back to reality. Where the hell was that music coming from?

Restless hearts/sleep alone tonight
Sendin’ all my love/along the wire

Pam looked around her room in confusion, realizing the music was coming from outside her door. She got out of bed and walked across the apartment, pressing her ear against the front door.

They say that the road ain’t no place to start a family/
Right down the line it’s been you and me

Pam narrowed her eyes and unbolted the door, pulling it open.

And lovin’ a music man ain’t always what it’s supposed to be/
Oh, girl you you stand by me, I’m forever yours/Faithfully

Jim stood in the hallway, holding his open Macbook in his hands. Pam shook her head in shock, leaning against her door for support.

“It’s the closest I could get to John Cusack holding a boombox over his head,” Jim shrugged as Pam continued to stare at him in wonderment. “Most romantic movie ever by the way.”

Pam continued to stare at him in shock, speechless.

”I was going to play ‘In Your Eyes’, but I remembered you like Journey. And I happened to have a couple of their songs downloaded on my computer…” His voice trailed off, starting to look worried as Pam just stared up at him.

”This was a bad idea wasn’t it? God, I feel like an idiot, I just thought that you-“

Pam cut him off, putting her hands on his neck and pulling his face down to hers, pushing her warm lips against his. His laptop closed between them and he carefully sat it on the table beside her door, one hand warm and strong on her back, her t-shirt scrunching underneath his fingers. He wrapped his arms around her, moving her backwards into her apartment, and kicked the door shut behind him.

“This is Metra, train number 1241, with service to Aurora, with intermediate stops at Western Avenue, Cicero, Berwyn, Harlem Avenue, Riverside…”

The robotic voice droned on as Pam slid in her ear buds to block out the noise, reclining back in her seat.

It was Saturday, December 13, and Pam had made it through her first semester at Columbia College. She was fairly confident she had passed all of her classes. It was only that stupid Intro to New Media class she still wasn’t sure about, but she was praying she had at least managed to squeak by with a C.

”Tickets!” The conductor bellowed, making his way onto the car while repeatedly clicking his hole puncher to mark train passes. Pam was seated in the rear of the car, so it would be awhile before the conductor made his way to her row of seats, the train packed due to the busy holiday season.

Pam turned the music up in her ears and stared out the window, the train click-clacking a steady beat down the tracks, the Sears Tower disappearing into a thick fog. She slowly closed her eyes.


/I don’t know if you notice anything different/

“You have pretty feet,” Jim said, looking down at her toes.

“Thank you,” Pam said, bashfully tucking them underneath her comforter, out of view.


“Tickets!” The conductor banged on the metal overhead to get the attention of a passenger who had already fallen asleep, temporarily stirring Pam out of her thoughts. She turned and gazed back out the window, the outside gray and dark and the ground blanketed in a sheet of white.



It’s getting dark and/It’s getting cold/And the nights are getting long

Soft music played from Jim’s computer on the floor. The apartment was cold and dark, a soft light streaming in through the window.

Pam looked up into Jim’s eyes. He lay beside her on her twin-sized bed, his head propped up on one arm as he gazed down at her, a shy smile on his face, eyelids heavy.

She remembered the sight of him in the hallway only minutes ago, his macbook in front of his chest as the soft melody of Journey’s “Faithfully” drifted into her room.

Before she knew it, his arms were around her, his hands hot on her back and pressing her body firmly against his, his lips hungry and warm. Her hands were caught between them, her fingers stroking the buttons on his shirt.

His hands moved their way up her arms to the sides of her face, her back suddenly feeling cold. Jim pressed his lips against hers for one last kiss before letting out a soft sigh and leaning his forehead on hers, his eyes closed as he smiled.

“Wow,” Jim whispered.

”Yeah,” Pam sighed.

”You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” she heard him say. She opened her eyes and saw his eyes were staring down at her mouth.

“Me too,” she said softly.

He leaned down into her as she slowly closed her eyes, his lips once again crashing into hers.



”Tickets!” The conductor had finally made it to Pam’s row and she jumped a little in her seat, handing over her pass.

“Thank you,” he efficiently punched her pass and handed it back before sliding the door open and moving on to the next car.

Pam slid her pass back into her wallet, shoving her purse under the seat. She could barely see any of the passing scenery as the fog grew heavier, the world outside nothing but a dark gray cloud. She pressed her forehead against the cold window, her eyes closing again as her mind drifted away.


I don’t know if you notice anything different

“Maybe we should slow down,” Pam whispered, her hands firm against Jim’s chest. They had somehow made it onto her bed, his body heavy on top of her. He licked his lips slowly, staring down into her eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice heavy and low. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

He shifted his body off of hers, laying beside her on the bed. She sat up slowly, her cheeks feeling flushed and warm. She awkwardly tugged at her t-shirt, pulling the hem back down to her waist.

Jim looked up at her from his spot beside her, his right arm bent and propping his head up.

”What?” Pam asked, nervously biting her lip.

”Nothing,” Jim said and Pam wanted nothing more than to kiss him again, hearing the low bass of his voice.

“Do you have more music on your computer?” Pam asked.

“Of course,” Jim answered. Pam lifted herself off the bed and walked across the room. She lifted Jim’s computer from the table by the door and moved it to the floor, sitting down on the carpet with her legs crossed as Jim silently watched her.

I don’t know if you notice anything different

Soft music filled the room as Pam rose from the floor, walking over to the bed.

“I like this song,” she said, laying down and copying Jim’s position, their bodies inches from each other on her tiny bed. His legs dangled over the edge.

“Me too,” Jim smiled, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Can I ask you a question?” Pam asked.

“Yes.”

”Why did you ignore me for so long?”

I don’t know if you notice anything missing/
Like the leaves on the trees or my clothes all over the floor

Jim exhaled softly,

“I mean I know it was really only six days… Still felt long,” Pam said.

“I’m sorry,” Jim said.

“It’s ok,” Pam shook her head. “I know I should have told you-“

”No,” Jim said. “I shouldn’t have ignored you.”

“Why did you?” Pam asked hesitantly.

“Honestly…”

”Honesty works,” Pam smiled. Jim paused before continuing.

“I haven’t felt the way I feel for you for anyone else in a really… really, long time,” Jim said. “Remember Sarah?” Pam nodded. “We broke up when I found out she had slept with one of my good friends, the summer after graduation. And finding out that she had did that… It just sucked.”

Pam was silent, waiting for him to continue.

“We dated for two years, but I never loved her. I know that now, but then… I was pretty crazy about her. And when I found out she had cheated me it just… I couldn’t understand how someone could do that to someone they cared so deeply for.”

And the things that keep us apart/keep me alive
And the things that keep me alive/keep me alone

“I haven’t really dated much since then… I’ve had this weird thing with… trusting people,” Jim admitted. “And then I met you. You were just so... great. I remember running into you that one night in the elevator, when you were wearing that pretty yellow dress, and I remember thinking you were just so damn beautiful.”

Pam couldn’t help but smile, her cheeks feeling warm.

”We went out for coffee the next morning, and you met me downstairs. The last time I had seen you, you were wearing high heels and your hair was… immaculate. And you came downstairs that day after just waking up, your hair was all crazy and you were wearing the most God-awful pair of sweats I have ever seen. And you didn’t care. And I thought, ‘Wow. She’s even more beautiful than the last time I saw her.’”

“I knew then that I was gone,” Jim continued. “I wanted to say something then, but I just… couldn’t. And then that day in your room, I saw the ring on your night stand and I just felt… It was like I had lost you before I had you.”

I don’t know if you’ll even notice at all/
‘Cause I was real quiet when I closed the door

Jim exhaled loudly, his eyes blinking for the first time.

“I shouldn’t have ignored you,” Jim said. “I wish I had…”

He sighed and reached out, touching her hand.

“I shouldn’t have ignored you.”

Pam leaned over, her lips softly brushing against his. His hand disappeared from on top of hers, landing hard and warm on her back.

She slowly pulled away, gazing up into his eyes.

”I’m sorry she hurt you,” Pam whispered.

“I think I’m going to be okay now,” Jim smiled. She couldn’t help but smile back.

He sighed and shifted his eyes, his gaze drawing down her flowered purple comforter.

“You have pretty feet,” Jim said, looking down at her toes.

“Thank you,” Pam said, bashfully tucking them underneath her comforter and out of view.



“Now approaching Naperville.”

Pam blinked out of her thoughts, slowly returning to reality as the train decelerated, reaching a stop at her station. She looked out the window and saw Angela’s Focus parked in the long line of vehicles, waiting for her. Pam stood, slowly gathering her belongings.



“I leave tomorrow,” Jim said solemnly, his eyes gazing past her into her apartment as they stood inside her doorway.

“When are you coming back?” Pam asked.

”January 19.”

Pam nodded. January 19 was a whole month and seven days away.

“I’m going back home, too,” she said, looking down at the floor.

“I guess I’ll meet you back here,” Jim said and she looked up, his eyes smiling.

“Ok,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest to try to restrain herself from pulling him back into her apartment.

“Have fun on your trip,” Jim said, his hand in her hair.

”You too,” Pam replied, their lips colliding as he leaned down into her one last time.

I don’t know if you even noticed at all/
That I’m long gone baby, I’m long gone



“Hey,” Pam said, climbing into the passenger seat of Angela’s car and tossing her things into the back.

“How was your last week?” Angela asked, pulling the car out of line and onto the street.

“It was good,” Pam said, fastening her seat belt.

“Do you think you passed all of your classes?”

”I think so,” Pam nodded, turning to gaze out the window. The fog had lifted and the sun was trying to peek through the clouds. The trees were bare and snow blanketed the ground. The streets covered in salt, the tires crunching under their feet.

"Are you happy to be home?" Angela asked, making a turn at the light.

"Yeah," Pam said as she stared out the window, the flat terrain and small town streets feeling nothing like home.

Hello/
I was just calling to say hello/

It was two weeks into winter break. Two days after Christmas and fifteen days since she had found herself in Jim’s arms.

And she missed him.

I was just calling to say hello to you/
And let you know I’m thinking about you

“Hello?”

”Hi.”

”What are you doing, calling so early?”

”Well, my 15-year-old niece was listening to Britney Spears and I thought, ‘Hmm, I wonder what Pam is doing right now?”

Pam giggled blissfully into the phone, pulling her plaid purple comforter over her head.

It was a quarter past ten on a dreadfully wintry Saturday morning and Pam had been lying in bed awake for two hours. Her room was cold and dark as the wind howled outside her window. The sun had vanished over a week ago. One day it simply… didn’t rise, leaving the outside dreary, lifeless. Cold.

Pam missed Jim desperately. She had seriously considered visiting him on more than one occasion. According to MapQuest’s directions, Hyde Park was only an hour away. The only problem was Pam and Jim lived in Chicago, the city of endless traffic and mindless construction, when any distance traveled by car took well over three hours.

They had somehow gotten in the habit of calling each other every night at 11:15, initiating from Jim’s first phone call the Saturday Pam had arrived home.

“I spent the day with Angela and Dwight making cow cookies,” Pam had said, the neighbors dazzling display of Christmas lights reflected through her window as she lay in the dark, munching into the phone.

“Cow cookies?”

”Cow cookies. Cookies shaped like cows,” Pam said matter-of-factly, biting off another cow head.

“What do cows have to do with Christmas?” Jim asked.

”Nothing, really,” Pam replied between mouthfuls of cookie. “But Angela had her cow cookie cutters stored with her holiday cookie cutters, instead of with the animal cutters. So, I made cow cookies. I’m thinking of sending them out to everybody with a card that says, ‘Have a very Moowy Christmas.’”

“And what did Angela have to say about your cow cookies?” Jim asked. She could hear Christmas music and soft chatter in the background.

“She wasn’t happy. But I made the argument that her cat cookies didn’t necessarily scream a very Merry Christmas either,” Pam laughed, thinking back to earlier that afternoon, an odd assortment of decorated cats with bows, cows with studded collars, and snow-topped Christmas trees sitting in the center of Angela’s kitchen table.

They rambled through mindless banter every night, their conversations lasting three, sometimes four hours.

“I think I’m adopted,” Pam said as soon as Jim picked up the phone late one Thursday night.

“What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know. Because my parents hate me,” Pam replied, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling.

“Your parents don’t hate you,” Jim reassured her.

“You wouldn’t be saying that had you been there at my dinner table tonight. My parents launched into this 45-minute discussion, basically telling me how stupid I am for giving up on medical school to go off and study a hobby. Can you believe it? They actually called it a hobby, as if I won’t be able to find a real job by getting a degree in graphic design.”

“That’s harsh,” Jim said.

“Well, they’re right,” Pam admitted. “There isn’t a lot of money in art. I mean, who am I kidding? I got a D in my Intro to New Media class. I barely passed. Clearly, I'm not cut out for this.”

“Did I ever tell you a story?”

”What story?” Pam asked.

“Back in high school, I played small forward for the Varsity State Champion basketball team. It was the final game of the season, and a scout came up to me in the locker room and said, ‘We’ll offer you a $20-million contract to bring you into the NBA.’ And I was like, ‘No thanks. I’m going to be a writer.’”

”That never happened,” Pam said, letting out a laugh.

“Hey. No need to laugh. It could’ve happened,” Jim said.

“Did it?”

”No.”

“See? Liar.” Pam smiled.

“Anyway, the moral of the story is-“

“Fake story,” Pam reminded him.

“Whatever, true or not the moral of the story is you have to do what you feel is right. No matter what anyone else tells you,” Jim said. “And even though I was promised to become the next LeBron James-“

“Are we seriously still on that?” Pam giggled, shaking her head.

“Alright, seriously. Do you like art, Beesly?”

”I do,” Pam said. “It’s just the whole drawing on the computer thing that’s irritating me. Creating logos and stuff. That’s not what I see myself doing in the next five… ten years.”

“And what do you see yourself doing?”

”I don’t know. I’ve thought about teaching. A small art class. In elementary. Maybe high school,” Pam replied.

“Then aim towards that,” Jim said. “You shouldn’t stick with graphic design if it doesn’t feel right to you.”

”Yeah,” Pam said, her mind wandering off to think about other options.

“So, uh… Are you in bed right now?” Jim asked.

“If you ask me what I’m wearing I’m going to knock you the next time I see you,” Pam said.

“The thought never even crossed my mind,” Jim replied.

“And why not?”

“The more I try to understand you, the less I understand you, you know that?” Jim said as Pam laughed. She suddenly felt a lot better.

This is the perfect time for you to be here and you’re not/
You could totally nurse me back to health ‘cause I’m weathered

“Red or blue?”

“What?”

”Red. Or Blue.” Pam said as she stood in the young men’s department at Target, holding up a pair or red and blue gloves.

“Red or blue what?” Jim asked.

”I’m buying you a Christmas present, and I need to know red or blue,” Pam said, switching her phone to the other ear.

”You don’t have to buy me a Christmas present,” Jim insisted.

”Well, I am so make a choice. Red or blue.”

”Purple.”

”They don’t have purple,” Pam rolled her eyes, her gaze landing on a familiar figure across the aisle in the automotive department.

“Well, I like purple, so if they don’t have purple I’m not interested,” Jim said.

“Crap!!”

”What’s wrong?” Jim asked, worried.

”Nothing… I think I just saw Roy,” Pam said, ducking behind a row of socks as she watched Roy and his brother, Kenny, heading towards her.

“Where are you?”

”I’m at Target,” Pam replied, shoving the gloves into her cart and pushing away towards shoes.

“What is Roy doing at Target?”

”You don’t have to say his name like that,” Pam said, turning down the aisle, cowering between womens' shoe size 9 and 11.

“I said it normal.”

“Ugh, I knew I shouldn’t have left the house. There’s no way I can avoid Roy in this town,” Pam sighed, watching as Roy and Kenny made their way to the registers. “Anyway you never answered me. Red or blue?”

”Pink.”

”Blue it is,” Pam decided, abandoning the red gloves onto a rack of snow boots.

Two days later, she received a gigantic box in the mail, addressed from Hyde Park. She lugged it up to her bedroom and tore into the package, red and green confetti springing out of the box.

She carefully pulled out its contents, smiling ear-to-ear. A stack of mix CDs. Lisa Frank folders. A dinosaur coloring book and over 10 kinds of crayons. 120-count, oil pastels, glitter crayons, erasable crayons, scented crayons, apparently every kind of crayon he could find. She laughed when she found a folded sheet of white construction paper, a crazy doodle of a stick figure with unruly curly hair and beady eyes, “PAM” written underneath in huge block letters.

“Sniff it, you smell like strawberries,” she read and held the paper to her face. Strawberries, indeed.

That night, she sat in bed with a blank sketchbook and her new set of oil pastel crayons. She carefully sketched out the Chicago skyline, her fingertips blending the rich blues, yellows and blacks as she vividly pictured the city at night, red and green confetti clinging to her arms.



“What are you scared of?” Pam asked late Friday night, pulling her comforter closer to her chest.

”What do you mean?” Jim asked.

“Well now you know that I’m scared of thunderstorms,” Pam said, another clap of thunder rolling overhead. Who knew they would find themselves in the middle of a rain storm, one day after a blizzard? “What’s something that scares you?”

Jim paused in thought, breathing evenly in and out over the phone.

”Wal-mart,” he finally said and Pam giggled. “Huge crowds, long lines… Insanely low prices…”

”I guess that can be scary,” Pam agreed.

“Hey Beesly?”

”How come you never call me Pam?” Pam smiled.

“I do sometimes… Beesly?” Jim repeated.

”What?”

”I like you.”

”I like you, too.”


I miss you a bunch and wish you were here to hold me...

Pam lay in bed on that dreadfully cold Saturday morning, her phone pressed against her cheek as Jim’s low voice filled her ear.

”Hey, I have to go. My mom just made breakfast,” she heard him say.

”Alright. I’ll talk to you later,” Pam said, wishing they didn't have to say goodbye just yet.

“Sounds good,” Jim said. “Enjoy your day in bed.”

“Oh, I will,” Pam laughed.

“Alright, bye Beesly.”

”Bye, Jim,” Pam clicked her phone shut, her room suddenly feeling much colder.

Late Saturday evening, she flipped her laptop open to check her e-mail. She ignored the dozens of Hallmark e-card alerts and instead opened a message from Facebook- the timestamp showed the alert was sent at 11:41 the night before. She clicked on a link that quickly led her to her Facebook page.

Jim Halpert has changed his relationship status to "In a relationship with Pam Beesly". To confirm this relationship request, click on the link below.

She tapped her fingertips across the smooth mouse pad, directing the small arrow on the screen over the button that read "Confirm." The page refreshed.

Pam Beesly is now listed as in a relationship with Jim Halpert.

“New Year’s Eve! I’m so excited! Aren’t you excited Pam?” Kelly squealed from the passenger seat, turning around to smile at Pam who just nodded. "Yay! New Year's Eve, here we come!!"

“Kelly, what did I tell you? Use your indoor voice. My right ear is ringing from all of your screaming.” Angela complained as she signaled to merge onto Eisenhower Expressway. The car came to an immediate stop as soon as they entered the highway, red brake lights stretching for miles ahead.

“Sorry,” Kelly said, taking her tone down a notch. “Hey, can we listen to B96? They’re counting down the top 50 songs of 2008.” She started fiddling with the buttons on the radio until sounds of The Pussycat Dolls filled the car.

”Oh my God, I love this song!!” Kelly exclaimed, jumping up and down in her seat. Angela sighed and threw her hands up in frustration.

“When I grow up, I wanna be famous, I wanna be a star, I wanna make movies,” Kelly sang. Pam couldn’t help but bob her head to the infectious rhythm in the back seat.

It was December 31, 2008. The girls were headed downtown to celebrate the new year at Chicago's luxurious Drake Hotel. Pam was especially excited because it would be the first time she would be seeing Jim in over two and a half weeks.

“What are you doing for New Year’s Eve?” Pam had asked Jim over the phone earlier that week. Her voice was hoarse from catching a cold a couple of days before.

“Nothing. I usually just stay home,” Jim had replied.

“Well, how would you like to accompany me to The Drake Hotel for appetizers, drinks, and fun?”

“Wow. Are you asking me out on a date, Beesly?”

“I didn’t think about it that way,” Pam said. “I guess I am.”

“Well, how can I say no to that?” Jim replied. Pam had to keep herself from doing a series of cartwheels around her bedroom.

“Really?” Pam asked. “Are you sure it won’t interfere with all that nothing you have going on?”

”You had me at appetizers,” Jim replied, making Pam laugh.

“Oh, also Angela and Kelly will be there with Dwight and Ryan so I guess it’ll kind of be like a group thing,” Pam added.

“Oh. That’s cool. I haven’t met them yet.”

“That’s true! You haven’t met my friends have you?” Pam realized.

“Nope.”

“Cool. I guess you’ll finally get to meet them, then.”

”Is your family going?” Jim asked.

”No, they’ll be here at home,” Pam said.

”You don’t spend very much time with your family, do you?” Jim asked. Pam narrowed her eyes.

”If I've learned anything these past couple of years, it's that my friends are my family,” she said.

It was true. Ever since she had moved out last summer, Pam had grown increasingly distant from her family. Despite the many visits she made back home over the holidays, it was Angela and Kelly who remained by Pam’s side through everything. They weren’t nearly as condescending as her parents were when it came to her plans for the future. Her friends didn’t question her motives when she decided she couldn’t marry Roy. When she made the nerve-racking move into a new apartment in the city on her own, it was Angela and Kelly who rode all the way from Naperville to Chicago in a hot and crowded Budget Rental Truck and helped unload boxes and furniture. Pam’s parents had fed her and clothed her and provided a roof over her head but over time, Angela and Kelly had slowly become her little family.

Pam hadn't told Jim that she had included him as part of her family, too. She figured it might be too soon. They had only known each other for five months.

The traffic cleared as Angela merged onto Kennedy Expressway, the elongated Chicago skyline coming into view. Many of the buildings were still lit in festive reds and greens.

Kelly continued singing along with the radio as Beyonce took over for the Pussycat Dolls.

”If you like it then you should’a put a ring on it! If you like it then you should’a put a ring on it!” Kelly sang, turning around to smile at Pam as she danced in her seat. “Oh, oh oh, oh oh oh oh!”

Pam just smiled and raised her left hand in the air, doing a little “Single Ladies” dance as she waved it around.

“Pam, don’t encourage her,” Angela glared at Pam in the review mirror. Pam quickly put her hand down. Angela was definitely the soccer mom of the family. Kelly, perhaps a zany Aunt.

“Oh, oh oh, oh oh oh oh!” Kelly continued singing, unfazed as Angela turned into the parking garage of the hotel.

The musical notes of Coldplay’s “Viva La Vida” filled the car as Angela turned into a parking space somewhere on the third level. Kelly sharply turned the radio off.

”I like that song,” Angela complained.

“Coldplay is stupid, whiny garbage. The singer sounds like someone sat on a cat or something,” Kelly said, checking herself in the mirror of the sun visor.

Pam opened the door and stepped out. She ran her hands over her purple dress to smooth out the wrinkles that had formed during the hour long car ride. She looked up at Kelly and Angela as they stepped out of the car in their fancy ballroom gowns. It was like prom all over again.

“Oh my God, we look so hot you guys,” Kelly exclaimed, walking around the car and linking arms with both of her girls. “We are so Carrie, Charlotte and Samantha. Actually, Angela you're more of a Miranda.” Angela just rolled her eyes.

Pam wasn’t sure what Jim would think of her friends. Roy didn’t necessarily get along with Angela and Kelly, he just kind of… tolerated them. Although, she remembered back in high school at Kelly’s 18th birthday party when Roy picked Angela during an uncomfortable tell-all game of “Who Would You Do?” She shivered at the thought.

They walked through the doors of the hotel and into the atrium. The entrance itself was pretty intimidating. The Drake Hotel was very prestigious and Pam didn’t feel nearly fancy enough to belong there. Large chandeliers hung from the high ceilings and long, flowing curtains draped across each entryway. The hotel was still decked out for the holidays; a pair of statued toy soldiers flanked each side of a blue-carpeted stairway leading up to the ballroom, each towering a good ten feet tall. An enormous Christmas tree sat at the top of the staircase, the tree bejeweled with so many ornaments you could hardly tell if there was even a tree hiding in there at all.

Pam spotted Ryan and Dwight at the top of the stairs, both dressed in traditional black tuxedos. Dwight was apparently showing off his kung-fu moves and had Ryan in a headlock.

”Ew, Dwight, get your hands off my boyfriend!” Kelly shrieked, dashing up the stairs to rescue Ryan. Pam held tightly onto the banister as she made her way up. She still wasn’t quite accustomed to wearing heels. She had wanted to wear her more comfortable flats, but Kelly wouldn't let her out of the house without a "decent" pair of shoes.

Dwight released Ryan and turned to acknowledge the girls.

”Hello, Kelly. Pamela,” Dwight nodded in greeting and Pam nodded back. “Angela,” Dwight smiled, turning to hug his fiancé.

”Not in public,” Angela complained, inching away from him and making a face.

”Sorry,” Dwight mumbled, looking around the room uneasily. Dwight and Angela were quite the odd couple.

“I reserved a table for us inside," Dwight said. "I made sure they sat us at an equal distance from one of the main fire exits and the ladies room.” Angela smiled proudly, as if he had achieved some sort of huge accomplishment. Such an odd couple, Pam thought to herself.

”Come,” Dwight waved to the girls. “Follow me.”

Pam fell into step behind Angela and Dwight. Kelly and Ryan staggered a couple of feet behind them, unable to keep their hands off of each other. Pam took another quick glance around the lobby and tried to spot Jim, slightly disappointed that she couldn’t find him.

Dwight led the group into the noisy and crowded ballroom, and Pam was overwhelmed yet again. The room was large enough to fit several thousand people. Elaborate Greek columns stretched from floor to ceiling. A large, wooden dance floor sat in the center of the room. Several people were already swaying to the music, directed by a DJ positioned on a small stage in a small corner at the front of the room.

Pam continued following Angela and Dwight, past the dozens of dining tables that were draped in white and gold fabrics and topped with outlandish flower centerpieces. They finally made their way through the sea of people and arrived at their seats.

Dwight walked around the table, holding a chair out for each of the girls. Pam sat first, more than happy to have the opportunity to sit down again so she could take everything in.

“Ooh, I love this song!” Kelly squealed, tugging on Ryan’s arm. “Come on, Ryan. Let’s go dance.”

”Kelly, we just got here,” Ryan complained.

”What was the one thing that you promised me tonight?” Kelly asked, hands on her hips.

“That I wouldn’t be a douchebag,” Ryan solemnly answered, shamefully bowing his head.

“Exactly. So, are you going to dance with me or not?” Kelly asked, tugging at his arm again.

”Fine,” Ryan relinquished, following her onto the dance floor. Pam suddenly realized she couldn't decide who the oddest couple was. Angela and Dwight or Kelly and Ryan.

“We’re going up to the bar,” Angela announced, tossing her coat over the back of her chair. “Do you want anything Pam?”

Pam shook her head no, and briefly looked down at her phone. Still no word from Jim. She sighed, and looked around the room. Well, if he wasn’t here yet she figured she would make a pit stop in the restroom.

***

Pam emerged from the ladies room a few minutes later, debating whether or not she should call Jim to check in and make sure he was on his way. She decided to give him a little while longer and scanned the room for Angela and Dwight. She spotted them standing by the bar and walked towards them, still keeping her eyes peeled for Jim.

“Hey Pam, check it out,” Dwight said, holding up a glass containing what appeared to be milk. “It’s called a Nog Martini. Two parts eggnog, one part vodka. It’s delicious, want one?”

Pam made a face and politely declined. She wasn’t a huge fan of eggnog, and eggnog and vodka together didn’t sound the least bit appealing.

“Alright, your loss,” Dwight said, tilting his head back and downing his drink in one easy gulp. Pam nearly gagged at the sight. She pulled out her phone, checking the time. 9:25.

She sighed, dropping her phone back in her purse. Kelly and Ryan were still in the middle of the dance floor, Kelly singing along to the lyrics of Chris Brown.

“’Cause if I got you, I don’t need money, I don’t need cars, girl you’re my all…” Kelly sang as Ryan stood stiffly beside her, giving the clear impression that he was out there against his own willpower. Pam would never understand those two.

Pam scanned the room again. Where the hell was Jim???

Pam started worrying that he wouldn’t show and felt slightly panicked. She had specifically bought a new dress for the occasion, she was wearing heels and she had spent over an hour straightening her hair. He had better show up.

Speaking of the devil, Pam thought as something buzzed from inside her purse. She pulled out her cell and saw that Jim had sent her a text message.

I’m here, where are you?

Pam quickly typed out a response.

I’m by the bar. Wearing a purple dress.

She looked around, hoping to spy him among the swarm of people between her and the ballroom entrance. It was only a few seconds later that she spotted him.

He was standing a few yards away with his hands in his pockets, his eyes frantically searching the crowd as he towered over almost everyone else in the room. He was very handsome and looked almost unrecognizable in a black suit and tie. She tried to stop her heart from leaping through her chest, and headed towards him.

Jim finally spotted her as she made her way across the room. A huge smile instantly emerged on his face.

“Hey,” he said as she finally reached him and he leaned in for a kiss. Pam quickly backed away, shaking her head vigorously.

”What?” he asked, his eyes narrowed in concern. She pointed at her throat. “You can’t talk?” She shook her head again and sniffed twice. “You’re sick?” She nodded. “And you lost your voice?” She nodded again. Sadly, Pam had lost her voice that morning to laryngitis.

“Aww… Pam,” he sympathized, his face creased with worry. “What are you doing here? You should be in bed, getting some rest.”

Pam pointed at herself and then pointed at him.

”Aww, I wanted to see you too. But not like this,” he let out a soft chuckle and she smiled, her head tilting as if to say, “Oh well.”

“Well, you look amazing,” Jim said and she nodded a thank you. “Do a spin, let me see,” he said, swirling his finger in the air and she did a little spin, feeling slightly dizzy when she came back around. “I like it,” he smiled. She pointed at his suit and gave him two thumbs up.

“Oh, thank you,” he said, looking down at his jacket and pulling at the sleeves. “It’s a little small. Apparently I’ve grown a little since my brother’s wedding five years ago, but it’s the only suit I had so-“

Pam just shrugged, making him laugh.

“Ok mimey, let’s get you back in a chair,” he smiled. She nodded and grabbed his hand, leading him back to their table.

Angela and Dwight had just returned from the bar and were standing in front of their seats. Pam pulled Jim around and tapped Angela on the shoulder, pointing at Jim.

“Hi, I’m Jim,” Jim smiled, extending his hand to Angela.

”You need a hair cut,” Angela replied, forcing Pam to nudge her on the arm. “What? It’s flipping out on the sides.”

”You must be Angela,” Jim recognized and Pam frowned. Sure she had talked about Angela dozens of times, but she was still surprised he was able to put a name to a face so quickly.

“I’m Angela, and this is my fiancé, Dwight,” Angela shook Jim’s hand and Dwight moved towards him, standing in front of her.

“You have a very large nose,” Dwight said as he strongly gripped Jim’s hands.

“Wow,” Jim said, looking uncomfortably over at Pam.

“They say a person with a large nose always has their nose in other people’s business,” Dwight said and Pam stepped in between them, making a slashing motion across her throat to tell Dwight to cut it out.

“Ok. Very nice to meet you,” Jim muttered as he pulled out a chair for Pam. He sat down beside her and she looked over, her face saying, “I’m sorry.” He just shrugged it off.

Pam looked up and saw Kelly and Ryan making their way over to the table. Pam figured Kelly would return eventually once the DJ made an odd music selection, switching over from Chris Brown to Wham.

“I just don’t understand why you’re upset,” Ryan was saying. “You asked me to dance, so I danced and you’re still whining. What, do you have a master’s degree in Whining-nomics?”

“It’s a degree, Ryan, where’s yours?” Kelly snapped back. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot, you got your master’s in anal-ology.”

Jim gave Pam a worried look and she raised her eyebrows, giving a small shrug. She snapped her fingers at Kelly as she took a seat next to Jim, pointing at her to introduce herself.

“Hi, you must be Kelly,” Jim said, reaching out his hand. “I’m Jim.”

”Hey, Jim,” Kelly smiled. “Wow, Pam. Nice work.”

Jim reached behind Kelly’s chair to introduce himself to Ryan.

”Jim,” he said and Ryan shook his hand.

”Ryan Howard. Sorry about Kelly. I think she’s on her period or something.”

”Why don’t you make yourself useful for a change and go get me a drink?” Kelly glared at Ryan.

”Fine. Whatever,” Ryan stood up, making a beeline for the bar.

“And don’t forget to ask for extra sugar on the rim,” Kelly yelled after him, turning back to her friends at the table. “Sorry about that. Anyway, so Jim. What are you like a model or something?”

”No,” Jim laughed. “No, I’m a student at Columbia. Thanks for the compliment, though.”

“Cool,” Kelly nodded. "I like your hair. You totally have the whole bedhead thing going on. It's hot."

"Oh. Thanks," Jim said, nervously looking down at the tablecloth. Pam tapped Jim on the shoulder and raised up her phone.

”I’m sorry,” Jim read off her screen.

“It’s cool. I’m having a good time,” he smiled. She flipped the phone around and quickly typed out “Thank you for coming,” flashing him the screen again.

”No problem,” Jim laughed. “If I wasn’t here, I’d just be at home... Watching a Battlestar Galactica marathon or something.”

”You watch Battlestar Galactica?” Dwight sat up, suddenly very fascinated by Jim.

“Um… Yes?” Jim feebly said, wondering what he had got himself into. Dwight just nodded and smiled.

“Nice,” Dwight simply said before turning back to Angela. Jim just looked at Pam, his eyes wide. Pam silently laughed.

“You know I was thinking,” Jim said as Ryan made his way back to the table with Kelly’s pink cocktail. “I don’t know if you realized this or not, but… I think this is our first date.”

Pam looked up in thought and smiled, realizing that, yes, in fact it was their first date. She pointed at her throat and grimaced, trying to communicate, “Sorry I can’t talk on our first date.”

“It’s ok,” Jim laughed, somehow understanding what she was trying to say. “I’m just glad I got to see you. No voice and all.”

”Yeah, Jim, sorry about Pam,” Kelly spoke up from his other side. “The doctor said she has laryngitis so she isn't able to talk.”

“Oh, it’s ok,” Jim said. “If I had known I would have told her to stay home in bed, but I know she wouldn’t have listened anyway. Stubborn,” he turned, giving Pam a look.

“Well, you know they say that the way you spend New Years is how you spend the rest of the year. That’s why she insisted on coming, so she could be here with you,” Kelly said.

“Really?” Jim looked at Pam again. She just shrugged her shoulders, her cheeks turning red. “Well, I’m happy to be here spending New Year’s Eve with you, Beesly.”

***

Twenty minutes later, Kelly and Ryan were on the dance floor again, and Pam found herself sitting at the table, bored out of her mind. Dwight had Jim cornered at the bar, enthusiastically talking his ear off about something of great interest. Pam assumed they were discussing their mutual appreciation for Battlestar Galactica. Pam sighed and checked the time on her phone. 10:13. Time just wasn’t going by fast enough.

“I got you a cocktail,” Jim announced, sitting a bubbly drink in front of her. She looked up at him, narrowing her eyes. “It’s just Sprite.” She nodded and mouthed, “Ohhh…,” smiling in gratitude.

“Sorry it took me so long, Dwight was going on and on about Cylons and Lord of the Rings,” Jim apologized. Pam just smiled, giggling to herself. Her boyfriend was kind of a dork.

“Anyway, I told him I suspected there were New Year’s Eve crashers sneaking in here just to get him to leave me alone,” Jim continued. “I don’t even know what New Year’s Eve crashing would consist of, but Dwight’s taking it very seriously,” he laughed. Pam giggled silently.

“But you can’t say anything,” Jim teased, wagging a finger at her. “Because then he’ll get mad and threaten to beat me up, and then I’ll have to kill him, so-“ He ran his fingers across his lips, signaling for her to keep her mouth zipped. Pam smiled and mimicked the motion over her own. He laughed and gave her a thumbs up.

“So,” Jim started, smiling at Pam. “When are we going to see some of those famous Beesly dance moves?” Pam blushed and shook her head.

“What?” Jim asked. “Come on, I know you got some moves. A little cabbage patch?”

He held onto her arms and moved them around in a little cabbage patch dance.

“Or how about, uh, the lawn mower?” He swung her arms to mimic the lawn mower dance. “Ooh, the sprinkler. Can’t forget about the sprinkler. That’s my all-time favorite. I only bring that out on real special occasions,” he winked at her, making her smile grow even wider.

“So how about it Beesly?” Jim asked. “Are you going to dance with me or what?”

Pam nodded and he stood, reaching out his hand to help her up and leading her to the crowded dance floor. Once they reached the floor he took her hands, inching her body closer to his. She found herself very thankful that he had brought her out during a slower song. He wrapped his arms around her and she reached her arms up, lacing them around his neck. He smiled down at her.

”Hey,” he said, in that deep, sexy voice that always made Pam weak at the knees. She just smiled before suddenly wincing in pain.

”Whoa!” Jim jumped back. “I’m sorry, Pam. I’m so sorry. Why aren’t you wearing any shoes?” He laughed, looking down at her bare feet. She just made a face.

“Your feet hurt, huh?”

She nodded, remembering she had discarded her shoes under the table as soon as she had the chance. He laughed and gracefully lifted her up, bringing her feet down on top of his shiny black shoes.

“There you go,” he smiled. “Granted, I haven’t danced like this since my brother’s wedding when my niece was 10, but still. I think we can make it work.”

Pam just smiled gratefully as they gently swayed back and forth.

“You’re beautiful,” Jim smiled, gazing intently into her eyes. She had to keep herself from falling over. She simply smiled up at him.

“See? We have music, dancing... awkward conversation. I’d say this is shaping up to be a pretty good first date,” Jim said. Pam laughed quietly, laying her head on his chest.

“This song is kind of depressing, though,” Jim remarked and Pam's body shaked with laughter again. It really was a depressing song to be dancing to, but she didn’t care. She was right where she wanted to be.

Jim rested his chin on top of her head and she closed her eyes, breathing in his cologne. He smelled different. Good, different. She brought her arms down and hugged his waist, attempting to bring him even closer.

Pam's body ached, her throat was killing her, she had completely lost her voice, and she was probably running a fever. And yet right there in that moment, she was the happiest she had been in a very, very long time.

The next thing she saw when she opened her eyes was Angela’s face in hers as she and Dwight danced their way over to them.

“Psst… Jim,” Dwight whispered. Pam lifted her head.

“What’s up, buddy?” Jim asked.

”I’ve cleared the area of any and all possible party crashers. And don’t worry about checking the bathrooms, because I’ve already kicked in all the stalls,” Dwight informed him. Jim just stared at Dwight, flabbergasted. Just then a flash washed over them, Jim’s face still frozen in shock. Pam giggled. She definitely wanted that picture.

”Jim, Pam, pose for me. This is going in the final page of my 2008 scrapbook,” Kelly motioned at them with her camera.

“Oh,” Jim said as he faced the camera, his hand resting on the small of Pam’s back as he leaned in closer, their cheeks resting against each other.

“Say cheese!” Kelly said. Pam struggled to say it, but nothing came out but a tiny little squeak at the end of “-eese”, causing Jim to laugh as soon as Kelly snapped the picture.

“What were you trying to say, Beesly?” Jim asked, leaning down. “What's that? You want to dance with Dwight? Alright, if you insist- Dwight!” Pam weakly punched Jim on the arm.

“Ow,” Jim grabbed his arm, pretending to be in pain as a more lighthearted song started playing. “Hey, they’re playing The Cure.” Pam looked up at him, her face scrunched as if to say, “Who?” Jim’s face fell.

“I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and pretend I did not just hear that,” Jim said as he frowned. “You don’t know who The Cure is?” Pam shook her head no.

“Wow. Apparently I still have a lot to teach you,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. She looked up at him curiously. "It's ok, I don't mind."

Pam stared up into his eyes, mesmerized by his gaze. He had a big goofy smile on his face, his eyes twinkling in the light. Before she realized it, Jim was leaning down, attempting to kiss her again. Pam pulled away.

"Aw, come on," Jim groaned. Pam shook her head. "I promise I won't get sick." Pam shook her head no. She wanted to kiss him. She desperately wanted to. But she was also very adamant about not getting him sick.

"Alright, Beesly," Jim sighed, sadly giving in. "As you wish."

She looked up at him, amazed. He had just quoted one of her favorite movies. Had he done that on purpose? How had he rememembered?

”Whoa, are you ok?” Jim asked, tightening his grip on her. She was starting to feel a little light headed. “Do you need to sit down?”

She really didn’t want to. She was much too comfortable in his arms. She reluctantly nodded yes, knowing she should stay off her feet for awhile.

”Alright, come on,” Jim grabbed her hand, leading her back to the table.

Pam plopped down in her chair. Her head was throbbing and felt like it weighed over 100 pounds. Her mind started drifting in and out as she heard Dwight come over and ask Jim something related to Lord of the Rings.

"...Lord of the Rings... Battlestar Gallactica... Star Trek... Spock... Cylons... Harry Potter." She only managed to catch bits and pieces of the conversation. Pam frowned, wondering what the heck they were talking about. She propped her arm on the table and sat her chin on her hand, closing her eyes. The next time she opened them, Jim was looking at her with an uneasy expression on his face.

“Pam. Are you feeling ok?” Jim asked, touching the back of his hand to her forehead. “Geez, Pam, you’re burning up.” His eyes quickly scanned the room. Pam’s head started to drop to the table. She just needed to rest for a couple of seconds…

“Alright, Pam, come on, I’m getting you out of here,” she heard Jim say. She opened her eyes and saw he was standing up, retrieving her purse and jacket from the back of her chair. She started shaking her head in protest and gestured wildly with her hands.

“What?” Jim asked while shaking his head, clearly not comprehending her. She motioned with one finger to give her a second and she pulled out her phone, quickly typing a message. She flipped the phone around so he could read it.

“We have to be together at midnight,” Jim read outloud. He scanned the room a second time and glanced at his watch before turning back to her. “Ok, come on.”

He lifted her out of her chair and wrapped her jacket around her shoulders, leading her out of the ballroom. He paused at the door, looking over his shoulder.

”Can you wait here for just a second?” Pam nodded. “Ok, I’ll be right back.”

Pam watched as he rushed over to Angela at the bar. Angela briefly glanced over at Pam before turning back to Jim and nodding her head at whatever he was saying.

“Alright, Beesly,” Jim said, putting his arms around her after making his way back. “Let’s go.”

Jim walked Pam out to the parking garage and she shivered from the cold. Her breath appeared in front of her, forming small little clouds of air.

“Where did I park…” she heard Jim mumble to himself as his hands searched through his pants for his keys. He retrieved them from his pockets and pressed a button. She heard a car horn beep somewhere in the distance.

“Ah, there we are. Come on, just a couple more steps,” Jim said, leading her with his arm around her shoulders.

“You okay?” He asked again and she just nodded. “We’re almost there.”

They finally stopped in front of a small silver sedan. He opened the passenger door for her, motioning for her to get in. She slid inside, her body shaking from the cold. She pulled her coat tighter around her.

Jim jogged around to the other side and slid in the driver’s seat, starting the car and turning the heat on. His ipod lit up in the cup holder as soft music filtered through the radio.

“It’ll just take a second for the heat to come on,” Jim said, turning to take her hands into his own and rubbing them together in an attempt to warm them up. He reached into a glove compartment and pulled out a pair of leather gloves. Pam smiled.

”What? That’s what a glove compartment is for. Gloves,” Jim said, putting the gloves on her hands. “Here we go. We’ll just put those on there…” The gloves were much too large for her hands, but they were warm.

“Better?” he asked and she nodded, leaning back in her seat. She glanced at the clock. 11:13.

“Don’t worry,” Jim said as he draped his arm across the back of her seat, backing the car out of its parking space. “I will have you someplace warm by midnight.”

He pulled out of the parking garage and onto Lake Shore Boulevard. Pam stared out the window, the city lights speeding by. She turned to look out Jim’s window towards a dark and frozen Lake Michigan. Jim turned towards her and smiled.

”You okay?” he asked for the umpteenth time. Pam nodded before reclining back in her seat. She felt Jim reach out and grab her hand as she slowly closed her eyes. She focused on the music softly playing in the background.

You said I was the driving license/ You said I was the driving license/On the road/On the road

Were they singing about driving, as they were driving? Weird, she thought, as the music slowly faded out.

“I really didn’t think this through.”

Pam opened her eyes, looking at the clock on Jim’s dashboard. 11:28. She looked over and saw Jim squinting through the windshield as his eyes scanned the street ahead of them. He turned to face her.

”Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just… Can’t find a place to park,” he said, putting on his blinker and making a right at a stop light.

“Oh, here we go.” He eased the car towards the right, bringing it to a stop in front of a parking meter.

“It’s a little far…” He looked out the back window and turned towards Pam.

“We have to walk back about two blocks. You think you can make it?” Pam nodded. “Ok, stay here. I’ll come around to get you.”

He got out and shut the door, opening her door a mere two seconds later. How the heck had he gotten around so fast?

She grabbed his hand and stepped out into the cold, nearly slipping on a patch of ice.

“Whoa! It’s okay, I got you,” Jim said, holding her up. “Are you okay to walk?” She nodded yes. “Ok. If you need to stop and have me carry you, just let me know, ok?”

He shut her door and firmly held her hand, leading her down the sidewalk. It was absolutely freezing outside. She sped up her pace, wanting to get to wherever they were going as quickly as possible.

“Whoa, slow down,” Jim laughed, the powerful, artic wind nearly drowning out his voice as he struggled to keep up with her, the sidewalks covered in slush and strips of ice. “I don’t want you to fall.”

They turned a corner and approached a tall building. Pam looked up, finally realizing where they were. They entered the glass doors and walked through the lobby, stepping into an open elevator that had apparently been waiting for them. The doors closed as Jim punched the button for the tenth floor. He glanced at his watch.

“11:39,” he said. “We still have 21 minutes.”

She nodded and shivered, her teeth chattering. Jim wrapped his arms around her, rubbing his hands up and down her back.

"Sorry I made you walk so far," Jim said. "Almost there."

The elevator came to a sudden stop and the doors opened at their floor. The stepped out into the dark hallway and Jim led the way holding her hand tightly, not stopping until they reached the door to his apartment. He pulled out his keys and turned the lock, opening the door and signaling for her to step inside first.

Pam had never been inside Jim’s apartment before. It was surprisingly neat, the same size as her place. A large green couch sat in the middle of the room, looking like it had narrowly escaped from the 1970s. A queen-sized bed was placed against the wall. His kitchen was spotless, almost as if it were unused. Stacks of books and CDs were piled high in corners, and framed album covers and enlarged black and white photos were arranged on the walls.

“Alright, come here, you,” Jim said, turning away from a small heater on the floor. He took her hand and directed her to the bed. “You need to lie down. I will take your jacket.” He slid her coat from her shoulders and tossed it atop his jacket on the couch.

“You can take this,” he said, handing her a grey hooded sweatshirt. She smiled and slid it over her head, breathing in the familiar scent. Jim pulled down the navy blue comforter on the bed, sliding it over her.

“Alright, you get warmed up, and I’ll be right back,” he said, disappearing inside the bathroom.

Pam sighed and looked over at a stack of books sitting on the floor beside the bed. She quickly glanced at the authors and titles. A collection of graphic novels, David Foster Wallace, Chuck Palahniuk, and some book titled, “Stuff White People Like.” She figured it had been given to him as a gift. She smiled at the thought of Jim curled up in bed and reading until he passed out.

Her eyes darted across the room, looking over towards his work area. A couple of framed family photos were scattered across the desk. A picture of him, holding a newborn baby in his arms as he smiled up at the camera. Another photo of him and who she assumed were his brothers. She wondered what it was like, spending the holidays with the Halperts. Were Jim's brothers as considerate and caring as he was? She pictured Jim at home, playing with his nieces and nephews. She could imagine him at the family dinner table, going on and on as he told them crazy stories and gestured animatedly, making them laugh.

Jim emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, dressed in jeans and a plain white t-shirt.

“Alright, we still have… 11 minutes,” Jim said, glancing at his watch as he sat beside her on the bed. “So… what do you want to talk about?” Pam frowned at him. “Sorry. Not wanting to joke about the whole laryngitis thing, I get it.”

Pam motioned something with her hands.

”You want something to write on… Alright, hold on,” Jim got up and crossed the room, walking over to his desk and ruffling through a couple of drawers. He returned with a pad of paper and a pen, handing it to her. She smiled and started writing something. She quickly finished and held the pad up for him to read. He playfully squinted his eyes at her writing.

”Thank you for spending tonight with me,” he read outloud. “The pleasure’s all mine, Beesly.”

She flipped the pad over and started writing again, holding it back up for him to see when she was done.

”Sorry I’m sick,” Jim read. “You don’t have to apologize for that. It’s not your fault you’re sick.”

Pam shrugged and returned the pad to her lap, writing out another message.

“Sorry we had to leave early,” Jim read. “Beesly, stop apologizing. Seriously, ask me what I would change about this moment.” Pam just looked him. “Come on, ask me.”

Pam frowned and flipped the pad back over, turning a page and writing, “What would you change about this moment?” She held the pad back up.

”Nothing,” he answered. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, quickly scribbling, “Then why ask, silly?” Jim smiled.

“Just so you know,” he replied. She shook her head again and he leaned down, kissing her forehead. She smiled before motioning for him to hold on, returning back to her pad. She held the paper up again a few seconds later.

”It totally sucks having to spend a whole month apart,” Jim read. “I know,” he agreed. She nodded and jotted down a longer message.

“I’m sorry we have to be apart for so long. I know it’s been hard for us to get to know each other better,” the note read. She held it up for Jim to read.

“What do you mean? I’ve totally gotten to know you better,” Jim frowned. Pam just looked at him and made a face as if to say, “No, not really.”

”What, you don’t think so?” Jim asked. “Alright, let’s see about that.”

He scrunched up his face, deep in thought before continuing.

“Alright, well I know that you require a sweater when it’s 70 degrees out. I know you like to drink your coffee with a straw. Which is just… weird, but you do. I know how you pretend not to like Britney Spears, even though we all know that you really do.”

Pam frowned at him, giving him a look.

“Don’t give me that look, you know it’s true,” he said. “I know that you’ll go out of your way for your friends, but that you also know when to draw the line. I know that you’re insanely competitive. And that your favorite flavor of yogurt is mixed berry. I know that you hate to be wrong. And I know that you would make a terrific art teacher. If you decide that’s what you want to do- I think you should.”

Pam smiled.

“I know that your favorite color is purple. Actually, you never told me that, but you do wear it a lot so I’m kind of… Going out on a limb on that one. I know that you always screen all of your calls, and I know how I feel when you pick up the phone because I know it’s because you really want to talk to me.”

”I know that you’re stubborn,” he continued, bringing his hand up to touch her cheek. “And I also know that you have a good heart. And that you’re an amazingly talented artist... And I know that I like you.”

Pam smiled and closed her eyes, leaning her face into his hand.

”So, there’s that,” Jim said. “And everything else... I look forward to continue getting to know.”

Pam opened her eyes and they smiled at each other for a moment before Jim broke their gaze, gazing down at his watch.

”60 seconds,” he said. Pam clapped her hands excitedly and jumped up from the bed, quickly rising to her feet.

“What are you doing? You should be sitting down,” Jim insisted. Pam shook her head and grabbed his hands, urging him to stand up with her. He held her hands firmly and stood up. He glanced down at his watch again, watching the final few seconds tick away.

“Alright, just 30 more seconds Beesly. Where do you want me to kiss you? Right here?” He lightly tapped her forehead. She shook her head no.

”Right here?”

A light tap on her nose. She shook her head again.

“How about here?”

He smiled and tugged at her ear. She shook her head and tapped her cheek.

”Right there?”

She nodded and tapped her other cheek.

“There, too? Alright.”

He glanced down at his watch again. The room went silent as he started to count down.

“Here we go. 10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1.”

Pam froze as he leaned towards her, his warm hands grabbing her waist and pulling her towards him. She slowly closed her eyes and was caught by surprise when she felt his lips softly brush hers. She slowly pushed herself up with her toes, her head tilted back, bringing them closer into a kiss that seemed to melt them together.

Jim slowly pulled away, and she opened her eyes, seeing him staring back down at her, a small smile on his face.

”Happy New Year, Beesly.”

Pam woke up to the sun streaming through the window, beaming down on her in bed. She stretched under the covers and let out a gaping yawn. The apartment was quiet. Eerily quiet.

She sat up and her hand immediately flew to her head.

Too fast, Pam. Too fast.

She waited until the temporary dizzy spell went away and glanced around the apartment. Jim was nowhere to be found. His jacket and keys had disappeared from the nightstand where she remembered he had left them. There was a pillow and a rumpled blanket on the couch. She presumed that’s where he had spent the night.

She heard a key turn inside the lock and the door opened. Jim walked in, wearing his White Sox baseball cap and black winter coat. He was holding two cups of coffee and a Dunkin Donuts bag.

”Good morning,” he smiled, dropping his keys on the kitchen counter.

“Morning,” Pam meekly replied.

“Hey! Look at that. She speaks,” Jim walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.

”How are you-“ Pam sprinted across the room before he could finish his thought, abruptly raising the blinds on his window.

”Geez. What did you do that for?” Jim asked, squinting his eyes against the harsh sunlight.

”The sun is out!” Pam exclaimed as loud as her voice would allow, clapping happily.

”And I’ll be seeing spots for days,” Jim said as Pam returned to the bed and sat beside him, the sun warm on her back.

“I take it you’re feeling better.”

”A little,” Pam nodded. “My throat is still a little scratchy.”

”Do you have your medicine with you?” Jim asked.

“Yup. It’s in my purse.”

”Can you eat?” Jim asked, pulling a bagel from the bag. Pam nodded. “Good.”

“Why did you sleep on the couch?” Pam asked as she watched him pull a bagel apart.

”Well… Cream cheese?” Pam nodded. He peeled back the lid on a small container of Philadelphia Cream Cheese before continuing. “You’d be surprised to hear it, but that couch is remarkably comfortable.”

He stuck a plastic knife in the cream cheese and skillfully spread it on one side of the bagel.

“Here.” Jim handed Pam her bagel. She took it from his hands and promptly took a huge bite, a look of satisfaction crossing her face. How had she not known she was so hungry?

“Good?” Jim asked. Pam just nodded, taking another bite. He smiled and took a bite of his own plain bagel.

”So, I was going to say if you want me to, I can drive you home later today,” Jim said as he swallowed.

”Oh,” Pam said, already finishing off the last piece. “That’s ok. You can actually just drop me off at the train station.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind driving,” Jim assured her. Pam shook her head.

”I’d hate to make you drive that far. I’ll be fine taking the train,” Pam said. Jim saw her eyeing the Dunkin Donuts bag beside him.

”You’re still hungry aren’t you?” Jim asked.

”Yes,” Pam admitted, her voice squeaking. She put her hands to her mouth, embarrassed as Jim laughed.

”You sound like me when I was going through puberty,” he joked, reaching for the bag. “Lucky for you, I also got… blueberry muffins.”

Pam clapped happily as he pulled a large muffin from the bag, making a big old scene as if he were pulling a rabbit from a hat.

“Yay,” Pam smiled, taking the muffin from his hands.

“You’re definitely my favorite person today. Well, you’re usually always my favorite person,” she admitted bashfully. “But today, there’s no competition.”

Jim just looked at her, a smile playing across his lips.

“What?” Pam asked. “Do I have something on my face?”

”No,” Jim shook his head., shielding his eyes from the sun. “Sorry, I’m trying to look at you, but all I see is your silhouette with a big halo around your head. It’s kind of freaking me out.”

“Hmm… My dad did used to always say that I was his angel,” Pam smiled, peeling back the piece of paper around her muffin.

”Such a dork,” Jim smiled.

“It sucks that we have to be apart for two more weeks,” Pam said.

“Yeah,” Jim agreed. “But just think, after you get home it’ll only be 17 more days until we see each other.”

Pam smiled.

”Just 17 more days.”

***

Pam called Jim as soon as she got home.

”I miss you already,” she said as she climbed up the stairs towards her bedroom.

“I miss you, too,” Jim said. “”Glad to see you made it home safe.”

“Yup. I made sure I told the train engineer to be very careful since he had very precious cargo sitting in the back,” Pam said.

"Just 17 more days, Pam."

"I know. Just 17 more days."

Pam started talking to Jim more than once a day, finding any excuse to pick up the phone and call him. If he was getting tired of her, he wasn’t letting on.

***

“What’s going on Beesly?”

”Guess what.”

”What?”

”I changed my major today.”

”Really?”

“Yup. As of May 2010, I’ll be graduating with a Bachelor of Arts in Art History,” Pam said, sitting on her bed in front of her laptop.

“Wow, congratulations,” Jim said. “Are you happy?”

”I’m happy,” Pam smiled, reading down the list of courses she would have to enroll for in the upcoming spring semester. Thankfully, nothing involving Photoshop or a computer was involved.

”Well, I’m happy that you’re happy.”

”And I’m happy that I’m happy, too.”

“I think we’re using the word happy too much,” Jim said.

”Fine, I’m joyful. Cheerful. I’m glad. I’m friggin’ jubilant.”

”Wow. Jubilant? What, do you happen to be sitting in front of a Thesaurus right now?” Jim asked.

”Actually, no,” Pam replied. “You’re not the only one who knows some big words, Mr. Writer. Big- Enormous. Immense. Vast.”

”Ok, ok. I’m impressed,” Jim laughed.

"Only 13 more days," Pam reminded him.

"13 more days," Jim replied.

***

"Turn on your tv. Turn it to the cartoon channel."

She waited for Jim to turn on the television in his bedroom.

"You're watching Tom & Jerry?"

"Yes! Tom & Jerry is only like the best show ever," Pam said.

"Of course it is."

"This is the episode where Tom loses Jerry, and then starts to miss him. It's sooo cute."

"Really? I like the one where Tom tries to capture Jerry."

"Shut up."

Jim laughed as they continued to watch Tom & Jerry together at 1:15 in the morning.

"I think my favorite episode is the one where Jerry floods and then freezes the kitchen. They start ice skating and use the jelly in the refrigerator as different light effects," Jim said.

"What about the one where Tom heard a ghost story on the radio, and Jerry falls into the jar of flour, and when he sees himself in the mirror he freaks out?"

"Oh yeah. I remember that one," Jim said, his laughter dying out as the line went silent again.

"Only 9 more days," Pam said once the Tom & Jerry episode had ended.

"Just 9 more days."

***

“Pam?”

Pam sniffed loudly into the phone as she swiped a stray tear from her cheek.

“Pam? What’s wrong? Is everything ok?”

“Yeah… I just ran into Roy today.”

”Oh.”

The phone went silent.

”Pam?”

”Yeah. I’m here, sorry. Um, actually I have to go.”

”Are you sure you’re okay?”

”Yeah, just, Angela is here. We’re supposed to go have dinner.”

”Ok.”

”Bye, Jim.”

”Bye, Pam.”

She called him again, ten minutes after midnight that same evening.

“Hello?”

”Jim!!” She screeched into the phone.

”Wow. What was that?” Jim asked. Pam just giggled into the phone uncontrollably. “Oh, gosh. Is this a drunk dial, Beesly?”

“I don’t know. No. Maybe. Yes.”

”That took awhile.”

“Sorry. Angela and I had dinner at Friday’s, and I had three mango mai tai’s.”

”Wow. How have you not passed out yet?”

”And I had a electric lemonade. And a jolly rancher shot.”

“Yikes. Please tell me you’re not driving.”

”I’m home and in my bed. Angela dropped me off a couple of minutes ago.”

”Good. Make sure you drink a lot of water tonight. You might want to keep a bottle of aspirin nearby for when you wake up in the morning."

Pam giggled, staring up at her ceiling.

”You always take such good care of me, you know that?”

“Well, it’s a dirty job, but somebody’s gotta do it,” Jim replied.

“I’ve heard that expression somewhere.”

”It’s a pretty familiar one.”

”Hey, Jim?”

”What?”

She rolled over onto her stomach, suddenly turning serious.

“Do you believe in soul mates?”

“No,” Jim answered after a brief pause. “I believe in two people finding each other and realizing that they’re perfect for each other, and then making a commitment to each other forever."

"Oh," Pam said.

"It’s like in that American Pie movie, when they said that’s why it’s called ‘making love’. You have to make love work. It doesn’t just show up on your doorstep under a full moon on the 7th of November because it was destined to.”

“Wow. You got that from American Pie?” Pam asked skeptically. Jim just laughed.

”Why, what do you think Beesly?”

Pam sighed.

“I don’t know. I ran into Roy today, and I started thinking about soul mates and love. Apparently, he still has it in his head that we were meant to be together.”

She inhaled deeply, waiting for Jim to say something. He stayed quiet.

“I don’t know, I don’t think I believe in soul mates either,” Pam slowly exhaled. “I think when you meet someone special, you just know. You just have this connection that feels different from anything else. And with love… I agree that you have to work hard for it to work. You have to want to work hard for it.”

She took the sound of his breathing on the line as a sign to continue.

“I think Roy’s scared to move on,” Pam said. “If Roy really loved me, he would know he has to let me go. And maybe he shouldn’t be all bent up with this 'one love' and 'soulmate' thing. Sometimes things are planned out, but they don’t happen. Things change. People change.

“I think for a person to really be in love, you have to feel like you’re really being you. Without any consequences," Pam continued. "Love is being able to talk to someone about nothing, and everything. And taking care of each other; wanting to protect each other. It’s someone who makes you happy and who wants to make you happy. Or cheerful, or jubilant, or whatever. Someone who wants to see you grow into the best of yourself. Love is giving your heart to another person, unconditionally. And I think once you know you love someone, everything else should just be… easy.”

She sighed and rolled over, lying on her back.

“I think I can love you, Jim.”

She heard him suck in a deep breath and she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, wondering if maybe she had taken too big of a jump too soon.

“I think I can love you too, Beesly.”

She bit her lip and smiled, blood rushing to her cheeks.

"Only two more days," she said.

"Just two more days," he replied.

Pam sprinted down the street, feeling over 20 pounds lighter for the first time in months. It was March 7 and spring had come early to Chicago, pushing the bitterly cold weather out and bringing warmer temperatures in. Pam was more than grateful to have warm weather again. Of course, having lived in Illinois most of her life, she realized that it was still possible sometime over the next two months for the temperatures to drop unexpectedly or for a freak snow storm to cross over city. In Chicago, winter typically didn’t end until April or May. Still, it was such a relief to finally rid of her heavy winter coats in exchange for lighter scarves, blazers and t-shirts, even if it was only temporary. And best of all, she got to wear her favorite shoes again.

School was going great; she was making A’s in all of her classes. Unlike the previous semester, she felt more at ease with her coursework. Granted, she was just happy that she wouldn’t have to deal with logos or designing business cards or anything else she didn’t feel comfortable with. For once, she was able to stick to the basics while doing what she loved and continuing to grow as an artist.

Plus, things couldn’t have been better with her and Jim. Sure, the one month and seven days apart at the beginning of the relationship sucked, but their temporary long-distance relationship wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. They had learned more about each other in those 28 days over the phone than they had the first three and a half months of their friendship. Still, it was nice to have Jim just three doors down the hall again. When they weren’t in class, and Pam wasn’t busy in the studio or Jim hard at work in the newspaper room, they spent most of their time with each other. They hadn’t been able to do much in the city together over the past month and a half since the cold weather usually kept them indoors, but they already had their entire summer mapped out with the different restaurants, concerts, art exhibits and other events they wanted to check out together.

Pam was giddy at the thought of her and Jim making plans for the future together. Her relationship with Jim was worlds apart from her relationship with Roy. With Jim, she felt like she was finally acting like herself instead of trying to live up to some false ideal that her parents had instilled in her since childhood. For the first time in her life, Pam was happy- completely and totally happy. Or, joyful or carefree or whatever.

Pam headed straight for her building after class and took the elevator up to the tenth floor, skipping past 1017 and heading straight for Jim’s apartment. He had sent her an unusual text message earlier that morning during her Twentieth Century Art Theory and Criticism class:

Meet me at my apartment after class. Come alone. Wear shoes. Be prepared to travel.

She tapped lightly on his door, bouncing happily on her feet. The door opened and Jim appeared, dressed in a green long-sleeve tee and jeans, his hair in its usual disarray. He stuck his head out before quickly stepping out into the hallway and shutting the door behind him.

“Hmm. Why are you being so suspicious?” Pam asked.

”Why are you asking so many questions?”

”I’m pretty sure it was just the one question,” Pam rolled her eyes.

”Happy birthday.”

”Thank you,” Pam beamed. He leaned down and gently kissed her on the lips.

“I have a surprise for you,” Jim said, holding up a blindfold.

”Really? A blindfold? Kinky,” Pam nodded approvingly. Jim turned her around so that her back faced him and brought the blindfold around her head.

”We have to walk a bit to get there, and I have to blindfold you as not to ruin the surprise,” he murmured in her ear as he tied the fabric around her eyes.

“Ok,” Pam agreed uneasily. “As long as you promise I won’t run into any walls or anything.”

”Like I can ever promise that when you’re not blindfolded,” Jim teased, taking a hold of her hands and leading her back down the hallway.

“Ooh, are we going outside?” Pam asked as she realized she was being led into the elevator.

“Maybe,” Jim replied as the elevator doors closed.

“Aww, you bought me a car? You shouldn’t have.”

”What makes you think I have the money to buy you a car?” Jim asked as the elevator came to a stop a couple of floors down. She allowed him to take her hands, her legs shakily following his lead.

“Hey, I don’t know what you do when I’m not around,” Pam said. “Besides, I always wanted to be like one of those people in those commercials who walk outside and see a brand new car with a big ol’ red bow on top.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but I didn’t buy you a car,” Jim said, opening a door and leading her inside. “But thank you. Your ridiculously high expectations are definitely making me feel better about your surprise. Up.”

“Stairs?” Pam asked.

“Yup,” Jim said, carefully leading her up the stairway. He led her up nearly three flights of stairs, Pam tripping only once, before opening another door.

”Are we there yet?” Pam asked, growing impatient as she continued to blindly follow him.

”Almost,” Jim said.

”Are we in an elevator again?”

”Maybe.”

Pam heard the sound of doors closing and a sudden gravitational pull at her feet.

”We’re most definitely in an elevator again. Where the hell are you taking me?”

“Just trust me,” Jim said, leading her out of the elevator once it came to a stop. The elevator ride hadn’t lasted very long. Pam sighed, reluctantly following him.

They finally came to a stop after walking a lengthy distance from the elevators.

“Alright, now close your eyes,” Jim instructed.

”I’m blindfolded,” Pam reminded him, pointing and accidentally poking herself in the eye through the blindfold. “Ow.”

Jim spun her around twice.

“Alright, and… ta-da.”

He removed the blindfold. Pam smiled and opened her eyes. She was staring at the door to Jim’s apartment. She turned and glared at him. He just had a mischievous grin on his face.

”I hate you,” she gave him a playful shove as he laughed at the scowl on her face. “Was that really necessary? Seriously? Stairs?? I could’ve seriously injured myself.”

“I wouldn’t have let you hurt yourself. And your surprise is inside,” he said, tilting his head towards the door. She stared at him blankly. “Go ahead. Open it.”

She warily opened the door, and stepped inside the apartment with Jim following closely behind. She immediately smiled at the sight before her, giggling happily.

An assortment of colorful party balloons were scattered across the room. Hundreds of them. On the floor, on the bed, on his desk- they were everywhere. Multi-colored streamers were draped across the kitchen counter and hung from the ceiling. It was like walking into a high school gymnasism, all set up for Homecoming. Pam turned around to face Jim. He was shyly standing in front of the door with his hands in his pockets.

”Oh my God,” she laughed, kicking around a couple of balloons gathered at her feet. “How did you manage to blow all of these up?”

”I used to have an air mattress so I just used an air pump,” Jim said.

“This is so cool,” Pam smiled, looking around the room.

“Are you ready for your present?” Jim grabbed a small red envelope off his bedside table.

“Ooh, yay. I get presents, too?” Pam smiled, moving a couple of balloons aside to sit on the couch.

“Of course you get presents,” Jim said, sitting beside her and handing over the envelope. She looked up at him expectantly.

“You can open it,” he laughed. She smiled and carefully tore into the paper, pulling out a card. The front of the card had a picture of a mouse covering its ears and saying, “If your wildest birthday wishes come true, NO DETAILS PLEASE.” She smiled and flipped the card open and read, “Okay, a couple of details.” She giggled and unfolded a thick piece of paper that had been inserted into the card.

”What’s this?” she asked.

“That’s a brochure for the Milwaukee Art Museum. You know, the one you keep talking about wanting to visit some day. I, uh, I figured I would take you there today for your birthday,” Jim said.

“Really?” Pam had started bouncing up and down on the couch, smiling ear-to-ear.

“Yeah, and there’s plenty of other stuff to do so we can spend the day there. You know, walk around the Riverwalk, have dinner-“

”Ooh- I heard they have a really good children’s museum there, too,” Pam said excitedly. Jim just laughed.

“Whatever you want to do,” he agreed.

”Aww, Jim, thank you, thank you,” she threw her arms around him and planted a kiss on his cheek. “This is going to be so much fun. I lo-“

She suddenly stopped, glancing up at him sheepishly. She had almost just said “I love you”. Just, blurted it out as if it were simply that… easy and effortless. Was she really ready to tell Jim that she loved him? Sure, there was that conversation on the phone back in January, but “I love yous” hadn’t officially been exchanged yet. She didn’t want to be the first one to say it. Jim had already admitted that he had never been in love before, making her already feel like she had impossibly large standards to live up to.

Pam looked up at Jim, realizing he was just staring at her expectantly.

“I love the gift,” she smiled, hugging the brochure to her chest. She thought she saw his face drop slightly in disappointment.

“You’re welcome,” he said, letting out a long, deep breath. Pam nervously looked down at her shoes.

“So,” Jim spoke up, breaking the awkward silence. “Since we’re going to Milwaukee, that means we’re going to be headed on a little road trip. I already picked up my car from my parent’s, but we do need to make a stop first.”

”Where do we have to go?” Pam asked.

“You’ll see.”

***

”Why are we at a record store?”

Pam followed Jim into a small, dingy room that was about the size of her tiny efficiency apartment. Posters for Incubus, Kiss, The Used, System of a Down and other rock bands were plastered on the walls as loud heavy metal music played over the speakers. With the exception of the aisles of CDs and records that stretched out before her, she felt like she had just walked into a Hot Topic store. Jim nodded at the sales clerk behind the register, evidently recognizing who he was.

Jim turned to Pam. “We are here because The Cure happen to be coming to the Allstate Arena in a couple of months. Which means that I’m probably going to go. Which means that you’re probably going to go with me. And since we have an hour and a half car ride to Milwaukee, I figured now would be a perfect time for you to do some research.”

He walked down the aisle containing all of the artists beginning with the letter “C” and started pulling CD cases out of the bins.

“Alright, we have Disintergration, yes. Seventeen Seconds, Boys Don’t Cry, yes and yes,” he was tossing the CDs into Pam’s hands as he found them.

“Why are we buying CDs? Don’t you have them all downloaded on your ipod?”

“I do, but The Cure is so much more than that, Pam,” Jim said, looking very serious. “Their songs transcend musical trends and defy genres, and their lyrics are so emotional and fun and heartbreaking; they’re amazing.”

”So, I take it they’re your favorite band,” Pam said, following him down another aisle.

”Definitely one of the top five,” Jim said. “Except now you have people who are just discovering them for the first time because it’s the hip thing to do, and they want to place them under some ‘emo’ label, which insults The Cure on just… so many levels. I mean, The Cure may have had a big influence on the emo bands that are out there now, but they’re far above being lumped into that emo category.”

”Right,” Pam nodded. “But you’ve been a fan forever.”

”Yup.”

”Even though their first album was released in 1980, five years before you were born?” Pam asked, reading the inserts of Boys Don’t Cry.

“That’s irrelevant,” Jim ignored her, heading towards a set of headphones at the back of the store.

“Right, totally irrelevant,” Pam smiled, snapping the CD case shut. “Jim, what are you doing?” Jim was lowering a set of headphones on his head. “Jim, come on, we have to be in Milwaukee soon. Most of the stuff we want to do closes by 5.”

Jim shook his head, signaling that he couldn’t hear her. She heard loud rap music blaring in his headphones.

“This is your music,” Jim said, pointing at the headphones. She rolled her eyes as he started doing a dorky version of the robot.

”I don’t know you,” Pam said as she stepped beside him and picked up a Kanye West CD. Jim plopped the heavy set of headphones on her head and Akon’s “Dangerous” played loudly in her ears.

That girl is so dangerous/That girl is so dangerous/That girl is a bad girl

Jim leaned in, mouthing “Dangerous!” along with the music. She laughed and pointed her fingers in the air, starting a silly dance.

“There they are,” she heard Jim say. “There are those dorky Beesly dance moves.” She shook her head and removed the headphones from her head.

“We have to go,” she insisted, leading him towards the register.

Twenty minutes later they were speeding down the highway towards Wisconsin, The Cure’s “Pictures of You” playing loudly from the radio. Pam watched the buildings and houses fly by outside the window. The snow had finally melted and it was relief to be able to see green everywhere again.

Remembering you running soft through the night/
You were bigger and brighter and whiter than snow/

“Now this song is called ‘Pictures of You’,” Jim was explaining.

“Yeah, I kind of figured, since he’s sung ‘pictures of you’ like a dozen times,” Pam said.

“It’s about regret and loss and… What are you doing?”

”Say ‘Cheese’!” Pam was holding up a digital camera, a flash washing over Jim as he narrowed his eyebrows at her. She laughed. “Come on, smile for the camera.”

Jim shook his head. “No.”

”Come on.”

”No, I’m mad. You’re not taking this seriously enough.”

”Please?” Jim continued shaking his head before abruptly turning around, eyes wide, mouth open, tongue hanging out. Pam snapped the picture.

”I think that might be the most beautiful picture of you ever,” Pam laughed as the photo appeared on the screen.


And screamed at the make believe, screamed at the sky/
And you finally found all your courage to let it all go

Thirty minutes later, Pam had her sketchbook out on her knees, the lines and shapes of the road materializing before her eyes as she put pencil to paper. Jim was singing along to “Close to Me”. She saw him spying on her out of the corner of her eyes.

”What are you drawing over there?”

“Nothing.”

”Well, I hope you’re paying attention because you’re supposed to be studying,” Jim said, focusing back on the road.

”I’m listening!”

“Really? Alright, test, what’s this song?” Jim pressed a button, skipping to the next song.

”Boys Don’t Cry,” Pam answered easily.

”Ok, what about this one?” Another song started playing.

”In Between Days.”

”And this one?”

”The Lovecats… Play for Today… Jumping Someone Else’s Train,” Pam continued listing off before Jim finally stopped quizzing her. “Did I pass?” Jim just nodded. “Yay!” She clapped her hands together with joy. “But I beg you, can we please listen to something else other than The Cure? I’m going to be Cured out by the time we go to this concert.”

“Sure,” Jim nodded. She smiled and lifted up the bag from the store, pulling out a CD case.

”What CD is that?” Jim asked as she flipped the case open.

”Oh, just something I added to our pile at the store when you weren’t looking.” She smiled and exchanged the CDs out in the player. Jim immediately frowned as the music started.

”What is this?” he asked. Pam just smiled and started singing along as soon as a familiar voice sounded over the music.

“Superstar! Where you from, how’s it going? I know you, got a clue what you’re doing,” she sang happily, bouncing her head from side to side.

”Is this Britney Spears?” Jim asked, obvious distain in his voice.

”Womanizer, woman womanizer, you’re a womanizer oh womanizer oh you’re a womanizer baby, you you you are, you you you are,” she continued singing along, her voice getting even louder much to Jim’s displeasure. She broke out into a fit of giggles and turned the volume down, looking over towards Jim.

”Hey, so you’re graduating in three months. How’s the job search going?”

“It’s… going,” Jim answered. Pam frowned. Of all the things they talked about, one thing Jim didn’t talk about much was what he planned on doing after college.

”I don’t know, I still feel like I have time to think about everything, you know?” Jim continued.

“Well, do you think you want to work for a newspaper? Like the Tribune? Or maybe at a magazine? Or freelance…?”

”I don’t know. I’m not sure about the whole… writing thing,” Jim admitted. “The journalism field isn’t looking very promising these days.” Pam just nodded. ”Actually, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you’re thinking of doing- the whole teaching thing. I’m thinking that could be pretty cool,” Jim said.

”Really?” Pam asked, surprised.

“Yeah… Maybe an English teacher?” He looked over at Pam who stared blankly at him. “What?”

”Nothing,” Pam said. “Where do you think you would want to teach? Where would you live?”

”I don’t know,” Jim shrugged his shoulders. “I like the city.”

Pam nodded, secretly feeling giddy at the thought of her and Jim, living in the city together.

”I think you would make a great teacher,” Pam said. Jim turned to look at her again and they shared a smile. He turned away and reached out for the volume on the radio.

”Excuse me. I like this song,” he said, turning the sound up as the voice of Britney Spears filled the car again and Pam just giggled.

If you wanna just scream/scream your lungs out/
If you wanna just cry/cry your eyes out

“We’re lost,” Jim announced almost an hour later, frantically scanning the road ahead of him as he pulled the map from Pam’s lap.

“What do you mean we’re lost?” Pam asked, glancing up from her sketch book.

”I mean, we’re lost,” Jim muttered, turning the radio off and glancing down at the map. “We’re in some town called Menomonee Falls which is past Milwaukee.”

”Oh,” Pam said, looking at the signs on the road for any sort of direction of which way they were supposed to head.

“You were supposed to look out for the exit,” Jim said.

”I was. It said to take exit 310, but I never saw an exit 310,” Pam replied.

“Well, we had to have passed exit 310, because now we’re at exit 319,” Jim pointed out angrily. Pam looked at him timidly.

”I’m sorry,” she said.

”I told you, you shouldn’t be drawing when we don’t know where we’re going,” Jim said. Pam glared at him.

”I’m sorry, but half of the highway was under construction and most of the exits didn’t have any numbers. How was I supposed to know where to turn?” Pam angrily defended herself.

“You could’ve been paying attention-“

”I was paying attention!” Pam yelled, tightly crossing her arms across her chest, her sketchbook falling to the floor.

“You don’t have to yell,” Jim urged, lowering his voice.

”I’m not yelling, I’m just saying that I was paying attention, so don’t say that I wasn’t.”

”Ok,” Jim irritably sighed.

”It’s not my fault we’re lost,” Pam insisted.

“Well, we’ve driven over 20 minutes out of the way,” Jim said bitterly.

“Ok. We can just get off at the next exit and turn back around,” Pam stated. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“I just don’t like getting lost. Which we wouldn’t be if you had actually been paying attention,” Jim said, pulling the car over towards the right side of the road. Pam fumed. Why was he so persistent on blaming this whole thing on her? Hadn’t he been to Milwaukee before? He knew where he was going. Had he been paying attention?

She opened her mouth to say something, but quickly snapped it shut, sulking in her seat as she silently stared out the window, going over all the resentful things she would have said had she not been so upset. She hugged her arms across her chest even tighter, her hands trembling as she watched the sun disappear behind the clouds, her view of her surroundings turning shadowy, gray and depressing.

Jim signaled to get off at the next exit as the car fell eerily quiet. Instead of making a U-turn, he drove into a Shell gas station on the corner, pulling the car up beside a pump. Hadn’t they just filled the tank before they got on the highway?

Jim parked the car and opened the door, leaving the car running as he got out and slammed the door shut. Pam watched him through the windshield as he walked around. She shook her head angrily before realizing that he was on her side and opening the door. He reached in and grabbed her hand, gently pulling her out of the car. Her face dove into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m sorry,” she heard him whisper, his chin coming to rest on top of her head. She wrapped her arms around his waist as he tugged her even closer, his painfully tight grip revealing just how genuinely remorseful he felt. She couldn’t help the poignant smile that broke out on her face, overwhelmed with emotion by how devastatingly sincere he was.

She pulled away and stared up at him, keeping her hands securely around his back. He looked sad and distraught, and somewhat resentful at himself for allowing himself to get so upset. He shyly looked away, his eyes falling to the ground as the wind swept his hair off his forehead. God, he was letting his hair get ridiculously long again, Pam thought to herself.

She pushed herself up on her tip-toes, gingerly planting a kiss on his lips.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” she said once her feet were firmly planted back on the ground. A small smile tugged at the corner of Jim’s lips. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead before finally releasing her and turning to get back in the car.

Minutes later, they were back on the highway, watching the exit signs count off in reverse. Pam turned her head to look at Jim. He was staring straight ahead, his face calm and somewhat peaceful. She turned back around and glanced out the window. There it was, exit 310.

“Did we just have our first fight?” Pam turned towards Jim again, his eyes still focused on the road. She softly smiled.

”Yeah, I think we did,” she replied. He sighed, directing the car over to exit 310 towards Milwaukee.

“You can listen to your Britney Spears again if you want,” Jim said after a moment of silence and Pam silently laughed. She pulled his ipod from the cup holder and powered it on, figuring they might as well listen to something neutral. She set it to shuffle, and a Longwave album cover flashed on the screen as the car filled with music again.

“Hey, there it is!” Pam jumped up in her seat, pointing at the Milwaukee skyline far off in the distance.

“Yup,” Jim smiled as he watched her lean closer to the window in awe.

“Wow,” Pam said breathlessly, watching as the sun reemerged from the clouds, the world suddenly appearing a whole lot brighter again. She kept her face pressed up against the glass, watching as the highway wrapped around Lake Michigan and the buildings slowly drew closer.

Wake me when it’s over/
Wake me please/when it’s over

Jim and Pam spent over four hours in the city. They first stopped by the Milwaukee Art Museum, touring the large galleries and checking out the gift shop before heading over to the Betty Brinn Children’s Museum at Pam’s request. Pam dragged Jim through the child-size grocery stores, post offices and banks as she forced him to play make-believe before moving him towards the "ArtTastic" exhibits where they spend over half an hour entertaining themselves as they danced and made different shapes with their hands behind a shadow wall. Afterwards, they meandered down the scenic RiverWalk, stopping in the different shops and smaller art galleries along the way. They had dinner at a restaurant called the Safehouse that was tucked away in some dark alley behind Milwaukee’s city hall building and required a password to get in. They chatted for over an hour over a plate of chicken tenders and a pitcher of beer.

“So, did you have fun today?” Jim asked as he strolled beside her with his hands in his pockets. They were walking back up the RiverWalk as they headed towards the parking garage, enjoying the last few fleeting moments of daylight. The sun was slowly setting on the horizon as the vibrant lights of the buildings and restaurants shimmered over the water. Pam couldn’t help but wonder if this is what her future would look like. Her and Jim teaching at a nice public school in Chicago, spending weekends taking road trips up to Milwaukee or Madison or Michigan and going on winery tours or staying at a local Bed & Breakfast.

“Yeah, today was great,” Pam smiled, crossing her arms across the chest as the air grew colder, her purple scarf blowing in the wind. “My feet hurt, though.”

Jim came to a sudden stop.

“Oh, well here, hop on,” he motioned behind him with his thumb. She just smiled at him like he was crazy. “Come on,” he laughed. She walked around him and he bent his knees a little, allowing her to jump on his back and wrap her arms around his neck. His hands held her firmly by her knees and she giggled happily as he carried her the rest of the way.

From the valley/to the stars
From the valley/to the stars

“Samuel L. Jackson? What classifies Samuel L. Jackson as being spicy?” Pam laughed over the soft music coming from the radio. They were back in the car, headed home.

“What? Because. He’s a bad ass mother fucker,” Jim said.

Pam laughed. “Alright, I’ll give you that one,” she said, tossing another card onto the floor.

”I still don’t know how you expect to play this game with two people,” Jim sighed, cards fanned out in his hand over the steering wheel.

”I told you, it was the only game I had,” Pam reminded him. Pam had wanted to bring a road game along for the trip, but all she could find in her closet that morning was Apples to Apples.

”Alright, here’s the next green card. ‘Quiet’,” Pam sat the card down in her lap and placed one of her red cards face down. Jim deliberated for a second before handing his card over. She turned it over and read it outloud.

“Spilled milk? How is that quiet?” She looked at him confused.

”Why? You have one that’s better?” He asked doubtfully. She flashed him her card and he turned to read it.

”Steak and potatoes!” He exclaimed, bursting out into a fit of laughter. “Wow! You win, man. Nothing can top that.”

She giggled and tossed another card onto the growing pile on the floor as they sped down the highway, the familiar red blinking lights of the Sears Tower slowly reappearing in the distance.

From the valley/to the stars

“I really like Milwaukee,” Pam said, staring up at the ribbons that still dangled from the ceiling. “If I didn’t live in Chicago, I could definitely see myself as a Milwaukeean. Milwaukeean? Does that sound right?” She giggled.

”Yeah, that sounds right,” Jim whispered from beside her. His eyes were closed, his head flopped back on his pillow. They were back inside his apartment lying in bed, both in t-shirts and sweat pants as music drifted out from his ipod that was now hooked up to the set of speakers on his night stand. Party balloons were still scattered across the floor.

And how my thoughts they spin me 'round

Pam’s hands slid under the hem of Jim’s shirt, finding his stomach flat and warm.

“What are you doing? You know I’m insecure about my stomach,” Jim laughed, tugging down on the ends of his shirt.

”What do you mean? I like your stomach and your cute little skeleton-pack,” Pam teased, poking at his ribcage.

“Oh, really?” Jim asked, turning over to tickle her sides as she squealed in protest. He laughed and sat up, reaching over her to his night stand and into the top drawer. A small purple gift appeared in his hands.

“Are you ready for your last present?” He waved the box in her face.

“You have more presents? Are you serious?” Pam asked, sitting up. He just smiled and sat the small square box on her lap. She shook her head disbelievingly and carefully tore away at the tissue paper, uncovering a small red hardcover book. She tossed the paper aside and flipped the book over in her hand several times, curious as to why there wasn’t a title or author on the cover.

“It’s, um… It’s a book of poems,” Jim said. He scratched his head nervously before continuing. “It’s a bunch of poems that I’ve collected over the years... I just took some of my favorite ones that I had found, ones that reminded me of you, and I, uh… I put them together. Had them bound.”

And how my dreams they spin me 'round

Pam sucked in a breath, her limbs temporarily freezing. She slowly tilted her head to look at him as tears came to her eyes, utterly touched by the thoughtfulness of his gift. He avoided her gaze and reached into her lap, flipping to the first page.

“This is one of my favorites. It’s written by Pablo Neruda, one of the greatest poets that I know,” Jim said, holding the book open for her to read.

She glanced down at the page and narrowed her eyes at the title: XVII (I do not love you…)

Jim carefully gauged her expression as her eyes slowly scanned the words.

I do not love you as if you were salt-roze, or topaz
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
Ss I love you because I know no other way

than this: when I does not exist, nor you
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Pam sighed as she finished, blinking away tears.

”The poem is a declaration of love, a deep love. A love of the soul that comes from within and has no ties to earthly materials,” he swallowed nervously. “He’s basically saying that he is one with the woman that he loves. And that he loves her because there is no other way.”

Pam softly closed the book and shut her eyes, opening them towards his gaze. He looked determined, passionate, his eyes intently focused on only her.

Then there's you/Then there's you

“I’m in love with you, Pam.”

Pam sharply breathed in, her heart fluttering at the sound.

“I know that I told you that I haven’t been in love before,” he stammered, “and I know it’s only been a couple of months, but I-“

“I’m in love with you too,” Pam said, cutting him off before he could finish. He let out a relieved sigh and smiled, touching her hand and slowly bringing it up to his lips, planting a soft kiss on the inside of her palm. He gently dropped her hand to the comforter, bending down and kissing her, his hands snaking into her hair and pulling her closer. Pam tossed the book somewhere toward the foot of the bed and threw her arms around him. Her hands pressed firmly against his back as he continued kissing her, his lips hungry and urgent with need.

He carefully eased her around so that she was laying flat on her back. He brought his body down on top of hers and firmly pressed himself against her. She let out a soft moan when she felt him, warm and hard between her legs, and he sighed, pulling his lips from hers as his kisses traveled down the side of her face toward her neck. She tilted her head to the side granting him easier access and her fingers firmly tugged at his hair as he eagerly devoured the skin on her neck and shoulder, their bodies roughly grinding against each other.

His hand was warm and flat against her stomach as his fingers traveled under her shirt, reaching around to unclasp her bra. She felt the material loosen from around her back and he softly groaned, driving his pelvis harder against her and all she could think was that it had been so long… So long.

”Jim-“ she whispered.

“Yeah,” he panted in between kisses. His hands came back around, his fingers stroking the skin under her breasts.

“Jim, maybe we should-” She gasped as his hand firmly gripped her breast, his lips crashing into hers. She hesitantly pulled away. “Maybe we should talk about this first.”

Jim released his hand from her suddenly, sliding it back out from under her shirt. He sat up sharply, letting out a long, deep breath, and carefully moved across the bed and sat at the edge, rubbing his face with his hands.

And how my thoughts they let me down/
And how my thoughts they spin me 'round

“Sorry, I just… Need a minute,” he mumbled, his head dropping into his lap as his hands firmly gripped the sides of his bed. Pam lifted herself up and sat beside him. He let out a small sigh.

“I’m sorry that I stopped you in the middle of…” Pam started, playing with her hands nervously in her lap. “I just thought we should talk about it before… I don’t know.”

Jim was silent as he stared at the floor.

“It’s just that we haven’t…” Pam tried again. “I don’t want us to regret it later… Or think that we rushed into things too fast.”

Jim sighed beside her. “Do you know when I first realized that I was in love you?” he asked, glancing up at the ceiling before continuing. ”We were over at your apartment. You were wearing your pink sweat pants and that white tank top…” He looked over at Pam and she smiled at the memory from over a month ago.

It was a dark and cold evening sometime in early February. The city was shut down due to a massive blizzard, and Jim and Pam had been studying indoors, taking comfort in her heated apartment.

“These are really good,” Pam heard Jim call from her bed. She walked out of the kitchen, holding a glass of water and plopped down beside him.

“Really?” Pam asked skeptically.

”Yes, really… Pam,” he said as he flipped through her sketchbook and gazed at her drawings, the tone in his voice hinting at how enormously proud of her he was. “These are amazing. So much detail…” His voice carried off as he carefully studied her work.

“Are you happy with your classes this year?” he asked, glancing up at her. She nodded happily. “Good,” he smiled, flipping another page and glancing down at an elaborate sketch of the outdoor patio at The Artist Cafe, one of Pam's favorite restaurants. Everyday people eating breakfast and talking on cell phones filled the page.

Pam smiled as a familiar song came on the radio. She sat her glass on the nightstand and stood up, walking over to the middle of the room.

”You know what I need right now?” She asked, turning to look at Jim. “I need to dance.”

”Dance?” Jim asked, looking at her like she was crazy.

“Yes, come on, dance with me,” Pam smiled, hands in the air as her hips starting to sway along to the music.

You got my body spinning like a hurricane/
And it feels like you got me going insane

“Ugh, is this Britney Spears again?” Jim groaned, ignoring her and not budging from his spot on the bed.

“Yes,” Pam said, swinging her arms around as she started to feel the rhythm. She closed her eyes and just let herself dance, her hair swinging around her face, body moving, arms raised in the air, hips swaying seductively, her sweat pants riding low on her hips, as she twirled around the room. After a moment, she finally opened her eyes, still dancing, and saw that Jim was just staring at her, an odd expression on his face. She turned around and adjusted the volume up.

”Come on. Are you going to get your ass up and dance with me or what?” Pam asked, turning back towards him and busting out into the Macarena. Jim laughed at her silliness.

”I am not doing the Macarena,” he insisted, tossing her sketchbook over on the table.

“We’re not doing the Macarena, we’re just dancing,” Pam said, dancing over to him. She reached out and tugged at his arms, attempting to pull him off the bed. “Come on… Come on, please? Dance with me!”

He sighed and reluctantly allowed her to pull him off the bed and into the center of the room. She laughed and started dancing again as he just stared at her bashfully with his hands in his pockets.

“Stop staring at me and dance, dammit!” She pulled at his arms, swinging them along with her movements. He couldn’t help but smile and start dancing with her, taking her arm and throwing her into a spin. She laughed cheerfully, playfully doing the cabbage patch as he awkwardly danced beside her. She put her hands on her hips, spinning around to the beat.

You got me hypnotized, I never felt this way
Got my heart beating like an 808

Jim turned around, bumping his rear end into her as she broke into a fit of giggles, giving him a slap across the ass.

“Oh yeah! There’s that ass!” She threw her hands up in the air and he reached up, bringing her arms down and leaning down into her for a kiss, his lips smiling against hers.

How my thoughts they spin me round/
And how my thoughts they let me down

Pam shyly bit her lip as she sat beside Jim on the bed, still grinning as he took her hand into his.

“You were so comfortable with yourself and you were just so... happy,” his low voice spoke over the gentle music in the background, smiling at the memory. “You were beautiful and... Sexy.” His eyes met hers and they bashfully gazed at one another. "That was the moment that I knew that I was in love with you."

"I know I didn't say it for awhile," he sighed, looking at the floor. "I was scared. I didn't think that there was any way I could possibly fall in love with someone so soon... But then I realized I was just being ridiculous." He brought his hand up to her face, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "There was just something about you that made me reach out to you... And send you that stupid friend request on Facebook." Pam leaned her face into his palm and laughed. "It's as if I knew when I first met you that you were the one. I don't know how I knew." He shrugged. "I just did."

He softly pressed his lips against her forehead, his chin resting on her head as the room grew quiet.

And how my love it spins me round/
And how my love it lets me down/

“Well…” Pam started, breaking the short silence. “Do you… Want to do it?”

”Pssh.” Jim pulled away, his eyes averting towards the floor before quickly looking back at her. “Why do you?”

”I asked you first,” Pam pointed out.

”I asked second.”

”One comes before two.”

”And two is bigger than one,” Jim looked at her pointedly and she rolled her eyes, letting out a small sigh.

“Smart ass,” Pam mumbled, softly smiling to herself. She looked up and saw Jim staring at her, the same way he had stared at her that one February night in her bedroom while she danced like a crazy person in the middle of her bedroom. He suddenly leaned into her, his lips crashing into hers as his hands gripped the sides of her face, pulling her closer toward him again. He carefully maneuvered them so that he was back on top of her. His body pressed firmly against her as he breathed heavily into her ear, his lips traveling down her neck while his hand reached down, his long fingers stroking her stomach. Pam gently scratched at his back, bringing one of her arms around and sliding her hand beneath the elastic of his pants. He let out a loud moan when she firmly grasped him in her hands, his eyelids heavy with desire as he stared down at her.

Then there's you/Then there's you/
Then there's you/Then there's you

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing her tenderly.

“You’re only saying that because I have my hand down your pants,” Pam smiled against his lips.

“Well, I promise I didn’t just say it to get you in my pants,” he said, pushing himself into her hand.

”Sure you didn’t,” Pam teased. He scowled at her and reached down, pulling her hand out from his boxers and stretching her arms out over her head. He reached down and tugged at her pants, pulling them down her legs to her feet and roughly tossing them aside. She sighed when his lips softly met hers again, his pelvis thrusting into her one last time before he slowly slid his body down to the edge of the bed, his head disappearing between her legs.

How my days they spin me 'round/
And how today it sets me down/


She sighed and stared up at the colored ribbons on the ceiling as she felt his warm lips softly press against her knee and up the inside of her thigh, his lips slowly traveling up, higher and higher until her hips forcefully raised off the bed and thrusted toward him and she opened her mouth wide, gasping in pleasure.

Alongside you/Alongside you/
Alongside you/Alongside you

“So. That was...” Pam gasped breathlessly. Her heart fluttered rapidly in her chest as Jim slowly sat up and crawled back up the bed, flashing her a mischievous smile.

“On a scale of 1 to 10?” he asked.

“Like, a 15?”

”Wow,” Jim exclaimed. “See, now you just punished yourself.”

“How’s that?”

”We can't do this again because there’s just no way I can ever top it,” Jim said. His naked torso stretched across her as he leaned over to grab a glass of water off the night stand.

“I don’t care, as long as you just keep doing it just like that,” Pam said, still breathless, causing Jim to laugh mid-sip. He chugged the rest of his water down and sat the glass back on the night stand, bringing his body down on top of hers as he stared down at her.

“So I’m wondering,” he started, his finger grazing the hem of her shirt. “Why do you still have your shirt on?”

”Why do you still have your pants on?” Pam asked, causing Jim to raise his eyebrows in surprise.

“Touché,” he smiled. “Ok. I see your shirt...” He slowly lifted her shirt and bra over her head. “And I raise you…” He sat up and loosened his draw strings. “A pair of pants.” He slowly removed the black sweat pants and tossed them somewhere down on the floor.

“That’s not fair! You still have your boxers on,” Pam complained as he shifted his weight back on top of her.

“Yeah? Well, if you have a problem with them being on, why don’t you do something about it?” he whispered against her lips, his hardness rubbing against her bare leg as she closed her eyes.

*

“So was it great?”

Pam opened her eyes to find Kelly smiling back at her. They were sitting across from each other on the couch in Pam’s apartment.

”Was what great?” Pam asked, blinking out of her thoughts. Her dirty thoughts. Very, very dirty thoughts.

“The sex! Was it totally awesome?” Kelly asked, eyebrows raised in anticipation. Pam hesitated, staring down at the stack of wedding invitations that sat in her lap.

”Not in front of the cats, Kelly,” Pam whispered as she shook her head, raising one of Angela’s invites in her hand. “They’ll hear you!”

“Seriously? Who puts cats on a wedding invitation?” Kelly asked, snatching the card out of Pam’s hands.

”Apparently? Angela,” Pam replied.

“Apparently,” Kelly agreed. “Anyway, so back to what we were talking about. Sex with Jim. How was it?”

Pam just shook her head at Kelly, her mouth agape as she struggled to find the words to say.

”Wow,” Kelly smiled. “That good huh?”

“Can we not talk about this? It’s making me kind of uncomfortable,” Pam sighed, reaching for another envelope to stamp and address.

“Why? It’s not like I’m getting any,” Kelly said. “As my friend, you could as least help me out with some details.”

”What? What happened to Ryan?” Pam asked.

“Oh, yeah. Nice way to change the subject, whore,” Kelly threw a pen at her. “Ryan and I broke up weeks ago. The guy was a total douchebag. I mean, I thought I would have somewhat of a good influence on him and that maybe I could change him and get him to be more mature, but then I thought, ‘Do I really want to be in charge of changing someone?’ And I just figured that he totally wasn’t worth it, and I dumped him. Anyway, back to you, Slutty McSlut, slutting it up with Jim and skimping on the details. What’s up with that?”

Pam was still trying to understand how Kelly had managed to say all of that in just one oxygen intake.

“Hey, are there any openings at Bloomingdale’s?” Pam asked.

”Ok, that didn’t exactly follow,” Kelly said, obviously annoyed. “And why do you want to work in fashion? I thought you were trying to be an artist.”

“I know, but I really need a job,” Pam replied. “Ever since I moved out, I’ve just been using the credit card my parents gave me. Which I would be totally okay with if I actually talked to them more than every three months, or if I actually received a card from them on my birthday. They sent me nothing. I mean, I didn’t even get a phone call yesterday.”

”So? Who cares, it’s their money, not your money,” Kelly said. “Which by the way, you might want to take advantage of as long as you can because when you decide to live out this little fantasy of yours of living in the city with Jim, both working as school teachers, you’re going to be flat broke. Seriously, Pam, I don’t know how you two are going to manage to survive.”

“So nothing at Bloomingdale’s, huh?” Pam sighed, dropping another sealed invitation on the floor.

”I don’t know, I guess I can ask,” Kelly said. “Of course, that would involve me talking to Ryan, and I don’t speak Douchist.”

“Whatever, you don’t have to ask,” Pam said, placing a stamp on another envelope. “I was thinking of applying at the coffee shop down the street. They’re hiring and it’s easy money.”

”You know, the first thing I noticed about Jim when I met him is that he has big hands.” Pam looked up to see Kelly nodding and raising her eyebrows at her. “Feel free to take that thought and elaborate on it as much as you want.”

”I’m so not talking to you anymore,” Pam tilted her head down to avoid Kelly’s stare, her cheeks turning red.

“Bitch. You’re no fun,” Kelly complained, rising off the couch and heading towards the kitchen to refill her cup of tea. Pam sighed and tossed another envelope onto the growing pile, a smile crossing her face as she remembered the details from last night.

*


“God, Pam,” Jim hissed through his teeth as Pam’s hands found their way beneath the waistband of his boxers. “Your hands are freezing.”

”Well, that’s because all of my body heat is currently residing in a certain… lower region,” Pam smirked as he forcefully thrusted himself into her hand.

“God,” he whispered, his lips diving into her neck and traveling down to the area between her breasts. His hands gently massaged her chest as he bent down, taking each of her nipples into his mouth. She groaned in response, her hips impatiently grinding against the growing erection that was firmly pressed against her. He let out a soft moan, biting down on one of her breasts before lifting his head and staring down at her, his eyes wild with lust.

“God, I want you,” he panted, his hands reaching down to spread her legs further apart. His fingers traveled up the inside of her legs from her ankles to her thighs before slowly making their way up further.

”Oh!” Pam gasped, her mouth open in pleasure as he worked one of his fingers inside of her. He leaned himself back down on top of her, dipping his tongue into her mouth as he added another finger, forcefully thrusting it inside of her and causing her to jump in surprise.

She let out a quiet moan as he twisted both fingers inside of her, his kisses growing increasingly sloppy and forceful against her mouth.

His fingers began meeting her eager thrusts, setting a rhythm that was driving Pam crazy for more.

“God, Jim,” she choked out, closing her eyes as she felt a second orgasm begin to sweep over her, her heart fluttering and her brain swelling as she clenched herself around Jim’s fingers.

She slowly opened her eyes, panting heavily as Jim stared down at her, a coy smile on his face.

She found herself at a loss of words, her brain slowly regaining function as she watched him drop his boxers to the floor. He reached over her into the bottom drawer of his night stand, fishing out a condom.

“You okay?” he asked, swiftly tearing the package open with his teeth.

“Oh yeah,” Pam sighed, her chest steadily rising and falling as she struggled to regain her breath. “I’m good.” Jim just smiled as he reached down, pulling the condom over himself and lowering himself back down over her body, his face only inches away from hers. She felt his erection lightly rubbing against her thigh.

“Hey,” he whispered, steadily gazing into her eyes.

“Hi,” she whispered back, her legs opening further to allow him entrance. She watched him reach down between her legs, his eyes still staring down into hers. She moaned loudly as she felt him slowly ease himself into her, his warm hands moving back up her body to squeeze her breasts. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"You okay?" Jim breathed, refusing to move any furthur.

"Yeah," Pam nodded, opening her eyes to look up at him. "It's just been awhile."

"Yeah," Jim whispered. "Me too."

She groaned loudly as he pushed himself further inside of her, her hips rising off the bed to meet his as her nails clawed at his back, pleading for more.

“God, you feel so good,” he whispered in her ear, fervently pushing himself even further inside of her as he nibbled at her earlobe. She gasped and closed her eyes as he slowly began to thrust in and out.

*

“Hello? Earth to Pam!”

Pam opened her eyes to find Kelly staring back at her, waving a hand in her face.

”What?” Pam asked.

”You were totally thinking about it weren’t you?” Kelly smiled knowingly.

“About what?”

“Sex with Jim last night,” Kelly said.

“No,” Pam shook her head, blinking her eyes as a sudden warmth flooded her cheeks. “No, I wasn’t.”

”Whatever, you totally are thinking about it, you little slut.” Kelly said as a knock sounded on Pam’s door.

“I am not…” Pam insisted, getting up to answer the door, “… a slut!”

”But you were thinking about it!” Kelly called after her as Pam opened the door to a scowling Angela.

“Hey Angela,” Pam said, opening the door wider to let her in. “We’ve already started on the invitations.”

”Are you using only black ink like I specifically asked you?” Angela asked, purposely glancing at Kelly.

”Yes, I made sure I hid all of my pink markers, paint tubes and pens before Kelly got here,” Pam nodded as Kelly turned to glare at her.

”What? Bitch!” Kelly angrily threw her stack of unsealed invitations on the floor. “Whatever, I’m so over this. I think I’m getting carpal tunnel or something.”

“This stamp is crooked,” Angela complained, examining a handful of envelopes she had picked up from the floor.

”Hey, Angela, guess what. Pam had sex with Jim last night,” Kelly blurted out, causing Pam to slap her on the arm.

“Thank you for all of the unnecessary information I didn’t ask for,” Angela scowled, squinting at another envelope. “Is that why these invitations look like they were addressed by a first grader? Because you two were here sipping your cosmopolitans and talking about sex?”

“I was talking about sex. Pam the prude was keeping all of her little scandalous details to herself,” Kelly said as Pam rolled her eyes.

“Speaking of scandalous details-“ Angela started, removing her coat and tossing it on Pam’s bed.

“Ew, no. We are not about to sit here and listen to you talk about your latest sexual rendezvous with Dwight,” Kelly cringed. “The thought of you two together is just creepy.”

”It’s not about Dwight,” Angela frowned, pulling a newspaper from her purse. “Not that I would ever discuss that with you anyway. I have something to show Pam.”

“What is it?” Pam spoke up, walking over towards Angela.

”Ok, now before I show you, you should know that I’m only showing you this because I figured you should know before you heard it from someone else,” Angela said, carefully unfolding the newspaper in her hands. “So you have to promise that you won’t get mad at me.”

”Of course I wouldn’t get mad at you,” Pam frowned, her curiosity growing. “Why what is it?”

”Yeah what is it?” Kelly asked, suddenly appearing behind Pam’s shoulders. Angela sighed and flipped the paper open to an article she had dog-eared, handing it over to Pam. Pam slowly glanced down at the article.

”Wow,” Pam said after a brief silence, her body dazedly falling down to the couch. “Talk about information you didn’t ask for, or ever want to hear in a million, billion years.”

“Oh my God!” Kelly exclaimed. “Roy’s getting married?”

”Apparently,” Angela said, her arms crossed across her chest as she watched Pam read over the article. “I’m sorry, Pam.”

”What are you sorry for?” Pam asked, hastily folding the paper back up and tossing it on the ground. “I don’t care what Roy does. I’ve moved on.”

”Uh, yeah you have. To a much hotter guy with big hands and sexy hair and who is probably super amazing in bed,” Kelly agreed as Pam stood, walking over to her kitchen.

“Kelly, that’s inappropriate,” Angela shook her head.

”Your face is inappropriate,” Kelly shot back.

”Nice one Kelly,” Pam said, lifting the small kettle off her stove and refilling her tea mug.

“Well, good,” Angela said, walking across the room to meet Pam in the kitchen. “I’m glad you’ve moved on.”

”Yup,” Pam just nodded, sipping her tea.

”So please tell me you have something to eat in here; I’m starving,” Angela complained, opening the door to Pam’s refrigerator. Pam winced. “My Lord, Pam. Do you ever go grocery shopping?”

”All the time,” Pam insisted.

”Going to Wal-greens for Ramen and art supplies is not considered grocery shopping,” Angela said, slamming the door shut.

“Well, I’m sorry if I don’t have a job,” Pam argued, opening the pantry and grabbing a bag of chicken-flavored Ramen. “I’m officially on a cannot-afford-to-eat diet.”

“Your parents gave you their credit card for necessities, Pam,” Angela reminded her as she collapsed onto the couch. “Food is a necessity.”

”Shut it, I’m making you soup,” Pam said, pouring more water into the tea kettle and turning the stove on.

“Ramen is not food,” Angela whined from the couch as Pam rolled her eyes.

“Wow,” Kelly breathed, the newspaper open in her hands as she scanned Roy’s engagement announcement. “I cannot believe Roy is getting married. I mean, he proposed to you on Thanksgiving. That was only, what, four months ago?”

“Yeah, well, he seems happy,” Pam muttered bitterly, pulling a bowl from her cupboard.

“And he’s going to be living in a house with some other woman after he completely remodeled it for you,” Kelly continued. “That’s just creepy.”

“He didn’t remodel it for me,” Pam insisted, pounding her fist into the bag of noodles.

”Actually, he’s selling the house,” Angela said. “His new fiancé lives in Hinsdale, so they’re moving into her condo and he’s putting the house up sale. There’s already a sign up in the yard.”

Pam sadly listened as Angela went on, her fist pounding harder into the bag as tears formed in her eyes. He was actually going to sell the house- that stupid damn house that he worked on all summer, slowly erasing memories of his parent’s past as he attempted to turn it into a home that they could spend the rest of their lives in.

“Pam?” Kelly looked up from the paper, as Pam continued to pummel the poor, defenseless bag of noodles, the tea kettle whistling as she shook her head from side to side, tears falling from her eyes. Kelly and Angela rushed over to her.

”Pam, are you okay?” Angela asked, releasing the bag of noodles from her vicious attack.

“He’s selling the house!” Pam cried, closing her eyes. “I just can’t believe he’s selling that house, our house.”

“Oh, Pam,” Angela sighed, her hand rubbing her back as she attempted to console her.

”Wow,” Kelly shook her head. “This is exactly like When Harry Met Sally, when Sally found out that her ex-boyfriend, Joe, was getting married to someone else even though they had been together for years and he never proposed to her.”

Pam looked up at Kelly with her mouth open, utterly speechless, before breaking down into loud sobs again.

“Kelly, you’re not helping,” Angela said. “As usual.”

”Fine, you know what you need,” Kelly said over the loud whistle of the kettle. “You need a drink. And since you have nothing in your refrigerator except bottles of water and Pepto Bismol, we are going out.”

”She can’t go out like this,” Angela complained. “Look at her! Her hair is a mess, her mascara is dripping down her face. She’s a complete disaster.”

Pam looked up at Angela, an incredulous look on her face. “Thank you,” she spat out, starting to bawl again.

“I don’t care, her hair and make-up can be fixed. This is an crisis that can only be fixed with liquor. Lots and lots of liquor. Come on, Pam,” Kelly tugged on Pam’s arm, leading her towards the bathroom. “And fucking turn off that fucking tea kettle!” Kelly yelled back at Angela.

***

”It’s not the fact that he’s getting married,” Pam cried two hours later, downing another shot and turning the glass over on the counter. “It’s the fact that he’s getting married, four months after he said he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. Me!”

“Ok, say it, don’t spray it, Pam,” Kelly complained from beside her, wiping her face. Pam sat in between Kelly and Angela at a bar called Wabash Tap, located just a few blocks from Pam’s apartment. Both Angela and Kelly had found themselves with the pleasant responsibility of trying to keep Pam up on her stool as she downed one tequila shot after another.

“Who gets married four months after meeting somebody?” Pam asked, her speech starting to slur as she flagged the bartender to pour her another shot.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Angela said, eyeing the seven empty glasses on the counter.

“Whatever, my parents are paying for it,” Pam smiled, her eyes glazing over as she waved a credit card in front of Angela’s face. “Ooh, look what I got! Ka-ching! Free money!”

“Right,” Angela shook her head. “You won’t let your parents buy you groceries, but you will let them buy you $60 worth of tequila shots.”

“Hey, you said that I should use it for necessities and right now, tequila is a necessity,” Pam said, downing another shot.

“Ok, that’s enough. We need to take her home,” Angela said to Kelly, waving the bartender down for the check. Pam looked up at the television screen above the bar. ESPN was on and the sportscaster was doing a report on the White Sox heading to training camp in Arizona. Pam’s eyes started to water as she shook her head at the screen.

”Jim is a great guy,” she said. “Jim is a wonderful guy.”

“Who cares? I got you drunk, and you still won’t even give me any sex details. Prude,” Kelly complained, handing Angela a $20 bill.

“I’m happy with Jim,” Pam told herself as she watched the TV. “I’m happier than I’ve ever been when I’m with Jim. I shouldn’t be upset that Roy is getting married. But, it’s like he’s throwing our entire relationship in my face and saying that it didn’t mean anything. Like the whole seven years that we spent together wasn’t significant to him at all. Like both of his proposals meant absolutely nothing. And now he’s getting married. To some whore he just met!”

”She’s not a whore, she’s an insurance adjuster,” Angela said.

“Whatever. She’s a whore,” Pam hiccupped, swaying on her stool.

“Looked like a whore,” Kelly agreed.

”Ok, time to go home,” Angela announced, standing up from her stool. “Let’s go, Pam. First we need you to get up. Then we can work on re-teaching you how to walk.”

“But not until she learns how to put on her jacket without falling over,” Kelly laughed as Pam wobbled up to her feet.

”I’m glad that you’re finding this so funny, Kelly,” Angela glared at her as she helped Pam into her jacket. “Remember the next time I drive 10 miles out of the way to help lift you out of a dumpster.”

”Hey, I had five El Nino margaritas at Chili's and I lost my grandmother’s bracelet. That bracelet’s been in my family for years,” Kelly argued.

”And where did you find it?” Angela asked, throwing Pam’s arm around her shoulder.

“On my other arm,” Kelly solemnly admitted. “So I’m used to it being on my right arm and I accidentally put it on my left and didn’t realize it was there, ok, sue me. God, Angela, you can be such a bitch sometimes.”

”Are you going to help me get her home or not?” Angela whined, pulling Pam towards the door.

Fine,” Kelly sighed, tossing Pam’s other arm around the back of her neck.

***

”I’m not ready to go home yet, I’m not done talking about stupid Roy and his stupid wedding getting married to some stupid girl he just met,” Pam mumbled as Angela and Kelly half-carried her out of the elevator and down the hallway towards her apartment.

”It’s a quarter past midnight,” Angela said, her head peeking out from under Pam’s shoulder. “We can talk about it tomorrow morning.”

”But it is tomorrow morning!” Pam complained as they lugged her down the hall.

“Ugh, please don’t tell me we're still going to be on this subject tomorrow,” Kelly whined from Pam’s other side. “If we are, I’m going to kill myself. I swear, I’ll do it, I don’t care.”

”Kelly?” Pam said.

“What, Pam?”

”Please don’t kill yourself,” Pam said. “Seriously, you have too much to live for.”

”Yeah, well not if the rest of my days involve carrying your heavy, drunk ass home,” Kelly groaned as they reached Pam’s door.

“Where are her keys?” Angela sighed, pulling Pam’s purse from her hands and searching inside for the keys to her apartment. Pam leaned up against the wall, bumping her head.

”Ow,” Pam winced. “Ok, Kelly. I will give you some sex details.”

”Ooh, really?” Kelly’s face immediately brightened.

”Yes, so, Jim is, like, totally amazing in bed,” Pam began as Kelly beamed. "I mean at first it was kind of awkward... But then, it was... Oh my God."

”I knew it! I knew it, I totally knew it,” Kelly said gleefully. “It was the hands, I could totally tell.”

”His hands are amazing,” Pam sighed. “His other parts are pretty amazing too.”

”Her keys aren’t in here,” Angela complained, dropping Pam’s purse to the floor and starting to search Pam’s coat pockets.

”How many times did you guys do it?” Kelly asked, ignoring Angela.

”Well, he got me four times,” Pam smiled.

”Oh my God! Four times?!” Kelly squealed as Pam nodded. “How?”

”I think I’ve told you enough,” Pam said, closing her eyes.

”What? No way, you haven’t even got started,” Kelly complained. “What does he look like? You know. Down there.”

”They’re not in her pockets, either,” Angela sighed in frustration, picking Pam’s purse off the floor again.

”Big,” Pam smiled, biting her lip.

“Oh yeah?” Kelly smiled, her eyes begging Pam to continue.

”Except one thing I noticed is that he’s really quiet when he’s… You know… Finished,” Pam said, narrowing her eyes. “Like, really quiet. No moans or groans or, ‘Oh Gods’ or anything. He just kind of closes his eyes and lets out this sigh and… That’s it.”

“Has anyone noticed that I’m the only one who cares about where Pam’s keys are?” Angela asked, rummaging through Pam’s purse a second time.

”No, no one noticed,” Kelly rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to Pam. “Really?”

”Is that normal?” Pam scrunched her face.

”Yeah, I guess,” Kelly shrugged. “Never happened to me before, but I guess some guys are just like that. Sounds kinda hot, actually.”

”It was kinda hot,” Pam said, looking up at the ceiling. “Just like his penis.”

Kelly covered her mouth, giggling like a little girl. “Oh my God, Angela, Pam just said penis!”

Pam looked at Kelly and couldn’t help laughing at herself. “I did, didn’t I? I said penis!" She started shouting, her voice bouncing off the walls. "Penis! Penis! I love Jim’s penis!” She giggled, doing a little dance and spinning around, facing the elevators.

She completely froze, a big smile on her face and arms in mid-air, as she came face to face with an appalled Jim.

”Well. That’s inappropriate,” Jim said, hoisting a large paper bag under his arm.

”Well, I’m glad at least someone else thinks so,” Angela said, throwing her hands in the air as Pam and Jim just stared at each other. Jim looked slightly amused. Pam just looked downright horrified.

“You smell like my grandfather,” Jim said to Pam, carefully sitting the bag on the floor and pulling a set of keys from his coat pocket. “Who happened to be a raging alcoholic, by the way.”

“Yeah, she had eight tequila shots,” Kelly said as Jim stuck his key inside the lock, opening Pam’s door.

”And you let her?” Jim asked, looking at the girls.

”She threatened us,” Kelly lied. Angela rolled her eyes.

”I tried to stop her,” Angela said. “Kelly’s the one who encouraged her.”

Kelly shoved Angela in the side with her elbow.

“Ow!” Angela screamed in pain. “What? Well, you did encourage her.”

”Don’t tell him that,” Kelly said, pointing at Jim. “Do you see how tall he is? He could totally kick both of our asses.”

”Whoa!” Jim exclaimed as Pam swayed to the side, his arms catching her before she fell to the floor. “Alright, well I can take care of her from here if you guys want to go home.”

“Well, we were going to spend the night, but if you want to subject yourself to clean-up duty… Kelly, do you mind if I stay at your place?” Angela asked.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Kelly said. She pointed at Jim. “Remember. She had eight tequila shots, so don’t try to take advantage of her.”

She turned on her heel before turning back to face him. “But if you do take advantage of her, at least tell her to give us some of the details.”

”Kelly, let’s go,” Angela pulled at Kelly’s arm, yanking her towards the elevators as Jim just gaped at her.

“Ok, Beesly,” Jim said, slowly collecting himself. “Let’s get you inside.”

“You weren’t supposed to hear me talking about your penis,” Pam said as he pulled her inside her apartment, closing the door behind her.

“Well, I think the entire tenth floor is now aware of how much you love my penis, so- I’m sure I would’ve heard it through the grapevine eventually,” Jim teased, sitting her down on the bed. He walked over to the paper bag beside the door and carried it into the kitchen. “So is this a regular occurrence, Beesly? Getting drunk off your ass on tequila shots and declaring to everyone how much you worship my penis?”

“Nope, just started today,” Pam said, throwing her jacket on the floor. She carefully glanced around the room. It was funny how Jim’s personal effects had slowly begun merging with hers. His Chuck Palahniuk novels and indie rock albums were lined up on her bookshelf, mixed in with an odd assortment of art books and Britney Spears and Nickelback CDs. A large navy Converse t-shirt was tossed over her vintage “I Heart Cheeseburger” shirt on the hamper. A pair of his sneakers were tucked away in a corner. She softly smiled to herself as she realized bits and pieces of Jim’s life could be found all around her apartment. This was real, she thought. Jim was her life now.

“What are you doing?” Pam asked as Jim fumbled around in her kitchen. She warily stood up and walked over towards him. He glanced up at her over the kitchen counter, his arm in the refrigerator.

”Oh, I was just at the store,” he said, pulling a pack of Dannon mixed berry yogurt from the bag he had brought in. “I was out of cereal. And seeing how you don’t like to grocery shop for yourself, I figured I’d pick you up a couple of things.” He smiled sheepishly, tossing the yogurt on the empty top shelf of the fridge. She stared at him in disbelief, tears in her eyes, causing him to stop what he was doing and look at her worriedly.

”What?” he asked. “What is it? Are you okay?”

She silently stepped around the counter, walking up to him and wrapping her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest.

”Thank you,” she said, her voice muffled in his shirt.

”For what?” he asked uncertainly.

“For reminding me,” she said simply, closing her eyes and breathing in his scent.

”O-kay,” he said, glancing down at the top of her head quizzically. “It’s only groceries.”

"I know," Pam sighed. "But it really, really means a lot."

"Well... You're welcome," Jim said as she slowly pulled away from him. He smiled down at her and she wobbled a little on her feet, starting to feel woozy.

"I don't feel so good," Pam said, staring up at him timidly. Before she knew it, she was curled over her kitchen sink, heaving up eight tequila shots.

"That's disgusting," Jim sighed, standing beside her and pulling her hair from her face.

Anderson - Hamilton

The parents of Roy J. Anderson, of Naperville, announce the engagement of their son Roy J. Anderson, also of Naperville, to Katy M. Hamilton, of Hinsdale. The bride-to-be is the daughter of Matthew and Joan Fitzgerald, of Portland, Ore.

“Hey.”

Pam quickly glanced up to see Jim come smiling through the door. She crumpled the newspaper in her hands and dropped it behind her on the bed.

“What was that?” Jim asked, closing the door behind him and kicking his shoes off.

”Oh, nothing,” Pam shook her head. “How was class?”

“Three hours too long,” Jim replied, slowly crossing the room towards her. “How’s your head?”

”Better. The shower helped,” Pam managed a small smile as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him.

”Never underestimate the power of a good shower,” Jim said.

”Ooh. Original,” Pam teased. He smiled and leaned down to kiss her. His lips silently communicated that he was craving more of her as his hands tightened at her hips. She pushed her hands against his chest, her head impulsively tilting away from his. He pulled away and looked down at her, confused when he realized she wasn’t returning the kiss with nearly as much enthusiasm as he expected.

”What’s wrong?” he asked. She slowly backed away from him and sat down at the edge of the bed. “Is everything ok? You’re not going to throw up again are you?”

”No,” Pam said, remembering the awful events that transpired the night before. “No, I feel fine.”

“Ok…” Jim said, still puzzled. “What’s the matter?” Pam sighed and pulled the wrinkled newspaper from behind her, holding it in her hands.

“Roy’s getting married,” she said, looking up into his eyes. He still continued to look as confused as ever.

“Ok,” he shrugged, his hands venturing into his pockets. “What does that have to do with anything?” Pam glared up at him, annoyed that he was becoming so ignorant about this.

“Jim. He’s getting married. After he proposed to me four months ago,” she said, attempting to make the situation clearer for him to understand.

“Is that why you were so upset last night?” Jim asked.

”Yes,” Pam said, looking up at him as if it were obvious.

“Ok,” Jim said, backing up and sitting on the arm of her couch. “But why?” Pam closed her eyes, a slow rage building inside of her. She couldn’t tell if it was because of Roy or because Jim couldn’t have been more clueless if he tried.

“Roy proposed to be in November. And now, here he is, four months later having already found some other person that he’s ready to settle down with for the rest of his life.” Jim continued to stare at her blankly. “Do you know how much it hurt to have to find out that he’s already getting married? It’s like all of that torture and heartbreak that I suffered and all of the pain and hurting that came along with unraveling an exhausting seven-year relationship held no meaning to him, whatsoever.”

Jim’s eyes fell the floor, his head bent down as he nervously tapped his fingers together. “Come on, Pam. I thought you were over that guy. Why should you care what he’s doing with his life? You’ve moved on. At least, I thought you had moved on.”

Pam was slowly beginning to lose it. “I have moved on. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t have the right to be upset.“

”What do you still have feelings for this guy or something?” Pam stood up and dropped the paper from her hands, her fingers clenching into a tight fist. Her body began to shake violently as felt her rage begin to boil over.

“Why are you being so ignorant about this? As my boyfriend and my best friend, I at least expected you to be able to understand.”

”I just don’t understand why you’re allowing him to get to you like this,” Jim said. “Don’t you get it, Pam? This is exactly what he wanted.”

Pam shook her head furiously. “Roy and I were together for seven-years,” she hissed through her teeth, her voice raised. “And just four months ago, he was sitting in front of me on his knee, promising the world, swearing that he was going to love me for the rest of his life. Do you have any idea how guilty I felt? How bad he made me feel when I went back home and turned down his marriage proposal a second time? That was one of the toughest, most heart-wrenching decisions I have ever had to make in my life. And he made me feel terrible. He wasn’t understanding, he didn’t try to see things from my perspective, he was hateful, and angry and he begged me to change my mind, again and again- for hours. I have never felt worse about myself in my entire life than I did at that moment when I finally walked away.”

Jim looked up at her, his eyes carrying little expression while she stood over him, her hands gesturing wildly around her. “And now he’s getting married. And Angela’s getting married and I… It’s like someone’s purposely trying to remind me of how close I was to actually settling down and creating a life for myself. Instead, I’m here, living in a stupid, tiny efficiency apartment that doesn’t even have air conditioning, or walls, and it’s like I’m having to start all over again. I’ve been in college for five years, and I don’t even have a degree to show for it. I’m flat broke. I don’t even have a job, and the career that I want barely pays enough to allow me to move out of this stupid apartment building.” She shook her head, tears coming to her eyes. She glanced down at Jim, who was still staring up at her, emotionless. He still didn't get it, did he?

“Of course,” she sighed. “How can I expect you to even begin to understand. You said it yourself- you’ve never been in love before. You couldn’t possibly have any idea what I’m going through.” Jim flinched and looked down, obviously stung by the pain of her words. Pam walked around him and sat on the couch, the room falling silent as Jim irritably tapped his foot on the floor.

“Ok,” Jim abruptly stood, turning to face her. “I have to say something. First of all, I don’t ever want you to allow Roy or anyone make you feel like you’re not finally doing something meaningful with your life. You told me you’re happy here. I know you’re happy and I know you know that you’re happy. Who cares what it took to get you here, or that you don’t have any money, or that you’re living in a studio apartment, which by the way I remember you saying feels more like home to you than you ever felt when you were living with your parents. Pam, you’re finally doing something that matters to you, something that makes you happy, and yeah, maybe it’s taken awhile but you’re here and you’re finally following your dreams as an artist. Your dreams, Pam. Not some life that somebody else already had planned out for you.”

He let out a long exhale, walking around to sit beside her.

”And second,” he started, his voice growing softer as he turned to face her. “I love you, Pam. And there’s a reason why I’ve never said that to anyone before, and excuse me for sounding clichéd and ridiculously trite right now, but it’s because I knew that when I fell in love it would be because I had finally found the person I was ready to spend the rest of my life with. And it makes me unbelievably frustrated to know that you and Roy have this whole history together, this connection, something that I’ll never in a million years be able to compete with. I know he’s your first love, Pam. But you’re mine. And I’m sorry that I don’t have that experience and maybe I can’t relate to how you’re feeling right now, but I can’t have you losing faith in me already, Pam. I love you, and that means that I am in this for the long haul. I know that I don’t have a steady job, and that I’m not sure what I really want to do with my life, and I don’t have a house built for us to move into once I graduate in two months… But I know I’m going to try my damnest to make you happy. Whatever it takes, Pam.”

She finally raised her eyes from her hands twisting nervously in her lap, looking up to find him staring fixedly at her. She couldn’t remember a time he looked more determined, passionate.

He was right. Before yesterday, she was happy. She was really, really happy. And why wouldn’t she be? She had an amazing boyfriend who was in love with her and who wanted desperately to take care of her. Notwithstanding the fact that he was forced to stand by helplessly as she hurled eight shots of tequila into her kitchen sink while stressing over an ex-boyfriend who was making it very apparent that he, too, had moved on, just as she did.

Jim was incredible. He was sweet and caring and funny, and he was hers. And he loved her. In his entire life, he had only loved her. He dedicated a book of love poems to her for crying out loud. Seriously, what the hell was wrong with her? She swore that a special education program needed to be created just for her sometimes.

She suddenly leaned forward and smashed her lips into his. His hands firmly grabbed the back of her head and he pushed her closer, returning the kiss with equal passion. She slowly crawled on top of him and brought herself down on his lap. His back pushed against the couch as she forcefully thrusted her tongue into his mouth while beginning to grind her hips into his, finding him hard and ready beneath his jeans.

She heard him let out a soft moan, his hands grabbing a hold of her frantic hips as he pushed himself harder into her. Their kisses became urgent and sloppy, her hands weaving themselves in his hair and pulling roughly at the ends while she continued to roll her hips into him with a sudden powerful determination.

He carefully lifted her up, keeping her legs wrapped around his waist, and walked her across the room, roughly throwing her down on the bed. She heard the sound of newspaper crinkling under her back. His fingers hastily worked at the drawstring on her sweat pants, quickly untying them and sliding her pants down and off of her legs. She moaned and fervently pushed her hips off the bed and in to the air, begging for more of him as he swiftly disposed of her underwear and dropped his knees on the floor.

Her eyes gazed down the mattress and watched him as he forced her legs apart, his face inching closer and closer until she felt his tongue, warm and insistent against her. She gasped softly and closed her eyes, her fingers falling back into his hair and gently tugging as her hips rose further off of the bed, urging him deeper.

She felt his hands flat against her stomach as he fought to push her hips back down, his tongue repeatedly stabbing her while he continued to love her with his mouth. His hand slowly traveled up her stomach and slid under her shirt, lightly grasping one of her breasts and giving a firm squeeze as his tongue found that familiar spot inside of her, his lips closing down and gently sucking. Pam moaned and grabbed the back of Jim’s head, pushing him further into her as her hips ground against his face, her body begging for more… more, eager for a release.

She sensed a low burn in her stomach and her heart started to beat even more erratically in her chest as she felt the first wave begin to wash over her, a sudden warmth flooding through her veins. Her head tilted to the side and she bit her lip, hard, as she silently came, her legs stretching further apart and her toes curling into the mattress as Jim continued to delicately lick her, her juices spilling into his mouth.

She slowly opened her eyes, breathing heavily through her lips as she watched Jim lift himself off the floor and bring his shirt up over his head. He brought his body down on top of her, his lips diving into her neck, gently nibbling at her collarbone. Her fingers deftly moved to the front of his jeans and made quick work of his belt, undoing the clasp and pushing it to the side. She unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them down, allowing him to slide them off the rest of the way. He smiled and leaned down to kiss her before abruptly pulling away.

”Shit,” he muttered.

“What?” Pam asked, her fingernails digging into his sides, unrelenting as she attempted to bring him down even closer.

“I don’t have a-“ Jim stammered. “They’re in my apartment.”

Pam shook her head. “It’s ok. I’ve been on the pill for years.”

”Are you sure?” Jim asked. Pam just nodded, her hips once again rising off the bed, growing impatient. He took that as a sign to continue and he wasted no time in pushing his body forward, easily sliding inside of her. She let out a loud groan and he leaned down, his breath hot against her ear and her breasts flattening against his chest as he pushed himself forward even further, driving himself in as far as he could go.

He leaned his head back and stared down at her, his eyes turning glassy as he moved, beginning to thrust himself into her with reckless abandon. He was faster and rougher than she remembered, rapidly moving in and out of her as if he was trying to prove a point, determined to show how much he loved her.

She wrapped a leg around him and tossed him over with a strength she didn’t know she possessed, pushing him flat on his back as she began to ride him, feverishly grinding her body on top of his. She closed her eyes and pushed her hands into his chest, her fingers curling into his small tufts of hair as she relished the feeling of him, hard and thick inside of her.

“God, Pam,” Jim moaned. He carefully moved their bodies closer toward the center of the bed to keep them from teetering dangerously on the edge. He kept his hips motionless, his fingers digging into her sides as he gave her complete and total control, watching her body moving frantically against him. She was recklessly alternating between strong back and forth movements to short, quick thrusts before finding a move that she liked, her hips moving around in small circles above him.

Jim grunted and he slowly sat up. His brought his arms around her back and his hands forcefully pushed on her shoulders, bringing her further down onto his lap. She pressed her torso flat against him and brought her arms around, her nails gripping his back as she ground her hips into him. His hips matched her rhythm, eagerly thrusting up into her.

She bent down and pulled at his bottom lip with her teeth, softly sucking him into her mouth. She tasted the lingering hint of herself on his tongue. He moaned and flipped her over causing her to shriek and cling to the sheets as they fell off the edge of the bed and onto the floor. The comforter fell down on top of Jim’s back, but he was undetered, continuing to forcefully move inside of her.

“You okay?” he asked and she nodded. Her nails sunk into his back as she felt herself nearing her peak. He raised her left leg in the air and he firmly held her under her knee to get a deeper angle, her back beginning to burn as he pushed her further and further into the carpet. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes never leaving hers as his pupils went dark, wild with a fervent need.

“I love you,” he whispered, breathing hard through his nose, and she was gone. Her eyes closed and she felt herself clench around him, her mouth open in a silent scream as a second orgasm overtook her senses. Her entire body went cold except for the wet heat between her legs, her ears blocked from all sound, bright lights bouncing on the inside of her eyelids.

She felt her chest bouncing up and down as she slowly drifted back, her back stinging against the hard, abrasive carpet as Jim continued to powerfully push into her, eager to find his own release. She opened her eyes in time to see Jim’s eyes close, his lips parting to let out a small puff of air as his nails dug into her thigh and he let it all go, his hips sharply thrusting into her one, two more times before slowly coming to a stop, and he emptied himself into her.

He carefully dropped her leg back down and she smiled when he brought his lips down to hers, kissing her lazily as she felt him softening inside of her.

"We have got to get you a better bed," Jim said, his breath warm against her lips. Pam giggled as he tilted his head down, his hair tickling her nose.

All thoughts of Roy had been pushed aside as she stared lovingly up at him. She couldn't even begin to fathom the fact that Jim had fallen in love with her. She was broke, penniless, literally a starving artist, and she was a mess; a complicated seven-year relationship left in shambles and a family she had left behind that she was growing increasingly distant from.

She had never felt more like herself. And he loved her.

"I love you," she whispered, her hands tangling up in his hair again.

He smiled and pressed his lips against her neck, his body collapsing tiredly on top of hers.

"I love you, Pam."

“I have a Venti Caramel Macchiato!”

Pam plopped the white Starbucks cup down on the counter.

“Thanks. See you tomorrow,” Pam waved at one of her regular customers as he grabbed his drink from the bar and headed out the door.

It was April, and Pam had been an employee at the Starbucks on campus for three weeks. It started with this whole "Liberation Celebration" party she threw for herself over Spring Break, where she cut up her parent's credit card and proceeded to fill out a stack of job applications. She didn't have very much work experience to boast about, so it helped to already be on good terms with the staff at her local coffee shop since Starbucks was the only employer to grant her a call back. It was a decent gig. It was only a couple of blocks from her apartment, she received free coffee as a perk, and she was officially in charge of drawing the specials up on the chalkboard. That part was her favorite.

“Hey, Pam. Your tall, unbelievably sexy glass of water of a boyfriend is headed towards us as we speak.”

Pam glanced up from behind the espresso machine and saw Jim look both ways before strolling across the street, a black White Sox cap pulled over his eyes as his messenger bag flapped behind him.

“Thanks, Sally,” Pam laughed, walking over to a coffee urn and pouring a small cup of coffee, black. She heard the bell jingle over the door as Jim stepped inside.

“Hey,” she smiled, handing him his coffee. “How are things going in exciting newspaper world?”

“God, you have no idea,” he sighed. “These new people that we have on the staff are terrible. The writing is shoddy, all of their sources are unreliable, there are apostrophes all over the place, the font on their headlines are all wrong, nobody understands the difference between your and you are, and I think one of the copy editors permitted the use of ‘WTF’ in a byline.”

“On second thought, maybe you should give me the coffee back,” Pam said, stretching her hands out to take the cup from his hands.

“Don't you dare. My coffee. Mine,” he protectively clutched the coffee cup to his chest. “You almost ready to go?”

“Yeah, Tyler’s in the back counting his drawer, but I actually won’t be able to meet you for lunch. Angela’s in the city and she wants to talk wedding logistics,” Pam said, punching out on one of the registers. “Actually, you should come with us. We’re going to Eleven City Diner. On 11th and Wabash? They serve breakfast all day.” She raised her eyebrows.

“I do like my breakfast,” Jim agreed, taking a sip of coffee. “But I think I’ll pass. Angela kind of scares me.”

Pam looked at him quizzically as she pulled her apron over her head. ”What? Why?”

”First of all, have you met her fiancé? And second, I don’t know why, but she’s always looking at me like this.” He stretched his neck and raised an eyebrow, his mouth twisting into a soft scowl.

“Angela always looks like that,” Pam laughed, reaching into the back to grab her jacket and purse.

“Well, it’s scary.”

Pam just shook her head, throwing her jacket over her shoulders and walking around the counter.

”Bye, Sally, See you later, Tyler,” she waved, following Jim out the door. She stepped out onto the sidewalk, leaning against the building to slip out of her black, non-slip shoes and pulling on a pair of polka-dotted flats.

“I don’t know why you’re so scared of Angela. If anything, it’s Kelly that you should be worried about,” Pam said, dropping her work shoes into her tote bag and pulling an elastic from her hair, her soft curls tumbling to her shoulders.

“I think I can handle Kelly,” Jim said as they stood at the corner. An el train rattled over head. “Besides, we’re Facebook friends now. She sent me a Twilight bumper sticker.”

“Kelly’s the one who stole your clothes from the bathroom when you were in the shower the last time she was over my apartment just so she could see you with your shirt off,” Pam reminded him.

“Well, have you seen me with my shirt off, Pam?” Jim asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "I was an extra in the movie 300, you know. This isn't news."

“You’re an idiot.”

“Seriously, can’t you just blow off lunch with Angela and hang out with me instead?” Jim asked. “I was thinking we could go back to my place… Our safety word can be Art Garfunkel.”

“Yeah. I’m not even going to ask,” Pam said, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, I’m Angela’s maid-of-honor. She’s vigilant about this kind of stuff. I have to go. Otherwise, I may not even be invited to the wedding. Besides, I heard this diner has cheese fries. I really want cheese fries.” Pam was bouncing up and down on her toes.

“That’s a gas attack waiting to happen,” Jim observed.

“You don’t like cheese fries?” Pam asked in disbelief. “Communist!”

“You’re late.” Pam turned around to find Angela beside her on the curb, her arms crossed.

“You said we would meet at your apartment at 1:30,” Angela said, glancing at her watch. “It’s 1:43. You know how I feel about punctuality.”

“How does she feel about punctuality?” Jim whispered over to Pam.

“One time I was late to a party planning meeting we had for Kelly’s birthday party. She gave me a tardy slip,” Pam said. “It’s still on my record.”

”Well, how do you get it expunged?” Jim asked.

“I either have to wait five years to have it taken off, or I have to do community service,” Pam replied.

”What’s community service?”

”I have to go to church with her for a month,” Pam said.

“Yikes. Hey, Angela,” Jim said nervously, giving her a shy wave.

”I see you still haven’t cut your hair,” Angela frowned.

”Ok. Well, you two have fun. And I’ll see you later,” he smiled at Pam, turning to walk across the street.

“Why don’t you come with us?” Angela called after him, stopping him in his tracks.

”Oh, no,” Jim shook his head. “I couldn’t impose-“

”Who’s imposing?” Angela asked. “You’re Pam’s boyfriend. And I’ve hardly gotten to know you. You should come. It’ll be fun.”

Pam turned to face Jim, all smiles.

”Uh… Sure,” Jim agreed hesitantly, glaring at Pam. “Ok. Sounds… Fun.”

***

Pam returned to the table from the restroom at the diner, coming out to find Jim and Angela in an intense stare down.

“Why are you two looking at each other like that?” Pam asked, sliding into the booth beside Jim.

“I took a Post-it,” Jim said, keeping an apprehensive gaze on Angela.

“No! The system! No!” Pam shrieked, glancing at Angela’s huge wedding planning binder full of tabs and colorful Post-its that sat on the table. Angela continued to glare at Jim.

“Art Garfunkel! Art Garfunkel!” Jim whispered.

“Angela, Jim is very sorry and he’ll never do it again,” Pam said. “I swear I taught him better than that.”

“This is going on my permanent record isn’t it?” Jim asked.

”Oh, definitely,” Pam replied.

“You’re treading on very thin ice, Jim,” Angela warned. “Very thin ice.”

“Is she threatening me?” Jim asked, wide-eyed.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. She almost never goes through with most of her threats,” Pam said.

”Almost?” Jim asked.

Pam ignored him. “So, Angela, what is this wedding planning meeting about?”

“Well, first on the agenda; we have to pick a date for you to try on your bridesmaid dress,” Angela said, holding up a fluorescent green sticky note from the "attire" category.

“Yeah, actually I had a question about that,” Pam said. “You’re getting married in an outdoor ceremony in a barn house in the beginning of July. Is it really necessary for me to wear a long-sleeved dress that comes down to my ankles made from silk taffeta, and a bonnet?”

Jim snickered from beside her. “She’s making you wear a bonnet?” Angela glared at him again, causing him to restrain himself. “I think a bonnet sounds cool. Does Dwight get to wear one?”

“The theme is 18th Century Colonial Willamsburg,” Angela said, ignoring Jim. “We already found Dwight a three-cornered hat-“

”Yes!” Jim smiled excitedly, a gleam in his eye.

“And we have his waistcoat, and the breeches, and the cane and stockings. You can’t upset the theme, Pam,” Angela said.

"Communist," Jim mummered to Pam under-his-breath.

“Ok, but I don’t see why I have to wear the undergarments too,” Pam argued. Jim was practically bouncing up and down in his seat like a little boy on Christmas Day.

“Wow. This is great. I love this wedding already,” Jim smiled.

“That brings me to the second item on my agenda.” Angela picked up a bright pink Post-it, signaling something from the "guest list" category. “Is he going?” she asked, pointing a finger at Jim.

”Of course Jim’s going,” Pam said.

”Really?” Jim smiled. “Wow. Look at us making plans for the future. Yay us.”

“Well, you won’t be able to sit at the table with the wedding party, but I’ll try to find a spot for you. I might have to sit you next to Andy,” Angela said, flipping through the pages in her binder to find her seating arrangement chart.

“Who’s Andy?” Jim asked.

”Andy is Angela's ex. The one I told you about who graduated from Cornell,” Pam said. “He sang a cappella? Plays the banjo?”

“I could always just stand,” Jim offered. The waiter interrupted, walking over with their plates of food.

“Cheese fries! Yay!” Pam clapped happily.

”I have the Wisconsin cheese fries,” the waiter announced, sitting a plate in front of Pam. “And a Belgian waffle.”

”Yup, mine too,” Pam smiled.

“Chocolate shake?”

”Mine,” Pam raised her hand. “And the corned beef and pastrami hash is mine, too.”

“I have a feeling we’re going to be revisiting the great Tequila Shot Incident of March 2009 very soon,” Jim observed, raising his eyebrows.

“I wasn’t that bad,” Pam insisted as the waiter placed Angela and Jim’s food in front of them.

“You threw up in the sink five times, then ate a container of yogurt before throwing up in the sink again, after I had already Lysoled and degermifyed it. Then you begged me for an hour to go to Taco Fresco to get you a taco before passing out on the kitchen floor.”

“Yeah, thanks for leaving me there by the way. It felt really nice, waking up in the morning with my face smashed against cold linoleum tile,” Pam said.

”Hey, I tried to move you,” Jim said, reaching over her for a bottle of ketchup. “Every time I did, you went all Jet Li on me.”

“And yet you’re still here,” Pam smiled at him. “My hero.”

“Yeah, well I’m not cleaning up after you if you get sick from eating all of that,” Jim said, pointing at her buffet of food. “Cleaning up vomit after tequila shots is one thing. Cleaning up vomit after cheese fries and waffles and whatever the hell else you just ordered… That’s all you.”

“Can we not talk about vomit while we’re eating?” Angela asked, making a face.

“Sorry,” Jim apologized.

”So, Jim, you’ve been dating Pam for four months now, but I still feel like you and I haven’t gotten to know each other at all,” Angela said.

”Aw. That’s a shame,” Jim agreed, a hint of sarcasm in his voice as he bit into his sandwich.

”Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?” Angela asked.

”Oh no,” Pam sighed.

”What?” Jim asked.

”Angela has this thing. Whenever one of us introduces somebody new into our little group, she harasses them with a thousand questions. It’s like her little own IQ test,” Pam said.

“Ok,” Jim said warily. “I think I can take it.”

“Alright. Well for starters, what’s your religion?” Angela began.

“My mother is Catholic; my father’s Jewish,” Jim replied.

”In December, which holiday do you celebrate?”

“Both.”

“What’s both? Kwanzaa and Boxing Day?” Angela asked derisively.

“Hanukkah and Christmas.”

“Who did you vote for in the election?”

“The Democrats.”

“Figures,” Angela sighed , rolling her eyes. “Who did you originally support?”

“Dennis Kucinich.”

”Why?”

”He had spunk. I like spunk.”

“Do you want to get married?”

”Of course.”

”Have kids?”

”Possibly.”

“How many?”

”Three is a good number,” Jim said.

“What do you think about five?”

”Three.”

”Four?”

”Three,” Jim insisted.

“Any family history of cancer? Heart disease? Diabetes? Male-pattern baldness?”

”My grandfather was an alcoholic, but other than that my family tree is a goldmine,” Jim boasted.

“Do you have a savings account?” Angela continued.

“I do,” Jim nodded.

”How long have you had said savings account?”

”My parents opened the account when I was five,” Jim said.

“Any allergies?”

”I was allergic to raisins when I was little, but I grew out of it.”

“Have you ever been to jail?”

”Well, there was that whole arsonist phase when I was 13- No.”

”Where was Pam born?”

”Cleveland. Her parents moved here when she was two.”

“What’s the one word Pam can never pronounce correctly?”

”Archives. She always pronounces the ‘h’ like ‘chives’,” Jim said.

“It’s a common mistake,” Pam insisted.

“Where did Pam get the scar on her left knee?” Angela asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s not on her left knee, it’s on her right, and she fell off her tricycle when she was 4,” Jim said.

“Very well then,” Angela said, turning back to her food.

“I think you passed,” Pam whispered.

"You can pass? That's possible?" Jim asked.

“There’s just one other thing,” Angela said.

”What’s that?” Jim asked nervously.

***

“I cannot believe I’m letting you do this,” Jim said as Angela threw a towel around his neck.

“Any last words?” Pam smiled as Angela held up a pair of scissors.

“Please, don’t,” Jim winced, closing his eyes.

“I can’t watch!” Pam cringed, putting a hand over her eyes. “But I must.” Pam moved a finger from one eye and watched Angela lower the scissors and cut the first lock of hair.

“Ow!” Jim exclaimed.

”That did not hurt,” Pam laughed.

”It hurt my spirit, Pam. A part of me is dying,” Jim frowned.

”You are such a baby,” Pam said. Jim was sitting cross-legged in Pam’s bathtub as Angela stood over him with a trimmer and a pair of scissors. Pam was sitting on top of the toilet seat, laughing it up.

“If I look in the mirror and find a part down the middle of my head like Dwight, I’m going to be very upset,” Jim said.

“Ooh, yes, give him buttcrack hair!” Pam smiled gleefully.

“You give me buttcrack hair and I’ll buy a wig with dreadlocks and walk around looking like a Rastafarian. I’ll do it, I swear,” Jim said.

“Relax. I’m not going to give you buttcrack hair,” Angela said.

“I gotta say, when a guy pictures himself with two women in a bathroom, this is not the vision he has in mind,” Jim said. Pam punched him on the arm, eliciting another, “Ow!” Angela snipped another lock of hair. “Ow!”

“Stop doing that,” Angela said, giving him a small shove in the back.

“Wow, look at that! He has ears!” Pam squealed.

Thirty minutes and 25 “Ow’s” later, Jim had two ears, and a forehead and was shutting the door behind Angela as she left to catch her train back home.

“Oh, wait!” Angela said, turning back and handing Jim a book.

”What’s this?” Jim asked.

”It's my favorite book. A Purpose Driven Life. I think you should read it. Be inspired,” Angela said.

”Oh. Thanks,” Jim said, somewhat apathetic on the idea. “Oh, hold on a second, I have a book for you, too.”

He walked across the apartment and grabbed a small book from the bookshelf.

”Here you go,” he said, returning to the door and handing it over to Angela. Angela immediately frowned at the title.

“Farts: A Spotters Guide?” Angela asked in disgust.

“An inspiration for us all,” Jim smiled. “My favorite is ‘The One That Got Away’. Take care now. Bye, bye then.” He shut the door in Angela’s face. Pam just smiled at him from the couch.

“Well. What have we learned today?” Jim asked, walking into the kitchen. “I’ll go first. I think we learned that I was right in the Angela versus Kelly debate. Angela is definitely much scarier. And, we also learned that if we were all stranded on a desert island, Angela would be the first to resort to cannibalism before it was even an option.”

“Yes, but more importantly we learned that you earned Angela’s stamp of approval. Which is even more important than the parental stamp of approval,” Pam said, typing away at her laptop.

“I read, I cook, I know how to pick a good wine and I listen to Elvis Costello,” Jim listed off. “I have the parent’s approval automatically locked in.”

“Win, win,” Pam smiled, putting her laptop down and turning to look at him from over the couch. He pulled two bottles of beer from her refridgerator, kicking the door shut. “So what’s on tap for tonight?”

”Tonight, we are conquering your fear of the horror movie genre. We have The Shining. We have The Exorcist, which will allow you to get an idea of what you looked like on your infamous tequila shot night,” Jim smiled. “Oh, 28 Days Later.”

”Ooh, is that the one with Sandra Bullock?” Pam asked.

”Definitely not,” Jim said, tossing a bag of popcorn into the microwave. “Don’t worry, I’ll start you off light. I figured we’d get you started with Close Encounters of the Third Kind.”

“Is it really scary?” Pam asked.

”It freaked me out as a kid, but it’s pretty dated now. You should be fine,” Jim said, reaching for a bowl in one of the cupboards. “Of course, unless you thought The Goonies was scary.”

”I’ve never watched The Goonies.”

Jim dropped the bowl from his hands, causing it to clang loudly against the counter. ”What did you just say?”

Pam giggled. “I said I’ve never watched The Goonies. Why, what’s your problem?”

”Alright. Get your jacket. We’re going back to the video store,” Jim walked around the kitchen counter, grabbing his coat from the back of the couch.

”What? Why?” Pam asked, bewildered by what was going on.

“I cannot be in a relationship with somebody who has never seen The Goonies. That is a crime against the entire motion picture industry,” Jim said, opening the door. “Wait, that’s not dramatic enough. It’s a crime against America. No, the entire universe.”

"Ok," Pam said warily, grabbing her jacket and walking past him into the hallway.

"Friggin' Communist," Jim muttered, pulling the door closed.

“Oh, yeah. That’s the stuff.”

Jim collapsed onto the bed. His long legs dangled off the edge.

“Jim, come on,” Pam complained. “We’re here for Angela and Dwight. One thing that’s not on their registry? A king-sized Serta mattress.”

Jim and Pam were walking around the Bed & Bath department at the Macy’s in Chicago. They had been there for over an hour and Pam was growing increasingly frustrated with Jim, whose mind was on everything but finding a wedding gift for their friend. He was growing sillier by the minute.

“I’m not talking about for Angela, I’m talking about for you,” Jim said, sitting up on the bed. “You need a new bed.”

”Yeah, well in order to get that mattress I’m going to need a much bigger apartment. And… $2700??!" Pam shrieked, glancing at the price tag. “I could barely make that much in two months. Come on, let’s go back to the Home department. I think I’ll just get her that bake ware she wanted.” Jim rose back up to his feet, following her across the store.

“Why do we have to buy them gifts anyway? You know, I was thinking for my gift, I could dedicate a song. What do you think about ‘One of These Things is Not Like the Other?’” Jim asked.

“I think it’s slightly inappropriate seeing how Angela and Dwight are exactly like each other,” Pam said, turning down an aisle and eyeing the price on a Pyrex tupperware set.

“Exactly. What better gift is there to receive on your wedding day than the gift of laughter?” Jim smiled. “And you get to sing with me.”

”I am not singing,” Pam shook her head, comparing the price to another box on the shelf.

”Why? What are you going to sing? Are you going to go with the ever-reliable Journey? A little, ‘Open Arms?’” Jim asked.

“What makes you think there’s going to be karaoke at this wedding?” Pam asked, pulling a large box into her arms.

”Well if there isn’t, I think we can expect this to be one lame ass reception party,” Jim said. He took the box from her hands and followed her towards the register.

"Right. Because the 18th century theme and bonnets didn't already indicate the inevitable lameness of this wedding," Pam muttered

“You could always go with Britney Spears," Jim continued. "At least then you wouldn’t have to pretend that you know how to sing.”

“Hey!” Pam made a face, stepping into the line at the cashier stand. “I can sing.”

”Pam, I love you, but I’ve heard you sing. It is not pretty,” Jim said.

“Well, you don’t exactly have the voice of an angel yourself,” Pam shot back. “And for the record, singing in a British accent does not make you sound any better.”

“Yes, but singing a song in a British accent automatically raises your coolness factor by like, 80 percent. 80 percent of the best singers are British,” Jim argued.

”What is with you and 80 percent? Why is everything always 80 percent? If you want it to sound true, you should use an odd number, like 73 percent. Or 64 percent. And anyway, I seem to remember a certain someone singing ‘Sunglasses at Night’ in a phony British accent during karaoke night last month, and last I checked, Corey Hart is not British.”

“My point exactly. Corey Hart would have been a lot more successful had he sung in a British accent,” Jim said, setting the box on the counter as they moved to the front of the line. “Speaking of British accents, are you ready for tonight?”

”What does that have to do with tonight? Your parents aren’t British,” Pam frowned, handing her credit card to the cashier.

”True, I just couldn’t find a decent segue into… ‘Are you ready for tonight?’ and I really wanted to ask, are you ready for tonight?” Jim repeated.

“Do I really have to meet your parents tonight?” Pam sighed reluctantly.

”It’s their 50th wedding anniversary. Yes, you have to meet them tonight,” Jim said.

Pam scowled, trying to remember just exactly how Jim had managed to talk her into meeting his parents for dinner. They had only been dating for five months. Wasn’t five months a little soon to be doing the whole family introduction thing? She swore she had to have been fully inebriated when she agreed to something that was bound to send her into a severe panic attack. She definitely knew that her friends were not helping the matter.


"You're meeting Jim's parents?" Kelly asked, raising her eyebrows in shock. "That is, like, a really big step in your relationship."

"It's not that big of a deal," Pam mumbled, somewhat trying to reassure herself.

"Are you kidding? Of course it's a big deal. Meeting the parents is huge. It's like that one movie with-"

"Do not compare this to another Meg Ryan movie," Pam groaned.

"I'm not. I was just going to say-"

"Seriously, Kelly, you have to stop comparing my life to When Harry Met Sally," Pam interrupted. "Nor is my life like Sleepless in Seattle, or You've Got Mail, or City of Angels."

"Well, of course not. Jim's not dead," Kelly said.

"My life isn't like some stupid movie, Kelly," Pam insisted.

"Ok, but I'm just saying that you keep finding yourself in a lot of the same situations," Kelly shrugged. "And anyway, I wasn't going to compare this to a Meg Ryan movie. What I was going to say is that it would be like Meet the Parents, with Ben Stiller."

"Because that makes it better," Pam said bitterly, rolling her eyes.



”Meeting the parents for the first time?” the cashier asked, handing Pam a plastic bag.

”Yeah,” Pam replied halfheartedly.

“Huh. Good luck,” the cashier said, moving onto the customer behind them. Pam glared at Jim.

”Aw. That was nice of her,” Jim smiled as they moved their way to the front of the store.

”Nice of her? Did you hear the way she said ‘good luck’? It’s like she was warning me, telling me that something bad, very bad is going to happen tonight. It’s like the part in all of the horror movies when people are shouting at the victim, ‘No! Don’t go in there!’” Pam said.

“I think you’re overreacting, maybe just a little,” Jim said, following Pam through a set of revolving doors and out on to the sidewalk, falling in step with the sea of pedestrians shopping along State Street that afternoon.

“Ok, well fine. Give me a cheat sheet. Prep me for your parents, please,” Pam said.

”Alright, well for starters my father has a no eye contact rule.”

”Really?” Pam asked worriedly.

“No. There isn’t a cheat sheet,” Jim laughed. “They are perfectly normal people who live in a perfectly normal house and live perfectly normal lives, ok? Relax. It’s not like we’re going to meet the Queen of England.”

“There’s no such thing as a perfect family. Every family has problems,” Pam sighed. “I can’t believe you’re making me face the dragons alone.”

”They’re not dragons,” Jim insisted. “Stop freaking out on me. Look at you- you’re two seconds away from hyperventilating. You’re going to be fine. I promise.”

Pam couldn't help but picture Robert DeNiro administrating a lie detector test, broken noses, lost cats, and malfunctioning toilets. Damn Kelly.

***

Pam stepped out of her bathroom for the umpteenth time, giving herself another once-over in her floor-length mirror. She couldn’t believe she had subjected herself to this. Sure, things between her and Jim were great, but she didn’t expect to be meeting his parents so soon. Maybe in another year or two… At their wedding, or something.

Wow. Was she seriously already thinking about marriage? With Jim?

No time to think about that now. Clothes. Shoes. Must find something to wear. Focus on the matter at hand, Pam.

Jim walked through the door of Pam’s apartment, wearing jeans and a gray sweater over a white button-down shirt. He glanced over at Pam who was still staring at herself self-consciously in the mirror.

”What are you wearing?” he asked, making a face.

Pam turned around to look at him. “Do you like it?”

“No,” Jim shook his head. “You look like Angela. And even for Angela, that’s pretty bad taste. Why are you in mourning?”

”I like black. Black is slimming. Black says, ‘I’m 24, mature, and make responsible decisions’,” Pam insisted, turning around to look in the mirror again.

”It also says, ‘I’m Amish. Please lead me to my horse and buggy,’” Jim said.

Pam turned to glare at him. “What makes you think it’s okay to joke about this? It is not okay for you to joke about this.”

“Point taken,” Jim said. “So when you came over on the Mayflower, did you bring a second change of clothes, or-“ He immediately stopped at the sight of Pam’s menacing stare. “Sorry. Last joke, I swear. Please change.”

Pam let out an aggravated groan, pulling another outfit from the closet and disappearing into the bathroom.

“Hey, do you mind if we bring one of your sketchbooks with us?” Jim called from the bedroom.

”Why?” Pam’s muffled voice asked from behind the door.

”Well, I’ve been bragging about your art to my parents, I’m sure they would like to see a couple of your sketches,” Jim said, rummaging through the stack of sketchbooks on Pam’s bookshelf. Pam re-emerged from the bathroom, dressed in something a little more colorful.

“My art is not that good,” Pam said, walking over to the mirror again.

“It’s not, it’s great,” Jim smiled, sitting down on her bed.

“Monet is great. Picasso is great. That Henri Matisse exhibit that we saw at the Art Institute was great. My art is not great,” Pam said, flattening out her skirt.

“Of course your art is great. You’re an artist, Pam,” Jim said.

”I’m not an artist yet,” Pam insisted.

”I’ve seen your work, Pam. You’re an artist,” Jim said adamantly, flipping through a book full of drawings. “An amazing one at that.”

“Ok, which one?” Pam held up two shirts on hangers. “Do you prefer the ‘I’m a respectable, smart, fashionable young lady’ blouse or the ‘I’m secretly banging your son, please don’t hate me’ sweater?”

“The sweater. Definitely.”

“You’re not even looking,” Pam fumed.

”No, but I support all that it stands for,” Jim said, finally glancing over at her. His eyes immediately went to her feet. “Ok. What is with the shoes?”

“What about my shoes?” Pam asked defensively.

“What are those? Clogs? Why aren’t you wearing a pair of your fun, sparkly shoes?”

“Because, those shoes say I’m a 13 year old hiding inside a 24-year-old’s body,” Pam argued.

“So you’d rather say you’re an 83-year-old Welsh clog-dancer?”

“You are not helping!” Pam yelled, pointing a finger in his face.

“Just wear the sweater, and the skirt is fine but please, for the love of God, change your shoes. Unless you plan on speaking Dutch the rest of the night.”

“I didn’t say that I needed your help in deciding everything I should wear. I’ve been dressing myself for several years now. I think I’ve gotten pretty good at it,” Pam said.

”What you’re wearing now would prove otherwise,” Jim muttered, prompting Pam to throw a shoe at his head.

“Well, how do your parents usually act when you bring a girl over the house?” Pam asked, turning to examine her hair in the mirror.

”I guess we’ll find out tonight. I’ve never brought a girl home before,” Jim said.

”What about Sarah? Your high school girlfriend?” Pam frowned.

“That was different. She came over a couple of times. Took prom photos in front of the house, but she never actually came over and sat down to dinner, shooting the breeze with my parents,” Jim shrugged. “Besides, my brothers were far too cruel and immature for me to have any girls over.” Pam turned and stared at him. “But not around you… I’m sure,” he mumbled.

”I’m the first girl you’re bringing home to meet the parents?” Pam asked, quickly beginning to panic. “God!!” She turned and started frantically rummaging through her closet again.

”What are you doing?” Jim asked, standing up from the bed and walking over and grabbing her arms in an attempt to hold her back. “Pam. Step away from the closet.”

”Do you have any idea how ridiculously important tonight is? How high the expectations are going to be for me to live up to?” Pam shrieked. If she wasn’t spazzing out before, she was definitely spazzing out now.

“Pam, stop it. You’re going to be fine,” Jim said. “You were going to meet them in a couple of days anyway at graduation. Seriously, this isn’t a big deal.”

“Fine, but I’m putting my old lady shoes back on,” Pam argued.

“No! You put those shoes back on and I’ll tell everyone at that dinner table that you thought Europe was a country.”

”It is a country!” Pam insisted.

”It’s a continent!” Jim argued.

“So I couldn’t think of a country that started with an ‘e’ during Scategories. You could have at least given me half a point,” Pam said. “When you fly to Europe from North America, technically you are flying out of the country.”

”Yeah, to another continent,” Jim said.

”I’m so not getting into this again,” Pam sighed.

“Pam. Please put on your shoes, so we can go. And if you pull those clogs out of that closet again, I swear to God-”

“Fine!” Pam snarled through gritted teeth, tugging on her pink sweater and pulling a pair of flats from her closet. “Europe is a country,” she muttered.

“Oh my God! We looked it up on Wikipedia, Pam. If you don’t believe Wikipedia, who do you believe?”

“I believe in the fact that Europe is a country-“

”Ok, stop. Let’s go. Now. Please. Shoes. Purse. Walk. Door, open. Thank you,” Jim ushered her out of the door and into the hallway. “You look very pretty.”

”Thank you,” Pam huffed, following him toward the elevators.

They took the elevator downstairs and walked a couple of blocks down to the train station, hopping aboard the red line that would take them to Hyde Park. They got off at a stop by the University of Chicago and walked another couple of blocks, turning down a street lined with enormous trees and rows of houses on either side. They came to a stop in front of a white house with black and red trim and Jim took Pam’s hand, leading her up the steps. She hesitated at the door, pulling back on his arm.

”You okay?” Jim asked.

“Yeah, just… Nervous,” Pam said, her hands visibly shaking.

“You don’t need to be nervous,” Jim smiled, giving her a soft peck on the cheek. “You act like I’m taking you to be put to sleep or something.”

“That’s not funny,” Pam frowned.

“Sorry. I should know better than to joke when you’re nervous,” he laughed, squeezing her hand. “Ready?” She nodded, allowing him to open the door and pull her inside.

“You owe me 50 bucks!” Pam looked up and saw a tall brunette gentleman standing in the entryway. He was beaming down at her with his hands on his hips.

“Why do you owe him 50 bucks?” Pam whispered over to Jim.

”No, Tom owes me 50 bucks,” the man said, nodding at another, shorter gentleman who walked up beside him, presumably Tom. “We made a bet that you were a guy and that the reason Jim had never brought a girl home was because he was gay.”

“Yeah, we called you Pamsula. It’s an Indian boy’s name,” Tom smiled. Pam looked up at Jim hesitantly.

”Guys, can we not?” Jim frowned, helping Pam remove her jacket.

“Sorry,” the man apologized. “Hey, Pam. I’m Jim’s brother, Pete.” He reached out to shake her hand.

”Nice to meet you, Pete,” Pam smiled shyly. “Hey, Tom.” She reached out to shake his other brother’s hand.

“Oh my God! You finally found someone who got you to cut your hair!” Pam heard someone squeal as a tall brunette woman dressed in a teal paint suit made her way downstairs. She immediately walked up to Jim, softly pinching his cheeks. “I’ve been trying to get you to cut your hair for years! What made you change your mind?”

”Let’s not talk about it shall we?” Jim sobbed, faking tears.

“It’s still kind of a sore subject,” Pam laughed. The woman turned towards Pam.

”How did you manage to talk him into it?” she whispered, nudging Pam on the arm.

“Anesthesia may have been involved,” Pam said, throwing a teasing look at Jim.

“You must be Pam,” the woman smiled, drawing Pam into a warm hug. “I’m Jim’s mother, Larissa. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Pam said.

“Oh. I love your shoes,” Larissa said, glancing down at Pam’s black and white tweed Keds.

”Oh. Thank you,” Pam blushed, glancing up at Jim who was giving her a look that clearly said, “I told you so.” She silently scowled at him.

“Well, you guys have a seat. I just have a few more things to take care of in the kitchen and we should be ready to eat,” Larissa said, pushing the boys toward the living room.

Pam took her time following Jim inside. Jim’s house was small and inviting with a slight domestic charm. The walls were painted in warm, earthy colors, with sparse lighting coming from a couple of table lamps placed around the living room. The entire downstairs was made up of hardwood flooring, a carpeted staircase leading up to the second floor. Pam glanced over at a couple of framed family photos on a table in the entryway.

“Aw, is that you?” Pam pointed at a picture of an even scrawnier Jim, wearing a pair of huge yellow sunglasses and a yellow t-shirt.

“I think you’ve seen enough,” Jim said, tugging on her arm and pulling her towards the living room.

”You were so dorky!” Pam giggled, following him further into the house. An older gentleman stood up from a leather armchair as Pam approached.

”Hi, you must be Pam,” the man said, walking over and shaking her hand. “I’m Jim’s father, Ted.” Pam could easily see the resemblance in his father’s nose and full head of hair. Not to mention he was extremely tall, just like all of the other men in the Halpert family.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Halpert,” Pam smiled.

”Please, call me Ted,” Jim’s father said, waving a hand at her. “I’m going to go get another beer. You guys want one? Pam?”

”Oh, no thank you,” Pam shook her head.

“Where are Marci and Linda?” Jim asked his brothers.

“They’re at home with the kids,” Pete said, sitting down in his father’s arm chair. “We figured they’d just get bored and restless sitting around at a family dinner. They’ll be at the party this weekend though.”

“It’s such a shame you guys won’t be there this weekend,” Jim’s mother said, walking into the room and placing a bowl of pretzels on the coffee table.

“Yeah, we would but Pam has her first art show this weekend,” Jim said, beaming proudly at Pam.

“It’s not an art show,” Pam insisted. “It’s just this Urban Manifest event thing at my school. They get a bunch of people to present their work in a small exhibit so the school can show what some of the art students have been working on all semester.”

“What she’s trying to say is that they picked her and 9 other students out of over 300 people, and she’s just being modest,” Jim said, tossing a handful of pretzels in his mouth and plopping down onto a beige leather couch.

“Well, congratulations! That’s great news. You should be so proud of yourself,” Larissa said, patting Pam on the arm. “Jim tells me you're a wonderful artist. I wish we could come to your show, but we’ve had this anniversary dinner planned for months.”

”Oh, no, don’t worry about it. I completely understand,” Pam said. “Do you need any help in the kitchen, Mrs. Halpert? I can help set the table or-“

”Yeah, just keep her away from the food,” Jim teased.

“No, no dear, everything is almost done. You just sit and hang out with the boys and I’ll call you all in when dinner is ready,” Larissa smiled, walking back into the kitchen. Jim pulled Pam down beside him on the couch.

“So Pam, what are you studying?” Tom asked, sitting in another leather armchair across from Pete.

”Oh, um, I’m getting my degree in art history,” Pam replied.

”Really? My daughter Vanessa, Jim’s niece, loves to draw. She’s recently taken to doodling all over our kitchen walls,” Tom laughed.

“That must be fun for you and Marci,” Jim said.

“Yeah, I’m thinking about possibly being an art teacher. Maybe at an elementary level,” Pam said.

”That’s cool,” Tom said. “I’ll always remember my art teacher when I was in grade school. Mrs. Avara. Man she was awesome. She took us on a ton of field trips.”

“Yeah, including the one to the Museum of Contemporary Art where you got lost and the teacher found you outside, singing with street performers,” Jim reminded him, eliciting a hearty laugh from Pete.

“I do not remember that,” Tom said.

“It happens all the time,” Jim said to Pam. “We’ll go to Blackhawk games and every single time, Tom gets lost and we have to go all the way to the information desk to pick him up.” Pam just laughed.

“That happened maybe once,” Tom said defensively. Jim turned to Pam and mouthed, "Twice."

“So Pam, how long have you and Jim been dating?” Tom asked.

“Uh, since December,” Pam replied.

”Wow. Five months,” Pete spoke up from his chair. “Getting pretty serious there, Jimmy.”

“Yeah, taking her home to meet the parents, holding her hand over there on the couch,” Tom said, his mouth curling in that lopsided grin Pam had grown all too familiar with. “So… When are you getting married?”

Jim shook his head at his brothers. “Don’t start,” he warned.

”What? I’m just messing with you,” Tom laughed. “But, seriously. Pete, how many girls has Jim dated?”

”I don’t know,” Pete shrugged.

“More than one,” Tom guessed.

“Definitely less than three,” Pete nodded.

”Do you remember meeting any of them?” Tom asked.

”Nope,” Pete shook his head, smiling impishly at Jim.

“Alright, I’m starting this right now,” Tom reached into his back pocket, pulling out a wallet and dropped a $20 bill on the floor.

”What are we betting on now?” Jim’s father asked, walking back into the living room with a beer in his hand and pulling Pete out of his chair.

“I am betting that Jim buys a ring in the next six months,” Tom announced.

“Oh, I’ll take that bet,” Pete smiled, rummaging a twenty from his pocket.

“Boys, stop betting on your brother,” Jim’s father said, shaking his head.

”Do you remember the last girl Jim brought over the house to meet you and mom?” Tom asked pointedly. Jim’s father stared up at the ceiling to think about it for a moment.

”Alright, I bet he does,” his father gave in, tossing another twenty on the floor.

“Alright, we need somebody to bet that he doesn’t,” Tom smiled, clapping his hands together. “Jim?”

”I am not participating in this bet,” Jim shook his head, his cheeks turning red.

”Aw, is Jim blushing?” Pete asked.

”Jim is telling you you’re an idiot,” Jim said. Pam just glanced down shyly, raising her eyes slightly to look at Jim. He was indeed very much blushing.

Jim’s mother returned to the room. “Alright boys. And girl. Dinner is ready.” She stopped smiling when she looked down at the floor. “Why is there money all over my living room floor?”

“Bet going that Jim proposes to Pam in the next six months,” Tom said. Larissa sighed.

“Oh, hell, I bet forty that he does,” she said as she reached for her purse, causing Tom and Pete to cheer happily. Jim just shook his head bashfully as they stood and made their way into the dining room.

Jim’s mother had wine glasses set out and she had already prepared full plates of food beautifully presented with decorative syrup swirls. Jim held out a chair for Pam and she took a seat across from Tom and Pete. Jim’s parents sat at opposite ends of the table, and Pam picked at her filet mignon while politely listening to Jim and his mom make small talk about school and the couple of job interviews he had gone to over the past month.

“Hey, Jim let me know when you decide to go ring shopping. I know a good jeweler up near the Gold Coast,” Tom smiled at Jim from across the table.

“Tom, leave your brother alone,” Larissa frowned. “They haven’t stopped giving him a hard time since the day he was born,” she explained to Pam. “Are you the youngest in your family?”

Pam swallowed and cleared her throat, praying that she didn’t have any food stuck in her teeth. “I have a younger sister. I don’t really talk to her much, though. She’s kind of off, doing her own thing these days.”

“Where did you grow up?” Jim’s father asked.

”In Naperville,” Pam replied.

“Naperville’s a nice town,” Larissa nodded, taking a sip from her wine glass. “What do your parents do for a living?”

Pam cringed on the inside, knowing this was only the beginning of an endless barrage of questions. She hated this part.

“My father is a pediatrician and my mom’s a nurse,” Pam said.

“Wow. Both parents in medicine, huh?” Jim’s father asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Pam nodded. “They had hoped that I would go on to become a doctor and study medicine, but it just wasn’t for me. Science was always my least favorite subject in school anyway.”

Larissa laughed. “I hear that. I watch all of those medical shows on the TV. All of those doctors working these crazy hours. If you’re going to spend the rest of your life working, you might as well be doing something that you love, right?”

”That’s true,” Pam nodded, turning to Jim who gave her a reassuring smile.

“Jim has wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember,” Larissa said. “He used to write up these family newsletters when he was little. He would go around the house every Sunday morning and leave them in front of everyone’s door. Oh, and one Halloween he dressed up as Bob Woodward.”

“Ooh, yay. Must see pictures,” Pam smiled excitedly.

Jim shook his head firmly. “No,” he flatly said. Pam nudged him playfully.

“Do you get to see your family a lot, Pam?” Larissa asked.

”I usually go back home for holidays and stuff,” Pam replied.

“Oh yes, Jim, too,” Larissa smiled. “He used to come out here once a month and have me do his laundry for him, but ever since he met you, I haven’t seen him as much.”

“Oh, yeah I’ve had to give him some laundry lessons,” Pam laughed. “The first step was teaching him to check his pockets before throwing stuff in the washer. The first couple of times he kept leaving receipts in his jean pockets, and he’d have little pieces of shredded paper all over his clothes.”

“Hey, at least I didn’t leave a ballpoint pen in my pocket, leaving to explode all over the rest of my clothes in the dryer,” Jim smirked at her.

“That was an accident. It could happen to anyone,” Pam mumbled.

“Well, I’m glad someone is finally able to teach him a few things. I’ve tried for years,” Larissa said.

“She tried and she tried, and she failed and she failed,” Jim muttered.

“I tell you last Thanksgiving, Jim came home and he would not stop smiling,” Larissa began. Jim started shaking his head.

”Mom,” he warned, giving her a look. She ignored him and continued.

“So I finally asked him one day why he was all of a sudden in such a good mood, and he told me, ‘I met a girl, mom. She’s warm and funny, and she’s smart,' and he just went on and on with his face lit up like a Christmas tree,” Larissa smiled at the memory. “So I asked, ‘Well, why don’t you ask her out?’ And Jim said, ‘Well, she just got out of this long relationship and things are still kind of complicated-‘ and I asked him, ‘Jim. When was the last time you felt this way about a girl?’”

“I remember him having some pretty strong feelings for that girl on ‘Baywatch.' Remember back in middle school?” Tom laughed, nudging Pete’s arm. Pam raised a quizzical eyebrow at Jim. He seemed to have completely tuned out, mindlessly pushing his food around his plate.

“He said never,” Larissa finished, rolling her eyes at her older sons. “So I told him he should go for it. Which I’m assuming he did pretty soon after that because then he came home for Christmas and I never saw him. He spent all of his time on that damn phone talking to you. Not that I'm saying that was a bad thing. I’ve just never seen Jim so smitten by someone before. Anyway, I knew then that you were someone really special,” she finished, smiling at Pam.

“Yup. I’m feeling pretty good about this bet,” Tom smiled.

“I think you’re boring our guest, mom,” Jim complained.

“Oh no,” Pam insisted, shaking her head. “Not at all. So. What were these family newsletters about?” Jim groaned and dinner rolled along with Larissa going on and on, embarrassing her son with an endless amount of stories from his childhood, Tom and Pete egging her on to tell more, Jim’s father tossing back three or four beers as he nodded along silently, and Pam smiling in laughter all the way into dessert.

After dinner, Jim gave Pam a small tour of the house before leading her into his bedroom upstairs. Pam nodded approvingly as she entered his room. It was very much Jim, from the stacks of books on the floor to the posters of The Ramones and Death Cab on his wall.

“Hey.” Pam pointed at his bulletin board. “Those are my drawings.”

”Yup,” Jim nodded, sitting down on his bed. Pam glanced at the small collection of silly doodles she had carelessly scribbled on napkins and scraps of paper back when she and Jim used to meet for small lunch dates when they were still just getting to know each other.

“I can’t believe you kept all of my drawings,” Pam said, shaking her head in disbelief.

”Of course I kept them,” Jim said, shrugging as if to say, “Why wouldn’t I?” Pam just smiled, sitting beside him on the bed.

“Hey,” Jim whispered, his voice deepening into that low, husky whisper that always drove Pam crazy.

“Hey,” Pam smiled.

“It’s taken me 24 years to get a girl in to this bed,” Jim said as he leaned into her, causing Pam to giggle. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m good,” Pam said.

”Yeah?” She nodded. “Good,” Jim said, leaning down and kissing her. Just then, the door swung open and Tom and Pete barged in.

“Whoa! Hey, no nookie in the champagne room,” Tom said, wagging a finger at the couple as Jim slowly inched away from Pam.

“Wow. Yeah, so 1999 called. They want their word back,” Pam teased causing Tom to raise his eyebrows.

”Really? That’s funny because 1999 called and they want their joke back,” Jim said.

”I’m defending you. Why are you turning against me?” Pam asked him innocently. “Oh, by the way. I want in on this bet.”

Tom clapped his hands together happily. “Alright! Which side are you taking?”

”I don’t want to say out loud,” Pam said shyly, turning to look at Jim.

“How about you tell only me?” Tom offered.

Pam shrugged. “Ok.” She leaned over, whispering in Tom’s ear. Jim smiled at her and the look on Tom’s face.

“Now I know something you guys don’t know,” Tom smirked.

“Tom, you know a lot of stuff that I just don’t want to know,” Pete laughed.

“That’s not fair. You can't not tell me what you bet,” Jim frowned.

“I can too not tell you,” Pam smiled, handing Tom a twenty from her purse.

“Why aren't you going to tell me?"

”Because I’m not going to,” Pam said simply.

”You suck,” Jim said.

”Yeah, well you swallow,” Pam replied.

“Do you have to have a comeback for everything?” Jim asked.

”Do you have to have a comeback for everything?”

Jim rolled his eyes. ”What elementary school did you step out of?”

“Probably from the one right next door to yours.”

”Shut up,” Jim said, starting to laugh from the utter silliness of their conversation.

“You shut up,” Pam smiled. She turned and caught Tom and Pete smirking and slyly giving Jim two thumbs up over her shoulder. “What are you two doing?”

”Pam, we just wanted to come up here and say that we think you are way cool, and that we would like to officially welcome you to the family,” Pete said.

”Really? Wow. Thanks,” Pam blushed.

“She’s a Cubs fan.” Pam heard Jim announce from behind her. She watched Pete and Tom’s faces suddenly fall in disappointment and turned to look at Jim. He was mischievously smirking at her. “Oh yeah. That’s what you get for betting on me.”

“You let a Cubs fan into our house?” Pete asked, his eyebrows narrowed in resentment. Pam cringed. She was starting to feel very uncomfortable.

”Sorry?” she offered, staring up at Jim’s brothers innocently.

***

”I cannot believe your brothers threw me out of your house,” Pam frowned as they walked to the train station to head back into the city.

“What can I say? They take their baseball very seriously,” Jim smirked. She glared at him. “Don’t worry about it. They were just giving you a hard time.”

“Yeah. Your parents make me sick, by the way,” Pam said.

“What?”

“Well, they’re nice and fun and supportive. Parents aren’t supposed to be like that,” Pam said.

“Oh. So it would make you feel better if my parents were vulgar and pretentious, and ate caviar and my mother’s clothes matched her furniture?”

”Actually? Yes.”

”Ok. Well, you should know that was just a stand-in family that I hired for the night. My real family is a group of covert assassins for the CIA.”

”Hmm. Well, I figured,” Pam nodded knowingly. “How did you ever find such tall, lanky people that apparently originate from the same mutant planet that you come from?”

”I come from a mutant planet?” Jim laughed.

“You do. I call it the Planet of the Tall and Scrawny.”

“Wow. How creative of you,” Jim smiled.

”Ooh, when we get back to the city can we go to Wabash Tap? The Cubs are playing tonight,” Pam said. Jim groaned in protest. “Hey, you promised you would be nicer to the Cubs this year.”

”Did I, Pam? Did I?”

”You did indeed.”

“Ok. I’ll go. After you tell me what side you took on the bet,” Jim said.

“No way. I’m not telling you that,” Pam shook her head. “But I should tell you that I have yet to lose a bet.”

“Really?” Jim smiled. “I never took you for a gambler, Beesly.”

”Hmm. I guess you’ve still got a lot to learn about me,” Pam shrugged.

“Ok, please tell me. What did you bet?!”

Pam laughed. “I told you, I’m not telling you.”

”What if I beat you up?” Jim asked, nudging her softly.

”Hey, you break it, you buy it.”

”How much are you going for nowadays?”

”I don’t know, you’ll have to ask my mother. She keeps the books on me,” Pam said. They turned a corner and walked up a long, dark staircase that led to the upper level of the train station.

“I’ll give you $20 if you tell me what you bet,” Jim tried again.

”No.”

”I will go with you to a Britney Spears concert if you tell me.”

”Really?”

”No.”

”Then no.”

***

“Come on, tell me,” Jim pleaded as Pam opened the door and stepped inside the restaurant.

”Oh my God!” Pam groaned as Jim followed her. She walked up to the bar and tossed her jacket over a stool. She waved at the bartender. “Hey, Tom. Can I get one Beesly please?” Pam had started frequenting the bar so much that the bartender had concocted a pink, frilly drink specifically for her.

“Liquor on a school night?” Jim frowned, sitting down beside her.

”Dude, I survived dinner with your parents. I think vodka is obligatory.”

“Same for you, Jim?” Tom asked.

”Definitely not. I’ll take a Killian’s, please.” Jim turned back to Pam, glaring at her.

”What?” Pam asked innocently.

”Tell me what you bet.”

”You are really starting to annoy me.”

”Then tell me what you bet and I’ll stop annoying you.”

”If you knew me at all, you wouldn't have to ask,” Pam said.

”You bet that I would, didn’t you?” Jim asked. Pam just shrugged nonchalantly. “Ok, you bet that I wouldn’t.” Pam gave a small smirk. “Yes! You smiled! You bet that I wouldn’t... Unless you’re just smiling to trick me, in which case you bet that I would. Right?” Pam shook her head silently. Jim’s face fell. “You didn’t?” he asked. Pam offered another shrug of the shoulders.

“I hate you,” Jim muttered.

“Wow, so the Cubs are playing pretty well this year, huh?” Pam asked, attempting to change the subject. Jim sighed.

“Well. If I were you, I would have bet that I will,” Jim said calmly, taking a sip of his beer. Pam suddenly felt her face heat up and Jim turned to look at her, noticing that she was doing a very bad job at keeping a huge smile from appearing on her face.

“You bet that I will,” Jim realized, his mouth breaking out into a huge grin. “Wow. You have more faith in me than I thought, Beesly.”

“Of course I have faith in you,” Pam said. “That’s why I made the bet.”

“So if no one wagered against me, how is anyone supposed to win this bet?” Jim asked.

“I guess I’ll just have to beat up Tom for my $20 back at your graduation,” Pam shrugged.

"Hmm," Jim just nodded, taking another sip of beer. "So. When do I get to meet your parents?" Pam stiffened, nervously blinking her eyes and looking up at the TV.

"Isn't there some rule that says I show you mine, you show me yours?" Jim teased.

"I don't know," Pam mumbled.

"You make your parents out to sound like these horrible people," Jim frowned. "I'm sure they're not that bad." Pam just shrugged.

"We'll see," she said.

"Are they coming to your art show this weekend?"

"I never told them about it," Pam said.

"Why not?" Jim asked.

"Not like they would've come anyway," Pam muttered, staring at the counter and nervously tearing a napkin to pieces.

"How do you know if you don't give them the chance?" Jim asked. Pam frowned, suddenly feeling a dull pain in her stomach.

"Do you think we can head home? I'm not feeling so well," Pam said, standing up and pulling on her jacket.

"Yeah. Sure," Jim said, looking at her suspiciously. He dropped a twenty on the bar and stood up, taking her hand in his and leading her out the door.

Pam awoke to the sound of something crackling in her kitchen. She sat up in bed and looked around her apartment. Was that bacon that she smelled? She definitely smelled bacon.

She pushed back the covers and brought her feet down to the ground, standing up and cautiously walking over to her kitchen. Jim was standing over her stove, his back to Pam as he quietly hummed to himself. He turned around and stopped in his tracks, surprised to find her awake.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Jim asked.

“You’re cooking,” Pam simply stated.

“Yes, and?” Jim asked, perplexed as to why she was confused at the sight of him cooking in her kitchen.

“Since when do you cook?”

“What do you mean, since when do I cook?”

”I have never once seen you cook,” Pam said doubtfully, draping herself over the counter as she watched him maneuver effortlessly around her kitchen.

“Well, maybe that’s because somebody I know has this weird fear of going grocery shopping, leaving me nothing to cook,” Jim said. Pam eyed him bewilderedly as he lifted a small frying pan over a plate and scraped out a small handful of scrambled eggs. “Why are you still looking at me like that?”

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” Pam said.

”Yes, you are. You’ve been giving me the stink eye ever since you walked over here,” Jim said, sitting a plate of bacon, scrambled eggs and toast in front of her.

“It’s just weird that I never realized you can cook before, that’s all.”

“Well, I’m a man of many talents, Pam,” he smiled, taking a sip of orange juice and watching her lift up a fork and poke at her food suspiciously. “Just eat it,” he insisted, shaking his head at her. “Weirdo.”

”So that one day when I tried to recreate that chicken marsala recipe that I had at Olive Garden and almost set a fire in my kitchen while you just sat there and laughed at me-“

”Oh, yeah,” Jim laughed at the memory. “I knew you forgot to add butter, but it was too much fun watching you turn chicken marsala into broiled chicken.” Pam glared at him, flinging a piece of toast in his direction. He easily caught it in his hands.

“How dare you,” he wagged the piece of toast at her. “I slaved over that toaster for five minutes to make this toast perfect for you.” He dropped the bread back on her plate.

“Are you ready for your interview today?” Pam asked, bringing her fork to her mouth and tasting his eggs. They were fluffy and perfect, for that she had to give him credit.

“I guess so,” Jim said, dropping the frying pan into the sink and flipping the faucet on. “What about you? Are you ready for your show?”

Pam shrugged. “I guess so.”

”Have you talked to your parents about it yet?” Jim asked. Pam just looked down at her plate. “Why not?”

”I don’t know. I guess I just figure if I don’t invite them, I can’t be let down when they don’t show up,” Pam sighed, suddenly uninterested in her food.

“What makes you think that they won’t?”

Pam remorsefully shook her head. “They paid my college tuition at C.O.D. with the hope that I would get into a good medical school, only for me to drop out and change my mind. The whole four years was nothing but a huge waste. Most of the credit hours I had earned were in science and nursing, and when I decided that wasn’t what I wanted to do, it all ended up just being this huge chunk of money that my parents had squandered away.”

”From what little I’ve heard about your parents, one thing I know is that money is hardly a huge concern of theirs,” Jim said.

”It is when I'm going into a career that barely makes any... It’s just the fact that I let them down. My entire past is just this long history of letting people down,” Pam sighed, pushing her food around her plate. “When I told them that I didn’t want to go into Pre-Med and that I wanted to study art instead, I had to listen to lecture after lecture about why it was such a stupid idea. That there’s no money in art, and art was just a hobby, something I could always do in my free time. It’s not a career.”

”Have they ever seen what you can do?” Jim asked. “Any of your drawings or paintings?”

”They never really took a great interest in my art,” Pam said.

“Pam, maybe that’s because you never let them,” Jim said. “How do you expect them to fully support you when they don’t even know how talented you are? They’ve been tough on you because they don’t realize that art is not just a hobby for you. Your parents are just worried about you. You are an artist, Pam. Give them a chance to see what you can do.”

Pam just sighed, bringing her hands up to rest under her chin.

”Stop pouting. Call your parents,” Jim said, putting the clean frying pan back on its shelf and walking around the counter. “I have to go. My interview is in a little over an hour and I have to get all the way over to Lincoln Park. I’ll meet you at the gallery when I get back. I should be there around 4:30.”

“Ok,” Pam said, turning to face him and smoothing down his tie. “Good luck.”

“Thank you,” he said, reaching out to shake her hand.

”Ooh. Nice firm handshake,” Pam acknowledged. “Good first impression. That’s important.”

Jim smiled, leaning down to give her a kiss. “I’ll see you tonight.”

”Alright. Go get ‘em tiger!” Pam reached out, giving him a firm slap on the butt. Jim turned back around, staring at her oddly.

”That was weird,” he said.

“Yeah,” Pam agreed.

“Please don’t do that again,” Jim said, walking towards the door.

“I don’t ever want to do it again, so agreed,” Pam replied, giving him a small wave as he walked out the door.

“Bye, babe,” he smiled, closing the door behind him. Pam sighed, the sound awfully deafening in the newfound silence of her apartment. She hated how miserable and alone she always felt in the absence of Jim’s presence. She missed his laugh. She missed the sound of the floorboards creaking as he stumbled around her apartment, searching for a missing shirt or one of his shoes. She missed the weight of his chin on her shoulder as he snuck a glance at whatever she had felt inspired to begin sketching.

A soft buzzing noise stirred Pam out of her thoughts. She walked over to her nightstand and picked up her cell phone. She had a new message from Jim.

Call them. And stop spazzing out about it. We all know how you love to do that.

Pam frowned at her phone. She was not spazzing out about calling her parents. Her phone buzzed again in her hand. Another message from Jim.

Yes you are.

She rolled her eyes and plopped down on her bed, fumbling through the menus on her phone to get to her address book. She stopped when she reached the number for “Home”, her finger hesitating over the call button. She closed her eyes, punching the button and putting the phone to her ear. She heard two rings before someone picked up.

“Hey, mom. It’s me… I’m doing well. Um, actually there’s this thing at my school that I wanted to tell you about…”

***

Pam stood in front of a wall in the gallery, her arms crossed in front of her. She had several pieces of art on display. A few sketches of her closest friends; a smiling Jim looking over his shoulder, another drawing of Angela with her head on Dwight’s shoulder, her eyes closed and her mouth curled in a soft smile. Pam remembered sketching out the scene before her on a train ride into the city over Spring Break.

She had a couple watercolors displaying various images of the city, a charcoal drawing of the Chicago skyline. She looked over at the student’s wall beside her, remembering a conversation with Jim the day before when he helped her tape her paintings and drawings to the wall.

“Hers is so much better than mine,” Pam muttered as a young girl beside her with pink hair hung up a colorful abstract painting.

“No it’s not,” Jim said.

“I’ll never learn how to paint with oils,” Pam sighed, looking at the paintings on the other wall dejectedly. “She’s so talented.”

”You’re talented, Pam,” Jim insisted, hanging a framed watercolor of Navy Pier on the wall.

“I do watercolors and I draw stupid sketches,” Pam said, reaching over to straighten out the frame. “Amateur stuff.”

“Pam? Shut up,” Jim laughed, putting an arm over her shoulders as they stood in front of her wall. A small placard displaying her name and a small bio was placed in a corner. “Urban Manifest is a show for graduating seniors. You’re a junior, and they still asked you to present your work. Seriously, you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

Pam sighed, glancing over as the girl with pink hair raised another oil painting of an old man on a park bench. The details were exquisite, the colors vibrant. Her lines perfect and steady, unwavering. Everything about her art screamed that she was sure of herself. She was an artist. Jim looked down and saw Pam enviously eyeing the other wall.

“Come on,” he said, giving her shoulders a soft tug. “Let’s get the rest of your work up.”

Pam glanced over her shoulder and noticed that people were slowly starting to filter into the gallery. She nervously brushed her hands across her skirt and slowly backed away from her wall. She figured she would walk around first and take a look at the other students’ work.

“Pam!”

Pam jumped at the sound of her name a few minutes later and turned around to see Kelly rushing towards her. Pam had been spying on a small family who were standing in front of her wall a couple of feet away, pointing and smiling at one of her watercolors.

“Hey, Kelly,” Pam smiled as Kelly encircled her in a hug. She frowned when she noticed someone over Kelly’s shoulder. “Ryan?”

“Hey, Pam,” Ryan smiled nervously, stuffing his hands into his jean pockets. Pam flashed a quizzical look at Kelly.

“Oh, yeah, we’re back together now,” Kelly smiled, nodding happily.

“Oh,” Pam said, shaking her head bemusedly. “Ok.”

“So which wall is yours?” Kelly asked, glancing around the small room.

”Oh. It’s over here.” Pam led them across the room to her wall. The family had moved on to another student’s showcase.

“Wow. You drew all of this?” Ryan asked. Pam just looked at him, staggered by his reaction.

“See? I told you she’s super talented. Isn’t it amazing?” Kelly asked.

“Do you like them?” Pam meekly asked.

“Pam, this is incredible,” Ryan said, raising his eyebrows. He pointed at her charcoal city skyline sketch. “That’s amazing.”

Pam smiled. She was starting to feel a little better about herself.

“Hey, so guess what I learned about Jim today. He cooks,” Pam said.

“Aw, Angela always said you need to find a guy who knows his way around a kitchen,” Kelly said.

”I know!” Pam exclaimed. “He goes to grocery stores and shops in the produce aisle and everything. He actually knows how to pick fresh fruit and vegetables.”

“Wow,” Kelly remarked.

Angela and Dwight arrived a few minutes later, also responding positively to her work. They were chatting about dress fittings and wedding plans when Pam saw Jim enter the gallery. He was still dressed in a black suit and tie from his interview and he smiled when he saw her standing with her group of friends.

“How did the interview go?” Pam asked when he walked over, giving her a soft kiss on the lips.

“I think it went ok,” Jim nodded. “Yeah. Hey, guys.” He waved at everyone.

“Hey, Jim,” Kelly said, looking him up and down. “Nice suit.”

”Thank you,” Jim said, softly nudging Pam on the arm. “Did you call your parents?”

Pam nodded. “They said they’ll try to make it.”

”Good,” Jim smiled. He glanced over at Dwight who was carefully studying one of her watercolors.

”Why are there shadows coming from two directions?” Dwight asked, pointing at the painting.

“Hey, Dwight,” Jim smiled. “How’s the beet production going?”

“Great,” Dwight replied, turning to face Jim and pushing his stomach out. For whatever reason. “We’re thinking of turning one of our guest houses into a bed and breakfast soon.”

”Wow,” Jim raised his eyebrows. “How does the Department of Health feel about that?”

Dwight frowned. “Permits are pending.”

“Hmm,” Jim just nodded. “Well if you find yourself looking for a concierge to work the front desk, I’m available, so-“

“Sure,” Dwight replied. “I’ll just need a list consisting of ten work and twenty personal references. I’ll have to conduct a criminal background check including any and all previous arrests, evictions, tax liens and address history. You’ll also be subjected to a stress test, blood test, personality test, and I’ll need a urine sample.”

”When can we start?” Jim asked. Pam rolled her eyes.

”Oh my gosh you guys, did you see the nude art over in the corner?” Kelly asked. “This guy has all these naked portraits of his girlfriend with flowers and stuff strategically placed all over her body. It’s seriously disturbing.”

“Really? I’m intrigued,” Jim smiled, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively at Pam. Kelly grabbed onto Jim’s arm.

”Come on, I’ll show you,” Kelly said. Jim frowned at Pam as Kelly pulled him away.

”You coming Pam?” he asked.

“I think I’ve seen enough nudity for one day,” Pam laughed. “But have fun.”

“Yeah, I’m going to go have another look,” Ryan said, following behind Angela and Dwight. Pam just shook her head, turning towards the door. Her heart immediately froze in her chest.

“Hi, Pam.”

Pam’s mother and father had just entered the gallery and were making their way towards her.

”Hi, mom,” Pam said, anxiously twisting the bottom of her sweater. “Hey, dad.”

They came to a stop in front of her. Pam awkwardly clasped her hands together in front of her, unsure of how to properly greet them.

”How are you?” Pam’s mother asked. Her mom was tall- darkly, stunningly, expensively beautiful- as was her husband. Her red hair was cut in a short bob that framed her face perfectly.

“I’m good,” Pam said. “I can’t believe you made it.”

”Well, it was short notice,” her mother scowled. “Why couldn’t you tell us about your show earlier?”

“I’m sorry,” Pam apologized. “I probably should have told you earlier. I just didn’t think you would be able to come, that’s all.”

“Well, we’re here now,” Pam’s father said, putting on his glasses and peering at her wall. She couldn't help but notice her parents were dressed much too fancy for such a small art showing. Then again, her parents would dress like that just to make a quick run to the grocery store.

She stood back and let them look at her work. They were quiet for a long while, silently observing all of her drawings.

“Hmm,” Pam’s mother said. “You paint, too?”

“Yeah,” Pam nodded.

“Interesting. You know, this reminds me of those doodles you used to hide under your bed when you were little,” her mother said.

“Doodles?” Pam asked.

“How do you like living out here?” Pam’s father asked, pulling his glasses down from his eyes and squinting over at her. “Are you being safe?”

”Of course,” Pam said.

“You don’t go out walking by yourself at night, do you?” her mother asked.

”No,” Pam shook her head. “No, of course not.” She looked up and saw Jim and Kelly heading back in their direction. Her heart started fluttering rapidly in her chest, her palms getting sweaty.

“Hey Mr. and Mrs. Beesly,” Kelly smiled, walking over to give Pam’s mother a hug. Pam glanced over and saw Jim give her a look.

“Hi, Kelly. How have you been?” Pam’s mother asked.

”I’m good,” Kelly said.

”How is work? Are you still working at Bloomingdale’s?” her mother asked.

“Yup. I was just promoted to assistant buyer. I have my own office and everything,” Kelly smiled.

”Oh. Well good for you,” Pam’s mother smiled. Pam frowned, biting down on her tongue. Her mother seemed happier at the sight of Kelly than her own daughter.

She was too busy scowling to herself that she didn’t notice the quizzical looks Jim was getting from her mother and father.

“Hi, I’m Jim,” he introduced himself, reaching out to shake her mother’s hand.

”Oh. Are you a friend of Pam’s?” her mother asked. Jim looked over at Pam. She was just staring down at the floor uneasily.

“Jim is Pam’s boyfriend,” Kelly clarified. Pam’s mother shot her eyebrows up in surprise.

”Oh. I didn’t know you were dating anyone, Pam,” her mother said. Jim looked uncomfortably over at Pam.

”Uh, yeah,” Pam said. “We’ve been dating for a couple of months actually.” Jim stared down at his shoes sadly.

"A couple of months? That's a little soon, isn't it?" her mother asked. "Your break-up with Roy wasn't that long ago."

“Are all these other students classmates of yours?” Pam’s father asked, waving a hand at the rest of the gallery.

”Some of them, yeah,” Pam replied.

”Want to have a look, dear?” her father asked, placing a hand on her mother’s arm.

”Sure, I suppose,” her mother said. They stepped over to the next wall that displayed pink-haired girl's oil paintings. "This is interesting," Pam heard her mother say. Pam looked up hesitantly. Jim was just staring at her.

”I’m sorry,” she said, biting her lip nervously.

“You haven’t told your parents about me?” Jim asked incredulously.

“Jim, I hardly ever talk to them. The last time I saw them was over Christmas break and things were just starting up between us. I was going to tell them, but…”

Jim just shook his head, his eyes staring past her. “Guess I just figured this relationship meant a little more to you than that,” he said. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away. Pam watched him walk across the gallery, nodding his head at Dwight who was eagerly pointing at something.

“That’s good that your parents were able to come out for your show,” Kelly spoke up from behind her.

“Yeah, I guess,” Pam muttered. “I’m going to go outside and get some air.”

She walked past Kelly and shoved the door open, stepping out onto the sidewalk and crossing her arms over her chest. She turned to her left, figuring she would walk a couple of blocks to clear her head.

It was nearing the end of May. The sun was beaming down on her, the air sticky and warm against her skin, still humid from a rainstorm the night before.

Why had her parents even bothered showing up? They hadn’t said one word to critique or criticize her work. Her mom had referred to her proud collection of sketches as, “doodles”. She shook her head bitterly, memories flooding back to her from almost a year ago.

“What do you mean you said no?”

Pam shook her head. “It means, I told him no, mom. I can’t marry Roy.”

”And why not?” Her mother scowled at her from across the living room. Pam was sitting on the couch, her hands nervously twisting at the bottom of her dress. Her mother was standing in front of her, her hands on her hips.

“Because, mom. I don’t want to marry him,” Pam said.

”But you love Roy.”

”No, I don’t. Not anymore,” Pam sighed.

“What do you mean not anymore? You’ve been together for seven years. He’s building a house for you. How do you just fall out of love with someone?”

“I’m just not the same person I used to be,” Pam shrugged.

“I can’t believe you’re just going to tell him no, and throw away the past seven years of your life,” her mother said, her voice heavy with cynicism. “What is happening to you, Pamela? You’ve dropped out of school, and now you’re putting an end to a seven-year relationship with a great man who loves you.”

”I’m going to go back to school,” Pam said. “I applied to a college in the city. I want to study art.”

”Art?” her mother asked skeptically. “What are you going to do with a degree in art?”

“I like art, mom,” Pam insisted, her hands still wringing at the fabric of her dress. She was seconds away from tearing it to pieces.

“Pam. Art is just a hobby. It’s not a career. What happened? You were doing so well in that nursing program at school-“

”I have a 2.2 grade point average, mom. In case you haven't noticed, I don't exactly do well in science,” Pam said.

“Well, if you need help, we can help you-“

”I don’t want your help, mom.

“Pam, you need help. You’re so confused and lost, and you’re not making very good decisions about your life right now. You used to be so happy-”

“Did you even ask why I don’t love Roy anymore, mom? Did you ask why I basically failed all of my classes last semester? I have not been happy for a very long time.”

“That’s ridiculous,” her mother rolled her eyes. “I saw you when you were with Roy. You were happy.” Pam shook her head resentfully, tears coming to her eyes. Her mother really didn’t know her at all.

“I’m moving out.”

Pam’s mother glared at her. “You’re what? You can’t move out of this house. You don’t have a job. You don’t have any money.”

“I have some money in savings, and I can apply for financial aid,” Pam said. “But I’m moving out.”

Her mother let out an angry sigh, crossing her arms across her chest. “I don’t understand why you won’t just finish school here. You said yourself, you wanted to go and study medicine.”

”No, you and dad said that. I never said that. You both promised that you would pay for my tuition as long as I got into a good school and went into Pre-Med, and I didn’t have any money, and I figured I could do it so I said okay. I was young and I felt like it was what I had to do. And I realize now that I don’t have to. And I want to do something that makes me happy. Not follow some stupid plan that you and dad have had in place since the day I was born.”

“I just don’t want to see you make the biggest mistake of your life,” her mother said.

“For once, I’m finally doing something right in my life. If you knew me at all, you would understand that,” Pam said. Her mother stared up at the ceiling indignantly.

”Ok,” she said, turning on her heel and walking out of the room.

Pam walked past the gallery and looked inside the window. Jim was caught up in a conversation with her parents. She pushed the door open and stormed in, rushing over to his side.

”What are you guys talking about?” she asked.

“Oh, hello Pam. Jim here was just telling us about what he plans to do after graduation,” Pam’s mother said.

“So you’re thinking of becoming an English teacher?” Pam’s father asked, his voice laced with skepticism.

“Yes, sir,” Jim replied.

“Hmm. Not a lot of money in that,” her father mused.

“True, but it’s a steady gig,” Jim said. “I realize the financial rewards aren’t nearly as great as other professions, but it involves giving a lot of yourself and helping kids discover new abilities and sharing knowledge as they constantly question everything around them… Plus, you get a couple of months off in the summer. Which is nice,” he laughed.

“I’m actually thinking of going into teaching, too,” Pam piped up from beside him.

“Pam’s Uncle Greg is a teacher. He still lives in a condo,” Pam’s mother said.

”It’s tough, making a living with a teacher’s salary,” Pam’s father agreed.

“I’m thinking I might live in the city,” Pam said, apparently still talking to herself. Jim glanced down at her.

“You know what you should do? If you like to travel, you should apply to work overseas at one of those international schools. Those schools teach English to children from western embassies. You make a lot of money and live in some great places,” Pam’s mother said, nodding at Jim.

“They get tax-free imports through the American embassy, along with a car and a tax-free salary,” Pam’s father said.

“I think I want a donut,” Pam was just sputtering out mindless banter now, assuming everyone was still ignoring her.

“You’re eating carbs?” Pam’s mother finally acknowledged her. She should have known that would have gotten her attention. “Aren’t you still on that diet?”

”I was never on a diet, mom,” Pam said. Her mother scowled.

“Will you be able to support my daughter on a teacher’s salary?” Pam’s father eyed Jim. Jim frowned.

“Listen, I don’t mind you grilling me about what I want to do for a living. I know I’m dating your daughter and that concerns you, and I don’t mind you asking me about my career or my personal life, that’s fine,” Jim started. “But Pam is an amazing woman, and she’s a talented artist, but ever since you got here you’ve either ignored her or hassled her about everything in her life.”

Pam blinked up at him as Jim turned to her father.

“I’ve never been married, and I’ve never been engaged. My last significant relationship ended well over five years ago, I met your daughter last August. We’ve been dating since December, and yes. I’m in love with her. I’ve been going to several job interviews over the past couple of months trying to find a steady job. Should things between your daughter and I get anymore serious anytime soon, which they probably will, yes, I can support her.”

”Hey, I’m going to be working, too. I can support me,” Pam said.

“I know,” Jim said. “Your father wants to know that I can.”

Pam glanced over at her parents who were blankly staring at Jim.

"Very well then," her father replied. "So Pam. Is your apartment nearby?"

***

”Darling, your Jim is lovely,” Pam’s mother said as she stepped into the hallway. Pam had just finished giving her parents a brief tour of her apartment.

”Thanks, mom,” Pam said, closing her door behind her.

“He seems to care about you a great deal,” her mother continued. “So try not to ruin this one. I was upset about you losing Roy, but that’s alright now. Just don’t lose Jim, too.”

”I didn’t want Roy,” Pam sighed.

“Whatever you say, dear,” her mother said, giving her a tense hug. “You take care of yourself.”

”I always do,” Pam said, watching her parents walk down the hall and toward the elevator. “Bye, mom. Bye, dad.”

She sighed, trying her hardest not to feel too relieved. She locked her door and walked a couple of paces down to Jim’s apartment, softly knocking on the door and stepping inside.

“You have to tilt the glass, Jim.”

”Dwight, I think I know what I’m doing.”

“Jim, pouring the beer at an angle reduces the agitation and creates a smoother path for the beer to flow and effectively minimizes the amount of foam inside of the glass,” Dwight insisted as he watched over Jim’s shoulder in his kitchen.

“What are you all doing?” Pam asked, looking over at Angela and Kelly who were sitting on Jim’s couch.

“We’re having family time,” Angela stated.

”Family time?” Pam laughed.

“Kelly went out and bought When Harry Met Sally because it’s apparently a huge tragedy that I have yet to see it,” Jim said, handing Ryan a glass. He had shed his black tie and blazer and had his white shirt unbuttoned over a gray t-shirt.

“I cannot believe you’ve never seen that movie, Jim. It’s like saying you’ve never heard of Julia Roberts,” Kelly said.

”Julia Roberts? Who is that?” Jim asked, winking at Pam.

”Ok Pam, seriously?” Kelly questioned, raising a hand in the air. Pam just laughed.

”You okay?” Jim asked, eyeing Pam worriedly.

”Yeah, I’m great,” Pam smiled.

“I’m sorry about that earlier with your parents,” Jim said. “I probably shouldn’t have gone off on them like that, I just-“

”I know, I don’t care,” Pam shook her head, taking the bottle of beer from his hands and standing up on her toes to give him a kiss. "My parents will always be my parents. But... my family will always be my family," she sighed, glancing over at Angela and Kelly on the couch. She walked over and sat in between them.

"Family time!" Pam squealed, falling into the couch.

"Yay!" Kelly clapped her hands happily.

"Are we seriously watching that stupid Meg Ryan movie?" Ryan asked.

"Yes, we are watching it because I want to," Kelly insisted.

"Who's Meg Ryan?" Jim asked from the kitchen.

"Pam, your boyfriend is really lame," Kelly said, standing up to put the movie in the DVD player.

"Yeah, but he can cook so he can be as lame as he wants," Pam smiled at Jim.

"I'm not lame," Jim insisted.

"Last time I checked the dictionary, lame meant crippled or physically disabled which none of you are," Dwight said, causing Pam to giggle.

"Now Angela's fiance. He is lame," Pam said.

"Your face is lame," Angela muttered. "Did I seriously just say that?"

"Someone's been hanging around Kelly too much," Pam smiled.

"Bitch, what's that supposed to mean?" Kelly asked, putting her hands on her hips. Pam and Angela laughed and the evening rolled on as Jim served up beers and Kelly talked everyone through each and every scene of When Harry Met Sally.

"When do we get to the part when Meg Ryan gives herself an orgasm?" Ryan asked.

"I thought this movie was rated PG-13," Angela frowned. Pam just shook her head at her friends.

So, Pam was pretty sure that she must have been adopted since there was no hope of her ever happily getting along with her parents. But, she was an adult now and had somehow managed to build a small support system of her own.

Pam giggled at herself when she thought of the phrase, "You can't choose your family, but you can choose your friends." God, she was so lame. But it was true.

"What are you thinking about?" Jim asked from beside her, nudging her on her arm.

"Nothing," Pam smiled. "It's just good to know that friends and good beer are a good antidote to letting go of all-infused rage and hostility toward my parents."

Jim just smiled and laughed. "Good to know."

“So how does it feel to be a college graduate, college graduate?” Pam asked.

“Well… I’m broke and unemployed,” Jim laughed. He released another cardboard box from his hands and let it fall to the floor with a loud thud. It was the Sunday after Jim’s graduation, and Pam was helping him move some of his belongings back into his childhood bedroom. It was bittersweet, really- the idea of Jim having to live with his parents again after living on his own at college for four years and coming out, fully-armed with a bachelor’s degree. A degree that, you would think, should have established Jim as a fully qualified candidate for the hundreds of job interviews he had gone to over the past three months.

“I wish I had one of these,” Pam sighed, opening Jim’s diploma on her lap.

Jim smiled at her as he hovered over a box of paperback books. “Just one more year.”

”Just one more year,” Pam nodded. She tossed his diploma on the bed beside her and glanced around Jim’s room. It was a cluttered disaster. Clothes on hangers were piled in huge heaps on the bed, boxes of books and CDs and movies littered the floor. She remembered a similar scene just last week, when she was forced to move from her apartment and back into her parent’s house in Naperville. She had to wait to hear about her financial aid status to learn what her living situation would be for the upcoming semester.

It was going to be a pain, having to commute over 30 miles just so she and Jim could spend time together. With him living in the city and Pam out in the suburbs, they were practically thrusting themselves into a long-distance relationship but they were committed to making it work, taking turns driving or taking the train out to see each other. Pam would be transferring to a Starbucks location in Naperville and working part-time over the summer and Jim would be living the glamorous unemployed life, going out for interviews and job fairs whenever he could schedule them.

Jim was pulling books from boxes and carefully placing them back on a small bookshelf beside his bed. Pam’s eyebrows knit together while she watched him. Did he seriously have his book collection alphabetized? She shook her head at her dorky boyfriend. His back was perspiring from the constant running up and down stairs as he hauled box after box out of his car, and stains were starting to peek through his gray t-shirt. She watched his long, gangly arms dive into another cardboard box and emerge with a stack of books in his hands. A large watch with a brown leather band rested on his wrist. Seriously, who even wore watches anymore?

Apparently? Jim did.

“Got a staring problem, Beesly?”

Pam blinked a couple of times and shook her head. “Sorry. What?”

Jim grinned and maneuvered around a couple of boxes, slowly slinking his way towards the bed. “You know, my parents won’t be home for another couple of hours…”

Pam giggled as he brought his body down on top of her, her back pressing down into the mattress as he brought his lips down to the skin just above her collarbone.

“It’s like high school all over again,” Pam laughed while Jim continued his assault on her neck.

“Mmm. I would have killed to have you in this bed in high school,” Jim mumbled between kisses. He elicited another giggle from Pam, his breath tickling her skin.

“Such a dork,” Pam smiled.

”Yeah?” Jim whispered. He nibbled on her earlobe and brought his hands down to her waist. His fingers began working at the buttons on jeans and she brought her hands around, slipping her fingers underneath his shirt. His skin was warm to the touch and sticky with sweat, a telltale sign of the beginning of summer.

Jim slowly sat up and lifted his shirt over his head, letting it fall to the floor with a flourish. He flashed her one of those quirky, lopsided Jim Halpert smiles, his teeth white and gleaming in the sunlight. His smiles were incredibly contagious and Pam soon felt a familiar warm flush in her cheeks.

Jim leaned back down and his lips collided into hers. His lips were slightly chapped and Pam tasted a hint of peanut butter. Probably from the sandwiches they had made for lunch earlier.

Her hands traveled down the warm skin on his back and down to his waist, her hand sliding under the waistband of his jeans. She dug her nails into him and he moaned against her lips, slowly pulling away and kissing her nose, her chin, her neck and bringing his lips down to her collarbone before moving lower to kiss the space between her breasts through the fabric of her shirt. His hair tickled the skin of her navel as he ventured further down, his hands tugging at the waistband of her jeans. She brought her hips off the bed, allowing him to wiggle her pants the rest of the way down, sliding them off her legs and tossing them away. He reached up and her underwear followed the same path, swiftly disappearing somewhere amongst the sea of boxes on the floor.

Pam stared up at the ceiling as Jim softly planted kisses on the inside of her thighs, his lips slowly traveling up to where she needed him the most. Her hips jutted off the bed impatiently, craving more of his mouth, or his fingers. She didn’t care, all she knew is that she wanted, needed more of him.

Jim slid his middle finger inside of her and Pam gasped. Her body beginning to instinctively thrust down on his hand. Her hand flew out and her fingers clenched the sleeve of a sweater that was carelessly strewn on the bed beside her. She turned her head and stared at the open door. She prayed that Jim’s parents weren’t planning on coming home early only to venture upstairs and find their son with his head between his girlfriend’s legs.

All of those thoughts were soon forgotten when Jim removed his fingers and replaced them with his tongue. Pam groaned loudly, her hands flying into his hair. God, she missed his long hair. His silky brown strands were short and slipped easily from her fingers.

Pam pulled his head closer and Jim moaned, the sound reverberating through her body and rattling up her spine. One thing about sex with Jim, he didn’t skimp on the foreplay. He seemed to enjoy it, never hesitating to bring her to one, two, three orgasms before satisfying himself.

Jim’s tongue was long and thick and stabbing inside of her repeatedly. Pam was sliding up and down his mattress, the cotton sheets scratching against her back while Jim’s hands traveled everywhere- sliding up her shirt to squeeze her breast, gliding over her stomach and coming down, his thumb pressing against her clit. God, she didn’t want him to stop.

She felt a familiar pinch in her abdomen and an intense swelling between her legs as she neared her climax. Her legs involuntarily closed around Jim’s head and her hips rose off the bed. She gasped when Jim slid a finger inside of her, working in combination with his tongue to help bring her over the edge. Pam licked her lips and let out a small gasp as she came, her body leisurely thrusting up and down while he licked and fingered her to orgasm.

Pam’s breathing slowly returned to normal while Jim slowly kissed his way back down the inside of her thighs. He sat up and grinned, his lips glistening with her juices. His fingers were wet and sticky, and anxiously tapping against her leg, ready for the next round.

He stared at her and licked his lips while he quietly unbuckled his belt, unzipping his pants and kicking them off to the floor. He slid his underwear down and…

Oh, there was Jim’s penis. Pam's eyes widened. From the look of things, he had been more than ready for quite some time.

He reached down and pulled Pam up by her arms, his fingers coming down to the hem of her shirt and tugging it over her head. Her reached around and easily unfastened her bra, sliding it off her arms and tossing it onto the pile of clothes beside them on the bed.

He leaned down, bringing her back to a lying position and brought his body down on top of her, his weight pushing her further into the mattress. His skin was warm, the sun beaming down on his back through the window while he brought his lips down to her neck. She felt him, long and hard against her thigh as his mouth devoured the skin across her collarbone and shoulders. Her hands found themselves in his hair again, pulling at the short strands while he reached beside her to his bedside table, his hands fumbling through a drawer until he found what he was looking for.

He sat up and tore open the wrapper, bringing the condom down over his length and quickly falling back on top of her, his hand reaching down to direct himself inside of her. Pam moaned when he wasted no time sliding himself in, not stopping until he reached the base, filling her entirely. He brought his lips down to her ear, whispering her name over and over, his breath hot and panting against her neck as he pumped himself inside of her, her slick juices allowing him to easily slide in and out at a rapid pace.

By the sound of his grunts and eagerness of his thrusts, she knew he wouldn’t be long. She clenched herself around him, causing him to moan and raise his arm, his hand slamming against the wall behind her head. She brought her hands down and her fingernails dug into his ass, pushing him even deeper inside of her.

He planted his hands firmly at her sides, his body hovering over her and his fingers digging into the sheets. She leaned up and kissed him, her tongue forcing its way into his mouth, tasting herself. That seemed to be Jim’s undoing and he pulled away. His eyes closed and he powerfully slammed himself inside of her, holding himself there for a second before slowly pulling out and hastily thrusting back in.

Pam groaned and felt herself going over the edge a second time as Jim gently rocked inside of her, his breath coming out in short gasps. Beads of sweat were forming on her forehead. She glanced back up at the ceiling. The sun was reflecting off a stack of CD cases on the floor, creating little yellow patterns of light around the room.

Jim let out an exhaustive sigh, his body tiredly collapsing on top of her.

“It is so fucking hot in here,” he breathed into her neck and Pam giggled. He slowly pulled himself out of her and stood up, reaching down to lift her up and dragging her toward the bathroom for a cold shower.

***

Walcott, don’t you know that it’s insane?
Don’t you want to get out of Cape Cod, out of Cape Cod tonight?

“What are you reading?”

Pam looked up, her eyes squinting against the sun while Jim frowned down at her. She was laid out on a towel at the beach, the waves of Lake Michigan loudly crashing into the sand a couple of yards away.

“Who is Jennifer Crusie?” Jim asked, closing the paperback in her hands to glance at the cover. “Welcome to Temptation?” Jim read out loud, softly chuckling to himself. Pam felt her cheeks go red. “Let me see this,” he insisted. He pulled the book from her hands, his fingers dexterously keeping tab of her place on page 73. He turned the book over, reading the summary on the back cover.

“Sophie Dempsey is content living a quiet life filming wedding videos until an assignment brings her to Temptation, Ohio,” Jim laughed, reading out loud. “Temptation, Ohio?”

”So, I bought it during a moment of weakness,” Pam said defensively. She heard seagulls flying overhead while Jim continued reading.

“Sophie has a run-in with the town’s unnervingly sexy mayor, Phineas Tucker and making a movie turns out to be more than a little dangerous. All Sophie wants to do is film the video and head home. All Phin wants to do is play pool with the police chief and keep things peaceful. They both get more than they bargained for when Sophie’s video causes an uproar and the proper citizens of Temptation set out to shut them down.”

Jim was still laughing, clearly amused. His voice started getting deeper and more serious as he continued. “As events spiral out of control, Sophie and Phin find themselves caught in a web of gossip, blackmail, adultery, murder!” He gasped out loud. “Murder! And really excellent sex. All hell breaks loose in Temptation as Sophie and Phin fall deeper and deeper in trouble… and in love.”

He raised his eyes suggestively at the last line. “You have a dirty book, Beesly.”

”Give it back!” Pam screamed, reaching out while he held it over his head, out of her reach.

“Why are you reading this trash? Am I not pleasing you enough in bed? Is that what you’re trying to say? I need to up my game?” Jim had one arm stretched in the air while Pam frantically grabbed for the book, her bare knees digging into the sand. She noticed that he was getting a slight tan, despite having slathered SPF 5000 all over his skin only a couple of minutes ago.

”Would you just give me the book back, please?” Pam begged.

”No way, this book is garbage. I’m throwing it out,” he said, making a move to get up and rush towards the water. She punched him on the arm. “Ow!”

He reluctantly handed her book back over.

”Thank you,” Pam smiled. Jim was still holding his arm in pain.

”I need to start working out,” he said, his eyes following a group of joggers who were whizzing by behind them. Chicago beaches were so strange. Looking ahead, you could see kids building sandcastles, colorful beach umbrellas and nothing but sand and water that went on for miles. Yet you would turn around and find a cluster of skyscrapers towering overhead and a line of traffic creeping along Lake Shore Boulevard, engines rumbling, horns blaring, and people shouting obscenities from behind an elevated cement barrier.

Walcott, Mystic seaport is that way
Don’t you know that your life would be lost out of Cape Cod tonight?

“Maybe I should start jogging,” Jim mused to himself while he watched the small group of joggers slowly disappear in the distance. His green eyes sparkled in the sunlight and long strands of brown hair where being tossed around in the wind. His hair seemed to have taken on a life of its own, growing longer and longer by the second.

“Hmm. Maybe you should,” Pam said, starting to block him out and absorbing herself back into her book.

“We could go jogging together,” Jim suggested.

“No way.”

”It would be fun. I would have to buy a new pair of shoes,” Jim said.

“You don’t say.”

”When do you think we should start?” Jim asked.

“Not today.”

“Stop rhyming, you dork,” Jim laughed, playfully punching her on the arm.

“Start jogging, less pounds you will weigh,” Pam smiled.

”What are you, Yoda?”

“Star Wars references won’t get you laid,” Pam said.

”For that, you will pay,” Jim said, dragging her into her arms and pulling her towards the white foamy surf as she screamed in protest.

***

Connect the cause and effect
One foot in front of the next
This is the start of a journey
And my mind is already gone

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” Pam wheezed in exhaustion and brought her legs to a stop, pulling her ear buds from her ears. Her hands came to rest on her knees as she hunched over in pain. Jim came to a halt a couple of feet ahead, turning around and jogging over to her.

And you can stand right there if you want
But I’m going on and I’m prepared to go it alone

”Come on, we only have a little bit more to go,” he insisted. He was jogging in place in front of her, his feet shuffling against the pavement while her breathing became staggered, her eyes on the ground as sweat poured down her face.

”I’m trying to keep up with you,” Pam gasped between heavy breaths of air. “I was even trying to pretend that you were being kidnapped at gunpoint and that I had to run faster to try and save you, and it wasn’t working.”

”That’s just weird,” Jim said, finally coming to a stop. His hands dropped to his knees, mirroring Pam’s stance. His gray Columbia t-shirt had all but turned black, his body drenched in sweat.

“I have a very vivid imagination,” Pam said. She stood up and wiped at the beads of sweat on her forehead with the bottom of her tank top. It was the first day of Jim’s new jogging ritual that he had somehow convinced Pam to take part in. It was the middle of the afternoon, the sun was high in the sky and pounding on their backs while they navigated the short twists and turns of Lake Shore, the Chicago skyline looming behind them. The view of Lake Michigan was absolutely stunning- Pam just wished she wasn’t in so much pain so she could actually enjoy it.

“It’s the middle of June and it’s 100 degrees and I’m tired and I can’t do this anymore, please don’t make me run anymore,” Pam pleaded.

Jim sighed. No matter how tired he claimed he wasn’t, he, too, was breathing heavily and sweating profusely, his long bangs matted to his forehead.

“Yeah, ok,” he gave in. He brought himself back to a full standing position and turned around to begin walking the rest of the way. Pam was dragging her feet beside him. She was soggy and hot, and her calves and stomach were starting to cramp up.

“Do we really have to walk?” Pam whined. Jim reached out and grabbed her hand.

”Yeah, let’s get a cab,” he agreed, pulling her off the sidewalk and trekking across the grass to fetch a cab from the busy street beside them. Pam stood to the side as Jim stepped out on the curb, attempting to flag someone down. She piled her hair on top of her head. Even in a ponytail, it was getting all knotted and sticking to the back of her neck.

”I so need to cut my hair,” Pam groaned.

***

Baby, baby
How long am I supposed to wait?
I think about you nightly
Oh, can you tell I’m losing sleep?

Jim’s eyes widened at the sight of Pam skipping giddily towards him across the parking lot, her yellow sundress blowing in the wind.

“Wow. Look at you.”

“Do you like it?” Pam asked, her hands teasing the ends of her hair and bouncing her soft auburn curls up and down.

“I love it,” Jim smiled, his fingers falling into her hair as a strong gust of air pushed it around her face. It was nearing the end of June, and the nights of summer were getting to be just as hot and humid as the days. The wind helped a little.

"I feel weird. I haven't cut my hair this short since the second grade," Pam said, scrunching her nose.

“Fancy New Beesly. I like it. I’m going to miss having something to tug on, though,” Jim grinned mischievously. Pam just giggled, remembering having similar thoughts when his hair wasn’t embarrassingly long and curling around his ears.

”I guess you’ll just have to like me for my personality for once,” Pam said, sticking her tongue out at him. He laughed and tugged on the door to the video store, following her inside. Tonight, it was Jim’s turn to commute out to Pam and they had planned to spend the evening at Pam’s house watching old movies.

Oh what am I supposed to do?
It’s hard to stay cool
Oh, when you smile at me
and I get nervous every time you speak

“What movie did you decide on?” Jim asked when he met back up with Pam at the front of the store. Pam held up a DVD case. “Singin’ in the Rain?”

“Best musical ever. You?” Pam nodded at Jim and he held up his movie selection. “What’s North by Northwest?”

“Are you kidding me? It’s one of Hitchcock’s best,” Jim said.

”You’re going to make me watch another scary movie?”

”It’s not scary, it’s suspenseful,” Jim said.

“You said the same thing before you made me watch The Birds. That movie scared the crap out of me,” Pam said. “It was just birds attacking people, for no reason. Then remember, when we had lunch at the park that weekend and a group of pigeons kept following me around and I started freaking out? And you just laughed at me? Remember that?”

Jim was laughing at the memory. “Yeah, that was funny.”

”Not funny. Please pick a different movie.”

”Come on, you’ll like this one, I promise. It has Cary Grant. You like Cary. The Philadelphia Story? You liked that one.”

“Alright, I need five reasons why you think I need to watch this movie,” Pam said, crossing her arms across her chest.

Jim raised a hand and held up a finger with each point he made. “Alright, five reasons. It has Cary Grant. It has romance. It has a kick ass title sequence which I think you, as an artist, will appreciate.”

”Ok, two more,” Pam said.

“It’s funny. And it has two of the best chase scenes of all time.”

“Alright, fine. But if I start tasering people or animals who look at me weird again, you have nobody to blame but yourself,” Pam said, following him to the front counter.

“You’ve tasered people before?” Jim asked.

“Nah, not really. Usually you only have to whip it out and it’s an instant threat stopper,” Pam said. She watched Jim pause by a magazine stand and grab a bag of strawberry Twizzlers.

“I’m kind of worried about the idea of you running loose on the streets of Chicago, whipping tasers out on people. Or animals, for that matter,” Jim said. He looked up and saw that Pam was looking at him funny. “What?”

“Twizzlers?”

”Yes.”

”You eat those ribbed wax sticks?”

”Yes.”

”Licorice is super gross,” Pam said, making a face. She reached over and grabbed a box of Sour Patch Kids.

”Sour Patch Kids? How old are you?” Jim smiled.

“Well I’m definitely not some old-timey grandfather who lived during the Great Depression and bought my licorice at a penny candy store.”

“My licorice will kick the ass of your whimpy little Sour Patch Kids any day,” Jim said, tossing their items on the counter at the cash register. Pam tossed a couple of other boxes on top of their purchases. “Do you want to become a diabetic?”

”They’re three for five dollars. Besides, when I watch scary movies, I get nervous and when I get nervous, I need something to snack on,” Pam shrugged.

“It’s not scary,” Jim insisted. “What’s scary is the fact that you watch and record every episode of The Hills. That’s scary.”

“To each their own,” Pam said.

***

My bed’s too big for me
And when you turn your eyes
I promise I won’t care

Pam tossed around for the umpteenth time, her feet kicking her sheets toward the bottom of the bed. She was really beginning to hate the summer.

Her bedroom was on the second floor, and the air conditioning refused to work upstairs. Her parent’s house basically had two very different climates- upstairs was tropical savanna, downstairs artic tundra. Jim was sleeping downstairs. Pam’s dad was out of town and Pam’s mother had allowed Jim to stay the night, specifically stressing that he take the one guest room downstairs across the hall from the master bedroom, and not one of two empty rooms upstairs.

Pam was finally losing herself to sleep, dreaming of crop dusters and being chased across Mt. Rushmore to the sound of crickets chirping outside when she heard her door squeak open.

“It’s like friggin’ Antartica downstairs,” Jim said. He closed the door behind him and walked towards her bed. “Do you have the heat on up here?”

“No. No air. Second floor,” Pam mumbled into her pillow.

”It’s so hot. I can’t breathe,” Jim gasped, crawling behind her into bed. “Water… water,” he panted.

“Shut up,” Pam giggled, shoving her elbow into his stomach.

“Ow,” Jim winced in pain. “Maybe I should go for the in between and sleep on the stairs.”

Pam laughed. “A happy medium.”

”I’m not going to lie. I came up here to have sex with you, but I’m afraid I’ll die of heat stroke if I even attempt it,” Jim said.

“Sex addict much?” Pam asked.

”Sex addict? You’re calling me a sex addict? I’m not the one who reads sexy books about sex and murder, little Miss Temptation, Ohio.”

”You’re going to keep finding a reason to bring that in to every conversation, aren’t you?” Pam asked, turning around to face him. He was lying on top of her sheets, wearing an old college t-shirt of her father’s and boxers.

“Whatever. I bet you couldn’t go a week without sex,” Jim said.

“Is that a challenge?”

”Do you understand anything but a challenge?” Jim asked.

”You couldn’t even last the rest of the night.”

”Please.”

”Ok, you’re on. One week without sex,” Pam smiled, sitting up on her elbows with interest.

”Incentives?”

”Loser has to do all of the commuting next month,” Pam said. Jim raised his eyebrows.

“Ok. Deal.”

“Deal.”

They didn’t even last the next 30 minutes. Blame it on the stifling humidity or the close confines of Pam’s twin-side bed, but the next thing she knew, she was rocking on top of Jim, breathing heavily with her arms thrown around his neck and his hands pressed against the small of her back as they moved against each other, their bodies and sweat mingling together.

Pam felt herself going over the edge and Jim brought his mouth down over hers to prevent her screams from traveling down the stairs and into the bedroom where her mother was sleeping.

“Ok, starting now,” Pam let out a long exhale and collapsed beside Jim on the bed. Her hair was tangled and sticking to her face and neck.

“You cheat,” Jim muttered. He had the sheets brought up over his legs, ending just under his lean, elongated torso.

”You cheated first.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have been tempted if it wasn’t for your German-engineered seduction technique.”

“Mmm-hmm, whatever,” Pam mumbled tiredly, her eyes closing with sleep. Jim's voice cut through the silence a couple of minutes later.

"So do you want to do it again?"

"Shut up," Pam laughed.

"Good. See, I was just testing you. Congratulations, you passed."

"You're a moron."

***

I’ve been waiting
I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life
But it’s not quite right

“Hey, so tomorrow we’re all going to see Two Weeks Notice at that Movies in the Park over in Aurora. You should come with,” Kelly shouted over the loud rattling of the blender. She was mixing margaritas while Pam and Angela sat at Angela’s long, wicker kitchen table, putting together party favors for Angela’s wedding.

“Actually, Jim’s taking me to Summerfest tomorrow,” Pam said as the blender came to a stop. She handed her empty margarita glass over to Kelly for a refill.

“Easy there, tequila sunrise.”

Pam turned to look over her shoulder and saw Jim eyeing her suspiciously. He was in Angela’s living room playing Rock Band with Dwight and Ryan. Pam couldn’t help but laugh to herself when she saw the three of them together. They really did look like they belonged in some type of indie band- Jim looking too cool for school in his white t-shirt, black cardigan and Vans, Dwight in a sloppy, mustard-colored button-down collared shirt, and glasses that she was sure her father made popular some time back in 1987, and Ryan on drums with his sullen, deep-set eyes, gray Northwestern t-shirt and baggy jeans.

“It’s only my second one,” Pam insisted. Jim just held up two fingers and pointed at his eyes to signal, “I’m watching you.”

”See, that’s my band. We’re The Beetles! Get it?” Dwight was asking.

”Interesting play on words, Dwight,” Ryan said dryly.

“I don’t get it,” Jim was frowning.

“The Beetles. Like, The Beatles, Jim?” Dwight asked. Jim continued to shake his head.

”Like the car?”

“No, Jim. Not like the car. You’re such a nitwit,” Dwight said.

“Can I just say that your boyfriend is looking crazy hot in his little man cardigan or whatever?” Pam turned back around at the sound of Kelly’s voice. “Seriously, all he needs is a pack of Nat Sherman cigarettes and a glass of Scotch, and I would tackle him to the ground and kiss the crap out of him. He’s totally T.F.A.”

”T.F.A.?” Pam asked.

”Totally Fucking Adorable? Don’t you read my blog?” Kelly asked. “I keep trying to get Ryan to wear one, but he said it makes him look Mr. Rogers. And, anyway, why are you going to Summerfest? It’s always hot, crowded, expensive, and it’s nothing but drunks singing along to trashy indie rock and who look like they belong at an Urban Outfitters Salespeople Convention.”

“Well, I wanted to go, and Jim promised to take me” Pam said, slurping her slushy green margarita through her straw. It was already turning into second drink.

Kelly sat down at the table between Angela and Pam. “Why are we giving everyone bags of candy as party favors, anyway? It’s just going to cause everyone’s teeth to rot and everyone is going to gain weight. Then everybody will turn into disgusting, fat Hillbillies who wear overalls over tank tops because it’s all that we can fit in. It would have been a lot easier if we just went with those cute little Margarita candles that we saw at Hobby Lobby.”

”That would encourage everyone to drink. Then I would be sending people away from my wedding reception and off to die,” Angela said. “I’m not going to be responsible for some 50 car pile-up on Dan Ryan just because my guests were idiots and drank themselves into a drunken stupor.”

“Well, unless we’re all getting drunk off cough syrup, that won’t be possible thanks to you and your stupid plan not to serve alcohol at your reception,” Kelly said. “And the only reason for the fiery car wreck is because everyone will be all miserable and depressed that they couldn’t drink, and so they all got into their cars and got all crazy and suicidal and killed themselves.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Jim asked, walking into the kitchen with a guitar strapped around his shoulder.

“Kelly was just teaching us how sobriety leads to depression, which in turn leads to fiery car wrecks and suicide,” Pam explained.

“Oh. Well in that case, drink up,” Jim laughed. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and walked back out into the living room.

“Ok, so why was Jim practically undressing you with his eyes just now?” Kelly asked.

“Oh. We have a bet going for who can withdraw from sex the longest,” Pam said.

“Are you an idiot?” Kelly asked. “Pam, when your boyfriend looks like that, you do not hold out on sex. That is a crime against feminism.”

”He thinks I’m some kind of sex addict, and I’m going to prove him wrong. Technically, I’m fighting for the greater good of feminism.”

“That’s stupid, sex addiction never hurt anyone,” Kelly said. “Destroyed a couple of marriages, maybe, but it’s not like either one of you is having an affair. You need to do it, and do it often. Even Angela wouldn’t make a bet to stop sleeping with that moon-faced goon over there on the guitar.”

”Excuse me?” Angela asked, glaring at Kelly. “Do you want to be in this wedding?”

”This is an A and B conversation, Angela,” Kelly said, turning back to Pam. “There is such a thing as sex-positive feminism, which celebrates the idea that sexual freedom is essential to a woman’s freedom. Pro-sex, Pam. Not sex-negative.”

“Look at that! Dwight, number one! Yeah!” Pam heard Dwight shouting in the living room as the Silversun Pickups song came to an end.

“Are you guys talking about sex?” Ryan asked, turning to face the kitchen while tossing a pair of wooden drum sticks in his hands.

“Well, that doesn’t surprise me,” Jim smiled, raising his eyebrows at Pam.

“Alright, while I have everyone’s attention, Jim. I need to ask you something,” Dwight said, pulling the guitar strap over his head.

“Is it about you kissing me the other day?” Jim asked. “Because I thought we were keeping that between us. You promised we wouldn’t tell anyone.”

”No, you imbecile, this is important,” Dwight said. “Here’s the thing. I’ve already asked my cousin, Mose, to be my best man, but I need someone else standing beside me at the altar so that the bridal party count stays even. Now, I know you mean a lot to Pam, which indicates that you also mean a great deal to Angela. So, I am asking you. Jim, will you be my groomsman?”

“Oh,” Jim raised his eyebrows in shock. “Wow. Thanks, Dwight. I’m flattered. Uh… Sure. I’d be honored to be your groomsman.”

”Aww, yay,” Pam smiled from the table as she watched the two men share a small bonding moment in the living room.

“Pssh, please Jim. Don’t flatter yourself that much. It was between you and Ryan and I flipped tails so… Lucky you,” Dwight said. And the bonding was over.

“Lucky me,” Jim repeated, shaking his head. He looked over and saw Pam and Kelly giggling, their hands covering their mouths. “What’s so funny?”

“Hey, Dwight. Why don’t you show Jim what he gets to wear,” Kelly smiled.

“Oh no,” Jim shook his head as Dwight emerged with a old-fashioned tan suit in a plastic dry cleaning bag that looked like it was custom made for Johnny Tremain. “No. I am not wearing that.”

“Try it on! Try it on! Try it on!” Pam and Kelly were singing in unison while clapping their hands together.

“No. No. Definitely not,” Jim said, slowly backing away from Dwight.

“Also, you know that I’m not letting you walk down my aisle with your hair like that,” Angela piped up from the kitchen.

”Are you serious? I’ve spent two months growing it back,” Jim pouted.

”Yeah, the Jim Halpert pout doesn’t work on Angela. Trust me, I’ve tried,” Pam said.

“It should fit,” Dwight was saying, holding the suit up to Jim’s back while Jim just stared at Pam in horror, his eyes wide. Pam just shook her head and laughed. “I figured we’re the same height so I had it made custom according to my measurements. We might just need to take it in a little around the waist…”

***

“I hate you,” Jim said for the seventeenth time, drawing another loud chuckle from Pam. She was sitting in the passenger seat of Jim’s sedan as they drove to Milwaukee for Summerfest. The windows were down and her hair was flying freely around her face. Warm air gushed through the car while the sun pounded on them through the windshield.

The world is alive now, in and outside our home
You run through the forest, settle deep for the sun
Darling, I can barely remember you beside me

“I like this band. Who is this?” Pam asked.

”Fleet Foxes- seriously. I hate you,” Jim said.

”It’s not that bad. Just think of it like dressing up for Halloween,” Pam smiled.

“He wants me to wear stockings during an outdoor ceremony in July,” Jim complained and Pam giggled again.

”Stockings!” Pam laughed, nearly choking on the blue slushie she had picked up at a gas station a few miles back.

“It’s not funny,” Jim said sternly. His mouth was set in a straight line while he shook his head in disbelief.

“You should protest,” Pam said. “That’s what Kelly did. She threw a screaming fit in the middle of David’s Bridal after she saw the dress Angela had picked out for us to wear.”

Pam laughed at the memory from a couple of weeks ago. She remembered Kelly bawling her eyes out and rolling around the floor like someone had just set her on fire and she was trying to put it out. It was like watching a five year old, kicking their legs and screaming bloody murder because they couldn’t have ice cream for dinner or some other stupid, petty reason that would cause a five year old to throw a temper tantrum in front of a group of terrified salespeople in a bridal store.

“That’s the only reason we got out of wearing those hideous 18th-century costumes,” Pam said. “Dwight on the other hand… Well, I’m not sure how you can persuade Dwight. Maybe you can write up an article raving all about his new Bed and Breakfast and submit it to TimeOut magazine or something.” Jim continued shaking his head, his eyebrows knit together in anger.

“I hate you,” he seethed. Pam just laughed again.

Follow me if you will, at the top of Beringer Hill
Tell me anything you want, any old lie will do
Call me back to, back to you

***

“This beer is terrible,” Jim said, peeling back the label on his bottle of Miller Lite. “Which it shouldn’t be, since it cost fourteen dollars.”

“I like Miller Lite,” Pam defended, taking a sip from her own bottle. The cold beer was a welcome relief to the stifling hot confines of the small patch of grass they currently occupied. The festival was packed, leaving very little air to circulate around.

“Kelly was right, there are a lot of white people here,” Pam laughed. “I’m not sure I’ve seen so many in one place before. Which, by the way, let’s give props where props are deserved. How amazingly cool am I to be at Summerfest right now?”

“And to think only a year ago, you were just regular, old Pam with really bad, top 40 taste in music,” Jim smiled.

“Rick Dees was my hero,” Pam said. “Okay, so who are the Old 97’s?”

“They’re yet another friggin’ awesome band I can’t believe you’ve never heard of,” Jim said.

“Well, make me some more mix CDs and maybe I’ll finally get caught up one day,” Pam grinned.

“Hey, I need to talk to you about something,” Jim said, suddenly turning serious.

Pam turned to look at him while she pressed the cold beer bottle to her cheek. Ah, so much better. “What’s up?”

“I was offered a job on Friday,” Jim said.

”What? Why didn’t you tell me?” Pam asked.

”It’s for that job I interviewed with for the newspaper in Wisconsin? It’s in Kenosha,” Jim said.

”Oh.” Pam felt her heart sink to her stomach. “Well, what did you say?”

”I told them I had to think about it. They want me to start in two weeks,” Jim said. “If I take the job, I would probably just commute by train for awhile until I save up enough money and eventually buy an apartment. I figured I could live up there while I work on getting my teaching certification.”

Pam nodded slowly. “If you take the job?”

”Well, I told them I had to think about it,” Jim said. Pam just stared at him blankly. “You seem surprised.”

Pam shrugged. “It’s just… I know you really need this job. And the experience. I mean, they actually want to hire you as a straight-up reporter. When you got the call, I know the little boy inside of you was like, ‘Aw, yippee!’”

Jim laughed softly. “Well, my decisions include you now.”

Pam couldn’t help smiling to herself. She glanced up at Jim. The sun was slowly casting down in the sky behind him, the clouds turning various shades of oranges, purples and reds. They were surrounded by hundreds and thousands of people who were rising to their feet and beginning to whistle and shout as the band took the stage, but Jim’s eyes remained fixed on hers, anxious for her answer. She couldn’t believe he was willing to base his entire decision on what she had to say.

“I think you should take the job,” Pam nodded, letting out a deep breath.

“Hello. We’re the Old 97’s,” Pam heard someone quietly announce on stage to the loud shouts and hollers of the crowd. Jim offered a sad smile as the air filled with the sound of piercing guitars and drum beats. Jim took her hand and brought her to her feet beside him.

I got a timebomb in my mind mom
I hear it ticking but I don’t know why
I call the police but they don’t like me
I hear ‘em whispering when I walk by

Jim stood behind Pam and brought his arms around her, his hands around hers and clapping her hands together to the infectious beat. Pam smiled and leaned back, resting the back of her head on his shoulder while Jim swayed their bodies from side to side. She tried to enjoy the rhythm and sounds of the music, but she couldn’t help but feel the sudden change in the air as she started to think about how different life was going to be without Jim.

Pam walked up and down the aisle one last time, checking to make sure everything was in perfect shape for the wedding ceremony. She couldn’t fathom how Angela had skillfully arranged something so whimsical and beautiful without the help of an actual wedding planner. The entire set-up looked like something out of a Martha Stewart magazine.

The grass walkway was lined with tangerine rose petals leading to a tall wooden arch that stood in front of an old rustic barn house. Tiny lanterns filled with yellow roses and an assortment of pink flowers hung from the white wooden chairs flanking the aisle. The ceremony was to take place right before sunset, so glass vases filled with white candles peppered the grass around the altar, where Angela and Dwight were to exchange their vows.

Satisfied with the arrangements, Pam headed back to the main farm house and rushed upstairs to help Angela with last minute preparations.

“Everything looks perfect, Angela,” Pam said. “Guests should be arriving any minute now.”

Angela was seated in her wedding dress at a small vanity table, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She had an eerie calm about her, and Pam silently wondered if she would be able to hold it together so well on her own wedding day.

“How are you holding up?” Pam asked, sitting on a stool beside Angela and glancing at her in the mirror. “Nervous?”

”Why would I be?” Angela asked, narrowing her eyes.

“You’re getting married. It’s totally normal for you to have pre-wedding jitters or anxiety,” Pam said.

“Yeah well, Angela’s not normal,” Kelly said as she stepped into the room, already dressed for the ceremony in a long, beige strapless gown.

“Kelly, I think you’ve exceeded your inappropriate comment amount for the day,” Pam sighed.

”Dude, look how calm and weird she is. Isn't it creepy?” Kelly asked, walking up and standing behind Angela. “There’s no way I would even be able to keep myself from barfing all over my own dress at my wedding. I would be a complete train wreck.”

“Yeah, by the way, you may not see a whole lot of me at your wedding,” Pam said. She and Angela had already decided that they were just going to have to pull straws to decide who would have the unfortunate task of being Kelly’s maid of honor.

Kelly frowned and walked over to the window, looking down as cars started pulling in and the guests started to arrive.

“Hey, look Pam. Jim’s here,” Kelly announced, pointing out the window.

”Ooh! Let me see, let me see!” Pam jumped up from her stool and rushed over to the window. She watched Jim emerge from his silver sedan parked in the makeshift parking lot on the lawn below. He had given in to Angela’s request and trimmed his hair down a little, and he was dressed in a standard black-and-white tuxedo.

“How did he talk Dwight into getting to wear a regular tux?” Pam frowned. She reached down to pull out her cell phone and dialed Jim’s number. She watched Jim look down and retrieve his phone from his pant's pocket.

“Hello?”

”I can see you,” Pam whispered into the phone.

”What?”

”I can see you!”

“I thought we talked about this disturbing stalking habit of yours,” Jim said.

“I’m upstairs in Angela’s bridal suite,” Pam said. She watched Jim look up at the window she was peering out of, his phone pressed to his ear as he squinted against the sun. He smiled and offered a small wave.

”Hello,” he said.

Pam smiled and waved back. “Hey. So, how did you manage to talk Dwight out of your Davy Crockett uniform?”

“I don’t feel very comfortable revealing that information to you, Pam,” Jim said and Pam laughed.

”Well, you look very handsome,” Pam said. “Kind of like a magician. Or a valet attendant.”

”Why, thank you. I found it in the clearance aisle at Sears while I was getting my tires rotated,” Jim said and Pam laughed.

“Gotta love those bargain-basement prices,” she said. “Alright, well I’m going to let you go. I have to get dressed, but I guess the next time I see you, I’ll be walking down the aisle.”

“You big tease,” Jim said and Pam laughed, saying goodbye and hanging up the phone. She grabbed the large garment bag holding her dress and disappeared out into the hall and into the small bathroom to change.

Pam may have appeared calm and collected, but inside, she was barely holding together. Jim started his new job at the newspaper in Kenosha next week and today was bound to be the last time they saw each other for a couple of days while he worked on getting settled. He planned to commute from Chicago for the first couple of weeks, but his parents had offered to help him put a down payment on an apartment closer to work. All next week, Jim would be busy scouting the area and looking for a place to live with Pam still at her parent’s in Naperville and working part-time before school started up again in August.

She was trying to avoid thinking about it, but she couldn’t help but think how strange things would be without Jim around. They had spent nearly every day together over the summer, and now they were planning to go days, weeks even, without seeing each other. It shouldn’t have been that odd, seeing how the entire first month of their relationship was spent long-distance over the phone, but she had gotten used to Jim being around all the time, to kiss her and hold her and make her laugh… She was going to miss him.

A couple of minutes later, Pam was dressed and the ceremony was about to begin. Pam followed Angela and her father down the stairs with Kelly trailing behind her. The hem of her skirt sashayed around her knees and she paused at the bottom of the stairs, double checking the bow on the sash tied around her beige silk jacket just above her waist. She heard the processional music begin from outside, and she turned to face Angela. She couldn’t remember a time when Angela had looked so happy.

“Are you ready?” Pam asked, drawing in a deep breath. She could admit that she felt a little nervous herself, her fingers practically strangling the small bouquet in her hands.

“Yes,” Angela beamed. Pam nodded and stepped into the doorway as she waited for her cue. She peeked hesitantly outside.

The sky was lit a bright orange and red as the sun slowly began to lower in the sky. A soft white glow emanated from the small dozen of candles under the small arch where Dwight proudly stood, waiting for his bride. Pam saw his cousin, Mose, slowly rocking back and forth as he swayed to the melodious orchestra music while Jim just stared at him, his eyes open wide in amusement. Pam quietly giggled to herself as she heard her cue. She took a deep breath and counted off in her head before stepping through the doors and descending down the aisle.

A couple of paces down, she noticed her eyes were nervously fixed on the brightly colored petals on the ground and she finally glanced up. Jim was affectionately grinning at her as he watched her make her way down the aisle. She offered a feeble smile and raised one hand in a tiny wave which made him softly chuckle to himself.

Pam finally reached the end of the aisle and turned to position herself under the altar. Kelly followed a couple of paces behind her and stepped to her side as Angela’s bridal march began. The familiar sounds of Canon in D filled the air and Angela appeared at the other end of the aisle, her hand clasped around her father’s arm as she began her slow descent toward the altar. Pam looked over at Dwight and smiled when she saw tears forming in his eyes. It was amazing to witness how happy and in love both Dwight and Angela were through just the simple gesture of looking at each other.

Pam looked past Dwight and focused on Jim. He had his eyes on Angela with a small smile on his face as he watched her finally reach the end of the aisle. The music quieted to a stop and Angela’s father lifted her beaded veil over her head. Angela beamed up at Dwight and he reached out to take her hand. Pam stepped behind Angela to make a tiny adjustment to her veil and straightened the train on her dress. She took Angela’s bouquet from her hands and the minister began the ceremony.

Pam looked up and saw Jim’s eyes on her. He made a silly face and she laughed. Angela snapped her head around and scowled at her.

”Sorry,” Pam whispered, looking back up at Jim. He shook his head sternly at her, his mouth in a straight line. Pam just glared at him.

Pam had made a bet with Jim that she wasn’t going to cry, but she found herself handing him a twenty shortly after the service as they gathered in front of an old red barn house for pictures.

“I knew you were going to cry,” Jim smiled, pocketing his twenty.

“I couldn’t help it,” Pam insisted. “Dwight started crying and his voice was all shaking and Angela just looked so happy…”

”I knew Dwight crying was what was going to break you,” Jim said. “Although, I have to admit he almost got me to cry when he started comparing Angela to a hobbit in his wedding vows.”

Pam laughed at the memory as a bright flash washed over them. Pam had forgotten they were being photographed, glancing around to see Angela, Dwight, Kelly and Mose smiling at the camera. The sun had set and the sky had turned a dark, midnight blue as the stars twinkled overhead. The photographer had set up dozens of light bulbs around them and at their feet.

“You know, if this were a movie, this would make a perfect movie montage. All of us taking pictures while ‘Why Can’t We Be Friends’ played in the background,” Jim said, putting his arm around her waist and smiling at the camera. Pam looked up at him and laughed as another flash swept over them.

”Ugh. I think I’m allergic to shrimp.”

Pam turned and saw Angela’s ex, Andy, stepping out of a Porta-Potty while zipping up his pants.

“I tell ya, no more Long John Silvers for this guy,” Andy laughed, pointing a thumb at himself before turning to head into the reception party. Jim just looked quizzically over at Pam.

”Andy,” Pam said.

”Well, that makes sense,” Jim shrugged.

After they were finished taking pictures, they retreated to one of the larger farm houses on Dwight’s property for the reception. The large barn doors were left open to keep the cool evening air circulating through the room. Paper white lanterns hung from the high ceilings and white string lights and drapes covered the wooden posts and beams that stretched overhead. Guests sat at a mix of round and long, wood-stained banquet-style tables that were set up to feel like one long dinner table. An arrangement of mini artichokes, cabbages and sunflowers sprinkled the table, and white potted herbs and lanterns created a festive country ambience.

Pam stood by the entrance and clinked a fork against a glass champagne flute.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Dwight Schrute!” Pam announced, stepping aside as Dwight and Angela entered the room to loud cheers and applause.

Pam followed Dwight and Angela, introducing herself to the hundreds of guests that milled around the room. She had never been introduced to so many freaking people at once before. After greeting around what had to be the one hundredth person, Pam managed to escape back to the table set aside for the bridal party where Jim was already seated. He was sipping ice tea from an antique mason jar. They chatted for a bit while he rubbed her sore feet before beginning an intense game of football with napkins they had folded up.

“So, which one of us do you think is going to get married next?” Pam heard Kelly ask from a couple of chairs behind her. She turned around and saw Ryan standing behind Kelly’s chair, nervously chugging down the rest of his iced tea.

”So there’s really no alcohol at this party, huh?” Ryan asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

”Whatever,” Kelly muttered. “I was just trying to be all cool and dinner conversationey, but good to know where you’re at Ryan.”

Pam turned back to Jim and he grimaced uncomfortably, eliciting a small laugh from Pam. Pam sent her football flying between the field goal Jim had shaped with his hands and Jim raised his arms, impersonating the roaring of a crowd when Angela walked over. Angela frowned at the scattering of football-shaped napkins on the table and Pam and Jim shared a nervous look as she pushed past them and took her seat beside Pam. Pam sighed and glanced down at the floor.

“You okay?” Jim asked. Pam just nodded, her eyes still on the ground. “Well, you’re hurting my shoes feelings. You’re making them feel all insecure.” Jim tapped his foot on the ground and Pam looked up, meeting his eyes.

“Have you ever had one of those days where it looks like everything is in place, but it feels like it’s not?” Pam asked. Jim just nodded.

“This is just one of those days,” Pam shrugged. “It’ll pass.”

Jim just stared at her, unconsciously pushing a stray hair behind her ear, and smiled sadly.

“I know this whole situation sucks, but I promise it will get better,” Jim said.

“I know it gets better, but when does it get better?” Pam asked.

Jim smiled. “It gets better…” He leaned in and softly kissed her on the cheek. “Two seconds ago.”

Pam giggled. “You’re such a dork.”

”You know you love it. Come on, let’s go get some food. I’m starving,” Jim said, standing up and tugging on her hand.

***

”What is that?” Jim asked as they made their way down the buffet line.

”That is beet salad.”

“What is that?”

“Beet stew.”

“What is that?”

“Broiled chicken, topped with a delicate, glazed beet sauce,” Pam replied. Jim looked down at her, making a face and she laughed.

“I’m afraid to try the wedding cake,” Jim said.

”I think it’s in the shape of a giant beet,” Pam laughed as Dwight walked over.

”What’s so funny? Why are you laughing?” Dwight asked.

“Nothing. We were just wondering if you had anything else to eat other than… beets,” Jim said.

“Beets are good for you, Jim,” Dwight said. “They are high in anti-oxidants, beta carotene, and vitamin C. Which you’re going to need a lot of if you want to maximize your sperm count.”

At that, Dwight turned on his heel and walked away. Pam looked at Jim, her eyebrows raised and an amused grin on her face.

”Something to think about,” Pam said. “Though you should know the last time Dwight forced beets on me, it turned my poop red for like a week.”

“Wow. I’m so glad to know that we’re comfortable enough in our relationship to swap poop stories,” Jim smiled.

“I’m pretty sure we crossed that line on tequila shot night,” Pam said.

“Vomit and poop are two very different things,” Jim said.

”I don’t know. If I had to rank them in order of grossness, it would go vomit, poop. And then blood,” Pam said.

”No, it definitely goes poop, vomit and then blood. The worst would be a combination of all three,” Jim said. “Presented as a warm, malted milkshake.”

”Ew! Gross, why are we even talking about this?” Pam shook her head, making a sour face and setting down her plate. “You went way too far. I don’t think I even want to eat anymore.”

“I lost my appetite when I saw the food,” Jim said.

”Go to Portillos for hot dogs after?” Pam suggested.

”Yes,” Jim agreed, taking her hand and leading her back to the table.

***

”Hi, I’m Joan Rivers live on the red carpet at the event everyone in the agro-tourism community cannot stop talking about. I’m talking, of course, about the Schrute-Martin wedding at Schrute Farms. Ladies and gentlemen, I am talking to Pamela Beesly, maid-of-honor extraordinaire and a senior art student at Columbia College in Chicago, Pam, who are you wearing?” Jim held up his hand that he was using as a microphone under Pam’s mouth.

“I am wearing a stunning Watters and Watters creation, regular retail price a whopping $237,” Pam replied.

”Wow, what a steal,” Jim said. They were standing by a small stage at the front of the room. Jim was attempting to calm Pam’s nerves before her big maid of honor speech.

“Pam, wherever did you get those amazing shoes?” Jim asked, holding his hand in front of her face again.

“These old things? These totally amazing, conversation-starting shoes are Marc Jacobs by Marc Jacobs,” Pam replied cheerfully. “They cost a lot of money. Art students like myself should not be able to afford them. These shoes could pretty much cover a full set of text books. Or a year-long membership to the Art Institute Museum. Or a full month’s supply of food for Third World countries.”

“Wow,” Jim nodded. “You must live a very educational, artsy, philanthropic life.”

“It’s very glamorous,” Pam nodded. The crowd began clapping as someone took the stage and stepped up to the microphone. She turned and saw Dwight’s cousin, Mose, holding a set of index cards in his hands as he began his best man speech. He cleared his throat several times, causing the room to go silent.

”Hello. My name is Mose,” Mose began, his eyes nervously darting around the room while he flipped to the next card.

”Ten bucks says he faints on stage,” Jim whispered to Pam.

”Stop making bets on everything, I'm going broke,” Pam whispered back. “Twenty bucks.”

"Done," Jim agreed.

“Dwight is my cousin,” Mose said, flipping to another card. He took a pause and slowly scanned the crowd before continuing. “Angela is… nice. And… She smells like wood chips… On a summer day... Thank you.” He darted off stage and sprinted out of the room.

”That is one weird dude,” Pam said, shaking her head.

”Wow. How could you possibly follow that?” Jim asked. Pam nudged him on the arm.

”Shut up. And you owe me twenty bucks,” she whispered before climbing a small set of stairs and hopping on stage. She stepped up to the microphone and gazed out as everyone turned in their seats to stare at her.

“Hi, everyone,” Pam began, her voice shaking slightly. “For those who don’t know me, I’m Angela’s maid of honor and best friend, Pam. And, um… Well, I just wanted to say thank you to Mose for that lovely speech. That was really sweet. And, uh… I’ve thought a lot about what I wanted to say when I was up here, because it’s such a big deal and people always want you to be funny, and I thought, ‘Ooh, I can tell that story,’ and ‘Ooh, that story, too,’ but then I realized that I’m up here to make a toast, and not start a roast, and that maybe Angela’s family doesn’t want to know about the time Angela and I pretended we were on a date and, well… that’s a long story.”

Pam looked over at Angela who shook her head in embarrassment beside Dwight at their table as the crowd chuckled.

”Anyway, I figured I would forego all of the embarrassing stories and just speak from the heart. And I have papers here where I wrote everything down because I get nervous so, just bear with me,” Pam smiled before continuing.

”Um, a lot of you don’t know that I actually met Dwight before Angela did. Back in high school, one semester Dwight and I had three classes in a row together. You can really get to know someone when you spend five hours a day with them. For instance, that year I learned the merits of eating beets versus eating yogurt every day for lunch. I also learned that androids and zombies are very real. And I also learned that Dwight has an impressive array of weaponry as evidenced when he was suspended from school several times for bringing pepper spray, nunchucks, a boomerang, a bo staff and a pair of brass knuckles to class.”

The crowd laughed and Pam continued.

”I often wondered if Dwight would ever find his perfect mate. Little did I know that his perfect mate lied in my best friend, Angela. When they first met, I remember Dwight told Angela, ‘You’re even more beautiful than Galadriel in Lord of the Rings,’ and Angela just smiled. I knew then that it was love at first sight.”

Pam looked over at Jim who was still standing beside the stage. He was smiling up at her, his hands in his pockets.

“Now, Angela and I have been friends for about ten years, and she has been a great friend in more ways than I can count. We’ve had a lot of fun together, and she has always been there for me when things were tough. We’ve come to know one another so well, that we have an understanding that goes beyond words. We don’t judge, and we don’t have to explain. So, when it happened, Angela didn’t really have to say much to make it clear that Dwight was The One. All of the signs were there…the special looks…the way her face would light up whenever he was around.

“It all felt right when it happened, and it all feels right today. And all in all, Angela and Dwight, I can see you both making a success of everything that you do together. You both have the foundation for a wonderful marriage: not just as lovers, but lifelong friends as well. You truly complement one another and I am incredibly happy for you both. It’s a wonderful thing when two people who were made for each other manage to fall in love. So, on that note… I’d like to make a toast. And I’d like to make it with this thought in mind: If there is such a thing as a good marriage, it is because it resembles friendship rather than love. So this is to you, Angela and Dwight, and a wonderful life together.”

Pam raised her glass as the crowd applauded, turning to smile at Jim. He smiled back and raised his glass of sparkling cider towards her.

***

A few minutes later, the food was cleared from the tables and small groups of people started crowding onto the large checkered dance floor in the center of the room. Pam and Jim had found themselves crammed in the middle of the huge mob of wedding guests, dancing goofily while the lights shimmered and swirled above their heads. Pam let out a gasp when a familiar upbeat song began.

”I know this song! It was on the first mix CD you gave me,” Pam smiled, pointing at the ceiling. “It’s Elvis Costello. Right?”

Jim just nodded, taking one of her hands and spinning her around. She giggled and started singing along, bouncing her head from side to side and screaming along with the crowd when everyone yelled, “Pump it Up!” during the catchy chorus.

Towards the end of the song, the music came to an abrupt stop as Andy took the stage.

”Oh no,” Pam said, shaking her head.

”Is that Andy?” Jim asked.

”Hello, fellow gentlemen and lady friends. My name is Andrew Bernard, and I would like to dedicate a sweet, tender melody to that petite firecracker of a bride over there.” Andy pointed across the room at Angela who was attempting to shield herself from view. “Angela, this song is sure to please your lovely ear tubes.”

Pam cringed as a song she recognized as Huey Lewis and the News began and Andy started singing over the vocals.

I was walking down a one way street
Just a looking for someone to meet
One woman who was looking for a man

Now I’m hoping (hoping!) that the feeling is right
And I’m wondering (wondering!) if you’ll stay the night
So I’m coming
(I don’t wanna be lonely, baby please tell me)
I wanna love you all over

Andy was singing both lead and background vocals, his voice pitching all over the place as it alternated from high falsetto to a low baritone.

“Ugh. Poor Angela,” Pam said, shaking her head as Andy continued screeching through the rest of the lyrics. It wasn’t long before Dwight and Mose tackled Andy and forcefully dragged him off the stage. The party music immediately started up again and Pam and Jim just shared an amused look as they resumed dancing.

After dancing to a couple of high tempo songs and taking a brief pause for a quick water break, Jim and Pam were back on the dance floor, swaying along to a slower ballad. Pam had her arms wrapped around Jim’s neck as they stared into each other’s eyes.

Jim’s arms were warm and firm around her waist as they rocked gently together, yet Pam found herself struggling to enjoy the moment and trying not to think about the fact that she wouldn’t have Jim around to hold her in the next couple of days.

Yesterday I got lost in the circus
Feeling like such a mess
Now I’m down and I’m just hanging on the corner
I can’t help but reminisce

”What are you thinking about?” Jim asked, staring down at her.

”I’m thinking after today, life is really going to suck without you around,” Pam said.

Jim smiled sadly. “I’ll still be around. Not as much, obviously, but… Believe me, you won’t be able to get rid of me that easily.”

Pam smiled as he let out a soothing laugh, his shoulders shaking under her arms.

”You know how in my speech, I said a good marriage resembles friendship rather than love?” Pam asked. Jim nodded. “I was thinking about us when I said that. How we’ve always been friends first, more than anything else.”

She sighed before continuing.

”You know, you have certain people in your life; your best friends. People that you can’t wait to talk to everyday and swap stories and laugh with..."

Jim nodded again as Pam went on.

"And then there are other people that you always want to hang out with. Whether you’re just hanging out at home, watching TV or the baseball game, or spending the day in the city doing whatever… And then there’s a special friend. Someone that you can’t wait to throw your arms around and hug and kiss them and… Well, do other stuff, too," she smiled, her voice beginning to quiver. "I’ve just… I’ve never had all of those types of people in one person before. Before I met you, I’ve never felt like I literally couldn’t live without someone. And I’m just… I’m really going to miss you.”

Pam struggled to choke out the last few words, her eyes filling with tears. She brought her head down to Jim’s chest. Her heart ached in her chest as she sobbed quietly. Jim pressed his chin down on the top of her head and just held her closer.

When you’re gone, all the colors fade
When you’re gone no New Year Day parade
You’re gone, colors seem to fade

***

Pam walked back into the reception area, holding Jim’s jacket tighter around her against the cold evening air. Most of the reception was done with, and she was relieved since Angela had kept her busy with maid of honor duties the past couple of hours. The cake had been cut and she just helped pile an enormous amount of wedding gifts into Angela’s parent’s car. She was now scanning the room, trying to find Jim. He said he would be waiting for her by the door, but she couldn’t find him anywhere.

“Hey Kelly, have you seen Jim?” Pam asked as Kelly strolled by.

”Do you have any alcohol?” Kelly asked.

”No.”

”Do you have any more cake?”

”No.”

”Then no. I haven’t seen him,” Kelly said, walking past her. Pam sighed and moved toward the middle of the room, standing on her tip-toes in an attempt to find him among the sea of people on the crowded dance floor. She noticed Dwight was now on stage, tuning a guitar with Mose on drums and she guessed they were about to perform something together. She suddenly saw Jim bounce up on the stage and walk over to Dwight, leaning over to whisper something in his ear. What the hell was he doing?

Jim stepped up to the microphone and tapped it a couple of times, the feedback squeaking loudly across the room.

”Sorry,” Jim muttered into the microphone, looking up nervously into the crowd. “Um, hi. I’m Jim, and I’m going to be singing a song with the help of some of my friends here.”

His eyes scanned the sea of people, immediately locating Pam in the crowd. She had her hand up to her face, silently pleading to herself, "Please don't sing in a British accent. Please don't sing in a British accent."

”This song goes out to a special someone out there. They know who they are,” Jim smiled. “Also, you should know that the song I’m about to sing is by a band from Scotland so, yes. I will be singing with an accent.”

Pam shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. She held Jim’s gaze as Dwight started strumming the guitar, his head bobbing to the beat.

When I wake up, yeah I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you
When I go out, yeah I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who goes along with you

Pam couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of Jim singing on stage in his white button-down shirt with his black tie dangling loosely around his neck, flanked by Dwight and Mose enthusiastically performing behind him. She was surprised by how well they actually sounded together.

If I get drunk, yeah I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you
And if I haver, yes I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who’s havering to you

But I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walked 1,000 miles
To fall down at your door

Jim continued belting out the words to the song, hardly ever taking his eyes off of Pam. Pam smiled joyfully and pulled out her cell phone, swaying it in the air to the beat. She saw a gleam of laughter in Jim’s eyes as he watched her.

When I come home, well I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who comes back home to you
And if I grow old, well I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who’s growing old with you

Pam laughed at the sight of Jim jumping back in surprise when Dwight joined him on vocals, screaming into the microphone at the top of his lungs. Several guests in the crowd started singing along, lively moving around on the dance floor as Jim and Dwight got to the part of the song that was just senseless gibberish.

da da da da (da da da da)
da da da da (da da da da)
da da dun diddle un diddle un diddle uh da da

Jim was laughing, clearly enjoying himself on stage as he draped his arm around Dwight’s shoulder and continued singing while Pam bounced giddily on her toes with the crowd.

When I’m lonely, well I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who’s lonely without you
And when I’m dreaming, well I know I’m gonna dream
I’m gonna dream about the time when I’m with you

Pam swatted at a couple of tears that returned to her eyes as she watched her boyfriend serenade her on stage in front of a crowd of over a hundred people. She knew she would be going home and immediately downloading that song onto her play list and listening to it over and over and over again over the next couple of months. And she would never get tired of hearing it.

***

Jim followed Pam into her living room, closing the front door behind him, a bag of leftovers from Portillos under his arm. Pam was still bouncing up and down on her feet, his jacket around her shoulders while she sang “500 Miles” over and over and giggled to herself in between verses.

”You are such a kook,” Jim said, collapsing beside her on the couch and tossing the bag on the coffee table.

”You’re the kook, kook,” Pam said, sticking her tongue out. Jim just laughed and leaned down, kissing her forehead.

"I think I want to have a mariachi band at my wedding," Pam said.

"A mariachi band, really?" Jim laughed.

”Yes. It would be so cool. Ooh! Wait, I have something for you,” Pam said excitedly. She jumped up from the couch and disappeared into another room, reemerging with a small box in her hands.

“What is that?” Jim asked. She plopped back down on the couch and started rifling through the contents of the box.

”This is a care package that I made for you,” Pam smiled. “Just some things to help you get by in life without me around.”

”Wow,” Jim smiled. “Whatcha got?”

”Ok, so I was at Staples the other day, and I found a reporter’s notebook,” Pam said, holding up a small notepad. “And I got you a pack of clicky pens. Because every reporter should have a substantial amount of clicky pens.”

”Nice,” Jim chuckled, watching her pull items out of the box.

”Oh, and I got you one of these cool little colored pens. You click on the different colors, and you can write in red or purple or orange or blue… I used to have one of these in like the fifth grade and, seriously, they were amazing,” Pam said. “I figured you could use it when you’re editing or proofreading articles, so you’d have different colors for different mistakes and stuff. And, anyway…”

Jim leaned his head against his hand, his elbow propped on the back of the couch while Pam continued her search.

”Oh yeah, I got you a scarf. I sprayed some perfume on it to remind you of me. Only, I don’t really wear perfume because it’s too strong, so it’s really just Bath & Body Works,” Pam said, leaning down to sniff the scarf. “The scent may not actually stay on there very long but… Oh, well. I got you a scarf.”

Jim looked up at her, an affectionate smile on his face as she continued.

”I found a couple of things on the inter-nether,” Pam laughed, pulling out a couple of sheets of paper and pamphlets. “Some things for you to do in Kenosha. Restaurants, museums you might want to check out… Places you might want to take me when I visit. Turns out, Kenoshans really love their breakfast. I found a lot of breakfast places and diners in the city, and well, I know you really like breakfast, so…”

“It is the most important meal of the day,” Jim said, his eyes still smiling and focused on her. Pam smiled bashfully, dumping everything back into the box.

“I got something for you, too,” Jim said.

”Really?” Pam asked excitedly. Jim slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet sleeve.

”Now, I know this is very seventh grade of me,” he admitted sheepishly. “But, uh…”

He reached into the sleeve and pulled out a diamond ring. Pam watched him hesitantly, her hands nervously clasped together in front of her chest as she eyed the small ring glittering in his hands.

”It’s a promise ring,” Jim said. “Like I said, very seventh grade of me, I know. But, um…”

”Are you asking me if I want to be exclusive?” Pam asked and Jim laughed.

”Something like that,” Jim chuckled. “So, from what I learned while watching Save By the Bell and numerous after-school specials when I was a kid…” Pam laughed. “A promise ring is a symbol of love. And it’s a promise to always be faithful, and to care for each other. A promise to eventually get engaged… someday. Which… I want to be ready for more than you know, I just… I want to wait until I have a decent job and a steady income, and I know you want to finish school and… Well, before I can actually be ready to take that next step with you, I want to be prepared to give you the life and a future that you deserve. And I know I’m not ready for that now. I wish I was, but…”

”I know,” Pam said, nodding her head in understanding. “By the way, why do you always do that?”

”Do what?” Jim asked.

”I try to do something nice and ridiculously romantic for you, and then you have to outshine me every time,” Pam said. “It’s so not fair.”

Jim just laughed and leaned down to kiss her.

”I love the care package,” he said, smiling down at her.

”I also got you Twizzlers,” Pam said.

”And now I love it even more,” Jim said. Pam smiled and took the promise ring from his hands, sliding it over her finger.

”Wow,” she gasped, the diamond shimmering in the light. “If I were somebody else or you were anyone else, you would so be getting laid right now.”

Jim raised his eyebrows. ”What?”

”The bet, remember?” Pam reminded him.

”Oh, yeah,” Jim nodded. “The bet.”

They looked at each other as the room went silent for a couple of seconds.

”So,” Jim started. “About that bet.”

”Technically it’s been a week,” Pam said.

”This is true.”

”Which means, I should win.”

”Who said I’m giving in?” Jim asked.

”Um, hello? You just promised yourself to me forever and I gave you a super amazing care package full of things to remember me by. You’ll be giving in,” Pam said, smiling mischievously.

”If anything, it’ll be a tie,” Jim argued.

”Tie goes to the girlfriend,” Pam smiled smugly. Jim just shook his head at her as his smile turned into a frown.

”Still wondering what you see in me?” Pam asked.

”A little bit,” Jim nodded.

”Wait until you get me upstairs,” Pam smiled, wriggling her eyebrows suggestively. Jim smiled and grabbed her hands, turning around and leading her up the stairs to her bedroom with Pam giggling joyfully behind him.

Week One

Jim moved into his new apartment the first Friday of August. His boss kindly gave him the day off to move, so Pam helped Jim gather all of his things from his parent’s and a few items in storage- his unsightly green couch, a queen-sized bed, and a couple of bookcases- and they drove to Kenosha in a small rental Budget truck.

His apartment building was in a quiet neighborhood, across the street from a small technical school in a complex called the Shagbark. Pam helped him unload boxes and furniture into his second floor apartment and they had egg salad sandwiches for lunch on his carpeted living room floor. The apartment was open and spacious with shaggy gray carpeting and a kitchen that was nearly as big as Pam’s old apartment. He even had his own washer and dryer.

“When I eventually buy a house, I want a really big kitchen,” Pam said, dropping a toaster oven onto the counter.

”What do you need a big kitchen for?” Jim laughed, entering the kitchen with another box in his hands. “You don’t cook.”

“If I had a big kitchen, I might try,” Pam said. Jim carefully set the box labeled, “Dishes” on to the sparkling vinyl floor.

“The last time you tried, you almost burnt your entire apartment building down,” he reminded her.

”That happened one time,” Pam said.

”Ok, how about the time when you put a whole TV dinner into the oven, still in the box-“

”Ok, stop. Now you’re just being mean.”

”Hey, it’s ok,” Jim said. “I’ve been taking classes with Dwight on the proper way to use a fire extinguisher, so I’m prepared for anything.”

”Yeah, Dwight trained me back in high school,” Pam said. “I keep my extinguisher by the door, to blast intruders.”

“That’s not what a fire extinguisher is made for,” Jim frowned. “Fire safety is no joke.”

”Aw, fire marshal Dwight really got to you, didn’t he?” Pam smiled, reaching into the box Jim had brought in. “Ok, there are no dishes in this box. There are paper plates and a water bottle.”

“Yeah, I don’t have any dishes,” Jim replied, casually leaning against the kitchen counter.

”Then why do you have a box marked for dishes?” Pam asked, puzzled.

“It gives the impression that I own more than I actually do,” Jim said.

”Who are you trying to impress?” Pam asked.

”I don’t know, but it does make me feel better,” Jim said. “It’s a little depressing when I move into a 900 square foot apartment and I only have three boxes of stuff.”

“It’s also a little depressing when your girlfriend realizes that you made her carry over 30 boxes upstairs when they could have been condensed down into three,” Pam said bitterly, giving Jim a small shove.

“It’s good exercise,” Jim smiled, taking a sip from his bottle of water.

”Then I guess now would be a good time to get in some punching practice,” Pam grinned evilly. Jim quickly jumped away from the counter and she chased him across the apartment, tackling him on the couch.

They spent the remainder of the day unpacking the rest of his meager belongings and arranging what little furniture he had. They took a small break later that afternoon and drove to a nearby Goodwill where they found a small coffee table and TV stand. Pam found a cool vintage green lamp for eight dollars and insisted on Jim buying it. When they returned home, he found an empty spot on his night stand, and turned it into a useful bedside reading lamp.

After the boxes were emptied, he grabbed her hand and led her down a hallway and they proceeded to christen the bedroom. And the living room. And then the shower in the bathroom. Then it was time for Pam to go.

Jim drove Pam to the train station around 9 o’clock that evening. He stood with her on the shadowy platform until the train arrived, his arm around her waist, holding her close.

She glanced up at him, his eyes dark and his hair blowing around in the cool, evening breeze. A soft glow surrounded them from a light post towering above their heads. She stood on her tiptoes and softly kissed him on the lips.

“I’m really going to miss you,” she sighed, burying her head in his chest.

”I’m going to miss you, too,” Jim said.

”Yeah, well you’re not the one who heard that stupid 3 Doors Down song on the radio on the drive up here and started bawling like a baby,” Pam said.

”That’s because I was crying on the inside,” Jim replied. “I’m a guy, so I had to hide my tears so I would look all… macho and stuff.”

”Macho? Really?” Pam giggled. She pulled herself away from Jim and lifted his arm. “Seriously, I can fit my entire thumb and forefinger around your arm. Where’s all this macho-ness you speak of?”

“It’s all hidden,” Jim said, pulling his arm out of Pam’s grasp while she continued to tease him. “I don’t want to make other guys feel bad about themselves when they see what I’m packing.”

“That’s true. You certainly are blessed in other areas,” Pam smiled.

“That’s embarrassing. You’re in public. Control your urges, woman,” Jim said. Pam laughed as a small bright light came into view through the dark mist in the distance, inching closer as her train approached the station.

“I love you,” Pam breathed out, staring up into Jim’s eyes. Jim pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled, bringing his lips down to hers.

“I love you, too.”

Pam slowly pulled herself out of his arms as the train wailed and screeched to a stop and she hopped aboard, taking an empty seat on the lower level. Jim was still standing on the platform, his eyes carefully watching her. She pressed her forehead against the frosted window and held up her hand, her index finger giving a small wave goodbye as the train rocked forward and slowly began moving down the tracks. She saw Jim smile and solemnly wave back before he started to become smaller and smaller in the distance, disappearing into the thick fog and nothing was left but darkness.

Week Two

Pam moved back to the city that following Monday. All of the single-bedroom apartments had been filled, so she would be living with a room mate this year. Angela and Dwight were still on their month-long honeymoon in some Amish country in Ohio, so Kelly and Ryan generously offered their services in helping Pam move.

Her new apartment was much larger than what she had to work with in her prior living situation. At least this time, she didn’t have to worry about a closet in the kitchen and a bed in her living room. She had her own bedroom with a door and a nice walk-in closet, which equaled to plenty of room for her colorful assortment of shoes.

The second bedroom was far more splashy and decorated than Pam’s, which was funny because her room mate was never home. The entire week went by, and Pam never met her. She managed to pick up a few scant pieces of information from the items she left behind.

She guessed her room mate was in fashion design, considering the large sewing machine on her desk and black-and-white fashion ads on the walls. Her room was disorganized and colorful and had somewhat of a Moroccan theme going on, with multi-colored string lights over the bed and window drapes and bed comforters made of gold, olive greens and burgundies. Bundles of multihued, patterned spools of fabric sat piled in a corner.

A couple of framed photos were lined up on a bedside table, so she at least knew what her mysterious room mate looked like. She had flawless olive skin, green eyes, and long, stick-straight brown hair. She was gorgeous, and judging from her pictures, she was also a world traveler. Pam gazed over the photos of her room mate at the Eiffel Tower in Paris and on the streets of Amsterdam and couldn’t help but feel a small pang of jealousness.

Pam started working at the Starbucks on campus again. Behind the bar, Pam was typically very shy, normally keeping her head down while she quietly pulled espresso shots and frothed milk. One day, out of boredom, she finally started to open up and began striking up random conversations with her customers, mostly students, chatting about their day, classes they were taking, shows they were watching on TV, events in the city and whatnot. All of a sudden, she was being invited to parties and lectures and art exhibits, and she would run home and call Jim to tell him what exciting new thing they would have to try that weekend.

Work kept her busy enough throughout the week, but it didn’t keep her from missing Jim. Talking over the phone once a day just wasn't the same. She missed the sound of the bell ringing over the door after a long shift, knowing that he had arrived to walk her home or out to dinner. And going home to an empty apartment just… sucked. It took every thing in her power to keep from calling him every minute of every day just to hear his voice. She didn’t want to become one of those couples.

She sighed as she tossed and turned in bed late on Saturday night. Jim had left a couple of hours ago after spending the day with her, strolling around the city. They toured Millenium Park and took pictures of themselves in front of The Bean sculpture and dined over foot-long sandwiches and sodas at Subway before retreating back to her apartment and into her bedroom, giggling as they shut the door and collapsed onto her bed. She hated the feeling she got in her stomach when she watched him board the train later that evening, knowing that she wouldn't see him for another six or seven days. She was just ready for school to start so she could keep herself busy with something else.

Week Three

On the following Monday, August 17, Pam started her last year of school.

Her schedule was filled with a few last-minute courses required to finish up her major: Modern and Contemporary Design and European Art and History of Photography. She had even signed up for a French class for her Foreign Language requirement.

On the first day, she learned “Votre aventure, votre histoire”, which translated to “Your adventure, your story.” She was suddenly struck with inspiration and immediately got to work on a secret birthday gift for Jim: a mixed media project made up of photographs, newspapers, magazine clippings, cloth, crumpled paper, and other materials. She started to spend a lot of time in her old art studio, painting a large cotton duck canvas in vibrant golds, oranges and yellows and carefully pasting on her beloved collection of objects. She had never attempted this type of project before, so she took her time over the next couple of days, bits and pieces of Jim’s life slowly appearing before her eyes.

In the meantime, she started a journal that she planned on mailing to Jim once a week. She filled small, blank notebooks with spur-of-the-moment drawings and sketches that told stories of her days without him. This week was filled with rough sketches of an impromptu breakfast by Buckingham Fountain on Monday morning, when a pigeon spitefully stole her bagel. Another page showed her giddy with excitement when she received a package in the mail that Jim had put together for her, filled with books and mix CDs and Wisconsin cheeses.

On Thursday, Pam was working on a strange, colored-pencil drawing of french baguettes, mimes and the Eiffel Tower when her phone vibrated in her lap promptly at 9 o’clock; the same time Jim called every night. He asked her how her first week of school went.

“Si tout va bien,” Pam replied.

”What?”

Pam giggled. “It’s French. I think it means if all goes well.”

“Le temps est agreable,” Jim replied.

”Yeah, I haven’t gotten that far yet.”

”It means the weather is nice.”

”You know French?”

”I took a couple of classes in high school,” Jim said. “Que portez-vous?”

“What?”

”What are you wearing?”

”You’re a horny old French man in disguise, aren’t you?”

”As all French men are,” Jim said. “Only not so much in disguise; you can usually distinguish us by our striped shirts and berets.”

“How dare you stereotype against your own kind,” Pam frowned.

”It bothers me that you haven’t answered the question yet,” Jim shot back.

“Would it excite you to know that I’m wearing a French maid outfit and undergarments from an old Halloween costume two years ago?”

“That would be an odd coincidence but yes, it would definitely be exciting,” Jim laughed into the phone.

“Well I’m not, I just have on a pair of old pajamas,” Pam said.

“Which ones?”

“The ones with pink stripes,” Pam replied.

”Ooh, those are my favorite,” Jim said. “To take off.”

“This conversation is getting weird,” Pam giggled bashfully.

“If by weird you mean sexy, then yes. It certainly is.”

“How was work? Have you made any friends yet?” Pam asked.

“Actually, the guy who sits in the cubicle next to me invited me out for beers with a couple of other guys after work today,” Jim said.

”Really?”

”Yup. And guess what. His name is Jim. We have the same name, we’re connected,” Jim said and Pam laughed.

“Well, I’m glad that you’re making friends,” Pam said. “I guess Kenosha is slowly starting to feel like home.”

”Nowhere feels like home unless you’re around,” Jim said.

“That is totally a line,” Pam said, unconsciously smiling from ear-to-ear.

“It’s not a line, it’s true.”

“Whatever,” Pam muttered. She was still smiling.

Jim visited on Saturday and brought the film Paris, Je T'aime. He said he had found it at an old used bookstore that happened to also sell used DVDs and thought of her. They sat on her bed and slid the disc into her laptop. They had barely made it through the first act before the laptop crashed to the floor and she found herself naked and rocking on top of him, his lips devouring hers as his hands brought her down onto his lap, his hips matching her eager downward thrusts while she noisily gasped and moaned into his mouth, frantically riding herself over the edge.

Week 4

It was the last week of August, and summer was gradually turning into fall. Pam’s treasured artwork on the coffee board at work went from featuring cold blended drinks and Frappuccinos to Cinnamon and Pumpkin Pie lattes. The weather was getting colder, and Pam found herself digging for jackets and sweaters in the back of her closet again.

French class was already starting to stress her out. For some reason, her professor insisted on speaking only French through the duration of the class and Pam spent the three-hour period franctically flipping through her French-English dictionary, praying that the teacher wouldn't call on her.

The rest of her classes were mostly boring historical lectures, so she worked on her art in whatever spare time she had, taking up her own independent projects and trying out a variety of different styles to no avail, usually ending with a horrible smear of a mess that looked nothing like what she originally visioned in her head. The only project she seemed to be getting right was her birthday gift for Jim, but that was only because she was carefully pacing through, strategically adding a little bit of life to the portrait everyday. She was growing increasingly frustrated with the fact that she was unable to do much as an artist beyond her charming watercolors and charcoal sketches, wishing she would have been able to sign up for more hands-on courses so she could take the time to carefully learn with the help of a guided professor.

Pam met her room mate for the first time on Tueday. She came breezing through the door late in the afternoon, dressed in a flowing pink tunic and brown blazer. A small flower held her hair back in a high ponytail and long bangs covered her forehead. Pam was sitting on the couch in the living room, typing up yet another paper for her European Art class.

”Hi, I’m Karen,” her room mate introduced herself, plopping down on the couch beside Pam, her lips curved in a broad smile.

“Pam.”

”I’m so sorry we haven’t had a chance to meet. I’ve just been so busy,” Karen said. “I just started this internship for a designer who works out of a shop in Lincoln Square which is way on the other side of town, so I’ve been staying with a friend for awhile because it’s so much easier than commuting back and forth every morning, and then I have this Senior Thesis class that is totally kicking my ass and, well- anyway.”

Pam blinked a couple of times, trying to soak in everything she had just said. Karen talked a mile a minute.

“Sorry,” Karen apologized, putting a hand to her forehead. “I’ve just been really stressed out.”

Pam softly laughed. “That’s ok.”

”So what are you studying? Are you a senior?” Karen asked.

“Yeah, this is my last year. And um, art history,” Pam replied.

”Oh, cool. Yeah, I peeked in your room a couple of times and I kind of figured you were an artist from all the paintings on the wall. You’re really talented. I especially like the one above your bed, of the skyline at night. That’s so amazing,” Karen said.

“Oh, thanks,” Pam said. “So you’re in fashion design?”

”Yeah,” Karen nodded, reaching behind her to take off her jacket and getting comfortable beside Pam on the couch.

“I really like your top, did you make it?” Pam asked.

“I did, actually,” Karen said.

“That’s so cool,” Pam smiled. “I wish I could make my own clothes. It’d be so much cheaper. Plus, I hate shopping.”

“It’s pretty easy actually,” Karen said. “If you don’t know how to sew, I could totally show you sometime.”

“Really? Yeah, that would be cool,” Pam nodded enthusiastically.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Karen asked, pointing to the wallpaper on Pam’s laptop.

“Oh, yeah,” Pam blushed.

“He’s cute. How did you two meet?”

”He graduated from Columbia last year, but now he works for a newspaper in Wisconsin.”

”Ouch, long distance huh? That’s gotta be a drag,” Karen grimaced. “I completely sympathize with you. My boyfriend, Dave, lives in New York. We just take the Amtrak back and forth for holidays and stuff.”

”Oh, are you from New York?” Pam asked. Karen nodded.

“Yeah, I was hoping to get into Parsons, but Columbia was just so much cheaper,” Karen said.

“Oh, ok. Yeah, Project Runway,” Pam nodded.

“Oh my God, I love that show,” Karen squealed.

“Me too! Have you ever been to Mood?”

“I have actually,” Karen said. “Their fabrics are too expensive, but I keep hoping one day I’ll run into Tim Gunn.”

“Make it work,” Pam said in an attempted impersonation of the fashion mogul and Karen laughed. They spent the rest of the afternoon chatting and getting to know one another. She was happy to learn that Karen was amazingly friendly and being from New York, she didn't have too many friends in the city either.

Karen invited Pam out to dinner on Wednesday, taking her to a small Indian restaurant on the city’s North side called The Klay Oven. It was Pam’s first time being introduced to Indian cuisine, so they shared a plate of Karen’s recommendation - sesame seed-crusted prawns – and a small appetizer. Pam thoroughly enjoyed it, and made a mental note to bring Jim on his next visit.

When they got home, Karen showed Pam how to video conference in ichat on her Macbook. Pam tried the video chat thing with Jim later that night, but somehow ended up creating and making a home movie or something and quickly gave up. She decided it would be best if they just stuck to phone conversations in the future.

Jim called her on Friday, two minutes before nine, and Pam immediately told him about the new restaurant she wanted to take him to over the weekend.

“Actually, I don’t think I’ll be able to make it down this weekend,” Jim said.

Pam's heart dropped to her stomach. “What? Why?”

Jim sighed heavily into the phone. “There’s some stupid Renaissance Fair this weekend that they want me to cover…”

“A Renaissance Fair?” Pam laughed. “Will you be wearing a costume?”

“I will not.”

”Shoot.”

“I’m sorry. I promise I’ll make it down next weekend,” Jim said.

“That’s okay,” Pam chirped, trying not to seem upset. Why was she so upset? She would see him again next week. No big deal. “Karen invited me out to some piano bar this weekend, so… I guess I’ll just hang out with her. We can do some room mate bonding and stuff.”

“Yeah. That sounds fun,” Jim replied. “But first, repeat after me. Tequila is not my friend.”

”Tequila is not your friend.”

”You are so lame,” Jim laughed.

A few minutes later, Pam hung up the phone and tossed it back on the bed, a brooding sadness sweeping over her. She couldn't help but feel bummed out at the thought of going another seven days without seeing Jim. Saturdays had become the days she always looked forward to, the one day she worked all week for, and now it would just be like any other day without him.

She sighed and reached over to click off her bedside lamp, pulling the bed covers over her head and attempting to fall asleep.

Pam struggled through a long sleepless night and all day Saturday without Jim, attempting to keep herself busy in her art studio. She became irritated when she couldn't figure out the appropriate finishing touches on the mixed media project she was working on for Jim, and eventually gave up, retreating back to her apartment and watching Golden Girl reruns the rest of the afternoon on the couch where she would casually nod off every now and then.

The evening finally arrived and Pam dressed in a skirt, blouse and heels and headed out with Karen to the Redhead Piano Bar. They sat at a crowded bar, drinking Pinot Noir and screaming out the words to “Sweet Caroline” and “Living on a Prayer” along with the hundreds of lively people who packed the small, dimly lit room. They stayed until Pam had almost completely lost her voice after shouting and giggling through a drunken rendition of "Brown Eyed Girl" before hopping aboard the el train back home.

All Pam remembered once they returned to the apartment was singing “Copacabana” into a hairbrush at the top of her lungs, jumping on the bed with Karen singing and laughing beside her before collapsing into a sloppy heap and passing out. She hadn't even bothered to notice the seven missed calls she had received throughout the course of the evening until she woke up the next morning with a terrible hangover.

Week Five

On Labor Day, Jim had to work since all of the Kenosha News veterans had the day off, so Karen took Pam shopping along State Street. They stopped inside Forever 21, a place Pam usually avoided because it was always so cluttered and unorganized and the salespeople were rude and inattentive, but luckily Karen had good taste and a knack for putting outfits together and Pam walked out with a couple of new brightly-colored cardigans and sweater dresses. She was excited to show them off during Jim’s visit over the weekend.

Struck by some strange inspiration after her walk through the city, Pam stopped by Blick, an art supply store on campus, and picked up some oil paints and a couple of blank canvases. When she returned home, she retreated to her art studio and attempted oil painting for the first time. She ended up with a huge puddle of a mess, with multi-colored paint splatters all over her arms and face. She sighed sadly and stood back to glance at her odd creation, a sea of blues and purples streaking across the canvas like mad as she struggled to get some kind of grasp on how to work with the messy oils. She obviously still had a lot to learn.

The next day, she mailed the painting to Jim with a note attached, “My life without you.” He received the package on Thursday and e-mailed her a photo of her painting, adoringly hanging on the wall above his fireplace.

Throughout the week, Pam spent her time outside of class with Karen, going out to lunch or hanging out on campus and studying together. On Friday, Pam overheard Karen mentioning Rosh Hashanah when she was on the phone with her mother. She discovered that Karen and her family were Jewish, and Pam asked her a bunch of questions, eager to learn more about the religion since Jim came from a Jewish background. Karen took her to a Judaic store in the city and helped Pam picked out a couple of books on the topic, some in English and some in Hebrew. She lay in bed that evening and started to read up on all of the beliefs, practices, customs and history of Judaism before falling asleep, snoring through the rattling of her cell phone on her bedside table at 9pm.

On Saturday morning Pam sat up in bed, excited to share everything she had learned, but instead woke up to a lengthy voice message from Jim, apologizing once again because he wouldn’t be able to make it into the city that weekend. She briefly considered taking the train up to visit him since it was his birthday weekend and all, but figured he would be too busy with articles and editing and deadlines. Besides, she had a three-page paper due on Monday that she had yet to get started on, so she figured they would probably just hold off on the celebrations and settled with the sad reality that they would now be heading toward a long 21 days without seeing each other.

Late Saturday afternoon, Pam was sitting in bed with her laptop. She had a blank document open in Microsoft Word, and the white screen was taunting her as she struggled to find any type of motivation to start writing. She seemed to be writing more papers this semester than she remembered from last year, and that aggravated the crap out of her. She was an artist, not a writer, dammit. That's why she painted- her sketches and drawings conveyed all of the emotions she was unable to put into words.

She had barely started the first paragraph and was trying to keep her thoughts from going off and thinking about Jim when Karen suddenly filled her doorway, begging her to go out.

“Ugh. I really shouldn’t. I have this paper due on Monday.”

”So? Do it tomorrow,” Karen replied. “There’s this new bar over in Wrigleyville I’ve been wanting to go to, and you have to come. Please? Please, please, please, please?”

Karen was smiling and giddily bouncing on her toes, and Pam couldn’t help but give in. She had no idea where to begin on her stupid paper anyway. Plus, it was something to keep her mind off of the idea of going another week, missing Jim.

“Alright, fine,” Pam sighed, flipping her laptop shut and crawling out of bed

The thing about Karen was- she didn’t hang out at your typical local, shoddy, laid-back dive bar. She frequented the sophisticated, expensive after-work bars and lounges way across town, and the place she took her to tonight was no different.

They sat at the wine bar beside a small heated fireplace. The room was ill-lit with orange globe lights dangling from the ceiling, and small groups of people crowded around red-felted pool tables and plush leather couches.

It happened to be $5 martini night and Pam found herself sipping back one too many over the course of the evening. She was somewhere around her third when she felt a small buzzing in her pocket. She pulled out her cell phone and saw that Jim was calling.

“Hello?” Pam shouted over the loud music. She could barely hear Jim on the other end. She walked into a dark and narrow hallway that led to the restrooms, plugging a finger in one ear in an attempt to hear him better.

“Sorry, are you there?”

”Hey, where are you?”

“I’m out in Wrigleyville with Karen.”

“Oh...”

Jim went silent. Pam felt like she should say something, anything- something that told him how much she missed him and how much she seriously hated this whole long-distance relationship thing. But after three martinis, her abilities to form any type of coherent thought were slowly dwindling away.

“Hey, I can barely hear you. I’ll call you tonight, ok?”

“Yeah, ok. I’ll talk to you later,” Jim said. “Be careful.”

”I will.”

”I love you.”

”Love you, too.” Pam clicked her phone shut, letting out a frustrated sigh before returning back to the bar.

Week Six

Pam woke up late Sunday morning with an excruciating headache. She heard the faint sound of water running in the bathroom down the hall and figured Karen was somehow already awake. How the hell did that woman do it?

She was startled by the sound of her phone vibrating on her bedside table and reached over to answer it, somehow in her groggy state misjudging the distance and falling out of bed and onto the solid carpeted floor.

“Ow!” Pam winced in pain as the cell phone vibrations came to a stop above her head. She heard Karen shuffling down the hall and then a throaty laugh sounded in her door way.

“Why are you on the floor?”

”I fell,” Pam sighed, turning over and tiredly putting a hand over her eyes.

“It’s possible that you might still be a little bit drunk,” Karen laughed, walking over and reaching out to help her up. “Come on. Go get showered and cleaned up and I’ll take you out to breakfast. You need to eat something to soak up all that alcohol.”

”How much did I drink last night?” Pam asked as Karen pushed her down the hall toward the bathroom. She remembered Jim calling and she remembered sitting down to her fourth martini. She didn’t remember anything after that.

“It was quite a bit,” Karen said. “I just remember you ordered a cheeseburger around martini number six and on the way home, you kept screaming, ‘Cheezborger! Cheezborger!’ before turning it into some weird rap song.”

”Oh, God,” Pam mumbled, finally getting a glance at herself in the mirror above the bathroom sink. She looked like hell.

“Go get cleaned up and we’ll head out for pancakes.”

"And coffee. Lots and lots of coffee," Pam muttered, putting a tired hand to her face. Karen laughed, stepping out and closing the bathroom door.

Pam gripped the edges of the cold, porcelain sink and stared into the mirror. Her hair was a frizzy, tangled mess around her head and dark shadows had formed under her eyes, her skin was pale and washed out. She didn’t recognize herself at all. When had she allowed her life to become this? She had turned into some reckless, unattached 20-something who stayed out on the weekends until ungodly hours of the night, spending all of her hard-earned cash on cover charges and booze. She didn’t want to become that person. That person was Karen. And she was starting to become a horrible influence.

She peeled off her clothes and jumped into the warm spray of the shower. She figured she would have to have a serious discussion with Karen over breakfast.

She emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later feeling slightly rejuvenated and walked into her bedroom, sliding into a pair of jeans and an old ratty t-shirt that was crumbled up on her floor. She wasn’t all about appearances today. She grabbed her phone off her nightstand and glanced at the screen. She had 21 missed calls.

She threw herself onto her bed and flipped the phone open, punching the button for her voicemail.

“You have 7 unheard messages,” the robotic voice droned. Crap. The first message began to play and Jim’s voice filled her ear.

“Hey, it’s me. I was just calling to make sure you got home okay. Call me back when you get this. Bye.”

The female robotic voice sounded again.

Next message. Sent today at 1:41 a.m.

”Hey, it’s me again. It’s around 1:42 a.m. and I’m a little worried because you haven’t called me back. Um, again call me when you get this message. I love you.”

Next message. Sent today at 1:50 a.m.

“Just checking in again… Please call me.”

Next message. Sent today at 2:49 a.m.

”It’s 3 in the morning, and I’m feeling kind of stalkerish, leaving you all of these voice messages. I tried to fall asleep, but I can’t stop worrying about you. (sigh) I hope you’re okay. Just… call me in the morning… Bye.”

Next message. Sent today at 7:48 a.m.

“Hi, it’s me again. I know it’s a little early, but I figured I would try and see if you were already up. If I don’t hear from you, I guess I’ll call you a little bit later once you’ve risen from the dead… Which I now realize is a terrible thing for me to say because I’m very worried that something might have happened to you… Call me.”

Next message. Sent today at 12:02 p.m.

“Ok, now I’m beyond worried. It’s Sunday and it’s now a little past noon, which means even after the worst hangover of all hangovers, you should be awake and sitting at The Artist’s Café devouring a stack of chocolate chip pancakes. I’m now begging you to please call, message or email me, whatever. Just please let me know that you’re ok.”

On the last message, she just heard a faint click signaling that he had hung up. Figuring he was two seconds away from sending a search party after her, she finally called him back.

“Pam?”

”Hey.”

”Thank God. Where have you been?” Pam realized he sounded out of breath.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call, I just had a really rough night.”

”Are you okay?”

”Yeah, I’m fine. I just got out of the shower and heard all your messages.”

”What happened? Did your phone die or something?”

”No, I guess I must’ve just not heard it ring.”

”…Ok.”

Karen appeared in her door way and motioned with her hands that she was ready to head out.

“Hey, Jim, I have to go. I’m actually heading out to breakfast with Karen, but I’ll call you when I get back, ok?”

”Yeah. Talk to you later.”

He hung up before she could say goodbye.

***

She returned home around 2:30 in the afternoon and plopped down on her bed, pulling her cell phone from her purse and dialing Jim’s number. She heard it ring twice before he picked up.

“Yeah,” Jim answered rather abruptly.

”Hey.”

”Hi.”

“Um… Is everything ok?” Pam asked.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.” She heard him clear his throat and the phone went silent as she struggled to find something to say.

”How was your weekend?” she tried.

“Fine,” Jim replied. Ok. So, he was mad. She was starting to realize that.

“Jim, I’m sorry that I didn’t call you last night I just… Well, to be honest I barely remember any of last night. I guess I just had too much to drink. And I slept in pretty late today, and-”

Jim cut her off. “That seems to be becoming a common occurrence, don’t you think?”

“Well, you were supposed to visit me this weekend. And last weekend. And Karen invited me out-“

“So it’s my fault that you’ve all of a sudden turned into Paris friggin' Hilton.”

Pam frowned into the phone. “No, it’s not. I’m not saying that. And Paris Hilton? Seriously-“

Jim cut her off again as she rolled her eyes, realizing how ridiculous she sounded even mentioning that name.

”Seriously, what is going on with you Pam?” Jim asked, his voice dropping to a concerned tone. “You go out every weekend; you stay out late and you don’t return my calls. Then I’m staying up all hours of the night, worrying that something awful has happened, only for you to call me the next day like it’s no big deal.”

Pam closed her eyes. Her head was really starting to hurt again.

“I just…” Pam sighed, tears welling up in her eyes. “I just really miss you.”

“I miss you too Pam, but you don’t see me going out every night and blowing off steam with excessive amounts of alcohol.”

“Ok, so what, you’re saying that I’m now an excessive partier, slash, alcoholic? After the two times that I went out?”

“I’m just worried about you, Pam.”

“You are always busy, and it’s been two weeks since we last spent any time together.”

“I know that Pam, and I’m sorry, but this is only my second month at this job and my boss is throwing all sorts of crap at me to cover on the weekends, like he needs me to prove myself or something, and I’m trying my hardest to keep up,” Jim said. “This isn’t some class that I can just blow off or an assignment than can be left undone, I have actual deadlines, and whenever something happens, whether it’s a house burning down or a 9-year-old cat that can bake cookies, I have to be there to report about it. I can’t just leave to come see you.”

Pam cried quietly, tears streaming down her face as she placed her hand over the receiver. She gazed across the room at the large collage she had finally finished during the middle of last week. It was the only project of hers over the last few weeks that she was actually proud of. Joyful photographs and inimate portraits of Jim’s life stared back at her. She stared at a picture that was taken sometime on New Year’s Eve. She remembered when she came across the photo in Kelly’s 2008 scrapbook and asked for a copy. Pam was looking straight at the camera with a big cheesy grin on her face, but Jim was staring down at her and laughing, his eyes filled with adoration. God, she missed him.

“Why don’t you ever come up here anyway?” Jim asked.

“I figured you would be too busy to spend any time with me,” Pam said. She heard Jim sigh.

“Well,” Jim started. “I was going to see about coming down there today since it's my birthday and I know you wanted to do something, but… It’s already almost 3 and by the time I get there, I’ll have to head back home for work tomorrow so… I guess I’ll just talk to you later.”

Pam just nodded, stifling back her sobs. “Ok.”

”Bye, Pam.”

Pam flipped her phone shut and fell down to her bed, burying her tear-stained face into her pillow. Her shoulders shook violently as she finally let all of her emotions take over, her loud cries muffled by her pillow case. She heard her door creak open.

“Pam?” Karen. “Is everything ok?”

Pam shook her head, her face still buried. “No,” she choked out.

She felt the mattress sink down as Karen climbed into bed and brought her arms around, holding onto Pam as she continued to cry.

***

Pam spent the rest of Sunday afternoon explaining to Karen everything that had happened, and Karen started to apologize profusely.

”It’s totally my fault. I kept you out so late. Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I had no idea,” Karen kept saying over and over. She reached for her purse and took out a wad of cash, shoving the bills into Pam’s hands. “You should go visit him tonight. Just take the money and use it for the train ride up there or you can take a cab; I’m so sorry.”

Pam insisted that she didn’t need to apologize, and told her she wouldn’t be able to make it up anyway because she still had that damn paper to work on that was due tomorrow. She spent the rest of the night typing it up, and fell asleep sometime before 8:30.

The next afternoon, she sat on the doorstep at apartment number 206, her legs crossed underneath her and a large, smooth canvas stretched across her lap. She stared down at the cheerful painted swirls of gold and yellows and let out a sigh. She hadn’t spoken to Jim since their last conversation on Sunday. She had planned on calling him that morning, but had accidentally overslept and found herself skipping out showering as she threw on a pair of ratty sweats and rushed across campus to make her 9 o’clock European Art class, hastiliy forgetting her keys on the way out.

It was hard to believe that they had only been doing this long-distance thing for a little over a month, and a mere fourteen days apart had already taken an enormous strain on their relationship. They had managed to be separated way longer than that in the earlier stages, which was almost a year ago now. She couldn't help but feel like it was mostly her fault. Honestly, she could have made more of an effort to visit him these past two weeks. She just figured he'd be too busy with work and she would simply be in the way.

She was so caught up in her thoughts, she didn’t hear the set of footsteps clattering up the concrete steps and coming to a stop at the top of the landing.

”Pam?”

She looked up and saw Jim standing in front of her. He was wearing a collared blue shirt with a messenger bag draped around his shoulders and his tie askew and blowing in the wind. His long hair was sticking out in all directions and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

”What are you doing here?”

Pam carefully set the painting aside and rose to her feet, nervously smoothing down her skirt before speaking.

“I took the train and hailed a cab from the station,” she said. “I wanted to see you.”

Jim stared at her for a moment before stepping past her and shoving his key in the lock, pushing the door open. She lifted her painting and tote bag from the ground and followed him inside, quietly closing the door behind her. She sat the canvas off to the side as Jim walked into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

”Can I get you anything? Water or… Something to eat?” he asked.

“No. Thanks, I’m ok,” Pam said, glancing around the apartment. The living room was impeccably clean, almost as if no one had been living there. Then again, he didn’t own very much so it was nearly impossible for him to create a mess.

Jim stepped into the living room and stood across from her, glancing at her hesitantly.

“How are you?” he asked, nervously toying with the small blue bottle cap in his hand.

“I’ve been better,” Pam admitted and Jim let out a small puff of air as if to say that he felt the same way. They stood in silence for only a moment, but what seemed like an eternity to Pam. She quietly rocked back and forth on her heels as Jim nervously kicked at the carpet with his shoes, his eyes on the floor. He sat his water bottle on the kitchen counter and Pam crossed the room, wrapping her arms around his waist and pushing her face into his chest. She felt his arms drape around her back, pulling her closer toward him.

“I’m sorry,” Pam whispered, struggling to hold back tears.

“I know. I’m sorry, too,” Jim said softly from above her.

”I didn’t think this would get to be so hard,” Pam sniffed loudly, the tears flowing freely now.

“Yeah,” Jim sighed, dropping his head down and pressing his cheek against her forehead. "It's just been a rough couple of weeks, but I promise it'll get better."

Pam grasped onto Jim even tighter, clinging to the hope that things would eventually become easier.

“Hey, do you have any mixing bowls?” Pam shouted as she rummaged around the kitchen, loudly slamming the dozens of cabinet doors above the counter.

“No,” Jim’s muffled voice came from the bedroom. “There are some bowls in the cabinet next to the microwave.”

Pam opened the cabinet and pulled out a large ceramic cereal bowl.

“This will just have to work,” she sighed to herself. She set the bowl on the counter and opened the box of vanilla cake mix- turning it upside down and pouring out its powdery contents.

It was Monday, September 7- Jim’s birthday. They had just returned to the apartment after a brief trip to the supermarket where they picked up frozen pizza and a handful of supplies to make cupcakes. Two hours had passed since Pam had surprised Jim on his doorstep and collapsed into a sobbing heap in his arms.

“Aha! I knew I had one,” Jim announced, emerging from his bedroom with a wooden spoon in his hand. He was still dressed in his work clothes, his blue shirt tucked into a pair of charcoal slacks.

“Do I want to ask why you keep a mixing spoon in your bedroom?” Pam asked.

“I ran out of plastic spoons so I had to use it to eat my cereal,” Jim said, taking his place beside her in the kitchen. Pam just shook her head.

“I’ve been meaning to buy you some actual silverware,” she said.

Jim fingered the straps of the flowery apron that dangled around her neck. “I’m really digging this apron by the way. You should start wearing one more often.”

”I wear an apron all the time at work,” Pam said, cracking an egg on the side of the bowl.

“I know, but it’s much hotter when you wear one in my kitchen,” Jim smirked.

“Apron fetish much?”

“Maybe.”

”Hmm. Maybe I should become a chef. That way I’ll have an excuse to wear one all the time,” Pam said.

“Or you could volunteer at a homeless soup kitchen,” Jim suggested.

“Ooh, then I could also wear one of those sexy little hair nets,” Pam smiled.

Jim frowned. “No. No, why did you have to ruin the fantasy? Come on.”

“What kind of sick fantasy of yours involves me wearing an apron while working at a soup kitchen?” Pam laughed.

“So I’m a homeless guy, right?” Jim started.

”I beg you not to finish that thought,” Pam said, reaching over to preheat the stove.

“Ah, ah-“ Jim slapped her hand away. “Only I am allowed to operate the stove in my house. You friggin’ fire starter.”

“I hate you,” Pam muttered. Jim twisted the knob to 350 degrees and peered out of the kitchen toward his front door.

”So what’s up with this huge canvas that you brought over?” he asked, nodding toward the painting that was leaning against the wall. She had it placed so all he could see was the back.

“Oh yeah!” Pam smiled, dropping the mixing spoon into the bowl and bouncing giddily over toward the door. “Ok, so I made you a birthday present, but first I have to warn you that I’ve never attempted this type of painting before. So it may not be my best work, but it really means a lot to me.”

”Ok,” Jim raised his eyebrows in interest. He walked over to stand in front of her and crossed his arms across his chest. “Let’s see it.”

Pam slowly swiveled the painting around, her eyes on Jim to gauge his reaction. His arms dropped to his sides and his eyes widened when he saw what she had created.

“Wow,” he breathed, shaking his head in amazement and squatting down to get a better look. “This is amazing… Pam.”

Pam bit her lip nervously as she watched his eyes travel over the different shapes and textures of the painting.

”What do you think?” Pam asked hesitantly.

“Pam, this is incredible. It’s so unlike anything you’ve ever done before,” Jim said. He reached out and touched his hand to the canvas, the tips of his fingers carefully gliding across bits and pieces of his life- past, present and future.

“This sketch is actually the first drawing that I did of you,” Pam said, falling down to her knees beside him and pointing at the painting. “I sketched it at home, over Thanksgiving break last year. I did it completely from memory, if you can believe it. And the words in the background here- that’s actually your very first newspaper article. I also have a copy that I had framed, but I accidentally left it at home.”

“Wow,” Jim said, still shaking his head in disbelief. His eyes were shining and sparkling in interest. “How long did this take you?”

”Just a couple of weeks. I started on my first week of school, and it was sort of my little secret project that I worked on everyday. It kept me busy. You know, not having you around and all. It helped make me feel a little bit closer to you,” she admitted. Jim squinted his eyes at the small cursive writing at the bottom of the painting.

“Votre aventure, votre histoire,” he read out loud.

“It means ‘your adventure, your story,’” Pam explained. “I learned it on my first day of French class. Sort of the motivation behind it all.” Jim’s lips curved into a wide smile as he titled his head to look at her.

”Do you have any idea how talented you are?”

“I still have a lot to learn,” Pam sighed. “You should have seen all of the other stuff I worked on while finishing your collage. It was not pretty.”

Jim shook his head at her. “You’re too hard on yourself, Pam. Just like when you said this may not be your best work before you even showed me the painting- this, by far, is the most amazing thing you have ever done.”

“Good. Maybe it can take the place of that finger painting above your fireplace, which is definitely the worst thing I have ever done,” Pam laughed, tilting her head toward the wall where her muddled attempt at oil painting was displayed.

“I like it actually,” Jim said. “It’s very Jackson Pollock.”

“Whatever,” Pam muttered.

”It’s abstract,” Jim said. “The point of an abstraction is to convey a particular emotion, so when the viewer sees it, they’ll sense what the artist was feeling when looking at it. And you said the painting expressed how your life felt without me. And looking at that painting, I can definitely feel what you were going through in that very moment.”

Pam glanced over at the painting, sloppy paint strokes in frenzied shades of blue, and remembered back to the day she created it. It was after the first weekend she had to spend without Jim, and she remembered feeling lost and unsure of what to do with herself. Missing him. On second thought, her first attempt at oil painting wasn’t necessarily all that bad.

She turned around when she heard Jim in the kitchen, fumbling through drawers.

“What are you doing?” she asked, rising to her feet.

“Looking for- aha!” He pulled a hammer from the drawer and walked back into the living room, reaching for the painting on the floor. He carried the painting across the room and he climbed on top of the couch, pressing a long nail to the center of the wall and carefully tapping it in. She smiled while she watched her painting slowly rise from the floor as he secured it to the wall, taking his time to make sure it was straight. He jumped off the couch and stepped back a couple of steps, falling into place beside her.

”You do know that you're going to have to keep painting so I can fill up the rest of my walls,” Jim said, draping an arm around her shoulders as they stared at her painting together.

”I’ll see what I can do,” Pam said. “I will expect some form of payment, though.”

“Hmm, well I hope you accept kisses,” Jim smiled, taking her face into his hands and sloppily pecking at her face. She giggled gleefully as she playfully pushed him away.

***

“Do you know the muffin man? The muffin man, the muffin man. Do you know the muffin man, who lives in Drury Lane?” Jim was singing in a low, husky voice as he sprayed a mist of non-stick spray onto a muffin pan.

“Ok, so now I need you to pour the batter into the pan and I will get started on the dishes,” Pam said, handing him the bowl. “Here, I think you need this more than I do.”

She draped the apron around his neck and stepped around to tie it around his waist.

“There you go,” she smiled, giving him a light pat on the rear.

“How dare you,” Jim said, wagging the batter-covered mixing spoon at her. She just giggled and moved over to the sink where a huge pile of dishes awaited her cleaning services. She started to fill one side of the sink with dish soap and warm water and turned to monitor Jim, making sure he was pouring correctly. He had his shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows, the veins clearly visible in his forearms as he scraped the remains of the cake batter out of the green ceramic bowl and into the pan. There was something sexy about the sight of Jim baking in his work clothes and a yellow floral apron. She was starting to think perhaps she had an apron fetish of her own.

“Ok, that’s done. Now what I do?” Jim asked, setting the bowl aside.

”Now you stick the pan in the oven, and we set the timer,” Pam said.

“Alright, I think I can do that,” Jim said. He opened the oven door and carefully slid the muffin tray onto the bottom rack, turning around and kicking the door closed.

“What do I set the timer for?” he asked, rubbing his palms together. Pam stepped beside him and pressed a couple of buttons on the stove to activate the clock.

”What are you doing? You’re making me nervous,” Jim said warily.

”I’m setting the timer,” Pam laughed.

”Ok, but you’re a little too close to the stove right now, and I’m kinda fearing for my safety here. Can you maybe back away a little bit?” He put his hands on her shoulders, carefully easing her back.

“You’re just asking for a good beating, aren’t you?” Pam said, giving him a small shove.

“As long as you beat me the way I like it,” Jim smiled, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

”Well, we do have 13 minutes.”

"Well, I can get a lot done in thirteen minutes,” Jim grinned, wrapping his arms around her waist and hoisting her in the air over his shoulder.

”Hey! Put me down,” Pam squealed in protest through a fit of giggles as he carried her toward the bedroom.

The last few weeks of summer gradually passed by, and by the time autumn officially arrived, the trees were already displaying stunning shades of orange and gold.

It rained a lot. Pam started listening to jazz at night when she worked on her homework at the apartment, the soothing, wobbly bass lines keeping time with the cars swishing and splashing on the street below.

Street lights and neon signs sparkled and danced across the small droplets of water that accumulated on the window. It was yet another cold, rainy, blustery Saturday night early in October. She was curled up on her couch with a blanket and her sketchbook flipped open in her lap. Jim was beside her, his laptop stretched in front of him on the coffee table. He was leaning forward, hovering over the screen as his fingers pecked away at the keys, music filtering out through the speakers.

Sold my cold knot
A heavy stone
Sold my red horse for a venture home
To vanish on the bow
Settling slow

Pam’s hand flew across the page as Jim’s silhouette began to take shape. His lips were set in a straight line, eyes narrowed and focused. He was required to wear glasses now. Something about eye strain from being on the computer too much- standard occupational hazard.

They had spent the majority of the day inside on that wet and dreary Saturday. Not much to do outside in this weather.

Pam sighed and tossed her sketchbook aside, exchanging it for her brightly-colored blue French-English dictionary.

“Studying?” Jim asked as she dropped the book into her lap.

“Yeah, I have an oral French exam on Monday,” Pam sighed, flipping through pages.

“Ooh. You can practice on me,” Jim smiled, glancing up from his computer and swiveling to face her. “Go ahead. Talk dirty to me.”

Pam giggled and seductively whispered, “Vous sortez les dechets.”

Jim frowned. “Did you just tell me to take out the trash?”

Pam laughed, letting out a loud snort. “I did actually. How did you know that?””

“I still remember some French. Since when do you snort when you laugh?” He asked, teasingly poking her in the ribs with his pencil.

“I think it’s because of my sinus infection,” Pam said. “It hate it, it’s so embarrassing. I refuse to hang around funny people anymore until it goes away.”

“Why? I think it’s kinda sexy,” Jim smirked. He reached over and picked up her sketchbook from the table. He reclined back into the couch as he flipped through her illustrations.

“Are you still trying all of those new art experiments?” Jim asked.

“Sometimes, if I feel inspired enough,” Pam replied. “Which, I usually don’t as much when you’re not around. I don’t know why, but… Anyway, I tried working with oil pastels the other day and it didn’t work out very well. It kept smudging everywhere.”

”Why don’t you just keep illustrating?” Jim asked.

“What do you mean?”

”I mean your sketches are really good. People pay a lot for this kind of work,” Jim said.

“Yeah,” Pam nodded. “I don’t know, I just feel like as an artist I should dabble in a little bit of everything. Familiarize myself with my type of medium a little better. It’s just frustrating when I don’t know how to go about all of the techniques.”

“Every artist has their forte, something they’re recognized for. Michelangelo has the Sistine Chapel. Van Gogh had “Starry Night”. You have your illustrations,” Jim smiled and dropped her sketchbook back on the table. “You already have an incredible talent, Pam. I’m just saying maybe you should try to expand on that a little bit. Create your masterpiece.”

Jim turned back to his computer and resumed typing. Pam leaned forward and picked up the book, carefully leafing through the pages and glancing over her sketches. She nodded her head from side-to-side, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as her eyes traveled over her work.

“Yeah. Maybe,” she breathed quietly. Jim tiled his head slightly to look at her and smiled.

***

Pam visited Jim after her Friday afternoon class, drifting in and out of various states of reverie while the train loudly twisted and churned down the tracks. The trees blended into a sea of vivid reds, oranges and yellows and the sky was still in its constant the state of charcoal gray, the windows fogging from the rain.

All I need is a little time
to get behind this sun
and cast my weight.

All I need is a peace of mind,
then I can celebrate.

Pam adjusted the small earbuds in her ears, pressing her forehead to the window and closing her eyes.

Jim had called her earlier during his lunch break, complaining about having a particularly bad day at work. His boss had been disapproving of one of his articles that he needed to have turned in before the weekend, so he found himself drowned in a massive amount of rewrites.

Pam splashed through a series of puddles as her taxi sped off down the street, hands in the pockets of her beige trench coat as she hopped up the steps into Jim’s building. The rain was coming down in a fine mist and lightly peppered her face.

Pam stepped inside Jim’s office and scanned the empty room. It appeared that almost everyone had went home early for the weekend, a few people scattered here and there. She easily spotted the top of Jim’s head behind a partition several feet away. She tip-toed her way across the room and quietly entered his cubicle, twirling to lean her back against his desk.

“I might know of someone who has a bottle of wine and a steak with your name on it,” Pam smiled, pulling a bottle of red wine from the tote bag on her shoulder. Jim blinked away from his computer and looked up at her in surprise. “Ok, so maybe not steak because I’m not a fan of red meat, but I do have wine.”

”Hey,” Jim smiled. “What are you doing here today? I thought you weren’t going to come up until tomorrow.”

”I was, but I heard you were having a bad day so I decided to surprise you,” Pam said. “Sorry, is this a bad time?”

“No, actually I’m just finishing up. I just have to print this really quick and drop it off before we leave,” he said, standing up and pulling his jacket from the back of his chair.

”Do you mind if I crash at your place tonight?” Pam asked.

”Do you even have to ask?” Jim smiled and leaned forward to kiss her. Pam quickly put a hand to her lips, stopping him.

”You can’t kiss me yet. I had a fish taco for lunch and my breath is horrible.”

Jim looked at her with a funny expression on his face. “You had what for lunch?”

”A fish taco,” Pam repeated. Jim started laughing as he strolled passed a couple of cubicles and stepped over to the printer in the middle of the room.

“What?” Pam asked. “What is so funny?”

Jim just looked at her pointedly as she crossed the room to stand beside him while he waited for his papers to feed through the printer.

“Are you thinking dirty thoughts? What do you think a fish taco is?” Pam asked. Jim smirked and grabbed a blank piece of paper, pulling a pen from behind his ear and drawing a quick sketch. He handed it to Pam and she immediately made a face.

”Ew! You are so gross!”

”Yeah, well you’re the one who had one for lunch,” Jim laughed. He grabbed his stack of papers and Pam followed him back to his desk.

“I suddenly don’t know if you deserve this bottle of wine anymore. I’m leaving,” Pam said, holding back a smile as she walked past his desk and toward the door. She heard Jim frantically grabbing things at his desk.

”Wait, wait, wait,” he laughed, running up to catch with her and wrapping an arm around her shoulder as he tugged her toward the door.

Later that evening, Jim was on his knees in front of his TV and fumbling with cables to disconnect his video game console and put the recorded Bears game on from the night before. An empty wine bottle peeked out from the top of Jim’s trash can in the kitchen and a box of pizza devoid of everything except for the crust was opened on his recently purchased dining table. Empty wine glasses and paper plates were scattered across the table.

Pam brought the wine glasses over to the sink and flicked off the burning fluorescent lights before strolling into the living room. She picked something up from the coffee table and disappeared inside the bathroom. She emerged several minutes later and snuck up behind the couch. Jim was hunched over, leaning toward the sound of the roaring crowd and the voice of sportscasters, babbling something about Kyle Orton and playoff chances. He jumped back when the television suddenly went black.

”What the hell,” he muttered, his hands feeling across the couch for the remote.

”Oh, we’re not watching TV tonight,” Pam spoke up from behind him. He turned around and his eyes went wide when he saw what she was wearing. She was smiling and her cheeks were flushed, one hand clenching the remote and the other at her hip, her fingers digging into floral pink lace.

”No, we are definitely not,” Jim agreed, rising to his feet and walking around the couch. His hands immediately went to her hair, gently tugging at her long, soft curls, and his lips crashed into hers. His kisses were wet, urgent and sloppy as his hands fell on top of hers at her waist and he pushed her toward the bedroom.

Her pink “nightgown” eventually found its way to the floor and Pam let out a loud gasp, her fingers digging into the bare skin of Jim’s back as he rhythmically moved above her, his eyes hungry and dark and staring down into hers. He leaned down and licked a trail of sweat that traveled down her neck to the valley between her breasts and she stared down at the top of his head as she felt the first wave approaching, her screams growing louder as she clenched herself around him, hard. He glanced up and their eyes locked as they rode out the surge together. He frantically pushed into her, pressing her hips into the firmness of his mattress and soft cotton sheets.

Minutes later, Pam was straddling Jim’s back, naked under the sheets while she kneaded her hands into the tense muscles in his back and shoulders. His ipod illuminated the room with a soft glow on his night stand.

If ever there was a doubt
My love she leans into me
This most assuredly counts
She says most assuredly

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Jim asked. He had his chin rested on his hands that were folded on top of his pillow.

”Only all of the time, but it’s not like I ever get tired of hearing it,” Pam smiled.

“So where did you get this idea to turn into a naughty seductress who wears frilly lingerie and gives excellent massages? Are you reading your trashy romance novels again?”

”Oh yeah,” Pam lied. “I’ve started this new series about astronauts.”

Jim laughed. ”What’s it called? Fly Me to the Moon?”

“That’s the second book. The first is called The Uranus Experiment.”

”What?!”

“I know. I can’t put it down,” Pam giggled. “Hey, do you think tomorrow we could ride one of those fancy streetcars I keep seeing all over town? Ooh, and have breakfast at that one place that’s in a diner car.”

“Frank’s Diner? Of course.” Jim suddenly turned around so that she was now straddling his lower torso.

”So, uh, does this massage have a happy ending?” He asked, his hands falling to her hips.

”What do you think this is, a whorehouse?” Pam scoffed.

”Well, have you looked at yourself in the mirror?” Jim smirked as his eyes grazed over her and all of her naked glory. Pam gasped and playfully slapped him on the arm. “I’m kidding. I’m kidding, totally kidding,” he laughed, pulling her down and hugging his arms around her.

It's always have and never hold
You've begun to feel like home
What's mine is yours to leave or take
What's mine is yours to make your own

Before she knew it, her back was pressing into the stiff mattress again. His hands were warm and exploring everywhere, finding their way into her hair, sliding against her check, down her arms and smoothing across her navel before finding her center. She moaned as he smiled against her lips, his fingers prodding deeper and deeper and pushing her over the edge.

***

October turned into November and the days were getting even more blustery and cold. Pam was easily passing all of her classes, but was becoming quite bored with them. She was more than thrilled when spring registration kicked off and she signed up for her last five courses to finish out her degree, tossing in a couple of hands-on electives. One of them was an oil painting class; she just wanted to try and see if she could learn.

Her long-distance relationship with Jim was still frustrating at times. There were days when calls were missed and weekends where he couldn’t visit because of newspaper deadlines. Just like that Saturday afternoon, when Jim called Pam while taking a brief break from writing.

”What do you mean when you say you’re cooking?”

”When I say that I am cooking, I mean that I am cooking,” Pam said, pressing the phone against her ear with her shoulder as she grabbed a frying pan from the cabinet.

”Ok, but by cooking, you mean a bowl of cereal and milk, right?”

”Actually, I thought I’d try my hand at chicken marsala again.”

“Do you have a fire extinguisher on hand?”

”You’re not funny. Seriously- eventually, I am going to be somebody’s wife and I think it’s important that I learn how to cook so that my future husband doesn’t go hungry,” Pam said, carefully lighting the stove.

”If by future husband, you mean me, which I’m just going to assume that you do, I would tell you, no. This is a bad idea.”

”I promise I’m not going to set anything on fire. I think I did ok with your birthday cupcakes. Remember?”

”That’s because you had my assistance. You are home alone,” Jim said.

”Well you know what, future husband? You are not helping. You’re just making me even more nervous that I won't get this right.”

“You’re going to start a fire. Don’t do this.”

“I’m not going to start a fire!”

Ten minutes later, the phone was abandoned on the counter and Pam was frantically trying to push billowing clouds of smoke out of all the open windows. Karen walked in and fell into a coughing fit.

”Pam? What happened?” Karen was waving her hand in front of her face as she made her way toward the kitchen.

”I was trying to cook dinner,” Pam pouted, her hands at her sides as she stared down into the pan of burnt flour and fried butter.

“Aw, no luck huh?” Karen asked, peering down into the pan and scrunching her nose in disgust. “What is that?”

”Burnt,” Pam said. Karen nodded.

”Yes, I can see that,” she said. “Here, let’s clean this up. I’ll cook us some dinner.”

Karen brought the smoking pan over to the sink and flipped the water on as Pam’s cell phone buzzed on the counter. She angrily picked it up and answered it.

“I said shut up,” she spat into the phone, pressing the end call button and tossing it on the counter. Karen looked at her quizzically.

”It’s Jim. He keeps calling to say, ‘I told you so,’” Pam explained. Karen laughed just as a loud buzzing sounded from the hall.

”Is that the fire alarm?” Karen asked. Pam clenched her eyes shut.

”Dammit!”

Her phone buzzed again and she picked it up.

“Stop calling! I have to figure out how to stop the stupid fire alarm from going off,” Pam said. She heard Jim chuckle. “Shut up!” Pam said, laughter evident in her voice as she hung up and threw the phone down.

After Pam had evacuated her entire nine-story apartment building and thoroughly explained her situation to the building manager and Chicago police and fire department, she was finally able to sit down to an actual meal. Fried chicken, a la Karen.

“Mmm, this is really good,” Pam nodded her head in between mouthfuls. “How did you learn how to cook?”

“From my mom,” Karen said. They were sitting cross-legged across from each other on the couch with large plates of food in their laps. “She loves to cook.”

“Are you and your mom really close?” Pam asked.

“Of course we’re close. She’s my mom,” Karen said. “She’s pretty much taught me everything I know. Sewing, cooking, cleaning, flossing my teeth. That’s all her,” she laughed. Pam just nodded.

”She’s my best friend, really. I don’t know what I would do without her,” Karen shrugged. Pam smiled softly and let out a sigh. She couldn't help but feel somewhat jealous that Karen shared the type of relationship Pam always wished she could have with her own mother. Oh well.

Later that evening, Pam stood in Karen’s bedroom beside her desk while Karen showed her how to form a lockstitch on her sewing machine.

“I just need… Can you gab me some more thread? I think I have some in the top drawer over there,” Karen said over the loud, pounding noises of the sewing needle and nodded toward her bedside table.

”Sure,” Pam said. She hopped over and pulled open the top drawer.

”I don’t think there is any in here,” Pam called over her shoulder.

”Try the bottom drawer,” Karen said.

Pam slid the top drawer closed and tugged at the handle of the drawer underneath. Her eyes immediately went wide as they landed on something she didn’t expect to find, and she slammed the drawer shut, turning to look at Karen with a horrified look on her face.

”What?” Karen asked, bringing the sewing machine to a stop and standing up to cross the room. “Did you not find it?”

”What? No. I don’t know,” Pam spat out nervously, walking back over to her desk. Karen laughed when she saw what had caused Pam to freak out.

“Is this what you’re so ashamed about?” Karen asked, whipping the long plastic object out of the drawer. “Come on. It’s not like you don’t have one of your own.”

Pam glanced down at the carpet bashfully.

”What?!” Karen squealed. “You don’t have one?”

Pam forcefully shook her head.

“Well, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Every girl should have one,” Karen smiled, tossing it back into the drawer. “I can’t believe you don’t have one.”

Pam kept quiet, turning back toward the sewing machine and trying to get the blushing red circles to fade from her cheeks.

A couple of hours later, Pam emerged from the bathroom and heard Karen’s throaty laughter on the couch as she talked to her mom on the phone.

“I know right?” Karen was saying. “Oh God, I can’t believe you even watch that show.”

Pam snuck into her bedroom and shut the door, grabbing her phone off the bedside table and punching in a set of numbers. She pressed the phone to her ear and nervously sucked in a breath when she heard a familiar voice pick up.

”Hey, mom,” Pam said. “It’s Pam… I’m doing well. How is everything back home?”

The next morning, Pam stumbled into the kitchen in her pajamas and found a small pink gift box sitting on the kitchen counter. Karen was leaning against the fridge drinking a mug of tea, apparently headed out judging from her scarf and jacket, as her eyes followed Pam across the room.

”Who’s the gift for?” Pam asked.

”Why don’t you open it?” Karen suggested. Pam frowned and hesitantly lifted the lid off the box, immediately blushing and dropping the lid back down when she saw what was inside. Karen just laughed.

”Consider it an early Christmas gift,” Karen smiled, dumping her mug into the sink and grabbing her purse from the floor. Pam just shook her head shamefully as Karen crossed the room and opened the front door. She was immediately greeted by two tall and burly men dressed in moving uniforms.

”Oh,” Karen jumped to the side.

”I have a delivery for a Miss Pamela Beesly,” one of the guys announced, glancing down at his clipboard.

”More presents?” Pam glanced suspiciously at Karen.

”I promise I know nothing about this,” Karen laughed, turning back toward the door. “Yeah, come on in.”

The guys walked through the door and carried in a huge box spring.

“Holy God,” Pam said. “What is that?”

”I just need a signature,” the man said, dropping his end of the mattress to the floor and handing Pam the clipboard.

”Mattress King?” Pam read upon glancing at the logo on top of the order form. Her eyes traveled and scanned over the billing address, discovering that it was sent by one Mr. James M. Halpert.

”Hello?”

”Why are there two movers hauling my bed out of my bedroom?”

”Oh good, you got it.”

”You bought me a bed?” Pam asked, pressing the phone against her ear.

”Well, my parents helped pay for some of it. You’re always complaining about how much your back hurts and that you haven’t been sleeping well at night. And I figured you really needed a new bed,” Jim said.

”Wow,” Pam smiled in the doorway of her bedroom as she watched the movers drop the queen-sized mattress on top of the box spring. “I don’t even know what to say.”

”Just consider it an early Christmas gift,” Jim said.

”That is the second time someone has said that to me today,” Pam laughed, shaking her head.

”Why? Who else is buying you presents?”

Pam panicked. “Nobody. Nothing.”

”Well, take good care of it because I’m pretty sure we’ll be trying it out next weekend,” Jim said and Pam smiled.

She sprawled out on her new bed that evening, staring inside the small pink box at Karen’s gift. She placed the lid back on the box and shoved it under her bed, out of sight. There. That was better.

She fell down onto her pillows and pulled her comforter up to her chin, thoughtfully staring at the ceiling. She sighed and pushed the covers off, reaching down and pulling the box back out. She tossed the lid aside and pulled the gift out from its tissue paper. She flicked it on by the small switch on the back and it buzzed to life in her hand. She chuckled softly to herself and shook her head, reaching over for her phone and holding down speed dial number 2, giggling bashfully when Jim’s voice filled her ear.

***

The weekend before Thanksgiving arrived, and Pam was maneuvering around Jim’s kitchen. She could feel his eyes on her as he watched her warily from the couch. She had kicked him out of the kitchen a few minutes ago, having constantly doubted her abilities to operate a stove.

All of these moments just might fight their way into my dreams tonight
But I know that they'll be gone when the morning light sings
and brings new things...

“So, uh… What are you doing now?” Jim asked, peeking over the paperback book in his hands. Soft music emitted from a set of speakers on his TV stand.

”I’m turning on the stove,” Pam said, her eyes focused on the frying pan as it started to warm up. “And if you’re going to pretend to be reading, you could at least not hold the book upside down.”

She glanced over her shoulder and watched Jim eyes drop as he frowned at the book, slowly twisting it around.

“Do you need any help?” Jim asked. “Because I can help, you know. If you need it.”

”I thought I made myself clear when I kindly asked you to leave,” Pam said.

“Actually, what I think you said was, ‘Stop telling me what to do and get the fuck out.’”

“What? How rude! And no, I don’t need your help.”

“What are you making?”

”Potato pancakes,” Pam replied.

“I’m sorry. Potato pancakes?”

”Yes.”

”When did you learn how to make potato pancakes?”

”Karen taught me. She’s been teaching me how to cook,” Pam smiled over her shoulder.

“Really?”

“Yup,” Pam nodded. “And her family’s Jewish so she’s been showing me all of her mom’s recipes. I figured I would get in some practice so I could be of some use in the kitchen when we go to your parents for Thanksgiving breakfast.”

They had a discussion a couple of weeks ago where they decided to have Thanksgiving breakfast with his parents in Hyde Park, and dinner with her parents in Naperville.

“Shoot, that reminds me,” Pam thought out loud, holding a spatula up in the air. “Ok, remind me that I have to call my mother after dinner.”

Jim narrowed is eyebrows in confusion. ”What? When did that start?”

“Just a couple of weeks ago,” Pam shrugged. “I call her once or twice a week just to catch up and see how everyone is doing back home. Turns out she can be a really nice person over the phone. I think she’s slowly but surely coming around on the idea of me becoming an artist. She said she went to some exhibit at the MCA a couple of months ago that completely blew her mind.”

“Wow,” Jim said. “That’s awesome, Pam. But stop saying that you’re becoming an artist. You are an artist.”

Pam glanced over her shoulder and saw Jim focused back on his book, his eyes cast down behind his glasses. She softly smiled and turned back around to resume her cooking.

But all of these dreams might find their way into my day to day scene
I'll be under the impression I was somewhere in between
with only two, just me and you, not many things we got to do,
or places we got to be, we'll sit underneath the mango tree

An hour later, Jim and Pam were bringing their empty plates back into the kitchen to load them into the dishwasher.

“Well, I have to hand it to you Pam. That was a very delicious dinner,” Jim smiled, taking her plate from her hands.

”Thank you,” Pam gracefully bowed, pulling open the refrigerator to place the jar of jam back inside the door. When she closed the door, her eyes immediately gravitated towards something dark and crawling up the bare wall beside her.

”AH!” She shrieked and ran out of the kitchen, ducking behind the bar as Jim watched her with a puzzled look on his face.

”What?” He asked, turning to see what was causing her to cower in fear. “Ah!” He immediately jumped back and ran around the counter beside her.

”What the hell is that?”

”I think it’s a cockroach,” Pam said.

”No way are roaches that big.”

”Go back in there, you have to kill it,” Pam insisted, pushing him back towards the entryway.

”No, no way.”

”Yes!”

”Did you see the size of that thing? It could eat me alive.”

”Just go in there and kill it, please? Before it crawls under one of the counters and starts making tiny little roach babies,” Pam said, shuddering as she scratched and clawed at her arms and back. “I feel like it’s crawling on me.”

“Alright, fine,” Jim sighed, walking a brief distance across the room to grab one of his shoes by the door. He stopped back in front of Pam. “But if I die-“

”Oh my God, stop being such a baby,” Pam rolled her eyes.

”Ok then, here. You go kill it,” Jim said, handing her the shoe.

”Ew, no. No way, you’re the big strong man of the house. You do it,” Pam said, pushing him back toward the kitchen. Jim slowly made his way around the counter with Pam impatiently shoving him from behind.

”Stop. Would you stop?” Jim turned to glare at her. He made his way into the kitchen, his eyes scanning the room. “Where did it go?”

“What do you mean where did it go?” Pam asked, peeking over the counter.

”I mean, where did it go? It’s not there anymore,” Jim said, looking around the floor.

”Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, it’s on me. I can feel it, it’s on me,” Pam started clawing at herself again. She cautiously walked around and stood behind him, peering around his back to see if she could spot it. Something black suddenly scurried from under the refrigerator.

“Ah!” Both Jim and Pam screamed and jumped back as the giant roach darted across the vinyl floor. Pam ran back out of the room and closed her eyes. She heard the sound of a shoe slamming against the floor followed by a loud cracking sound.

“Ew. Ew, ew, ew. Yuck, yuck, yuck, yuck. Yikes, yikes, yikes, yikes,” Pam chanted as she shakily jumped up and down on her toes. She peeked through the fingers covering her eyes and watched Jim lean over to pick up the squished insect with a paper towel. “Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew.”

”Stop doing that. It’s dead,” Jim said, flipping on the water at the sink to wash his hands.

“You have to take the trash out,” Pam insisted, shaking her head.

”What? It’s not even full.”

”I cannot sleep in this apartment, knowing that there is a dead roach sitting in your trash can that’s probably only pretending to be dead because there’s no way just one hit could kill something with a shell that thick,” Pam said. “And even if it is dead, its soul will come back to haunt our dreams, and then it’ll sneak into the bedroom when we’re sleeping-“

”Ok, ok, I’m taking the trash out,” Jim sighed, walking over to the small bucket. “Ah!”

”What?” Pam asked.

”It’s legs are still moving,” Jim said, peering down at it.

”Ew! Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew.”

Jim walked over to her and tugged on her arm. “Here, come look at it.”

”Noooo! No, no, no, no,” she protested, pulling back on his shirt sleeve.

Later that evening, Jim and Pam were laying in bed, propped up by pillows. Jim was filling out a crossword puzzle as Pam put her sewing skills to the test as she hummed along to the music filling the room.

Gray, quiet and tired and mean
Picking at a worried seam...

I'm taking by a nursery rhyme
I want to make a ray of sunshine and never leave home

”Aha! I did it! Look.” Pam showed Jim her work and raised her hands in a mini victory dance. “I told you I could do it! And you didn’t believe me.”

“I didn’t say that I didn’t believe you could sew. And you didn’t have to rip off the buttons of my favorite work shirt just to prove a point.”

“I saw the doubt in your eyes. I had to get your attention somehow,” Pam said. “And see. Your shirt is as good as new.”

“Very nice work,” Jim smiled, turning back to his crossword. Pam took one last glance at her proud achievement before tossing his shirt toward the bottom of the bed and grabbing her sketchbook and pencils from the nightstand.

“So all of this cooking and sewing,” Jim started. “Are you training to become a 1950’s housewife?”

“No,” Pam frowned. “I’m training to be a good wife, period. And a good mother. It’s important to me that I know these things.”

Jim just nodded. “Ok,” he smiled.

“Speaking of which, you have to remind me to get my money back from Tom on Thanksgiving,” Pam said.

“What money?”

”From the bet remember?”

Pam flipped her sketchbook open to a blank page while Jim frowned beside her.

”Sorry, I thought you said that you bet that I would,” Jim said. “And that the bet was over because nobody bet against me.”

”I just made you believe that I bet that you would,” Pam smiled. “I bet that you wouldn’t.”

Jim raised his eyebrows in shock. ”You bet against me?”

“Well, I knew that six months from May would be November and that would be too soon,” Pam explained. “I’m still in school, and we weren’t sure that you were going to find a decent job. And I knew you would realize that, and that you would want to wait until things were a little more settled.”

Jim just stared at her.

”Besides, that bet was made like the second week of May. It’s the end of November and you haven’t proposed,” Pam smiled. “Not saying that it’s a bad thing, because I’m glad we’re being smart and that we’re waiting until the time is right. At least… I think that’s… where we are…”

Pam glanced hesitantly at the emotionless expression on Jim’s face.

”You know what, never mind. I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Pam muttered bashfully, glancing down at her sketchbook and nervously fumbling around for a pencil.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Jim said, glancing down and penciling in an answer on his crossword. Pam glanced over at him.

”What?”

”That you bet against me,” Jim said casually, scraping his pencil across the paper to mark another clue off the list. “Because if that’s the case, and I hate to break it to you, but… you didn’t win the bet.”

“What do you mean?” Pam asked.

”Well if I remember correctly, I believe the original bet was that I would buy a ring within six months. Not necessarily propose,” Jim said.

Pam’s cheeks went warm and her lips automatically curled into a huge grin as she just stared at him. He was still nonchalantly staring down at his crossword puzzle, his face expressionless.

”You bought a ring?” Pam asked. He ignored her, bringing his pencil back down. The sound of his pencil scratching against the folded sheet of newspaper in his hands seemed to echo throughout the room as he remained blissfully silent. She shyly bit her bottom lip and turned back to her sketchbook, trying to contain her smile.

“Got it with my first paycheck,” Jim said quietly, swiftly crossing off another clue.

She glanced up at him out of the corner of her eyes and saw a small smirk pass over his face and disappear. She blushed and averted her eyes back down to the blank page in front of her, smiling as she slowly brought her pencil down to paper.