Dear Tomorrow,

You've been shining so brightly,

I'll be holding on tightly,

To the words that you said

If he really thought about it, Jim should currently be hating his new job. Selling paper with an insane boss and a strange desk-mate sounded like his worst nightmare. As a kid, he wanted to be an astronaut. In high school and the beginning of college, he wanted to be a player in the NBA (specifically playing for the Sixers). His parents eventually convinced him to get a degree in business with a minor in sports management. Dunder Mifflin was the only company to call him back after a couple months of job searching, so when Michael offered him the job on the spot, he accepted. He walked out of the building that day telling himself this wasn’t a career; it was an opportunity to gain experience until something better came along. He would keep an eye out for better jobs, but until then, he would put up with the guy who made three Jim Carey impressions within the first ten minutes of the interview.

But now he is walking through his front door with an idiot smile on his face and looking for new jobs is the last thing on his mind.

He got to work a couple minutes early this morning, grabbing his messenger bag from the front seat and slinging it over his shoulder. He had his usual first day of work jitters but tried to push them down as he entered the elevator and went to the third floor. When he walked through the office doors, the butterflies in his stomach fluttered harder, but this time for an entirely different reason. The girl at reception wasn’t the same girl that was there during his interview. This one had curly, auburn hair, bright green eyes, and after he introduced himself, he found that she had the cutest smile.

And as if that wasn’t enough, before he could even find out her name, she says, “Enjoy this moment, because you're never going to back to this time before you met your desk-mate, Dwight.” The lilt of her voice, the way she snuck glances over at the middle-parted haired, glasses wearing man he could only assume to be the Dwight she was talking about, and the quiet giggle she gave to his raised eyebrows had him convinced that he was already in love.  

Throughout the rest of the day, Michael wouldn’t stop ruffling his hair, Dwight got on his last nerve about six times, and the redhead on the other side of the bullpen, Miriam? No, Meredith, made at least ten crude remarks to him by the time five o’clock rolled around. But Pam kept meeting his gaze with either a sympathetic look or an exaggerated eye roll anytime he swiveled his chair over to look at her, every annoyance instantly forgotten the moment he saw her lips curve upwards. When she accepted his offer to walk out with her, it took all he had to hold back from sliding his hand into hers.

 The thought came to him on his way home. Ever since he was little, his mom told him that a handwritten letter was one of the most meaningful things you could ever give someone. He didn’t buy a card from a store until he was a sophomore in college, his mom always insisting he make one himself and then eventually he actually preferred creating his own versus letting someone else speak for him. He certainly knew that nothing Hallmark had ever sold could express how he already felt towards Pam.

He made his way up to his room and sat at his desk, the words flowing as soon as his pen hit paper.

Pam,

You were a saving grace today. I almost left for lunch and didn’t come back; I’m pretty sure Dwight was hoping I would do the same. You couldn’t have been more right when you said I’d never be able to go back to a time before I met him, even though I wish I could.

I came back because I’m pretty sure you and I are the only sane ones in this office, and I would hate it if they started to rub off on you. But I also came back just because of you. Your smile, your laugh, your jokes. The way you immediately played along with my prank on Dwight today. Because I saw you had made a note to get more jellybeans after I emptied your stash, even though you said no one else eats them.

Most importantly, I came back because I want to get to know you. What you like, what you don’t like. I want to know your favorite color and your biggest fear; what your parents’ names are and your favorite vacation spot. Anything you are willing to share, I want to know. Because I think you’re incredible, even though I’ve only known you for eight hours at this point.

Thanks for taking me in today, making sure I didn’t get swept into the tsunami that is Michael Scott. How that man became a manager is beyond me.

Yours Truly,

Jim

P.S. I’m planning a Jell-O prank for Dwight next week. You in?

He folded it up and stuck it in an old envelope he found at the bottom of his drawer, scribbling her name across the front. He put it in the inside pocket of his messenger bag; he would give it to her on Friday before asking her out to dinner that evening. His heart raced with the thought of seeing her outside of work, of being able to find out all the little details about her, of kissing her goodnight on her front porch.

During lunch on Thursday, he found out she was engaged. The letter was thrown out once he got home.

Dear My Someday

I'll keep writing you nightly,

And keep holding on tightly,

To the words that you said

He thinks he should be more angry. And, sure, he is a little frustrated, but he’s mostly just sad.

She told him she was still going to marry Roy. He poured his heart out to her, kissed her, tried to show her just how he felt about her, but she still turned him down. He moved three hours away because he couldn’t bear the thought of seeing her walk down the aisle to someone who wasn’t him. But then she called off the wedding and he couldn’t help but get his hopes up. Every day he waited for his phone to ring, for a text to come, for an IM to pop up, anything from her that would tell him that she changed her mind because of him; for him.

But every day, nothing came. He had found out from Kevin that the wedding was off, then from Toby that she moved into an apartment across town, and then today he found out from Michael that she’s dating again. He thought moving away, starting over, not having to see her, would help him move on. Instead, every day that he doesn’t hear her voice chips at his heart a little more. When he finds out about that she’s signing up for art classes, or how she’s standing up for herself more, or really anything that has to do with her, he’s so proud. He always knew he had it in her. Knew that she always wanted this for herself, but never knew how to get it. But now that she’s free, she’s going after it.

But he’s also heartbroken that he can’t be right there next to her to cheer her on. He has to find these things out second hand, because he won’t reach out to her, he won’t allow himself to. He has to hope that when he catches up with Kevin or Toby or sometimes Oscar, that they’ll bring her up. That they will know exactly what he wants to ask without saying a word and answer it for him. He won’t allow himself to reach out, but he can’t seem to stop himself from still wanting to know everything about her.

After two cosmos, a shot of tequila, and telling Michael the truth about why he left Scranton, all of which he is starting to regret, he sits on his bed with his face in his hands. He almost wishes he was still in Scranton. That tomorrow he would go back to the office and tell her about everything. Watch her eyes light up as he told her about Michael’s party and her jaw drop when he tells her that Dwight got a hooker. He almost slipped to the cameras that he wanted to call her then but caught himself in time, saying he’s not sure who to call. But he wants to call her.

He rubs his face before dropping his hands into his lap. He starts to unbutton his shirt to get ready for bed when the hotel notepad on his nightstand catches his eye. Maybe it’s because he knows he isn’t actually going back to Scranton; he won’t be able to hear her giggle or theorize with her over who Dwight could have hired. Maybe it’s the fact that he found out that she’s dating again and it’s not with him. Maybe it’s just the drinks catching up with him. Whatever it was, he grabs the notepad and sits down at the too-small table in his room.

Pam,

I’m writing this because I know you’ll never read this. Whether it’s thrown away, burned, shredded, whatever, this letter will never see the light of day once I’m done. But I needed to get this out.  

I hate that you are dating again. I think I would almost rather you have married Roy than to find out that you’re going out with someone that isn’t me. And maybe that sounds egotistical or selfish, but I don’t care. I laid my heart out for you. I gave you everything I had, and you turned me away. Twice. And I get it; I do. You were engaged and you loved Roy. I couldn’t stick around to watch you marry him, but I understood.

But then you called it all off and I had to find out from Kevin. I didn’t even get an e-mail from you. I guess I really did misinterpret our friendship because I thought I would have at least deserved that much.

Because I used to be the person you told everything to. You told me about the internship Jan offered and how your sister got accepted into college. You told me why you like mixed berry over vanilla and how you get carsick, but only if you read while in the car. You told me everything and I thought it was because you knew. Deep down, I think you had always known how I feel about you and letting me see these glimpses of you that only a few others got to see made me believe that maybe you felt the same way. I guess not.

I think what I hate the most, though, is that I still love you. Even three states, 150 miles, three hours away from everything that you are, I still see you everywhere. I see you making impressions when I walk past the Rite Aid on the corner. I see you behind the counter of the local coffee shop because the barista has the same auburn, curly hair that you do. I see you in the dairy section picking out yogurt and in the laundry aisle restocking on fabric softener.

I thought moving would help. I thought I would be able to get over you more easily. But every time I see something that reminds me of you, it also reminds me that I’m not in Scranton anymore. I’m no longer across town or five feet away from your desk. It breaks me a little more each time.

But you are moving on, so I guess I will too. I’m not sure how, but I will, one day. I’m so proud of you for everything you are doing, I’m just sorry that you felt you couldn’t do it with me.  

Yours Truly,

Jim

He’s not sure how to feel as he reads over his letter. His heart is heavy, but for the first time since May, tears aren’t stinging his eyes as thoughts of Pam overcrowd his brain.

As he crumples the letter and tosses it to the side, he wonders if this is a sign that he really can move on. The tears come when he thinks he doesn’t want to.

Dear My Never,

This is my half-hearted goodbye,

The other half wants to still try,

Remembering words that you said

He finally gets up after Karen curses under her breath as he tosses in bed for the fifth time, trying to will his mind to shut down so he can sleep. She mumbles something he can’t understand after he tells her he will be down in the lobby, but he feels it isn’t worth asking her to repeat herself. They both have a big day tomorrow, at least one of them should get some rest.

He could blame his late-night jitters on the corporate interview he has tomorrow. No one would blame him. A big promotion in an even bigger city, going up against his girlfriend, leaving everything he knows behind for the second time in one year. But even if he tried to blame it on the interview, he knows that’s only a small part of why he can’t sleep.

There's one too many people in Scranton.

To say that Pam hadn’t crossed his mind before Karen had made her comment would have been a lie. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was just him running away again. If New York was just Stamford 2.0 and this was another lame attempt to get over Pam. His mind had been going in circles since she gave her speech at the beach. He had hoped that was her own casino night confession, but by the time they pulled back into the Dunder Mifflin parking lot, he had analyzed every word she had said at least three times. The words “best friend” and “having fun” loomed over him, even as he tried to focus more on “called off my wedding because of you” and “I miss you” and “I didn’t care until I met you.” He couldn’t risk misinterpreting anything again.

He drops into one of the seats in the lobby, leaning back and closing his eyes.

He likes Karen. She’s good for him; pushes him to do bigger and better things, calls him out on his bullcrap, wants what’s best for him, even if he doesn’t always know what that is. She likes him too, and he had to admit that it was nice to feel wanted for once. Well, wanted for more than just a best friend.

He shakes his head and opens his eyes, stopping his train of thought. Although that night in May still hurts him more than he would like to admit, he has come to realize he wasn’t entirely fair to Pam either. He won’t fool himself into thinking she couldn’t have had any idea, but he knows she wasn’t expecting to receive his whole heart that night and have to make a decision on what to do with it. He has wondered countless times if he had gone about it differently somehow, if she would have changed her mind. If she would have accepted everything he had given her, if she would have let him kiss her again. But the reality was that she didn’t. She chose Roy, turned him away. She called off the wedding, never told him. She grew as a person, grew into who she had always wanted to be, who he always knew she could be, without him and he had to just watch from the sidelines. And now he’s possibly moving to New York with his girlfriend, finishing the chapter in the book that was Jim and Pam.

As he stares across the lobby, watching the front desk attendants yawn as the hours grow later, he wonders if their story deserves one more page. After getting a piece of paper and a pen from the front desk and a Gatorade from the vending machine, he grabs a magazine off of the coffee table in front of him so he can write on his lap.

Pam,

I am currently sitting in a hotel lobby in New York, less than twelve hours away from an interview that could change my life. For better or for worse, I’m not entirely sure yet. The raise would be nice, the experience would be great, but I’m only diving deeper into the world of selling paper, which I never wanted to do. But maybe this is my chance to become my own version of Fancy New Beesly. To grow and become stronger and accomplish things I may have thought were impossible. Turns out I didn’t evolve as much as I had hoped I did while I was in Stamford.

And maybe New York will be no different. Maybe I’ll find a new Dwight (who are we kidding, no one could ever replace Dwight), maybe I’ll still drink grape sodas, maybe I won’t ever be able to fully stop the pranks, but I have to try. Because if I don’t, then I’ll be stuck as a paper salesman with no future. So, I’m letting go. I’m letting go of my job, of Scranton, of you. Everything that I’ve held onto for the past eight years, believing with blind hope that one day I could have it all. Or, even if I couldn’t have it all, I could at least have you.

But I guess it’s too late now. You’ve moved on, I’ve been trying to, and I’m hopefully about to take the next step towards where I need to be. I never told you this, but I am so happy that you have taken charge of your life. I always knew you could, and I think deep down you knew you could too. Above everything else, I have always just wanted you to be happy, so I hope you are. I hope you find the person who is everything that you were to me, and you never settle for anything less. You deserve the world, and I know you’ll get that for yourself.

I don’t know if you will ever read this. Maybe I’ll give it to you one day, maybe it will sit in a drawer for years until I get rid of it, I haven’t decided yet. But whether or not you ever read this, I hope you know how much you have meant to me. I guess we just never got the timing right.

Yours Truly,

Jim

He stuffs the letter into the bottom of his bag after getting back into his room, the decision to give it to Pam or not to be made another day. He slips into bed and wraps his arm around Karen, but she moves away from him, so he turns to face the other way. As he falls asleep, he can’t shake the feeling of someone else, in a periwinkle dress and hair pulled up, wrapped in his arms.

Dear Tomorrow,

I still know that you might leave,

I keep holding on tightly,

To the words that you said

Jim runs his hand across Pam’s bump as he watches the small smile fade from her lips and feels her breathing even out. They’ve been in Puerto Rico for three nights now, and he still hasn’t gotten over the fact that they’re here. They’re here because he came back from New York, because she said yes to dinner. Because they both moved past their stupid mistakes that had caused them to wait so long for each other. They’re here because she said yes again when he got down on one knee and then “I do,” twice.

And now she’s laying with him in bed, her soft snores almost in sync with the waves crashing onto the shore outside their room. He thumbs the two rings on her left hand, the physical reminder of the promises they made to each other a few days ago. Promises he was determined to keep, unable to even process the thought of one day not waking up next to her.

As he watches her chest slowly rise and fall, her eyelashes flutter as she dreams, her lips twitch into a small smile every now and then, he takes another mental picture. He had seen her sleeping hundreds of times by now, but he’s not sure if he will ever get tired of it.

He adjusts in order to try to sleep, but as he turns more towards her, he spots the notebook on her end table. She had bought it in the airport, determined that she was going to journal everything while they were gone so she wouldn’t forget anything. He’s pretty sure she’s only written in it once, having seen it sitting in the same spot for the past two days. He glances down at Pam before looking at the notebook again, carefully reaching over her to grab it. He flips through the first couple of pages, she had written more that he thought she had, before finding the first blank page and grabbed a pen from his nightstand.

Pam,

Did you know that you snore when you sleep? Not loudly, and not every night, but you do. It’s one of my favorite things about you, along with that smile you do with your tongue between your teeth and how you insist on sleeping on the side of the bed furthest away from the door so that way in case a murderer comes in, you have a better chance of surviving (I still don’t see the logic with that one). But you are snoring tonight, you didn’t manage to get all of your makeup off so what’s left is a little smudged, your hair is getting frizzier the longer we stay in this humidity, and yet I look over at you and you’re gorgeous. I don’t want anyone else’s arms wrapped around me, even if your hands are freezing despite the island heat.

I know we have talked about this and have moved past it, but there are still days where I look at you and can’t believe we’re finally here. We made so many mistakes, held back so much, kept missing each other, and yet I am now able to (finally) call you my wife. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.

I know this entry won’t help you remember what we did on our honeymoon. It’s not about snorkeling or swimming or fancy dinners. But hopefully it will serve as a reminder of how much I love you, today and forever.

Yours Truly,

Jim

He wakes up the next morning to her lips on his and her legs straddling his waist. His hands instinctively hold onto her waist, pulling her closer. When he cups her cheek, he pulls away, realizing her face is wet. She looks at him with tears in her eyes, a few having fallen down her cheeks, and he wipes them away with his thumb as his eyebrows knit together.

“What’s going on?”

She shakes her head a little, “Nothing. I just love you.” She leans down and pecks his lips, “And I don’t snore.”

He glances down and sees the notebook is tossed to the side, but he can still see his handwriting scribbled on the page. He looks back up at her and smiles before flipping them around so he’s hovering over her.

“I hate to break it to you, Beesly, but you do.”

She rolls her eyes and smirks, whispering, “It’s Halpert now,” before running her fingers through his hair and pulling him back down to her.

So maybe for once we can settle the score,

'Cause the road to my home leads me straight to your door,

Through all of these years I've never been anything more,

Than Yours Truly

I’m afraid I’m not enough for you.

Pam’s words have been all Jim could think about since this morning. The look on her face, how her voice broke, everything about their conversation in the parking lot killed him. He hated seeing her upset and hated it even more when he was the cause behind it. He thought they were getting better, and they are, but it seems like he still can’t stop hurting her. He tried to tell her then that she couldn’t be more wrong. That he wanted to be here, wanted to be with her, with their children. That this was all he ever wanted and that this was more than enough for him. She nodded along but he could tell she thought he was just saying what she wanted to hear, so he eventually just let her lead him back inside.

There have only been a few times that he has been grateful for the cameras. He usually views them as more so an invasion of privacy, another hinderance he has to deal with almost every day, but sometimes, like today, they come in handy. He’s glad that the crew has always seemed to have a soft spot for him and Pam, so they had happily agreed to put together the DVD for him in order to try to show Pam just how much she has always meant to him. While they edited the video, he faked a sales call and ran home, digging through his drawers until he found the Christmas card he had written years ago, Pam’s name now starting to fade across the front of it.

He had wanted to be there with her as she watched the video. He had requested for the clip of her exploring the teapot to be last, but he wasn’t sure what else the crew had included. But since Dwight had called him into his office, Jim was only able to catch the very end, walking up behind Pam as his younger self stuffed the card into his back pocket. She saw him standing behind her through the reflection of the screen and turned to look at him, wiping a tear from her face.

“You watched it.”

“Yeah.”

He takes the card out of his pocket and holds it out, “Well, then I guess you’re ready for this.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s from the teapot. Everything you’ll ever need to know is in that note.”

She gently takes the card from him and takes it out of the envelope, studying the front for a second before opening it.

Pam,

Merry Christmas! After seven years, I finally got you for Secret Santa. I’ve lost track of how many times you’ve told me that you wish you could make tea at your desk, so hopefully this present will help you with that. The bonus gifts inside of it are to hopefully just make you smile. Your smile might be my favorite thing about you.

But there’s so much more about you that I like too. Your laugh, how you always help me with my pranks for Dwight, how kind and thoughtful you are even when someone might not deserve it. How patient you are with Michael, the way you get so excited when you beat your time on FreeCell, your doodles that you think are silly, but I think are amazing. Your hair, your eyes, honestly, I like everything about you.

Hopefully this new year will bring fresh starts, opened eyes, and new beginnings with it.

Yours Truly,

Jim

She looks up at him with tears in her eyes, holding the card close to her chest. “Not enough for me? You are everything.”

Her whispered “Thank you” as she wraps her arms around his neck and they hold each other as close as they can only solidifies the fact that she has always been everything he has ever wanted. And even if she didn’t always know it, he had always been hers. Every choice he has made has only lead him to her and he can’t believe he almost veered off that road. As she pulls back just enough to kiss him, he can only hope that he’ll be enough for her.