Cocoa and S'mores

He would never forget the picture. Pam sat across from him, her back to the window. Her puffy white coat was scrunched up next to her on the booth’s seat, and she nervously toyed with the edge of her scarf, still wrapped lightly around her neck. The scarf and her hair glistened where snowflakes were rapidly melting in the café’s cozy warmth, and her cheeks were almost the same shade of pink as her fuzzy cardigan. The snow falling outside the window behind her emphasized her color and her stillness, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

She had talked non-stop in her car on the way here, her eyes carefully on the snowy roads. Her words were about Michael and Dwight and laundry and fabric softener (she remembered that?), and his silence and his laughter were about patience and suffering and anticipation and hope. Now, though, they were in the small restaurant (new since he’d moved), and she was sitting across from him. With no road to keep her eyes on, her words seemed to have left her, and now he wondered what her silence meant.

“What’s good here?” he asked.

She opened the menu in front of her, distracting her eyes and loosening her tongue again. “Everything. The bean and ham soup. I think that’s what I’m getting. They serve homemade soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Not as good as your grilled cheese, of course.” She remembered that? “All their sandwiches are good- I like the cheesesteak and the patty melt here, too. Oh, they have hot ham and cheese. Or don’t you like ham and cheese anymore? They have tuna melts, too.” She grinned, and he smiled.

The waitress came. He ordered hot ham and cheese and Pam ordered soup and grilled cheese. “And what to drink?” the waitress asked.

“Cocoa. With marshmallows.” Pam looked at him out of the corner of her eye as she ordered, gauging his reaction. As though he would tease her for being adorable.

“Make it two,” he said, and he hoped it would come soon because his mouth went dry when she smiled. The menus were folded, and the silence returned. He knew it wouldn’t last, though. She had invited him with a purpose, he knew her well enough to know that. He saw the deep breath she took before she spoke again, and felt something in his stomach that had nothing to do with hunger.

“I’m glad you came out. I thought you might want to get away from the office for a while,” she said. She was looking him right in the eye. “Are you OK?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said simply. “I feel bad about everything, but it wasn’t going to work out.”

Pam nodded, too. “I’m sorry she’s leaving. I like her.” Pam’s hand moved back up to fiddle with her scarf. “Do you want to talk about it?”

The snow was falling harder now, and he empathized with the dizzying whiteness behind her head. She wanted to talk about it? She was trying to cheer him up? That’s what lunch was about, really? He’d misunderstood- no, misinterpreted- again. He looked down at the table and shook his head.

“Oh. Because I do.” Her voice was quiet but firm and he lifted his eyes in confusion. The pink in her cheeks was staining her entire face now. “I need to know why you broke it off with her. I need to know it had anything to do with me. I need to know if you really still have feelings for me because I love you.” The words came all in one breath. He knew the feeling- it was what he’d felt when he’d confessed his feelings - as though he had thrown himself out of an airplane when he opened his mouth and the words were his freefall. Her eyes held his, and he knew she was waiting to see if the chute would open.

He tilted his head and contracted his eyebrows. He made this “what just happened?” face at the cameras so often now that it was second nature, but there were no cameras here. “You love me?” He heard the strain in his voice, the plea for her not to hurt him again, and he wondered if she heard it, too.

She had heard it; he could tell by the wave of guilt that washed over her features as she nodded. “Yeah.”

“Two hot chocolates…with extra marshmallows!” The waitress slid the large mugs onto the table with a deft hand and disappeared as suddenly as she’d arrived. They both stared at the steaming drinks covered with snow-white puffs of sugar for a moment before lifting their eyes back to one another.

“I had no idea you loved m…arshmallows.” Jim said softly, with the beginnings of a smile.

“I do. I love marshmallows. I didn’t know how much until I couldn’t have them, but seeing someone else with all of the marshmallows was killing me. How could I make cocoa or s’mores?” Pam’s smile was radiant.

“Pam, if you want s’mores, all you have to do is ask.”

“Please, sir, I want s’more…s.”

Jim couldn’t hold the laughter in as he leaned across the table and finally kissed her. She tasted like marshmallows- like sugar and snow.