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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Possibly spoiler-y if you haven't seen Cocktails.

 

 FRIDAY.

Pam goes to a movie after work, the 8:25 showing of Stranger Than Fiction that's still playing at the cheap theater. She buys a small popcorn and a diet Coke, and sits in anticipation as the lights dim before the trailers roll (this is what going to a movie feels like) and she can hear the crinkling of plastic from people's candy boxes, and crunching of popcorn. This is different than going to the movies with Roy. Sometimes they'd compromise on what they saw though they very rarely went to see something only she wanted to. When they would, Roy would smirk and shift his weight in his seat during the romantic scenes.

Pam decided she liked Will Ferrell better in this one, this dramatic role, though she had liked Anchorman when she went to see it one Tuesday night that September with Roy after work. Jim had gone to see it later that week with Mark and his girlfriend after Pam mentioned how funny it was. They had laughed together later at Paul Rudd's line, "Sixty percent of the time, it works every time."


SATURDAY.

Pam wakes up around 9:15 and takes a shower. She's taken to leaving the bathroom door open while she showers. It makes her feel somewhat reckless and... something she can't quite place. More free? Maybe. When she gets out, she sits on the edge of the bed and towel-dries her hair, listening to the pressure against her ears of her apartment breathing quietly around her. She foregoes blowdrying for now and just puts the towel turban-like around her head.

* * *

She cracks two eggs into the bowl as the music filters around her small kitchen from the stereo on the counter. The song, Boston by Augustana comes on. She sings quietly to the part that reminds her of herself:

I think I'll start a new life, I think I'll start it over,
no one knows my name.
I'll get out of California, I'm tired of the weather
I think I'll get a lover, I'll fly 'em out to Spain

though she had never even been to California, but sometimes imagined living somewhere exotic like Spain, where the warm smells and mysterious language might creep through to her bones, making her feel new and alive.

* * *

She pulls on the grass green t-shirt and the old comfortable pair of jeans, grabs her purse and heads out the door. Pam's on her way to Home Depot to buy some caulk. She noticed the base of the kitchen faucet leaking this morning as she washed her breakfast dishes. Strolling through the plumbing aisle, she found the tube of almond-colored caulk and read the back label. This looked like the stuff she needed. At checkout, she paid for the caulk, as well as a bag of Skittles, which she tucked into the outside pouch of her purse. On her way to the car, she notices the Target next door. It had been warmer than usual for late in April and it made her think about swimming. The automatic doors opened with a whoosh and she breathed in the smell of stale popcorn from the food court area. The racks of bathing suits were jammed full of bright colors and daring new styles, as well as a few high school girls snapping their gum the way that they do, talking loudly to each other. Pam grazed her fingers over the slick fabrics and picked out a few suits and carried them to the fitting rooms.

Inside, she undressed and tried on her selections. The first was a brown one-piece with a heart-shaped neckline. It made her feel safe. She took it off. The next two were also one-pieces, though the second one of them was detailed with some tiny rhinestones scattered across the bust of the teal suit. Not quite. The last suit was a two-piece, with bottoms that tied at the hips and a halter style top. The material was smooth and bright, horizontally striped in bright pink and orange. It almost made her feel embarrassed, which she figured was a good thing.

After she chose her suit, Pam walked through the aisles and found herself in the home section, looking at a simple wooden one-level rectangular shelf. She picked up the box that contained the shelf and the various parts that would make it complete, and carried it along with her suit to checkout.

* * *

Pam returned home and set her purchases on the kitchen counter, then went downstairs to borrow a cordless drill from Alan, the married retiree who reminded her of her father (they had the same crinkly-eyed smile). Once again upstairs in her apartment, she opened the box for the shelf and pulled out the little plastic bag with various screws and support pieces and the instruction pamphlet and got to work. It was empowering, putting together this little shelf above her nightstand. She thought about Roy putting together an entertainment unit a few years ago, quietly cursing to himself. He never read the directions.

* * *

Jim came over later that evening, giving her a kiss and a long hug after she opened the door for him, smiling. The sauce was bubbling on the stove and she had just drained the pasta when he rang the doorbell. He followed her into the kitchen, running his fingers across her neck and then replacing them with his lips, distracting her as she put the garlic bread into the oven. The sensation of his mouth traveling over her neck made her think of the previous Wednesday night in his bedroom when he had done the same thing. They had collapsed together on his bed, his hands exploring under her shirt, almost clumsily, and she felt like she was seventeen again, with Roy in his bedroom, hoping his mom wouldn't walk in. To her surprise, they still hadn't actually slept together yet. It had been a few weeks since she and Jim had actually started dating, and he said he really wanted to but didn't want to rush things, wanted it to be perfect.

The oven timer beeped and she took out the bread while he opened the fridge and poured them each a glass of wine. They ate at the bar in the kitchen, their knees touching as they ate, smiling every now and then and laughing about how earlier in the week, they had convinced Dwight that Michael was hosting a surprise birthday party for Kelly during their afternoon meeting and that he should bring something, causing Dwight to show up in the conference room with three mylar balloons and party hats for everyone.

After dinner, they washed the dishes together (he had said she did a good job caulking the leaky faucet) and played a game of Trivial Pursuit, which Jim won, but barely. They found themselves in her bedroom, she was showing him her newly-assembled shelf where she had lined up various knicknacks that she received when her grandmother died.
"Uh oh, Fancy New Beesly strikes again", he said, smiling at the pride she felt in doing something that made her feel singular and useful.

* * *

They had said goodnight two hours later as she walked him to his car. They hadn't made love, not yet. But she was content enough for now just lying with him, making out like kids, and with each kiss, him rewriting her past, erasing over all the times when Roy got drunk at his friend's parties in high school, causing her to be the one to drive them home even though she still couldn't operate the stick shift in Roy's car very well; erasing the time that he failed to notice when Pam had cut her hair short their junior year because Roy had mentioned to his brother how hot he thought Drew Barrymore looked with her short hair in Mad Love. She was content in letting things just be for a while. It was enough, for now, that he was there with her. It was enough that he wasn't Roy, that she felt new and alive and nervous and romantic again. Just him. That was enough.


SUNDAY.

Pam slipped on her new bathing suit, wrapped a big towel around herself and padded barefoot to the pool in the back courtyard of the complex. The weather was warm and just a little humid, nice for a swim. A mother and her two young sons were leaving the pool area just as Pam got there, so she had the pool to herself. She tossed the towel on a chair along with her cell phone, pulled her hair back into a bun and sat on the edge of the pool, her legs making steady circles under the water. She lowered herself in and gasped as the cold water lapped at her bare midsection. She enjoyed the silence of the empty courtyard and the sound of the muffled slap of water as it entered through the small side door of the pool's filter. The sun beamed down on her and made her feel hopeful and happy. Her phone rang and she hopped out to answer it.

"Hi, Jim", Pam said, a smile breaking across her lips.
"Sure, come on over. But bring appropriate swimming attire, Halpert. Good, I'll see you soon."
Pam closes the phone and breathes in the springtime air, tilting her face to the late afternoon sun. She stands at the pool's edge, and dives in.



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