Christmas 2006

DECEMBER

It's a frigid Friday in December and she can't wait for the weekend.

It's only two weeks till Christmas and she's got a little more shopping to do. She still has her dad and her brother to buy for. Her brother is always the worst.

She keeps feeling like she's forgetting something and she finally realizes what it is. It's because for the first time in forever she doesn't have to shop for Roy.

She keeps seeing things that he'd like, that she would have bought in the past - a new sweater, a watch, the new boxed set CD of that old band she never remembered the name of. She wonders in the future who'll be buying these things for him.

She knows she's made the right decision when that particular thought isn't accompanied with a wave of jealousy.

On her way out she sees a tie in the window of a fancy men's store and before she can stop herself thinks how good it would look on Jim. How he'd look kind of distinguished but still like himself. How it was a feminine shade but he'd be able to pull it off and still look all manly.

She gets angry as she wonders if that girl is buying one just like it for him right now.

She wonders if they are shopping together, joking and laughing as they weave through the mall. She wonders if he dares her to do silly things like pose as a mannequin and scare unsuspecting customers.

She wonders if that girl would actually take him up on his dare. She likes to hope that she wouldn't.

She wonders if they're spending the holiday together, if they've become that serious that he's going to bring her home to meet his mom.

She wonders why she didn't do something six months ago, so that she'd be the one he'd be bringing home instead. Because she knows for a fact that she could have been.

If only…

Pam walks into the store and picks up the tie, the silk smooth under her hands. She checks the price on the back and it's insanely expensive but she almost doesn’t care.

She keeps imagining him wearing it, imagines herself tugging on it, imagines herself pulling it off of him and throwing it on the floor.

And when she imagines his face she sees a look in his eye that tells her he doesn't mind in the least.

Shaking the image from her head she puts down the tie. Bundling her coat around her she makes her way to her car. Her hands feel like icicles because she's forgotten her gloves again.

She sits there for a few long moments. Her car is old and it takes forever to warm up. She worries for a second that it won't make it through the winter.

She stops at the supermarket on her way home. She remembers that this is where she last saw him and she can't help her mouth from curving into a smile despite the what if's swirling in her head.

Tonight, instead of stuffing, she buys flour and sugar and five types of sprinkles.

She spends the night baking, spends hours rolling out the dough and cutting out angels and Christmas trees and a universe full of stars. She then carefully decorates each cookie as if it's a mini work of art.

The air smells of warm sugar, carols play in the background and she hums to herself, imaging his face when he gets her package.

She agonizes over the card, deciding in the end to keep it simple. No need to start something she's pretty sure he can't finish right now.

She doesn't want to make him uncomfortable. She doesn't want to make him feel obligated.

She just wishes she'd done it all differently.

As she tucks a few dozen of them tightly into a tin and carefully ties a bow she hopes that if he takes that girl to his mother's it's her cookies he brings with him for dessert.

It wouldn't be much, but at least, it'd be something.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

He's done all the rest of his shopping online - because the mall makes him crazy. And he's cursing the fact that he's got to be here so close to Christmas.

He's pretty much finished, just needs to find this action figure he'd promised his nephew. A call to what seemed like a hundred toy stores has led him to this dreaded place.

But he knows that the look on the kid's face will be more than worth it.

Christmas with his family is always so crazy, but in a good way. Watching the kids having such a good time made it all worthwhile.

As he waits in line he sees a little girl, her shoelaces untied and her hair a mass of curls. He watches as the woman beside her, who could only be mother with the same curly hair, leans down to tie her shoe, and places a quick kiss on her nose.

And for a minute he has to blink to focus, because for the life of him he thinks he's seeing Pam.

His mind drifts as he wonders what it would be like if he was shopping with her, if they were together, if they…

She's not with you. She's not with anyone. She's not with Roy and she still isn't with you.

He warns himself, but it doesn't really register. It's not at all difficult for him to make such a leap, because he knows that he'll always wonder what it would have been like, if things had been different, if years from now they'd left their kids with a sitter and played Santa Claus.

He can see clearly how she'd argue with him that the latest video game was too violent and he'd counter with his assertion that a child only needed so many Barbies.

He'd put as many toys for himself as for the kids in the cart and though she'd complain the whole time in the end she'd slyly buy one of them to surprise him.

He could see them staying up till way after midnight Christmas Eve, trying desperately to put together something that required a degree in engineering. She'd kiss him quickly and move to the couch, telling him he was doing a great job as she'd snuggle in and fall fast asleep.

He could see clearly how her eyes would be as bright as the kids that next morning as they saw what was waiting under the tree.

If only…

He remembers how the last time he'd seen her she'd asked him to keep in touch. He remembers how she'd smiled when she'd said it. He's been over it again and again in his mind but he had to figure that she meant it.

As he stands at the register he sees something nearby and he acts on impulse. It's probably not at all the type of thing she'd use in her art class but he doesn't think it will matter. He has absolutely no doubt she'll find some sort of use for them.

He can picture her face, lit up with laughter as she opens the box.

He comes home and sits down at his kitchen table, carefully wrapping the large pad of paper and box of 96 crayons. He guesses that's something new, because the last time he checked the most you could get was 64.

He's pretty sure she won't mind that he'd used a few to make her card.

The card is meant to be funny, with its crudely drawn picture of Dwight as an elf and Michael as Santa, both stealing toys out of the hands of small children.

It doesn't say what he wants it to say, it doesn't say anything close to the card he'd written the year before, which is still tucked away in his desk drawer.

He doesn't want to make her uncomfortable. He doesn't want to make her feel obligated.

He just wishes he'd done it all differently.

The card is simple but it says enough to let her know he's thinking of her, that he hasn't completely forgotten.

It's not all that much, but at least it was something.