"So, Miss Beesley, do you have any plans this weekend?"
"What?" Pam asked, looking up in surprise. Andy stood over her desk, a slightly vacant, cheerful expression on his face.
"Do you have any exciting plans? For... this weekend."
"Um, art class. And shopping, with my mom." Pam was wary. Andy had been calm ever since his return, but you never knew. There were days she felt like punching walls herself.
"That's cool, that's cool. Not celebrating Cinco de Mayo, then?" Andy tapped his fingers on the desk. Pam could feel, rather than see, Jim sit up in his chair as he strained to listen. It gave her the same rashy feeling it always did, lately. Like she wasn't sure how she felt about it, like she wasn't sure that was okay for him anymore.
"Um, I'm not... No, not really."
"Oh, why not? Good excuse to get waaasted," and Pam winced a little as Andy's voice hit octaves it was never intended to reach.
"Yeah, I don't really drink," Pam said. She reached for her mouse again, hoping that if she appeared engrossed enough in her solitaire game, Andy would go away.
"Well," Andy said, leaning over the counter, too close, "my neighbor is having a party tomorrow night. Lots of tequila -- well, there'll be other stuff, too, since you don't drink." He gave her a little bow, and Pam had no idea what that was supposed to mean.
Andy shifted his weight, giving Pam a clear view of the back of Jim. Jim's neck was saying so many things Pam couldn't make sense of any of them.
"Thanks, Andy, but I'm not really in the mood for a party this weekend."
Andy paused, mouth slightly open, and Pam tensed. Andy was like a bomb that might go off. It might not. But if it did, a wall was going to get punched or a banjo was going to get abused, and either way, it wasn't going to be pretty.
"Well, okay then," he said with a forced smile. "Have an excellent day."
Pam didn't realize she was holding her breath until she let it out as he walked back to his desk.
+ + +
Karen slid onto Jim's desk, and Pam always hated that. She hunched over her computer, angling herself so she could see them but it would like she was just concentrating on her computer. For a while, she had done this so often it didn't even hurt her back anymore, but the last few weeks she'd been trying to wean herself. Some days it worked.
"So, tonight. What are we doing? And the answer is not watching the Phillies, anything at all on ESPN, or Trading Spouses."
"Wow, Filipelli, you haven't left me with a lot of options."
"What about dinner? And a movie? I know you want to see Spider-Man 3."
Jim's neck said that he did, but not right now. Maybe not with her? Jim's neck made less sense these days, as did the idea that she could read his moods on it.
Andy was still watching Pam, from his desk. She shifted in her chair, which wasn't nearly as ergonomic as advertised, and got back to her game. There was less pleasure in the whoosh noise than usual.
+ + +
Oscar left, talking to Kevin about baseball. Kelly and Ryan left, Kelly talking about Britney Spears' naked photos, and what they meant for her recovery. Jim and Karen left, talking about Spider-Man and laughing.
Pam packed up her stuff, wishing her bag was lighter so it didn't pull so hard on her shoulder.
"May I walk you to your car?"
Pam jumped; she hadn't realized Andy was right behind her. "Um, okay, I guess."
In the elevator, Andy hummed to himself; Pam couldn't place it.
"I know," he said suddenly, interupting his own tune.
"Know... what?"
"I'm trying to start over too."
Pam wasn't sure what to say. "Okay."
"I just moved here a few months ago, and I kind of effed that up. Little too enthusiastic. My girlfriend just broke up with me. I think I committed a felony. Maybe two."
"...Wow." Pam's life suddenly feels lighter.
"So, I mean, I just thought, we're both trying to find ourselves -- find our happy place, as they say in anger management -- and maybe you'd want to do that at a party. With me. There will be sombreros." Andy edged closer to her, and Pam put up her hand to block him.
"Um, thank you, Andy, but I'm just not in the mood to go to a party. But... thank you. Really."
"Well, if you change your mind, call me!" He pantomimed a phone with his hand. "You got my digits?"
Pam nodded, but it was a lie. She walked toward her car, aware that Andy was still watching. As she opened the door, she turned and gave him a little wave. He waved back with one hand, made the phone motion again with the other.
She slid into the driver's seat, and her favorite thing about her new car was that the driver's seat was positioned exactly the way she liked it, the mirror was always tilted for her and the radio was programmed with her stations.
Andy still watched as she reversed, drove out of the parking lot, and Pam waved again. He was still waving when she turned.
Story Notes:
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