Pam puts the phone on automatic voice-mail and gathers up her purse and jacket.  Everyone else is already gone, except for Dwight and Angela. They had all agreed that they’d leave work early today, what with Michael, Jim and Karen in New York for their interviews. The rest of the staff had originally decided they’d leave work early at four and head over to Poor Richard’s for drinks, but as the morning went on, and as Dwight became more and more of a power-mad tyrant, that time had inched closer and closer to noon.

It’s only 1:30 and Pam’s glad to be leaving the office. She doesn’t know how much longer she'd be capable of sitting and staring at Jim’s empty desk, waiting for news to come about who would be leaving…and more importantly to her….who would be staying.  While she’s riding the elevator down, she thinks to check her cell….just in case. There’s one text message there that she hasn’t seen. It’s from a number she vaguely recognizes and it came in last night at 12:15.

“It’s done. Good luck.”

Pam lets out her breath and for some reason, thinks about volcanoes….pent up energy lying dormant for years and waiting for the moment that they can erupt with a curtain of steam and fire.  She has no idea what to do with the information glowing green and cool on her phone.

Karen hadn’t been back to work since the day at the beach. She claimed she was taking some time back in Stamford to properly prepare and shop for her interview. Pam hopes Karen gets the job and not just for selfish reasons…especially if Karen really has called it quits with Jim.  It just makes the most sense. Karen can move to New York, where she can have a great and fabulous career. Michael would stay at Scranton and maybe Jim could de-evolve back into someone she recognized…back into someone she actually liked.

She and Jim are trying, but things between them are still strained. The sticky note had been a good start. There have been a few moments of friendship the last few days. He offered her a carrot from his lunch. She started stocking her candy jar with his favorite gourmet jelly beans again; and last night, they had walked out together and she wished him good luck on his interview today….told him to say hi to Karen for her.  He had smiled and said thanks. So….baby steps, right? She can do this. They can do this.

She walks into the bar and sees everyone sitting around the cluster of tables in the corner. Toby’s telling a particularly funny story about his time in Amsterdam while Creed nods knowingly. Kelly hands her a beer and she takes a swig. For some reason the coolness of the drink feels odd coursing down her throat. She thinks she’d prefer something warmer like whisky or rum, but she doesn’t plan on staying long, so she takes another sip and leans up against the wall.

The place isn’t packed at all…it is the middle of the afternoon, so they’ve got the place pretty much to themselves. Stanley and Oscar are shooting darts and despite the unsettling events of the last week, Pam feels pretty content. Things would be perfect if Jim was here, but she realizes she needs to start getting used to times like this…without him. His distance the last couple of months has been good practice.

She’s been at the bar about twenty-minutes when Kevin returns from the men’s room with this shit-eating grin on his face.

“Heeeey Guys…..guess what?”

“Kevin, you didn’t….we didn’t bring the candle.” Everything is funnier when Stanley says it in his low no-nonsense voice, and Pam chuckles a little thinking back to the Dundie Awards 2 years ago.

“No….not that.” Kevin’s already pretty tipsy. “It’s Jim…he’s back in that booth by the kitchen and he looks waaaaaaasted.”

Phyllis puts her arm around Kevin. “He’s in New York, Kevin. Are you sure you haven’t had too much to drink.”  Before he can answer, though, and before the slow turning of awkward eyes can make their way in her direction, and before hushed whispers start to say her name, Pam is off, walking purposely toward the back corner of the bar.

He’s there. Of course he’s there.

Old Pam would have hung back, biting her lip and trying to figure out what to say, but she’s learned that she’s best…she’s more honest….when she just opens her mouth and starts talking.

“Hey. You’re not supposed to drink alone.”

When he looks up at her, she can tell he’s been at this for a while. He’s wearing an old, faded baseball jersey and the cap he wore to the beach is perched backwards on his head. He’s got two-days growth of stubble on his chin and upper lip and his skin is pasty and damp. She can tell he’s having a hard time focusing with his bloodshot eyes that are half-hidden under droopy lids. Most ridiculously, his eyebrows are a mass of confusion, the hairs going every direction but the ones that they are supposed to. She imagines he’s spent a lot of time today rubbing his large hands over his face.  When he finally speaks, his words are heavy and thick, but only slightly slurred. She realizes that she’s never seen him drunk before.

“Then join me.”  He gestures at his booth like it’s a kingdom.

Pam starts to slide into the seat opposite him, but finds that it’s already full. Jim’s messenger bag, a garment bag, a small suitcase and a long, black coat look like they’ve just been stuffed there. So she sits down next to him. He slides over until he’s pressed against the wall.

“You didn’t go to New York.” She says it softly and it isn’t a question. She knows.

“Nope.”  He takes another gulp of beer. She notices then that he has a pitcher. Who in the hell has kept serving him in this condition?  “And…to further state the obvious. I. Am. Drunk.”

“Really, Jim? I couldn’t tell.” She pauses. “ Wanna tell me why?” Again, she already knows and she feels guilty for already being privy to his heartbreak.

“She dumped me. Out of the blue. Apparently there’s this guy back in Stamford. Apparently, she used to have a thing for him, but she thought he didn’t like her. So, apparently when she was there visiting with her parents she and this guy had a ‘long talk’” He clumsily makes air quotes with his hands…one of which is still holding a mug of beer. “And apparently, she’s leaving me for him. Oh….apparently, his name is Rob.”

“You like to say ‘apparently’, huh?”

“Apparently, I do, Pam.” She thinks that it’s good that they aren’t sitting across from each other; that she doesn’t have to face him at this moment. She doesn’t want to have to see his eyes.

Karen is good. She left him, her dignity intact, just like she said she would, but in doing so, she had had a little revenge. She had concocted a situation that closely resembled the one she was bailing on.

“Soooooo…..no Karen, no need for New York.  It’s something we were going to try….together.”

He grabs another glass off of the tray (all pitchers at Poor Richard’s come with four) and pours her a glass of beer and tops off his.

“Jim, I shouldn’t. Someone is going to have to drive you home.” He pushes the glass at her.

“Please……Pam?”

His voice sounds just like it did back on the night he told her loved her. The timbre of it reaches into her belly and makes everything there do somersaults for a second. She realizes then that he’s not just asking her to drink the beer. He’s asking for a lot more. She knows that part of her should be angry that the only time he can sound like the Jim she sent away is when he’s drunk and pining for Karen, but she’s supposed to be his friend too.

“Just one, okay? Then we’re leaving.”

“ ‘kay.”

They sit there for a few minutes staring in front of them. Their glass mugs clang occasionally when they hit the hard wooden table.  She can hear him….feel him breathe next to her and even though he smells like a guy who’s been on a bender, she’s glad to be this close to him again. She can feel the warmth of his body radiate into hers….like the little sparks that shoot off of coals.  She thinks back to the night when Karen revealed her plans  and remembers the stars and how she felt like they could burn her right up. Jim’s warmth, though, has to the power to consume her and to keep her whole all at the same time. She bangs her heels back against the underside of the bench and hears him sigh.

“I was trying to forget.”

“I know. Jim…you aren’t the first guy to get shit-faced when your girl dumps you. It’s perfectly understandable.” It still hurts her to think about Jim and Karen together….to know that this break-up has affected him like this.  

He puts his empty mug down and lowers his head to his hands. He sighs again and rubs his hands up through his hair, displacing his cap.  He takes it and throws it Frisbee style into the pile of his stuff on the seat across from him.

“I meant….I was trying to forget you. Going to Stamford, dating Karen, throwing myself into work. Being a tool. All of it was to forget you and how much it hurt not to be with you.”

Pam’s always imagined moments like this with him and thought that she’d be rendered breathless and dizzy. She thought her knees would buckle and everything would shimmer. She doesn’t. It doesn’t. She’s surprisingly clear headed and calm….as if she always knew this moment would come. When she was with Roy, she had gotten into the habit of deflecting comments like that from Jim. She’d blush, make a joke, turn away or quickly check around to see who had heard.  When Jim was with Karen…well, there weren’t any comments like that to deal with. But now that he’s said it….now that he’s put it out there. She embraces it and takes it in as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I’m here now.”

His hand comes down and covers hers on the top of the table. It’s warm and surprisingly rough. She’s always thought that his hands would feel soft on her skin. It’s not unpleasant and it’s comfortable. They sit like that for maybe seconds…maybe minutes until Ryan walks past them on his way to the restroom.

From the way he looks at her and mouths, “Everything okay?” Pam is sure that Kelly sent him to check on them and report back…and not necessarily in that order.  Pam nods.

“We’re fine. Thanks. We’re probably going to get going. Can you make sure someone grabs all of this stuff for him?” She points at the remnants of the failed interview in New York. Ryan nods. She looks over at Jim and realizes that his eyes have closed.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Let’s get you home, Jim.”

She keeps her hand in his and stands up and pulls him slightly toward her. As he gets to his feet, it’s obvious he hasn’t stood in quite a while and his drunken legs are wobbly. He lurches into her and before she knows what’s happening, his lips are on hers and she’s kissing him back and her hand is in his very matted hair.

Her first thought is that he tastes like Roy, but she knows that‘s just the beer.  This kiss is different from their last one because he’s not trying to prove anything to her. He’s not trying to convince her of anything. He’s just……Jim. A very drunk Jim, but his mouth is warm and his hands are around her waist. His stubble scratches at her face, but she pulls him closer.   She knows she should stop this because they aren’t ready and because he’s wasted,  but then he’s pulling away.  He’s grinning at her with a smile the likes of which she hasn’t seen in ages.

“Now we’re even. One drunk kiss for another.” He reaches down and grabs his cap and slaps it on his head.  She’s not the only one who has been remembering the Dundies today. “Beesley….I’m going to need some help getting out of here.” When she looks at him, she can see in his eyes that he knows they aren’t ready either…but that this time, she won’t push him away and he won’t go running somewhere else.

She laughs and puts her arm around his back. “Come on, you idiot.”

As they are walking out of the bar, his lanky frame leaning on her small one, she thinks about how strong she’s gotten the last few weeks. She knows that for now, she can be strong enough for the both of them. 

 There’s an old pirate sword that hangs over the exit door and as she and Jim make their way outside (after parading past Creed’s wolf whistle and Phyllis’ wink and Kelly’s shriek of joy) she thinks about how she’s kind of like that sword. She used to be malleable and indecisive but now that she’s come out of the fire, she’s been tempered and strengthened. She’s steel.  

She opens the passenger door to her car and gently sets him in….butt first. His legs are still outside of the door and she realizes she’ll have to help him scoot in. Before she does, though, she bends down and looks him straight in the eye.

“Jim….there’s something else I’ve wanted to do for a while now.”

“What is that , Beesley?” His words are more slurred now. The last few glasses are starting to hit him.

She licks both of her thumbs and reaches out and smoothes out the wayward hairs of his eyebrows. When she has them under control, she laughs. “That’s much better.”

By the time she gets him settled and gets herself behind the wheel, he’s asleep. There’s one more thing that she has to do. She reaches into her purse and pulls out her phone. She knows that she doesn’t have to do this…that it will probably be deleted almost immediately, but she scrolls to her last message and sends a one-word reply anyway.