Cavalli, Fendi, Chanel, Hermes… their signs littered Via Condotti, pulling fashionista tourists into their immaculate shops.  Karen was generally aloof when discussions of fashion were broached at Dunder-Mifflin; she’d often rebuked Kelly’s suggestions for a shopping day at Steamtown Mall, reasoning that it only succeeded in reinforcing feminine stereotypes. 

Jim could barely restrain his laughter as he watched her with her back to the imposing Spanish Steps, pointing in awe at the perfectly tailored jackets, blouses and pants that were on display in the windows. 

“Did you want to go into the stores?” He asked, knowing her answer before her head bobbed excitedly.

“It’s stupid, isn’t it?” 

“Not stupid.  I was just curious when my girlfriend turned into Kelly Kapoor.”  It was all he could do to keep his teasing smile under control.

“It is stupid. I’m turning into one those girls that wants an Hermes scarf and a pair of Cavalli boots,” she frowned.  “You’ll be okay by yourself for a while?

“Yeah,” he said with a chuckle. “Go, have fun. Shop. Be a girl.  I’ll meet you at the Barcaccia fountain at seven?” 

“Perfect,” she raised herself onto the balls of her feet and kissed him lightly on the lips.  “Behave yourself.  I don’t want to find out you’ve convinced the Polizia that Dwight is a threat to national security.”

With a smile, he promised. Satisfied, Karen turned and went into the first store on her left, wasting no time.

Now alone, Jim debated whether to venture to climb the steps that beckoned him from a distance. He squinted in the sunlight as he looked up at the church that sat at the top of the steps.  Its obelisk pointed skyward, sandwiched by two bell towers.  He’d heard that the view from the top of the Spanish Steps was a sight to behold.  The red hues of the buildings nearby-- their thatched roofs and the hundreds of flowers that aligned the steps-- were a tourist’s dream. The myriad teenagers milling about, were not.

Jim sighed, his exhaustion beginning to set in.  Their excursion into the nearby Vatican City left him mentally and physically drained.  The incredible illusions to the eye that the Basilica held still occupied his thoughts; the images of Michelangelo’s paintings, the complexity of the Last Judgment and the images of the souls of mankind ascending and descending to their respective fates, still haunted him.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed an internet café.  Figuring Michael had likely gotten himself either placed on employment probation or fired, he thought it best to check his email while he waited for Karen.

***
Pam stared at the computer screen, her body frozen, rigid as her thoughts cascaded in a thousand directions.  She wanted to close the screen, wanted to make contact, wanted to run, wanted to stay… it was too complicated; it was difficult to even think clearly.

A part of her had long wondered what it would be like to finally see his profile on Facebook, to reconnect with him after so long.  She never would have imagined that it would have left her this frightened, this shaken. 

She pulled at her necklace charm, running it across its chain, thinking back to the day that had given her the resolve to leave Scranton-- and ultimately Jim-- in the first place.

It had been a Friday night; she’d had to stay late faxing a litany of papers to corporate that Michael had decided to sign last minute. At one time staying that late would have annoyed her.  By that point though, her Friday nights had consisted of sitting on the couch, a box of take-out on her table and “The Princess Bride” in the DVD player.  When she’d finished faxing, she had headed to Toby’s desk to leave him copies of one of the documents.  Before she’d even reached the alcove, she’d heard Jim’s laugh, its ebb always as entrancing as its surge. She’d frozen on the spot, clutching the papers so hard that she later had to iron out the creases.

“So I’m parent approved, huh?” Asked Jim, his voice, teasing.

“Mmhm.  Would it totally weird you out if I told you that they said that you were good husband material?” Karen asked, with a hint of flirtation.

“Good husband material?  Wow. I must have made a real impression then.”

“An excellent impression, and not just on them…” she’d added, her voice lowering into a purr. A pause in the conversation caused Pam’s eyes to widen, afraid to move in fear of making a sound that indicated she had been eavesdropping all along, that she’d been a witness to their intimate moment.

“I’m gonna have to throw that right back at you Filippelli.” His voice had lowered significantly, causing the colour to drain from Pam’s face. 

“I love you so much.” Karen’s voice came in a gasp. Pam’s head began to pulse.

“Right back at you…”

In one abrupt motion, Pam raced from her concealed location, not caring if she made any noise, not caring if they knew she’d been listening. She’d tossed the papers on her desk, grabbed her purse, keys and coat, and ran from the office.

That night the take-out box sat on her kitchen counter, unopened.  The DVD remained in its case. Instead, her living room carpet was littered with used Kleenex, wet and crumbled. When she’d awoken the next morning, lying on her sofa, her eyes burned, feeling heavy and spent. By Monday she found herself in Toby’s office filling out paperwork.  By Tuesday Jan had called, encouraging her to give it another chance.  By Friday her desk was empty of personal items, having slowly and secretly brought them home throughout the week.

Now, three years later she sat at a computer in an internet café, an ocean away, the same insecurities plaguing her. 

Pam took a deep breath and returned to his profile photo.  She led her cursor to the link that read “Send Message.”  A new page opened, waiting for her to take the chance and reconnect.

To: Jim Halpert
Subject: Shake it

Message:
Hey
Imagine my shock to find you on Facebook. I always thought you were more evolved than that. (Obviously this is my lame attempt at making an awkward opening joke.)

I was just on a plane (I know!  I’m a world traveler now! Maybe I’ve evolved too LOL).  Anyway, there was this crazy old man sitting next to me who was shaking his asthma inhaler so hard that I thought it was going to fly right out of his hand and hit the lady behind us.  I wanted so desperately to say what I was thinking, which was: “stop shaking that like a crazy person.” But I’ll give you one guess what I said instead.
Pam

With hands shaking, she moved the cursor to the blue “Send” square below her message.  She clicked the button and exhaled, not realizing that she had been holding her breath.  Pam leaned back in the plastic chair, staring at the screen. She clasped and unclasped her hands, which were cold to the fingertips.  

She clicked on the link to her Facebook “Home” page where it would remind her that she lacked a proper profile and that she could invite friends via their email accounts.  When the page had finally loaded, a slight change caught her eye.

Inbox (1)

Her heart pounded in her ears. It could only be one person who had sent her a message.  There was a small chance it could be her sister, an even smaller chance it could be Phyllis or her secretary; but the timing was just too coincidental.

She clicked on the “Inbox” link.

Her suspicions had been correct.  There he was: his face masked by oversized glasses, his hair parted. His name alone sent a rush of nerves to her stomach.

With a hesitant hand, she opened the message.

Jim Halpert:
Beesly!
You on a plane? I don’t believe it. You have definitely evolved. :)
It’s been far too long. I’m really happy you messaged me.
My guess is that you told him to shake it like a Polaroid picture.
Jim

Her face broke out in a smile, her throbbing heart now swelled with anticipation. Without missing a beat, she moved her fingers across the keyboard, typing in the reply box.

Reply:
I’m happy you messaged me back. :)  I was afraid you wouldn’t.
I, in fact, told him to shake it like a salt shaker.
Yes. I am a dork.
Pam

She clicked the “Send” box, her message delivered to him instantaneously.  It always amazed her that despite distance, despite time and despite their history, they could always find themselves laughing over the same things.  It was almost like nothing had happened, and they were back to their old selves.

She waited a couple of minutes, busying herself with the sketch pad she’d pulled from her bag.  Her doodles were sloppy, hindered by her excitement over her Facebook exchange with Jim.

She refreshed the page and discovered that he had, as expected, replied.

Jim Halpert:
Shake it like a salt shaker???  The Ying Yang Twins have nothing on you.
I was afraid I wouldn’t reply either. I’m glad I did.
It’s strange; I saw Michelangelo’s Last Judgment today and thought of you.  I wondered what you’d have said about Michelangelo painting himself into the face of St. Bartholomew’s skin.  Pretty gross. Sort of like 28 Days Later, no? ;-)
Jim

Reply:
LOL! Really gross, that’s for sure. 
Michelangelo was the ultimate prankster, lemme tell you.  When one of the Pope’s people said that it was disgusting to have so many nude images on an altar, Michelangelo went and painted the guy being rowed into hell.
Pretty cool, huh?
Pam
P.S. Nothing is as gross as 28 Days Later. Not even flayed skin.

Jim Halpert:
But did Michelangelo put a guy’s stapler in jello?  I think not.

This is probably the wrong time to ask this- but I’m going to anyway.
Why did you leave D-M?
Jim

***
Once he’d typed the message and hit send, he knew that it had been a mistake.  Here he was in an internet café in Rome and had finally heard from Pam after all these years. Now he was sure he was succeeding in alienating her again.  

He looked at his watch and realized that he’d have to meet Karen shortly. A quick mental calculation reminded him that it was roughly 1pm in Buffalo.  Pam was probably sitting at her desk at work, busy being the successful artist that he imagined her to be.

As much as he missed her and their friendship, he was ultimately proud of her for taking a risk. He knew that some of the people at Dunder-Mifflin criticized her lack of courage, but he’d never doubted her.  She would be successful at whatever she did; of that he was certain. 

He refreshed the page one last time, and saw that Pam had replied.

Pamela Beelsy:
Some things just became clearer. Couldn’t stand to watch.
Pam

The time in the corner of the screen reminded him that Karen would be waiting at the fountain for him.  He couldn’t continue this discussion like he wished.  Pam’s message had been too cryptic; he had too many questions to ask her.  What couldn’t she stand to watch? 

Reply:
What became clearer???

It was already well after seven and he didn’t want Karen to be waiting in the piazza for him much longer. Shaking his head, he logged out and closed the internet explorer screen.  He would have to find another opportunity to find out what Pam was referring to.

He left the café and in the shadows of the darkening street, he could see Karen in the distance waiting for him, the Barcaccia fountain just behind her. She smiled and waved with difficulty, her numerous shopping bags weighing her hands down.

“Are we going to be able to pay for the hotel, Filippelli?” Jim tried to sound jovial and teasing, but recognized that he was feeling anything but that.

She laughed, unaware of his changed mood and artificial smile. 

“I’m starved.  If we drop this off at the hotel, we’ll have enough time to change for dinner, eat and still be able to catch the metro back before it closes,” she suggested.

“Sure,” he agreed, following her into the Spagna metro station. “Sounds great.”