Pam’s pencil raced across her page, her eyes darting up to the sculptures and back down into her lap. All around her tourists pushed and shoved, angling for the best view, the best photograph. Young lovers posed before the Baroque masterpiece; children raced to the fountain splashing water from the ledge. A Roman centurion offered to pose for photographs, only six Euros.
Yesterday she had wasted much of the night waiting in the internet café, refreshing the page, hoping for Jim’s reply. In the end, she had to force herself to walk away. Now less twenty Euros, she was certain he was avoiding returning her message.
After a breakfast of focaccia and bocconcini, Pam slipped her bag over one shoulder and vowed to keep Jim out of her thoughts. She was working on a deadline and had very little sketches or architectural ideas to take back to Buffalo. She needed to focus on her drawings as she had been handpicked to be the one to create the design for the Lenox. It was important that she didn’t disappoint.
A jostling ride on the metro to Barberini station left her a good walking distance from where she needed to be. Armed with her sketch book and map, she briskly headed down Via del Tritone toward Trevi Fountain.
When she’d taken the shortcut through Via Poli she hadn’t expected to turn a corner and be faced with the absolute brilliance that lay before her. There, nestled between two tall official looking buildings-- their cream stucco finish juxtaposing the silky white marble-- stood Neptune.
It took her breath away. Never in her life had she been witness to such perfection. Neptune’s leg muscles, torso and the curls of his beard were all clearly defined. Two tritons restrained the winged horses pulling Neptune’s shell chariot. Abundance and Salubrity bid health and well being from each side. Chiseled centuries ago by Bernini and Nicola Salvi, the intricate details made the stationary characters seemingly leap up from their watery home.
Pam had quickly found a seat on a cement ledge facing the fountain and began to sketch vigorously. Her fingertips and the side of her hand were blackened from rubbing against the pencil marks on her paper. She was so focused and concentrated as the morning waned that she hadn’t noticed the piazza become increasingly crowded, tour groups largely populating the area.
“Has anyone seen La Dolce Vita?” Asked one of the tour guides. “Great. Well I don’t recommend you dance in the water. We don’t need anyone getting arrested.”
Pam felt herself smile as she listened; tucking her pencil into the coils of her sketch pad, she figured it was time she took a short break.
“Well legend has it that if you throw one coin into the fountain you’ll return to Rome. Throw two coins and you’ll find love in Rome.” Romantic sighs came from her largely female audience as they juggled to retrieve coins from their purses and pockets. “Whatever you do- don’t throw three. Otherwise you’re looking at divorce.” A tittering of laughter came from her group. “Use your right hand and toss it over your left shoulder,” she instructed.
Members of the tour group jostled for a position on the ledge; several asked their friends to take a photo of them as they launched their coins. Pam looked down at her sketch; she flipped to a new page pulling her pencil from the pad’s coil.
Lightly, she brushed the lead tip in long strokes across the page. Unlike the last image, this one was less focused on the sculpture. Instead, she found herself drawing a seated figure in front of the fountain. Its curly hair pulled half up, a portion of bangs falling slightly into the figure’s freckled face. One hand held up a coin and a pair of Keds rested just in front of the ledge. Having completed the figure itself, she turned her attention to the background, creating a small burst of water, which leapt up indicating a coin having been tossed.
Two coins and you’ll find love in Rome…
Pam reached into her pocket and pulled out two Euro coins. She turned them over in her hand, clutching and loosening them, running her thumb over their raised texture. Biting her bottom lip, she rose from her cement seat and slipped her way through the crowd toward the fountain. She turned, facing away from Neptune and his chariot. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and threw the coins one at a time over her left shoulder.
Two coins and you’ll find love in Rome.
It seemed like an unrealistic promise, but a wish she couldn’t resist making.
***
“Seriously, this trip has got to be jinxed,” Karen declared as they turned down Via San Vincenzo.
“It’s not that big a deal,” Jim reminded her. They had spent much of their trip to the city center trying to decide if they should switch hotel rooms or hotels entirely.
“Jim, I nearly caused a flood this morning. That is definitely not good.”
That morning while Jim had been in the hotel lobby using their computer and internet, Karen had decided to take a chance on the shower-- the sweltering heat of the August sun in Rome forcing her to concede defeat. According to Karen, she had lowered the toilet seat cover and angled the showerhead to spray at a safe distance. Apparently it had not been sufficient. When Jim finally returned to their room he found a puddle of water pooling on the terrace. Upon opening the door, he discovered Karen fervently sopping water from the floor around their bed with a towel. If it hadn’t been for the dirty look Karen shot at him, he would have found the scene entirely comical.
“The stupid floor must not be angled to the drain,” she had said, indignant.
Now, away from the hotel and the mess they’d left behind, Jim ran his hand lightly across her back. “Relax. The guy at the front desk said that he’ll try to put us in another room. Everything’s taken care of.”
“I know. It’s just so damn frustrating. I mean, you come to Rome and expect to have this fantasy vacation. Instead you end up mopping water off the floor of your window-less, sauna of a room.”
As Karen continued her tirade, Jim thought back to the Facebook message he’d received from Pam. It must have come at some point after he’d left the internet café the day before. Under the guise of searching for an American paper, Jim had snuck away in order to log into Facebook and ultimately check if Pam had replied.
Jim Halpert:
What became clearer?
Pamela Beesly:
Scranton became Stamford.
Grape soda became water.
Rolled sleeves became long sleeves.
The salesman became the assistant regional manager.
Your desk became Ryan’s desk.
Pam became Karen.
A lot became clearer.
Jim had sat at the computer desk for what had felt like hours. He rubbed his hands against his face, dug his fingers into the corners of his eyes, and ran them through his hair. He did anything but bring his fingers to the keyboard. He didn’t know how to respond to Pam’s reply. It was evasive, yet completely clear. She had left because of him. The thought of it plagued him, caused his chest to hurt like it had when she’d left initially. At that moment he foolishly thought that he would give anything to just see her face to face, to apologize- for what he wasn’t sure, but he wanted to make things better for them. He wanted to clear the air, to end any misunderstanding once and for all.
But he was in a serious relationship with Karen now, a relationship that was headed toward marriage. He was an ocean away from Buffalo, from Scranton and any perceived relationship with Pam. Her message though, had conjured up too many memories both good and bad. Against his better judgment he had put his fingers to the keyboard and had spoken from his heart.
“Are you even listening to me?” Her voice startled him from his thoughts.
“Hey, look!” He pointed, grateful to have a quick diversion. Karen’s shrill look melted as she saw what he pointed at.
“It’s incredible.”
Their eyes fixated on the scene before them. The white glean of the sun hitting the sculptures creating a luster that amplified the details. The curvature of the cloth wrapped around Neptune’s waist, both horses’ manes seemingly billowing in the wind. It was all so precise. Its power to captivate was not lost on Jim or Karen. It silenced them both.
Jim’s eyes soaked in the surroundings of Trevi Fountain. The throngs of tourists milled about, tossing coins into the fountain; some having their photos taken as they posed in front of the sculptures. The many tongues- Italian, English, French and some he didn’t even recognize- were all drowned out by the rush of the water thundering over the rocky edges before him.
At that moment, there was a break in the crowd and he saw her.
It couldn’t be. It can’t be.
Yet, there she was: her hair as he remembered it, the sunlight reflecting off her reddish-blonde curls. Her feet clad in those familiar white Keds, her bangs drifting into her eyes as she tossed a coin into the fountain. It was her, it had to be her. But in Rome? The thought seemed ridiculous, impossible even.
He couldn’t find his voice but wanted desperately to call her name- to grab her attention. By remaining silent and stunned he risked losing her in the crowds that threatened to swallow her. In an instant, a cluster of fresh tourists blocked his vision, stealing her from him. Before he could will his feet to move, to push through, the crowd had dissipated again and she was gone.
***
The day had quickly escaped from Pam; her sketch book was now filled with many images: some architectural, some artistic, some created from her own imagination. As she walked into the lobby of Parco Tirreno she felt an excited jump in her chest at the thought of what the next day would hold. While snacking on a panino at lunch she had begun to circle possible sites on her map. Her head was filled with the improvements the Lenox would receive upon her return to Buffalo. In her mind she envisioned rooms accented by ionic columns, delicately carved sculptures welcoming guests… the possibilities seemed limitless.
“Scusi? Signorina?”
Pam lifted her eyes from the floor to the clerk at the front desk. “Yes?”
“L’altro ieri… eh… uh, yesterday, you asked for internet. Is working now.”
“Oh,” she paused, not sure if she wanted to find out what was likely waiting for her. “Thank you… grazie.”
Slowly she made her way to the computer desk, dropping her bag next to the chair. Taking a deep breath, she pulled several Euro coins from her pocket and slid them into the dispenser. Within seconds she was granted permission, granted access to discover that which she feared the most. She hardly dared think of what awaited her at that now very familiar website.
Inbox (1)
It stared at her, daring her to open the link and read what he had to say. She would potentially be confronting the past that she had long escaped from.
Jim Halpert:
Pam,
I don’t even know where to start. I’ve probably sat here a good 10 minutes just trying to piece together everything that you’ve written. It hurt; I’m not going to lie. But I suppose I deserved it.
You have to understand Pam: you left me. You disappeared without saying anything. If you had told me you were going to leave I would have stopped you. I would have done anything, everything I could to stop you. Maybe that’s why you didn’t tell me…
I know that I have no right to say all this, much less in a message from halfway across the world. But here I am sitting at some stupid computer in some stupid lobby, in a place I probably shouldn’t even be in.
I don’t know what to do next Pam. Tell me that I’m completely stupid and irrational.
Jim
It had been so long since she’d last cried over Jim. She had willed herself these past years to grow up, to forget him, to recognize that she’d been a foolish girl suffering from heartbreak. But now, sitting at the unfamiliar computer, she found herself blinking back tears that were breaking through and threatening to cascade down her cheek.
Jim’s message hadn’t been entirely clear, but it certainly opened up numerous possibilities, possibilities that hopefully awaited her back in America.
Reply:
Where to begin? You’re not alone there.
I have a lot to explain and a lot that I should- in all fairness- probably be held accountable for.
Yes, I left without saying goodbye. But it wasn’t without reason.
You’re still with Karen, aren’t you?
Pam
P.S. You’ve never been stupid and you’ve definitely never been irrational.
Perhaps it was being in Rome far away from everything that was familiar; but that night she was feeling particularly brave, particularly bold.
