June 20, 2007

They barely spent another day apart in the week that followed the proposal. It was the Tuesday night that they spent apart. Jim had an early meeting with the people of the New York City Public Transportation system and Pam had to be at the publishing company first thing in the morning. The two of them had both slept uncomfortably that Tuesday night. When Wednesday morning rolled around and Jim felt like he hadn’t slept any more than three hours, he knew that he had to ask her once and for all. He had skirted around the question in the past week, but he couldn’t take another lonely night without her.

She felt the same way.

**

He invited her over that evening. She knew she was spending the night without him even saying so. She packed a clean pair of underwear in her purse after stopping by her apartment, picked up the “just because” gift that she had framed for him and stopped by a small grocery store on the on the way.

She arrived at his apartment shortly after seven, two grocery bags in her arms, purse slung over her shoulder, and something large and wrapped in paper under her arm.

“Jesus, Beesly!” Jim exclaimed as he opened the door for her.

“Thanks,” she said with a gracious smile as she walked past him and made her way straight into his apartment.

“What is all of this?” he asked as she set everything down on the kitchen counter.

“Dinner,” she replied pointing to the bags, “and a present for you.”

“Why did you get me a present?” he asked.

“Because,” she replied. “And it’s not so much that I got you a present, it’s more that I made you a present.”

“Ah, of course,” he said with a quick nod. “So what is for dinner?”

“I am going to make eggplant parmesan,” she said with a grin.

“Yeah right,” he said.

“What?”

“You can’t cook,” he said shaking his head.

“Excuse me?” she asked incredulously. “I believe I made you cupcakes on your birthday. I believe that I work in a restaurant. Helloooo!” He laughed.

“I have never once seen you make dinner,” he said as he crossed his arms.

“I suddenly don’t know if you deserve this present,” she said as she brought the wrapped package to her feet and propped it against the cupboards.

“Oh come on,” he said, “really, when was the last time that you made dinner for yourself?” She thought.

“I don’t remember,” she replied with a soft snicker.

“See?” he asked.

“Come on, I can cook,” she said quickly. “I used to cook all the time back in the day.”

“I’ll believe you when I taste it,” he said.

“And you will, and you will love it,” she said. “And me.”

“I already love you,” he said as he kissed her on the nose. “Can I have the present?”

“Maybe,” she said.

“Can I?” he asked again.

“Go ahead,” she replied as she picked it up off of the floor and handed it to him. He brought it around the counter to the table as she started to prepare their dinner.

“So it feels like a picture frame,” he said as he ran his hands along the edges.

“Maybe it is,” she said with a quick shrug.

“Well, I do have it on good authority that you enjoy giving artwork as gifts,” he said.

“It is a well known fact,” she said. He smiled and tore through the paper that covered the painting. When he flipped the frame over, he realized that she had painted in watercolors over the charcoal sketch she had done of the Louvre. It was an interesting painting. The lines of the charcoal had bled a little, which at first he thought was unfortunate. She had done such a good job of making the lines of the building and the pyramid even, concise. In charcoals, it had almost looked like a black and white picture. Now with the watercolors over it, the lines were a little more muddled, it was softer and more fluid. The watercolors did anything but ruin the picture; they made it more alive, more…Pam in a sense.

“So why did you give this to me?” he asked. “I mean, the Louvre is kind of your thing.” She smiled.

“I know,” she said. “It’s just…when I sat there with you on that day…it was one of the best moments I’ve ever shared with anyone.” She shrugged. “And I thought you should have it.” She brushed her hands against her pants. “Anyway, it will be mine again soon enough what with marrying and all.”

He looked up at her and realized that he couldn't wait to ask her his question.

“Live with me,” he said very suddenly.

“What?” she asked, dropping the knife she was using onto the cutting board, startled by his statement.

“Live with me,” he repeated. “I want you to live here with me.”

“You do?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “I hate it when you don’t spend the night with me, I hate sleeping without you. I can’t…you can’t…I need you here.” Her eyes widened a bit and she completely forgot what she was doing.

“Really?” she asked, feeling a similar sensation running through her body that she had felt the previous week in Central Park.

“Absolutely,” he replied.

“I…” and she didn’t know what else to say, she was rendered completely speechless. “Yes. Of course I will.”

**

She lay in his arms, in the dark room of his – their(?) – townhouse. He was asleep, he had fallen asleep at least fifteen, maybe thirty minutes ago. She stared at the sketch painting that she had made for him of the Louvre.

If anyone had told her two years ago that she wouldn’t have married Roy she would have called them just a little bit crazy. If someone had told her that she would meet and fall in love with a wealthy – not to mention devastatingly attractive – advertiser she would have called them insane. If she had told herself that she would go back to college, earn a degree in art, work at a publishing company as an illustrator and find herself engaged to the wealthy and devastatingly attractive advertiser? She would have chalked it up to an unattainable dream.

Yet here she was. She had left her relationship with Roy, maybe a little later than she should have, but she did it. She moved to New York City, she met Jim, she went back to school, she got the degree, and she had even gone to Paris. She rolled onto her other side to face Jim.

“Hey,” she whispered into his face. “Jim…” his eyes slowly opened and he yawned.

“What?” he asked, smiling at her.

“Can we get married in Central Park?” she asked.

“When?” he asked.

“Maybe September or October,” she replied. He pulled her close against him and kissed her softly.

“September or October it is,” he said.

She was more decisive now too. She learned that she shouldn’t hide in the house, waiting on the men in her life. She could express herself in the way that she wanted to and there were people who really believed in her and wanted her to do everything that made her happy.

She snuggled into Jim’s warm chest and rested her ear against his neck. She could hear his pulse beating slowly and she sighed happily, rustling the small hairs up along his collarbone.

“Thank you,” she whispered before she finally fell asleep.