Pam and Jim had been dating long enough to have reached the point of comfortable dependability. It was just understood that certain days of the week meant they'd do certain things together. Like indulging in Heroes on Mondays, Lost on Wednesdays, and dinner and movie on Friday nights to celebrate yet another week survived at Dunder Mifflin Paper Company. That's why Pam thought it was slightly odd that on Tuesday Jim had made a point of telling her not to plan anything for that coming Friday. Pam spent the next three days wondering what Jim was up to, but after that original conversation he didn't make mention of it again.

And so Friday arrived. It was five-twenty before the last of the staff had left, leaving just Pam and Jim in the office. Pam was turning off her computer when Jim walked up to the counter, leaned over and dropped a bright pink envelope on the desk calendar in front of her.

“What's that?”

“Happy Birthday.”

"Today's not my birthday."

"I know."

"My birthday's in February."

"February twenty-seventh, to be exact. Five months ago today. I know."

Pam gave him a curious smile and picked up the envelope. “Can I open it now?”

“Please do.”

The card was from one of Hallmark's more heartfelt lines, and as Pam read the printed text about how special she was and how much she mattered and how nothing could take the place of her, she was embarrassed by the way her hand shook as she held the card and how she could feel her eyes misting up. Inside the verse continued in a similar vein, but she barely read it as her eyes jumped instead to Jim's familiar handwriting.

I know you probably thought I forgot your birthday this year. I know I did my best to let you think that. But I didn't, and I never could. I'm sorry for all the time and energy I wasted fighting what just can't be changed: I have always loved you and I always will. I hope it's not too late to give you a happy birthday.

Pam brushed away an errant tear and sniffed in a very unladylike fashion. She put the card down and stood up, walking around her desk toward Jim as he in turn walked toward her. They embraced tightly, and she rewarded him with a kiss.

“Thank you,” she said, “I really did think you forgot.”

Jim shook his head adamantly. “I did everything but forget.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, let's see. About a week before your birthday, I was in the card shop over at Viewmont. I was just killing time by looking through the birthday cards, and then somehow it became an exercise in finding a card for you. I don't even think I was aware I was doing it at first. I had found that exact card -” he motioned toward her desk, “and then reality sort of crashed back in and reminded me that I wasn't in a position to give it to you. That I wasn't supposed to want to give it to you.”

“Did you buy it, though?”

“No. Not that day. I went back last week and was very relieved to see they still carried it.” Jim smiled slightly. “I had looked through a lot of cards before I found that one.”

“It's lovely.”

“Anyway, I guess I was mad at myself, and mad at you and so I did my best to just avoid you on the day. I filled my calendar with back-to-back client meetings so I could miss the office party.” Jim shook his head sadly at the memory. “I was in such a bad mood that whole day that Karen and I ended up fighting over God knows what at dinner that night and I was at home alone, sulking in bed by eight o'clock.”

“Well, it sounds better than that day went for me,” she sighed. “At least you had dinner with someone. I spend the work day being not-so-subtly reminded that I was in danger of ending up old and alone, then went home to cold pizza and American Idol. I can safely say it was the worst birthday ever.”

“Oh, Pam, I'm sorry.” he sighed and he pulled her closer. “If it will make you feel any better, you can be a complete ass to me on my birthday.”

Pam shook with laughter. “No, that's okay.”

Jim took a step back. “The point of all this is that I have decided that it's not too late to celebrate your birthday.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Tonight's going to be a slightly belated, slightly condensed version of your birthday, with dinner, dessert, and if you're really good,” Jim grinned, “presents waiting for you at my place.”

“Presents?” Pam smiled, but eyed him with some suspicion. “Real presents or 'Look what I have for you in my pants' presents?”

“Oh my God!” Jim exclaimed. “I cannot believe you just said that.”

Pam started to giggle uncontrollably.

“I'll have you know, Miss Beesly, that when I say presents, I mean real wrapped-in-paper presents. But at this rate I don't think there will be anything waiting for you at my house.”

“Sorry,” she giggled, not sounding the least bit contrite.

“Right,” he snorted indignantly, followed swiftly by an indulgent smile. He slung his messenger bag over his shoulder. “You ready to go celebrate then?”

Pam picked up her birthday card and placed it carefully in her purse. “Yes,” she said, stretching up on tiptoes to kiss him again. “Absolutely I am.”