A-V-O-I-D-A-N-C-E
Score: 15 points
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So the date never happened.
Because Meredith had thrown up all over herself around 4:53 PM, and then passed out around 4:54 PM, and after a long discussion about how it was most likely due to her high level of alcohol intake, everyone decided that it could’ve maybe been a seizure and it would be really wrong of them to just ignore it and assume Meredith was just drunk…which she was…and someone had volunteered Pam as the person to drive her to the hospital. She had looked to Jim, and Jim had looked back at her, his mouth open in confusion and disbelief…and he guessed he must’ve been too silent for too long because something in Pam’s face sort of fell. And then she said that fine, she would drive Meredith, but someone would have to come with her. And she looked to Jim again. And Jim had looked back at her, his mouth still open in confusion and disbelief, because he was sort of unsure what exactly she was trying to do… And again, too silent…too long…because Toby volunteered and the three of them left the office at 5 PM, and Pam hadn’t looked at Jim as she was leaving…and she hadn’t picked up any of his calls over the weekend. And he wasn’t sure he blamed her, cause he was an idiot. He’d given up a corporate position in New York City for her, and then he’d let everything go haywire because Meredith couldn’t hold four bottles of scotch and a shot of tequila…or whatever the hell she drank every day.
And then on Monday he was afraid to bring it up, and hoped that she would say something...had even come up with excuses to follow her into the kitchen and to the vending machines...had stood there awkwardly and asked her about cheese...like, "So do you think Munster is like the outcast of all the cheeses and lives in an old mansion on a hill...?"
...Yeah...genius...
And she had responded in a normal Pam kind of way, saying that she knew for a fact that Munster cheese lived in an old mansion on a hill and that she'd also heard that Swiss cheese had been a victim in a drive-by and was receiving treatment for multiple gunshot wounds...that the only thing keeping him alive was the fact that he was inherently holy...hole-y...Jim had laughed because...how could he not? But now he thought that maybe talking about cheese had been a pivotal mistake...he should've just asked her out again...told her he was in love with her and he was sorry he hadn't helped with Meredith but he was just confused and...well...whatever. He didn't say any of that, and she had sort of looked at him…she had sort of watched him and waited, this worried expression on her face, which he was sure was because he seemed like he might spontaneously combust at any moment…which he thought he actually might.
Real life had gotten in the way…what could he do? Right? He was following Pam’s lead…and she wasn’t talking. Looking back he thought that was most likely because of the combustion thing…like who wants to cause another person to explode? Nobody he knew.
So it was every nightmare he’d ever imagined…and he couldn’t even complain.
Not really.
Because they were back to being friends and that was supposed to be enough for him…or something.
He was supposedly a nice guy who cared about more than sex and staking a claim on another person’s time…you know…outside of the office.
But god…this was driving him insane. Insane like beach confessions, and casino night I love you’s, and this last offender…this… “Then it’s a date,” and the smile that had been on her face after he’d said it. God.
It was officially driving him insane.
Like...he'd given up New York, for Christ's sake. What the hell was he doing?
But every time they were alone together he told himself the atmosphere wasn‘t right…or he worried that Dwight might walk in and make everything…Dwight. So he waited for an opportune moment, and those moments were rare. Very rare, he was finding. Like…non-existent.
Then sometime after lunch she’d gone down to her car and come back carrying this wooden box…this long, rectangular, wooden box with the word “SCRABBLE” carved into the top because apparently it was completely unique and apparently she’d bought it for herself and apparently Phyllis was into that sort of thing…which…okaaay…
Never the less, she’d hauled this box into work and had set it on her desk and showed Phyllis all of the little letters and the sort of ornate letter holders and the board, which was a little bit damaged and had apparently brought the price down so that she could afford it…because when these things were in mint condition they cost a fortune…apparently…
Jim didn’t really care…
Until 5:30 had rolled around and Pam was long gone, but he was still tying up loose ends with the shipment to the library because they kept changing their order and he kept having to notify the warehouse of the changes, and finally they made their last decision and he had to go down to the warehouse and make sure they had it right…in person…because he’d been burned before…and when he’d gotten back to his desk to get his coat and his bag he’d turned his head and noticed that “SCRABBLE” was still sitting there at reception…
And he figured Pam had meant to take it home…
And this seemed like an opportune moment to him.
So he’d picked it up and he’d taken it down to his car and he’d driven to her house. And halfway there the skies had opened up and it had started raining, and he thought that was fitting…because he was sure this was going to go badly.
But still there was this sliver of hope that it would go well.
And that was why he got soaked running from his car to her building. And that was why he climbed the sketchy stairway to her apartment. And that was why he’d knocked on her door. And that was why he’d offered her a tipped grin when she opened it and gaped at him in surprise.
“Hi…” he offered.
“Uh…hey…” she replied, stunned that his body was filling the frame of her door, and worrying that maybe something had happened to Meredith…because that was just…the first thing she thought of…
“I just thought you would want your um…” He lifted the arm that was carrying her board game, which he’d had tucked under his coat so that it wouldn’t get ruined by the rain, and he offered it up to her. “I tried to protect it but I think it still got a little wet…” he apologized, trying to fill the awkward silence.
“Wow you didn’t have to…”
“No I know, but I just thought that…I mean what if somebody had stolen it or…you know Creed sometimes takes things,” he stuttered. She grinned.
“Yeah, no, that was really nice. Thanks.” He nodded at her and they both stood there…waiting for the other to do something…say something…and the silence stretched until she huffed out a chuckle, meant to comment on the awkwardness, and held out her hand. “Here, I’ll take it,” she told him quietly.
“Oh right,” he mumbled, hating himself in his head. Just cause like…what was he doing here, anyway? And why would he think anything like this would be easy, cause nothing with the two of them was ever easy and he was never really sure what to say once he was standing in front of her. He either had diarrhea of the mouth, which was just a disgusting phrase...nevermind actually spitting out heartfelt confessions...which was also disgusting... Or he was stunned into silence…which was apparently the route he was taking this evening. She took the box from him and they lapsed into quiet again, until finally…gloriously…she asked him if he wanted to come inside. He sighed out an acceptance to the invitation and closed the door behind him. Then he turned and took in the atmosphere…the way that the lighting was warm and homey, and the lamps were all on and he liked that a lot…
And that was when the power went out.
Which, again, he thought, was fitting…
