“I believe these are all your favorites, Monkey.”

Angela looked at the dinner table, and the spread that lay upon it. Two elegant place settings sat on opposite ends, and in the middle were two candles that cast a warm glow.

Duskily illuminated was a bowl of noodles with cauliflower, a plate with two baked potatoes on it, one small one for her, and a much larger one for him, a basket of fresh rolls, and a pitcher of milk.

The tension in her shoulders relaxed slightly at his obvious thoughtfulness, and attention to detail. This was his favorite meal, even though she had never told him so. Perhaps there was nothing to worry about; maybe she had simply been imagining the changes and differences in his behavior.

She blinked herself out of such thoughts, and dutifully complimented him on his work.

“Yes, thank you D. The place settings are very nice.”

He nodded sternly in the candlelight. “Yes, the china was my Grandpa’s. He acquired it during the war.”

She smiled weakly at his grandfather’s handiwork, but no words came from her mouth. It was difficult to know what to say, or how to begin to say what she was feeling to him.

“Would you like to sit?” He asked, as he gestured with his hand towards the table.

“Yes, please.” She walked the few paces over to her chair, and waited for him. As always, he pulled out the chair for her, and then gently pushed her in once she had sat down.

After waiting for him to sit down himself, and portion out the food, they began eating in a companionable silence. She liked to think that it was because of their familiarity with one another, and how comfortable they each were in the others’ presence that the need for conversation didn’t always exist. But she knew that while that might be true some nights, whether it was at the dinner table, or later, it wasn’t the case this time.

“Jim left over an hour early today. Pam too.” She looked up from her noodles to see his face contorted in a frown, his shoulders hunched. It was one of the many things that she loved about him, how dedicated he was to his work, and how seriously he took the rules of the office.

“Oh?” She replied, not wanting to betray the fact that she already knew about it from her conversation with Pam in the bathroom earlier.

“He said that he was going to Montage Mountain because there had been reports of unidentified flying objects in the area.” He paused for a moment, the delicate light of the candles reflecting in his glasses. “I’m eighty-four percent sure he’s lying.” He then dug self-assuredly into his butter and Bac-o Bits covered potato.

It occurred to her then, as she thought about Jim and Pam leaving early to go pumpkin picking, and how she had come to know of it, that maybe this could be a way to bring up the subject gently. She summoned her strength with a sharp intake of air and decided to try. It was too important not to.

“I wish I had known that, but I didn’t receive my e-mail from you today.”

She watched as his fork stopped, and his face froze in mid-chew for the briefest of moments before they both resumed as if nothing had happened. “Oh, yes, well, I was very focused today on sales. I’m sorry that I didn’t have the time.”

She exhaled the breath she had taken in and stared down at her plate. “You always made the time before.” Her voice was quiet, small, and weak. She hated that it sounded like that.

“I said I was sorry, Monkey. It’s just, I’ve been distracted lately.”

His apology was pushed aside by the admission that something was bothering him. At that moment, sitting across from him at the table, silence pressing down upon them, she knew she couldn’t back down. He obviously didn’t want to talk about it, but she had to.

“With what?” she asked, trying not to let her voice be changed by the tightness in her throat.

She looked up to see his reaction. Immediately, she wished that she hadn’t.

Looking back at her wasn’t the man she knew, but someone who looked scared, maybe even frightened. It was if, in a moment, everything she knew and had counted on to be true, had been flipped upside down.

Her D, distracted and scared?

He cleared his throat before he spoke, so loudly that it filled the room. “I’ve, uh, been tending to some farm business. Remember I told you last night? That’s why I was unable to come over.” After he spoke, he immediately reached for the rolls, averting his eyes from her.

“Yes I remember. Are the teenagers back?” She asked innocently, even though she knew that wasn’t it.

“No, the water gun with bleach worked on them. It was just, um, some things….” His voice trailed off, as he began to munch on a roll.

“Some things?” Her voice was more steely now, colored with the impatience that she usually reserved for work, and especially the Party Planning Committee.

“Yes.”

Silence filled the room between them once more, and he refused to look her in the eye. She felt herself growing more frustrated with his words, and a sick feeling crept into her stomach at the realization that she was having to cross-examine someone she loved just to try to get him to tell her the truth.

“Would you excuse me for a moment? I need to use the bathroom.” She quickly dabbed her mouth with the napkin from her lap, and walked purposefully out of the room, and down the hallway.

--

--

After closing the door of the bathroom behind her, a room that he had recently installed, and only allowed her to use, Angela took her cell phone out of her pocket.

It was her last resort. She had told her to speak to him, but she hadn’t said anything about what to do when he lied to her, or evaded her questions. It was horrible to have to rely on someone else again, to need someone again, but as she scrolled down her contacts list, she reminded herself that pride was one of the deadly sins……

Pamela Beesly-Cell

After three rings, she heard Pam’s voice, and what sounded like several others in the background.

“Hello?”

“Yes, Pam? It’s Angela, from Dunder-Mifflin.”

“Oh….oh! Hey, Angela….how’s, uh, dinner going?”

She decided to sit down on the lace toilet cover to brace herself for the humiliation of this conversation. “It is not going well, Pam. Your advice is not going well.”

“Oh? Well…look….” Angela heard Pam’s voice become distant suddenly, as if she was talking to someone else. “No it’s Angela…she’s having dinner with Dwight…”

“Who are you talking to?!” Her voice came out as a hiss, the words parting her lips in an un-interrupted exhale. Was someone else listening to this? Oh god not……

“Wha-? Nobody, Angela.” Pam’s voice sounded hesitant, as though she was lying.

Oh God.

“Is Jim there?!” Redness swum in her cheeks, as shame came crashing down upon her. Not him….anyone but him.

“Uh…well, he’s…kind of, yeah.”

The plastic casing of the phone creaked a little under the force of her newly renewed grip upon it.

What had she done to deserve this?

All she wanted was Dwight to be honest with her, to have a man in her life that respected her enough to share himself, and this is what she got? To have her innermost, private, and intimate problems paraded in front of others like it was Mardi Gras? In front of Jim Halpert of all people!

“I trusted you Pam!” Her voice squeaked slightly in indignation and anger.

“No, no, Angela. He’s not….here-here, um, he’s actually making uh, cider. So…yeah….which is like a ways away….’cause I needed to get reception, so I left him to do…..that.”

She wasn’t sure whether or not to believe Pam. It seemed very unlikely that Jim would be industrious enough to make his own cider. However, she also knew that the reception in rural areas around Scranton was spotty, her cell phone didn’t always work on the farm.

And….she knew that she needed the kind of advice about men that only a hussy like Pam could provide, as shameful as it was to admit.

“Fine.”

“Okay, good. So, Angela, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“No Pam. As I already said, everything is not okay. I asked Dwight why he didn’t send me an e-mail today, and he said he was distracted. And then he….” She stopped herself, not wanting to share the look she had seen on his face.

“And then he what?”

“He just looked strange, Pam. It wasn’t like him. He didn’t look like himself. I don’t know what to do….” her voice trailed off into a sigh and she brought her hand to her forehead in frustration.

“Did you ask him about him about marriage?”

“Pam, he can’t even be honest about why he’s scared! How can he be enough of a man to talk to me about matrimony?!” Anger coursed through her as she spoke. The frustration of tonight, of yesterday, of last week, and fear that tomorrow might be the same, wove into her words.

“Okay, okay….look, alright.” Pam paused on the other end of the line, and Angela watched as he right leg began to shake slightly nervously at her own betrayal of Dwight’s emotions to her. “I know, like, really know, how difficult it can be to get a guy to tell you how he’s feeling…but you’ve just gotta, you know, make sure that he knows that you love him…and I mean…..the reason guys don’t usually tell you stuff…is because they don’t want to look weak and be embarrassed. So just…be understanding.”

“I’m very understanding!” She replied defensively, shocked that Pam would think she’d be insensitive.

“Angela…..” Pam said, almost as a question.

“Fine. Understanding. What else?”

“Uh, well….don’t judge….well, maybe not that one. Okay, I think, just be understanding, make sure he knows you love him, and um, just listen, you know? I know people always give that advice to men and everything, but really, it works both ways, I know it does.” Pam’s voice became softer as she spoke, until the last words sounded wistful to Angela’s ears.

“Okay, I will use those……

“Angela?” Pam interrupted.

“What?”

“Um, where are you?”

“I’m in the bathroom. Not using, just….I needed someplace private.”

“The farm has a bathroom?” Pam asked, her voice even and calm, but Angela thought she heard something in the background.

“Yes, Dwight installed it for me when we started our courtship.” As if that wasn’t obvious. How else would it get there?

“Angela….I think….I think that says how Dwight feels about you. Now, remember what I said, because you can do this, alright?”

“Yes, Pam. I will not contact you further in this matter, enjoy your haunted hay ride.” She tried to sound genuine, but the tastelessness of such an activity and her opinion of it couldn’t be completely concealed.

“I will Angela, good luck.” With that, Pam hung up, and Angela was all-alone again.

With a steadying breath, she stood up and looked in the mirror over the sink. Looking back at her was thirty-five years of weariness, mistrust, and hard work that had only left her even more isolated and alone. It was sketched in the deep grooves of her forehead, apparent in the darkness that pooled under her eyes, and the small lines that framed her mouth.

Thirty-five years.

It seemed like only yesterday that she had been a freshman in college, with the world in front of her, and her dreams limitless. Her travels to Spain were only going to be the beginning of the adventure that was to take her everywhere, to see everything.

It was unbelievable that it had been seventeen years ago, almost exactly half of her life, when those thoughts had been hers. When the future had seemed so bright and brilliant in its possibilities.

She ran a hand through her hair, trying to put back the few stray strands that had gotten out of place. She knew it was time to get those dreams, hopefulness, and possibilities back.

It was time to get her happiness back.

It was time to get her Dwight back.