“Connecticut is pretty nice.  Lots of trees.”

“Because we don’t have trees in Scranton?”  I tease, looking over at her with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m just saying, it seems greener.”

“Yep, that’s exactly why I put in for the transfer.  ‘Jan, I’m sorry, but Scranton isn’t cutting it for me in terms of greenness.  I need to go to Stamford immediately to get my fix of green.”  I quickly figured out that humor is the only way we can really talk about it.  Every time we start to get mildly serious about what this means, it gets awkward and uncomfortable and with almost half of the day gone, is that really how we want to spend our time?  

“Alright fine, smartass, I was just trying to be nice,” she swats my arm and pretends to pout but a smile eventually finds it’s way out into the morning sun streaming through the car.  It’s an absolutely beautiful day, and I actually get a little excited about the prospect of being in such great weather in a few days.  If it weren’t for the whole, you know, losing the love of my life thing.  We roll down the windows and let the cool air wash over our faces, a welcome relief from the fatigue that was all too present in the stifling confines of the car.  I wish I had Michael’s Sebring right now, purely for the fact that this seems like one of those top-down kind of moments.  Like we’re kids playing hooky from school and can’t stand to have one more barrier between the world and us.

“Okay, so I think this should be our plan,” Pam clasps her hands together in a conspiring way.  “Grab some breakfast—“

“You’re a hollow leg, aren’t you?”

“—get a paper and look through the housing listings.  It’s a Saturday, there’s bound to be something open.  I say we have time for three, maybe four if we plan our time right.  Do you have a price range you’re looking for?  Also, are you thinking apartment, condo, house?  You can probably afford it now with your salary, also—“

“Pam,” I say calmly, feeling brave and putting a hand over her mouth, my eyes never leaving the road.  “Slow.  Down.”

“Mmffay,” comes muffled out from behind my hand.  I smile and take it away, ignoring the tingles that are searing through my palm.

“Are we there yet?”  she asks.

“No, and don’t make me turn this car around young lady,” I say in my best dad voice.  She shoots me another mock glare and throws her hands up in exasperation.

“I’m bored,” she whines.
“Well, my idea pool ran dry with Twenty Questions so you’ll have to think of something.”

She makes a snorting sound of disbelief.  “And here I thought after the day of the fire that you were the expert at intense, psychologically revealing games.”

I shake my head and laugh.  “Man, that day…I can’t believe we played ‘Who Would You Do?’”  I’m hesitant to bring it up, but there are only a few miles left to go.  We’ll probably get there right around the time it turns awkward.

“You totally cheated at that, by the way.  Using Kevin as a cop-out for your real answer.”

Nope, it’s awkward now.

“Who says that wasn’t my real answer?  Kevin is a very attractive man, Pam.  Learn to look past the surface.  And you’re one to talk, you girls didn’t even give your answers.”

She looks like she got caught in a trap and gawks for a split second before collecting herself.

“Well…that’s…different.”

“Women fought for equal rights for how long?  And now you’re telling me the rules don’t apply to you guys.  Make up your mind, would ya?”  I cast a grin at her to reassure that I’m kidding, but she still looks quite panicked.  Does that mean—

“Alright, I’ll tell you if you promise to tell me.”

I lick my lips and consider.  This has the potential to be horrendously uncomfortable, but the typical male in me just wants to hear her say it.  Once.

“Deal.  Ladies first,” I say with a little flourish of my hand, causing her to roll her eyes with a smile.

“Okay, I said…Toby.”

I was not expecting that.  Let’s hope I can make it not so obvious in my voice.

“Oh…Toby.  Yeah, that’s…cool.”  Nope, the disdain is quite obvious.

“What?  Were you expecting someone else?”  She’s being coy and it actually kind of annoys me.  What the hell are we doing?  We can’t even be honest in a stupid game of “Who Would You Do?”  This is ridiculous.

“No, not at all,” I say bitterly.  “Guess I have to hold up on my end of the deal.  So it’s you.  Okay?  That was my real answer.”  I let out a sharp breath and stare straight ahead at the road.

The soft “oh” that escapes her makes it clear that she wasn’t expecting that either.  Or at least she wasn’t expecting me to actually tell this crazy thing called the truth.

“I’m really sorry if that’s weird but…it’s just a game, Pam.”  I manage to sound a little more light hearted and even force an apologetic smile in hopes it’s enough to cover my ass.

She gives one right back and I can feel a weight being lifted off the car.  

“You know, I only said Toby because of everyone else.  I didn’t want them to think—well, you know.”

I nod because yeah, unfortunately, I do know that the rumor mill in this office is lightning fast and I didn’t need a lumberjack of a warehouse guy coming after me.  

“And this is obviously assuming Roy isn’t in the picture because then of course I’d have to—“

“Pam, it’s just a game.” I repeat softly, wishing that we’d never done this in the first place.  Psychologically revealing, my ass.

“I know,” she says, ejecting the CD and flipping on the radio.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for what stations you get.  You’re going to need to change your presets.  A very important step when moving out of state,” she says with a genuine smile.

“Yes, I do believe that is above ‘finding a place to live’ on the priority list.”  We laugh amidst the sounds of static as she searches for music.  Before we know it, we’re entering Stamford and the quest for food begins again.

“That place looks cute,” Pam remarks, a red and white “Bedford Street Diner” sign appearing on the left.

“Fine by me,” I say, turning into the parking lot.  “Think Stamford is civilized enough to have French toast?”

“Hmm, maybe.  If not, I’ll be sure and introduce the natives to the delicacy.”  She throws a wink at me as she gets out of the car and I start to follow when my odometer catches my eye.  We’ve gone 150 miles.  150 miles away from Scranton, the office, home.  

“Jim, you coming?”  I hear her voice call out and I finally turn off the engine.

“Yeah, I’m right behind you.”  I jog up next to her and home suddenly doesn’t seem so far away.

7:59