It doesn’t take too long for me to figure out that the directions she’s giving me are to her place.  I don’t say anything, just silently agree as I make all the correct turns until it’s finally in view and I slow to a stop in front of it.

“Two seconds,” she says as she opens the door and gives me a reassuring smile before jogging up the driveway and through the front door.  I know people always say “two seconds” when they’re going to do something quickly, but in this case, I really wish she meant it.  Because for every additional second she’s in there, it’s additional time for me to panic, worry, wonder why I’m extending this tortuous goodbye instead of just leaving it at the parking lot like I originally intended.  Part of me thinks that she might not come back; maybe this is her way of getting out of the evening and at this very moment she’s lying next to Roy and making up for the hours she’s spent with me instead of him.

Then she destroys every doubt in my mind as I see her running back down the driveway, dufflebag in hand.  

“Okay, let’s go,” she says brightly, buckling herself back in.

“Go where, exactly?”  

“Patience, Jim.  All will be revealed.”  She’s beaming and alive and I finally, truly believe that this is where she wants to be right now.

“Does it have something to do with my gym bag that you made me bring?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that it has something to do with it.”

“You’re being very mysterious, you know that?”  I look over to find her with her poker face, the same one she was sporting a just a few hours ago.  She’s horrible at it, but maybe that’s her strategy: charm people into making ridiculous bets that they know won’t pay off but make them anyway just to see her glow from winning.

More directions follow until she asks me to pull over onto a residential street.  It’s quaint, lined with big trees and old houses, humming with the early hours of the morning.  

“Okay,” she says.  “Change.”

“But I like the way I am.”

“Good to know you still have your humor at this hour.  I mean change your clothes.”

“Umm…why?”

She grins.  “Because we’re going running.”

I shake my head and chuckle. “You’re serious?”

“Oh, very.  Now come on, start stripping.”

Obviously, I know she’s kidding.  But that doesn’t stop my stomach from completely bottoming out at what she says.

“Unless you’ve got a portable dressing room in that duffel bag, I’m not exactly sure where I’m supposed to—“

“Just change in here.  I’ll wait outside.”  And with that she hops out of the car and turns away from me with arms crossed.

I never imagined ever having to dress or undress in my Corolla and as it turns out it’s not exactly the ideal place to do so.  But I make it work, albeit awkwardly.  I slide my button-up off and am reaching in to my gym bag to grab an old t-shirt when I look up to see a flurry of ponytail whipping back into place as her head turns rigidly away.

I start to push any notions of Pam trying to get a glimpse of me changing out of my head, when I realize that rather than me feel embarrassed, it’s a prime opportunity to call her out on it.  Or maybe that’s just 3:00 in the morning talking.  Either way…

“You know, Pam, this isn’t a free show.  I expect a lot of dollar bills if you’re going to watch,” I say loudly enough for her to hear me through the car windows.

“What? NO! I wasn’t—I mean, I thought I heard something…”

“No, it’s cool.  I understand.  I’m just a piece of meat for you to ogle and objectify, it’s what I was put on this earth for…”

“Would you shut up and finish getting dressed?”  She’s laughing and even facing away from me, I know she has to be thirty different shades of red.  Mission accomplished.

I’m dressed except for my shoes, and I get out of the car to join her on the curb as I tie my laces.

“I hate you,” she mutters, staring at the pavement.

“Come on, it’s not everyday I get to catch you—“ I step on my words, because the truth is, I have caught her before.  At her desk, in the break room, the conference room, the kitchen, my car as I leave for the day; I know she sneaks glances when she thinks no one’s looking.  But I’ve gotten so good at it that I recognize all the signs of covert glance stealing.  It’s not easy, but after five years of practice…well, if it were a sport, we’d both be in the playoffs by now.

“Anyway, I was just teasing,” I stammer in a lame attempt to drop the subject.

“I know, it’s fine. If anything, you should get in as much as you can now.  Don’t have too many more opportunities.”  She tries to joke about it, but her smile can’t mask the sadness in her face, and guilt starts to trickle in again.  But before I can say anything, she’s up on her feet.

“Better keep up,” she calls over her shoulder as she begins to jog down the sidewalk.  I catch up with her, our feet stamping the ground in sync in a steady, even rhythm.

“So, why here?” I ask after a moment.

“This is the street I grew up on, I wanted you to see it.”  There’s something so tender and vulnerable in the way she says it that it almost hurts to keep jogging.  But I just smile and continue beside her.

“It’s nice.  Which one was yours?”

“That yellow one on the left.”  The house absolutely screams “Pam.”  It’s on the smaller side, but with more than enough charm to make up for it.  There’s a porch with swing where I imagine her father sat reading the morning paper, still keeping an eye on his little girl playing in the front yard.  Or maybe Pam spent summer evenings on it, sketching or wrapping herself in Roy’s arms after a date.  Even now that she’s grown, everything about the house suits her: simple with a familiarity that makes you feel like it’s your home too.

We both crane our necks back as far as they’ll go before our feet take us around the corner and away from the sight of the house.  Under normal circumstances, I would never consider running at three o’clock in the morning, but the adrenaline is doing me some good and I can feel my body start to surrender to the fact that it’s not going to rest anytime soon.  Not to mention the fact that I’m running with Pam, which is pretty much the most important factor in this equation.  It’s oddly intimate, especially given our location, and it’s more than I ever could have hoped for.  

We remain silent for the rest of the run, circling her block a few times until she finally slows down when we reach my car.  She slumps against the passenger door to catch her breath, and she’s a different kind of beautiful: bright red face, messy ponytail, and the visible dew of sweat forming around her temple and neck.  

“That was fun,” she says in between deep breaths as I slide up next to her.

“I’m definitely more awake.  This was a pretty good idea,” I say, nudging her with my elbow.

“I was bound to have one eventually.  Although I feel pretty disgusting.”

“You don’t look disgusting.”  I catch her eye and for the first time in a long while, I don’t try to cover up the subtext.

She laughs nervously and looks away.  “Even still, I’m not going to be able to go the rest of the day looking like this.  Do you think…I mean, I know I’ve already imposed on you a lot tonight—“

“You’re joking, right?  I’m the one that kidnapped you; you’re allowed to impose.  The shower is all yours if you need it,” I answer the question she silently asked and I can see the relief wash over her.  

“Thanks.  Though you can have first dibs.”

“Nope. I like the smell I’ve got going on: Eau du Jim.  You’ll wash up and I’ll whip us up some breakfast.  You hungry?”

She nods eagerly.  “Starving.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” I say, opening the door for her before moving to the driver’s seat.  “It happens to be Pancake Saturday at Chez Halpert.  Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” she says, leaning back on the headrest with her eyes closed and the most content smile I’ve ever seen.

I store the image along with all the others I have of her over the years and smile to myself as I turn on the engine.

“Good.”  I pull out of the residential neighborhood and on to the main street, leaving Pam’s past behind and merging back into the present.

3:59