It’s like she’s never used a seatbelt before. She tries to pull it but it gets stuck, so that just makes her pull harder and yet she still can’t manage to get it buckled. I sit back, watching this fight with vinyl play out and I don’t bother trying to hold back a smile.

“Having trouble?”

She does her nervous laugh and finally manages to get the thing free. After a brief moment or two of her not knowing where the buckle is (“What is wrong with your car?”), she’s ready and clasps her hands on the dashboard.

“Where to?” Then it hits me that I really have no idea. It’s Friday night, but it’s Friday night in Scranton, and that means that everything decent closed an hour ago. But then a bigger concern dawns on me, and I almost don’t want to ask, but—

“Umm, do you need to call anybody to let them know that you’re—“

“Oh.” She says it softly and awkward silence settles in as we’re both struggling to find the balance between the right thing to do and the not-so-right thing to do. Story of my life; or at least the past three years.

“He’s probably dead-asleep by now, I don’t want to wake him.” It sounds a lot like a cop-out, but the thing about Pam is that she’s genuinely concerned about those kind of things. I was sick one day and didn’t come into work, so she called at about 9:30 in the morning, waking me from my Ny-Quil induced coma. The first ten minutes of that phone call were her apologizing.

I don’t really have anything to add, so I just nod and say: “Alright then. Where am I going, Beesly?”

She glances at her watch. “Well, we’ve got quite the day ahead of us. I’m going to need some caffeine.”

“Good call.”

So I carefully pull the car out of the parking lot, the lights and noise of a wannabe Monte Carlo fading behind us as we set out on the most spontaneous, ridiculous, and probably stupidest thing we’ve ever done.

Northern Lights is one of the few remaining establishments in Scranton that believe in staying open past 9:00. So we walk in, ridiculously over-dressed compared to the grunge, Converse-wearing kid behind the counter who takes our orders of cinnamon apple tea and a latte with hardly any enthusiasm. We grab a couple of oversized chairs by the window to look at nothing in particular while we wait for our drinks to cool and for one of us to gather up the courage to address just what the hell is going on.

“So I have to ask…” she begins, and my heart kicks up to a frightening speed because there are so many ways that sentence could end and none of the options that are running through my head are pleasant.

“What charity were you going to donate all your winnings to?”

A breath of relief comes rushing out and I chuckle. “You mean all my winnings that you stole from me? That was going to go towards Habitat for Humanity.”

“No concern for the Afghanistananis? I’m disappointed in you.”

“I’m more concerned about what Michael would have done had he won the $500.”

“He probably would have ‘accidentally’ spent it on a pinball machine or hot tub.”

“Oh God, mental image of Michael in a swimsuit. Thanks for that, Pam.”

She smiles as she takes a sip of her tea. “Could have been worse. I could have said ‘speedo.’”

I make a face which makes her laugh and for a second it feels like that first day at Cugino’s, when I was so blissfully ignorant of what was in store. I still wouldn’t trade any of it though, which sounds really corny, but it’s true. 9-5, Monday through Friday with her is better than nothing. I’m really not looking forward to having to face the “nothing” next week.

“What was this place before it was a coffee shop?”

“A restaurant maybe? I don’t know, I think it was family-owned.”

“Hmm. This town is changing a lot.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s all Dwight’s fault. He’s subjecting his farm to radiation. Before we know it, it’ll be Planet of the Beets.”

“There’s a terrifying thought.”

“Walking around, obeying his commands.”

“Get your hands off me you damn dirty beet!”

It’s the worst Charlton Heston impression I’ve ever heard, and I love her even more for it.

Her giggles stop and her expression turns serious.

“It’s just so different from when I was a kid. I took so much around here for granted.”

“I know. We’re in such a hurry to grow up and then…”

“Then we’re taking promotions and getting our own parking spaces.” She’s looking me right in the eye again, with a sad smile and her bangs falling across her face when she shakes her head.

The mature thing to do would be to talk about it.

“I said maybe my own parking space. I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

But humor is much easier and seeing her relax into a smile is reason enough for me to believe that tonight isn’t about being the bigger person, or acting our age. We’re just two friends saying goodbye the only way we know how.

And if there’s one thing Pam and I know how to do, it’s laugh.

So we share stupid things we did as kids, even though we’ve heard almost all of each other’s stories before, but there are some we haven’t and we sit there laughing till the teenager turns out the main lights without a word of warning.

“Guess that’s our cue, huh?”

I check my watch. “The little jerk is kicking us out early. We technically still have five minutes till they close.”

“Let’s not give him any trouble. He probably has some big, grown-up thing to do after this that he can’t wait to get to.” She winks at me for the second time that day and I hate that that’s all it takes for a tinge of red to go rushing to my cheeks.

“Well, we certainly wouldn’t want to keep him from that.” I hold the door open for her and watch as she makes an exaggerated exit, purposely making her dress swish dramatically at her knees. The motion is a little hypnotizing and I snap out of it just in time for her to look back my way.

“Are you going to unlock the car or are you practicing your telekenisis again?”

I start to move toward the car door but it dawns on me where we are and I step back onto the sidewalk.

“Actually, let’s walk.”

“Walk? I’m in heels, Halpert, I can’t exactly do a marathon.”

“It’s not far, I just want to show you something. Come on.” I hold my hand out to her as more of just a gesture than an actual offer. But she’s full of surprises tonight and gingerly takes mine in her own. And with a gentle tug, she’s walking beside me instead of following behind.

10:59